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said. “The unfermented juice of grapes from crushing or pressing them, before it’s converted into wine. If she smel ed must, she had to be near a winery, or at least a facility that processes grapes.”
    “How do you know what must smel s like?” Vail asked.
    Merilynn scrunched her face, as if she resented the question. “I spent eleven years working at San Miguel vineyards. I worked the fields, I worked with the grapes. I know the smel s of a winery.”
    Vail turned to Dixon. “Does this smel help narrow it down?”
    Dixon chuckled. “Not real y. The Napa Val ey Wine Train covers almost twenty miles before turning around. She heard the train, which means, what? How far can you hear a train whistle? Another two or three miles in either direction? That’s a huge area. And this is the Napa Val ey. You know how many wineries or grape processing facilities there are in this region?”
    “The train sounds the whistle at crossings, and when it leaves the station,” Brix said. “That might help narrow it.” He turned back to Merilynn. “What happened after you were kidnapped? How long did he hold you?”
    “I’m—I’m not sure. I think Ray said we were gone two days, but I can’t remember.
    I didn’t real y want to talk about it.” She stared off at the wal , as if reliving the ordeal. “He kept us in a dark place. I couldn’t tel if it was morning or night. We were blindfolded and gagged most of the time.”

    Vail scooted her chair closer, then leaned toward Merilynn. “Mrs. Lugo, I’m truly sorry you had to go through that. But . . . what did Ray do? Did he report it? Did the St. Helena PD go searching for you?”
    “Ray got a phone cal from the man—from this guy you’re cal ing John Mayfield.
    He said he had taken us and if Ray cooperated, he’d return us unharmed. But if Ray didn’t, and if he tried to find us or told anyone—anyone—about this, he’d kil us immediately. And it wouldn’t be pleasant.”
    Vail looked at Brix.
    “Ray never reported anything to anyone,” Brix said. “If he had, St. Helena PD
    would’ve brought us in. Something like that is a major crimes task force deal, and way beyond St. Helena’s capabilities.”
    Merilynn said, “Mayfield told Ray that if he ever told detectives about him, he’d know. And he’d find us again, when we were out shopping or at day care. Or at school. He knew a lot about us. His point was there was no way to escape him.
    There’d be no safe place.”
    Dixon sighed long and hard, then said, “But Mayfield returned you unharmed.”
    Vail glanced at Dixon, then shook her head. “Wait a minute. You said that if Ray cooperated, he’d release you. What did Mayfield want Ray to do?”
    Merilynn sat back, folded her arms, then looked at Vail, then at Dixon, then at Brix. “If you want to know, get me and my son protection.”
    Vail brought a hand to her forehead and rubbed vigorously, as if doing so could calm the building anger. The lack of sleep had weakened her internal checks and balances, and her frustration was threatening to bubble over. “Mrs. Lugo,” she said firmly. “Someone I care about a great deal is missing. John Mayfield may have taken him. He may have him blindfolded and gagged in that same dark place, just like he did to you and Mario. But even if we get to talk to Mayfield, I doubt he’s going to be a good citizen and tel us what we want to know. If that’s the case, my friend—a cop, like Ray—might not have much longer to live. Without food, water—”
    Merilynn squared her jaw. “I’m sorry. But I have to think of my son. I wil help you.
    If you help me first.”
    Vail rose from her chair, spun around, and stormed out of the task force conference room. She walked down the hal , then stopped, leaned against the wal , and slunk down to the ground. She sat there, her forehead leaning against her knees. Vail was being total y honest with Merilynn: she had no sway over who was accepted into the witness protection