CHAPTER 25

Olivia Sherbourne paced nervously in the small living room of her house down the valley from El Monte Ranch, moving to the window every few seconds to gaze out at the raging blizzard.

Was it wishful thinking, or was the wind starting to slack off a bit?

Probably my imagination, she decided. The snow was drifting in distinct patterns, for the wind was coming out of the north, sweeping down the slope across the valley from Olivia's house, so that, though the front of her house was already banked with drifts that came nearly up to the windowsill, the small fenced pasture that extended from the back of her house out to the narrow band of aspens and cottonwoods that edged Coyote Creek as it wandered along the border of her property was still relatively clear. She tried to visualize the road, running almost straight up the valley floor. Most of it would still be passable; though drifts would be building on the south side, the north lane should be open.

Twice she'd picked up the telephone to call MaryAnne Carpenter back, but both times it had been busy.

Now, though, when she tried a third time, her phone was dead, and she realized what must have happened.

MaryAnne's phone hadn't been busy at all-it had just gone out before her own But if her phone was out of order, why hadn't MaryAnne simply put the kids in the car and come down? As she glanced out the window once more, Olivia thought she knew the answer. Surely MaryAnne would stay in the

house rather than risk getting stuck in the car with the three children with her.

Especially if she thought Shane Slater might be somewhere in the vicinity, possibly looking for Joey.

Was it really possible? The idea seemed so farfetched.

And yet, as she remembered back fourteen years-was it really that long ago?-Olivia began to wonder.

She'd -never warmed to Slater, even by his alias, "Randy Dun-ell." Even when she'd first met him, she hadn't been able to put the name together with the person. "Randy" had always seemed like a wann, boyish sort of name to her, but Randy Durrell hadn't fit her image at all. From the very beginning she'd seen something in his eyes-a strange hard glitter-that made her wonder if he was quite sane.

He'd been big, and quiet, but not the kind of quiet that instilled a sense of calm and comfort. Rather, it had been a tension within him, as if a spring somewhere inside was being wound tighter and tighter, and every day he was getting closer to flying apart.

But Audrey had been wild for him, and when she found out that he was being hunted by the FBI, she'd simply closed down.

Had she known even then that she was pregnant?

More important, had Shane Slater known?

Even if he hadn't known Audrey was carrying his son, he might still have been the kind of man who'd enjoy disappearing into the mountains, depending only on himself while he thumbed his nose at the men who were trying to find him.

He would have seen it as a challenge.

And a further challenge, Olivia now realized, would have been to stay in the area and watch Audrey.

Watch her, and become obsessed with her?

Perhaps even to try to come back to her once the hunt for him had died down?

If he had, then MaryAnne's theory wasn't so farfetched after all, and as that realization came into Olivia's mind, her concern for MaryAnne and the children grew into genuine fear.

Even if they stayed safely locked in the house tonight, the problem would come in the morning. Assuming the blizzard had spent itself by dawn, Olivia knew that the town plow would be up as far as her house by eight or eight-thirty, but El Monte Ranch would undoubtedly be ignored completely. Ted and Audrey had usually taken responsibility for the last mile or so of the road themselves, attaching a snowplow to the tractor and pushing their way out in half an hour.

MaryAnne didn't even know how to operate the tractor yet, let alone hook up the snowplow. Which meant they'd have to try to hike Out.

Better, Olivia thought, if she just took her truck up there right now and led them down herself Her five-year-old pickup had made it through a lot worse snow than this.

She brought her heaviest coat down from the closet upstairs@ bulky wool one, lined with down, which she usually didn't need much before December pulled her gloves on, then wrapped a muffler around her neck and head. parked behind the house, sheltered from the worst of the storrn, the pickup was covered with only a couple of inches of snow, but beneath the snow Olivia found a layer of ice. Starting the truck, she held her foot on the gas to speed the warming of the engine, then turned on the powerful defroster. A blast of cold air, quickly heating up as the engine began to warm, blew against the cold glass. As she waited for the ice on the windshield to melt, Olivia turned on the cellular phone and called the Sugarloaf deputy's office. When no one answered, she punched in Rick Mardn's home phone number.

Gillie answered on the first ring, which told Olivia as much as did Gillie's frightened voice.

"It's Olivia Sherborne, Gillie. What's wrong?"

"Oh, God, Olivia-it's awful. Frank Peters is dead, and so is Tony Moleno, and-" Her voice cracked as a sob choked her throat.

"Where's Rick?" she asked.

"He's up in the mountains," Gillie told her. "He went up to help Tony, but by the time he got there-" Another sob cut off her words. Several seconds went by before she managed to regain her self-control.

"Something terrible is up there, Olivia! I tried to call you a few minutes ago, but all the phones are out! I tried to call everyone in the valley to tell them to come into town. It's not safe up there, Olivia.

"Gillie, listen!" Olivia cut in. "MaryAnne Carpenter and I think we know who it might be. If we're right, his name is Shane Slater, and he's probably been up there for years.

The FBI was looking for him in Sun Valley fourteen years ago.

"What?" Gillie demanded. "Olivia, what are you talking about? Fourteen years ago!"

"Look, just let the sheriff know, okay? The name is Shane Slater," she repeated. "We're probably wrong, but if we're right at least the sheriff will know who he's looking for. And I'm heading up to El Monte right now. I'll stop at the Stiffles' on my way and warn them to leave."

Are you sure you can make it?" Gillie asked. "If you get stuck@'

"I won't get stuck," Olivia replied. "And even if I do, I'll be all right. I've got the phone, and I'll let you know what I'm doing." The cellular signal began to break up, and all Olivia could hear was static crackling in her ear. "I'll call you back, Gillie!" she shouted into the microphone that was tucked away in the headliner above the rearview niirror. She switched on the windshield wipers, watching as the thin sheet of softened ice was broken up and cleared by the first oscillation of the twin wipers. She was about to put the truck in gear when Gillie's words suddenly came back to her.

Something terrible is up there. As the words echoed in her mind, so also did the memory of Shane Slater's strange, veiled eyes.

Shutting off the engine, she took the keys out of the ignition and fitted one of them into the lock on the glove compartment. The door dropped open and she reached inside and pulled out a box of shotgun cartridges, then used another key to unlock the gun rack that spanned the space behind the truck's wide seat. Taking her shotgun out of the rack, she carefully loaded the magazine, checked the safety, then put the gun back in the rack.

She stopped herself just in time as her fingers reflexively moved to relock the gun rack. If she needed the gun tonight, she suspected she might not have time to mess around with a key.

Restarting the truck, she put it in low gear, made a wide U-turn, and started down the driveway to the road. As soon as she left the shelter of the house, the snow deepened, and for a moment she wondered if she ought to stop and put on chains.

No time for that.

She switched the truck into four-wheel drive. It surged ahead, breaking through the drift in the driveway. When she came out onto the road, it was just as she had expectedThough the southbound lane was lost under a bank of snow that had built to almost @ feet in some areas, the lane she was using was almost clear.

Though she increased her speed slightly, Olivia kept the truck in low gear, for even with the four-wheel drive she could feel the tires struggling to hold their traction on the snowy roadway, and every blast of the arctic wind made the truck swerve. The run up to El Monte Ranch, which normally took no more than a few minutes, was going to take a lot longer this afternoon.

,Logan? Where are those rags?" MaryAnne stood impatiently at the top of the stairs, calling down to her son. It had been more than ten minutes since she and Alison had come upstairs, and the towels in the bathroom were already dripping wet, while water still puddled the floor, and the soggie

carpet in the hall had squished under her feet as she'd gone to the head of the stairs.

The diversion of dealing with the flood in the bathroom had given her enough time to compose her nerves. She.had already decided that she had no choice but to go out into the blizzard to look for Joey. If he hadn't gotten lost in the storm, the only place he could be was the barn, where she'd found him twice before. She knew which direction the barn was, and it wasn't more than thirty yards from the house.

Certainly she could make it that far without getting lost, couldn't she?

"Logan, do you hear me?" she called out, her annoyance at her son's lollygagging growing by the second. When there was no answer from the floor below, she took a deep breath, resisting the urge to give in to her temper, and hurried down the stairs. She moved quickly through the dining room and was halfway across to the pantry door when she stopped short staring at the floor just inside the door.

A small pile of snow was rapidly melting into a puddle.

The panic she'd only a few minutes ago succeeded in conquering flooded back into her now, and she dashed to the door, jerking it open. "Logan!"

she cried. "Logan, come back here! This instant!"

As the wind struck her, she stepped back into the house, slamming the door behind her, then heard Alison pounding down the stairs. "Bring my coat, Alison!" she shouted.

"Hurry!" A few seconds later Alison dashed into the kitchen, the heavy shearling clutched in her arms. "Logan's gone!" MaryAnne told her, grabbing the coat and shoving her arms into its sleeves. "How could he have done something so stupid?" Without waiting for a reply from Alison, MaryAnne jerked the door open once more and stumbled outside.

In the kitchen, Alison ran to the open door, calling after her mother.

"Mom, don't! Don't leave me alone!"

But it was too late. MaryAnne was already disappearing into the swirling snow, but she turned around for a moment, calling out to her daughter.

"Stay inside, Alison! Don't leave the house!"

The words were almost lost in the wind, but Alison heard them. A moment later as her mother finally disappeared into the white maze, she helplessly retreated into the kitchen, clo sing the door behind her.

Suddenly the house, which had seemed so warm and cozy only a little while ago, now seemed very large.

Very large, and very empty.

MaryAnne stumbled through the snow, almost blinded by the wind-driven powder, uncertain of where she was going.

"Logan!" she called out. "Honey, where are YOU? If you can hear me, just yell! I'll find you, Logan."

she paused for a second, but heard nothing. She looked around, realizing she could no longer see either the house or the barn.

Where was she? She tried remembering which direction she had taken upon leaving the back porch.

She'd started toward the barn, but when Alison had called out to her, she'd turned around.

Stupid! But the action was instinctive, just as the Overriding perative to come out into the blizzard and find her son had been.

Too late, she realized that she'd brought nothing with her. Not a flashlight, certainly not the shotgun from the rack in the den.

Suddenly an image formed in her mind. An image of a large ball of nylon string, sitting in the bottom drawer Of Audrey's desk. All she'd have had to do was tie the end of it to the doorknob!

She shoved the thought aside, unwilling to waste time condemning herself for her own stupidity. If she didn't find Logan soonWhich way?

Which way was the house The barn?

Which way should she go?

Tentacles of panic closed around her. She felt her lungs constrict as if metal bands were being tightened on her chest. She took a step, then changed her mind, and started off in another direction. A few steps later, suddenly certain she was going in the wrong direction, she stopped again, hesitated, then veered off toward the left. This time the terrible fear that she was only moving farther from the house stopped her after only a few steps.

Think! she commanded herself.

The wind!

From which direction had it been coming?

She stood still, concentrating hard, then remembered the kitchen door and the wind pushing at it every time she'd tried to shut it.

The north!

It was coming down the Mountainside from the north, and sweeping across the pasture.

If she walked into the wind, sooner or later she would come to the fence around the pasture, and then she could move along the fence to the barn.

Hope surged in her blood for as well as shelter, she might find Joey and Logan there, too!

Her panic receding slightly, she turned slowly, until at last the wind was blowing directly in her face. Leaning into it, shielding her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket, she started moving slowly forward, the stinging crystals lashing at her cheeks, her eyes starting to water from the cold.

After five steps she felt her left foot strike against something.

Something that gave as her shoe struck it.

Dropping to her knees, she brushed the snow away from the object that lay in the yard, and stifled a scream as her fingers touched Storm's fur.

Her mind raced as she dug the snow away from the dog's lifeless body.

Was that what had brought Logan outside? Had the dog come scratching at the back door, only to run away when Logan opened it?

She brushed the last of the snow away, and found herself staring at the dog's broken jaw, twisted away from his muzzle, hanging open, his pink tongue dangling over his teeth.

Not pinkRed!

MaryAnne saw the stains in the snow around the dog's head, and a wave of nausea hit her. What could have happened out here? Storm must have attacked something.

Something that had fought back, and killed him.

If Logan heard Storm barking, or even heard only his last howl before whatever attacked him finished the kill?

"Logan?" she called out once more. "Oh, my Godt Logan!" Whatever had killed Storm must still be out here.

The dog's body was still warm, the blood in his mouth still fresh-he couldn't have been dead more than a few minutes!

Her eyes streaming now, partly from the blizzard, partly from the terror she felt at the thought of what must be out here-possibly only a few yards away, possibly already catching her scent and beginning to stalk her-MaryAnne started to stagger away, still intent on reaching the fence and then the comparative safety Of the barn But once more she stopped, for this time, through the tears in her eyes, she saw the object that was blocking her path before she tripped over it.

Once more a scream rose in her throat, but this time she made no effort at all to mute it.

As she dropped back to the ground to gather the lifeless body of her son into her arms, another scream emerged from her throat, a high, keening wail of despair as Logan's head flopped backward, exposing the terrible wound in his neck.

Clutching the body of her son in her arms, MaryAnne began to sob, the pain in her soul threatening to destroy her sanity as she rocked back and forth, cradling Logan as she had when he was only a tiny baby.

The blizzard howled around engulfing her in its white shroud, but MaryAnne was no longer aware of anything except the terrible agony of holding her dead son in her arms.

An agony, she felt with searing certainty, from which she would never recover.

Olivia Sherborne was easing around the bend in the road, slowing almost to a stop as she prepared to turn into the Stiffles' narrow driveway, when she saw their car-a small Subaru station wagon-making its way toward the road.

Putting over as far as she could, she waited until Mark Stiffle had swung around in front of her, then rolled the window down just far enough to be able to talk with him.

"We're heading into town," Mark called, raising his voice to a shout to make himself heard above the wind.

"I was coming up to check on you!" Olivia called back.

"Can you make it in that?"

Mark nodded. "I've got chains on all four wheels!"

"Okay! I'm going up to El Monte to get MaryAnne and the kids. We'll hole up at my house if we can't make it all the way into town!"

Mark glanced uncertainly into the rearview mirror of his car, past the twins, who were giggling excitedly at the prospect of spending the night with friends in town, to the trackless -snow-covered road leading up toward El Monte Ranch. "You sure you can make it?" he called.

Olivia nodded. "I'll be fine. But MaryAnne's scared stiff, and her phone's out." Her eyes narrowed. "Did you hear about Frank Peters and Tony Moleno?"

Now Margaret Stiffle leaned forward to peer past her husband. Olivia glanced at the kids in the backseat of the little station wagon, and when she spoke again, her voice dropped slightly. "Gillie says they're dead. And Rick's trapped up in the mountains."

"Jesus!" Mark Stiffle exclaimed. "What the hell's going on around here?"

"I bet it's Joey," Michael Stiffle said from the backseat.

"I bet he's finally gone totally nutsoll, Margaret Sfiffle glared at her son, but Olivia chose to ignore the boy's accusation. "I don't think any of us is going to find out until this blizzards over. Just be careful-if the car breaks down, stay with it! Okay?,, "Don't worry about us," Margaret told her. "Just take care of yourself!"

Olivia nodded, rolled up the window, and waved to the twins in the backseat as Mark slowly pulled the car away, following the tracks Olivia herself had cut in the snow on the way up. Putting the truck back in gear, Olivia continued up the road, but the farther she went, the deeper the snow got.

She shifted the truck down into its lowest gear, and the engine surged as the vehicle began creeping forward once again. She was still a quarter of a mile from the entrance to the ranch, steering more by the feel of the road under the tires than by any ability to see the pavement in front of her, when suddenly she felt the right front tire leave the pavement.

Instantly, she moved her foot from the accelerator to the brake, stepping hard on the pedal before her winter driving instincts kicked in.

As the brakes locked the wheels, they lost their traction on the ice that had formed beneath the snow. Moving as if in slow motion, the truck slewed around, drifting into a four-wheel skid that took it completely off the road.

Olivia's hands tightened on the wheel as the truck tipped steeply to the right, both wheels on that side now leaving the road and sliding into the deep ditch that paralleled the road.

The truck jerked to a stop, throwing Olivia against the steering wheel.

For a moment she did nothing at all, silently cursing herself for being stupid enough to apply the brakes in snow like this.

Finally deciding there was no point in wasting any more energy kicking herself, she put the transmission in reverse and tried to back the vehicle up, turning the wheel to the left so that the front end would swing around and force the right rear tire up the steep incline.

A moment later @ of the truck's four wheels were in the ditch, and Olivia furiously slammed her fist on the dash.

Getting out of the truck, she went around the front to see how badly she was stuck, and knew instantly that there was no hope of getting the pickup back on the road without the help of a tow truck. Sighing with disgust, she climbed back in the cab and picked up the cellular phone.

No bars were showing on the screen, and the two words "No Service"

seemed to taunt her as she stared at them.

What good was the damned thing if it didn't work when she needed it?

She sat for a couple of minutes, wondering if she should stay in the truck or walk on up to the ranch.

All her common sense told her to stay where she was, to run the engine only often enough to keep the cab warm, and to make sure the snow didn't pile up under the exhaust pipe to the point where it blocked it. The last thing she needed was for the snowplow to find her dead in the truck sometime tomorrow.

Except she was only a quarter of a mile from the gate to El Monte, and she'd walked up the driveway literally thousands of times over the years. All she had to do was stay on the pavement until she reached the gate. From there it would be easy. The driveway was cut through the forest; there was no possibility of getting lost.

Except that a tiny voice in the back of her mind warned her that this was exactly how hundreds of people had lost their lives in storms like this one. People had even been, known to freeze to death halfway between their houses and barns, But she was convinced that the wind was finally beginning to slacken, and even if it didn'@ this wasn't the great Plains, where there were hundreds of miles without even a tree to use as a ]reference point. This was Idaho, and the forest was everywhere. All she had to do was stay out of it, and she knew damned well she could walk from here up to the ranch blindfolded, if she had to.

Making up her mind, she took a flashlight out of the glove compartment and her shotgun from the rack behind the seat. Leaving the keys in the truck's ignition, she pulled on her fur-lined gloves, wrapped her muffler around her head and neck, and got out.

She started up the road, feeling each step with her foot, kicking the snow aside to make certain she was still on the pavement.

When she turned around, the blizzard had closed in on her, and even the truck, which couldn't have been more than fifty feet away, had disappeared into the blinding snow.

Olivia Sherborne felt completely alone.