Man of the Midnight Sun
by
JEAN BARRETT


ISBN 0 373 22384 6

Chapter One

She trusted nothing now but her instinct to survive.  That.  was why
she resisted the temptation of the streetcar rumbling past her with its
clanging bell.  But, oh, what Cathryn wouldn't give to board that
streetcar and sink in exhaustion onto one of its slatted seats!
Impossible.

Lingering anywhere, especially in an enclosed situation, was dangerous.
Her face must have appeared on every newscast in the city since last
night.  Recognition was a constant threat.

Keep moving, she ordered herself.  Stay on your feet and keep moving.
You don't dare risk anything else.

Cathryn pushed on along St.  Charles Avenue, battling fatigue with each
determined step.  Fear and an urgent need to stay alert had kept her
going through the long hours since last evening.  That and the
relentless memory of yesterday's horror.  But she didn't know how much
longer she could holdout.

What time was it?  She paused to check her watch anxiously.  Just after
six.  Too early to put her plan into action.  She'd give it another
half hour or so before she found a phone and made her vital calls.

Meanwhile she tried to look as though she belonged in the neighborhood,
that there was purpose and direction in her gait.  She couldn't afford
any suspicious glances.  The temperature didn't help, she thought,
brushing away the tendrils of caramel-colored hair that had escaped
from her thick braid and were sticking damply to the nape of her
neck.

The morning air was already uncomfortably steamy, wearing the tang of
the nearby river and the earthy, bittersweet odors associated with New
Orleans in midsummer.  would be sweltering long before noon.

There!  A patrol car circled slowly through the campus of Loyola and
Tulane directly opposite her, and headed now for the avenue here.  She
had almost missed it in her careless preoccupation with the weather.

Don't panic, Cathryn commanded herself.  You've been successfully
dodging police cruisers all night.  See to it that, this one isn't the
exception.

Audubon Park was just on her left.  Wasting no time, she put the
massive trunk of a live oak between herself and the street.  An elderly
man walking his Labrador gazed at her curiously as she pressed her back
against the tree.

"Morning," he greeted her, restraining the dog, who wanted to paw at
her playfully.

Cathryn smiled and nodded at him in what she hoped was a convincing
absence of guilt.  And all the while she was tense with alarm, fearing
discovery.

The Labrador and his owner moved on into the depths of the park.  A
jogger went by, paying no attention to her.  She waited for another few
seconds, then peered carefully around the thick oak that screened her
from the street.  The patrol car had emerged from the university campus
and was headed toward the Garden District, the direction from which she
had come.

Cathryn breathed in relief while reminding herself not to relax her
guard.  There was no safety for her while she remained in New Orleans.
They were looking for her, of course.  Every patrol car in the city
must be on the watch for her.  That was bad enough.  Far more
terrifying was the realization that someone else wanted her and must
also be hunting for her.  Someone who would go to any lengths to
silence 'her.

There was no one now she could rely on.  She was on her own and
desperate.

Time to find that telephone.

She left the park and pressed on wearily along the avenue.  She reached
Riverbend, and there she found what she needed in a small shopping area
situated below the grassy bank of the levee where tugboats and barges
congregated.  An outside public phone on the wall of a minimart.

Thankful that she could remain in the open, where she lessened the
chance of being trapped and caught, she fished a handful of coins out
of her purse.  She kept her back to the parking lot as she dialed.

A woman answered, "Menard residence."

Cathryn recognized the gentle, cultured voice of the senator's wife.
She had met Vivian Menard on two occasions at the senator's campaign
headquarters and had found her a kind, handsome woman who was
apparently much admired as a hosl.  ,ss in Washington.

"May I speak to Senator Menard, please?"

"I'm sorry, but the senator isn't able to come to the phone just now.
Can I take a message?"

"I really need to speak to him personally.  It's important" '

"May I ask who's calling?"

Mrs.  Menard obviously didn't remember her voice.  There was no reason
she should.  Cathryn hesitated, reluctant to disclose her name.  But it
was the only way to get results.  "Cathryn Mclean," she murmured.

There was immediate excitement in Vivian Menard's manner, as well as a
note of sympathy.  "Oh, what a relief!  Hold on, Catbryn, while I get
the senator."

Cathryn east a nervous glance over her shoulder while she waited. There
was no one paying any attention to her.  But this delay worried her. 
What if calls to the Menard home were being monitored, and even in this
very instant her own call was being traced?  It was a definite risk,
but she owed the senator this call.

The receiver was snatched up, and his deep, mellow voice came on the
line with a swift "Cathryn, are you all right?"

"I-Yes, I'm fine, Senator."

"Thank God for that.  I've been worried sick about you.  We've all been
out of our minds with worry since those two officers were found shot,
and not a sign of you anywhere in the house.  We thought the worst."

"No, I wasn't snatched.  I ... well, I wasn't in the house when it was
invaded and they were killed.  I'm afraid I disobeyed orders and
sneaked out for a few minutes to take care of a necessary errand."  He
didn't need to know that she had slipped away to use a pay phone at a
nearby service station, that she hadn't wanted her police guards to
overhear her on the phone in the safe house.

"That was reckless of you, Catbryn, but it looks like it did save your
life.  Only Where have you been all these hours?"

She couldn't tell him.  She couldn't bear to recount her appalling
discovery of the two plainclothesmen who had been brutally slain in her
absence from the house.  Nor of how, in mindless terror, she had fled
the scene, losing herself in the all-night crowds in the French
Quarter.  Even in summer the tourists were there in force.  In a numbed
state she had wandered among them around Jackson Square and along
Bourbon Street, an anonymous fugitive in a sea of humanity.

Then, in those melancholy hours before dawn, Catbryn had reached a
decision.  If that house in Elysian Fields, where they had been hiding
her until the trial, had been discovered and breached by the man who
wanted her dead, she was safe nowhere in New Orleans.  She had to
disappear.

Senator Menard must have sensed her pain.  "Never mind.  That's not
important right now.  All that matters is you're safe.  Catbryn, where
are you?  We've got to get a police escort to you immediately."

This was difficult.  She hated to do this to him.  He was a man she
deeply admired and respected, a crusader who fought for the rights of
the underprivileged.  It was why she had worked so industriously for
him as a campaign volunteer in support of his upcoming, crucial
reelection.

"I'm not coming in, Senator," she informed him quietly.

There was a brief pause while he comprehended her intention.  "Cathryn,
you've got to come in.  You're in danger every minute out there on your
own."

"And just how safe was I in that house where they put me?  The district
attorney's office guaranteed me an invincible protection.  Well, they
failed to provide it, because Quinn's people managed to find me."

"There must have been a leak somewhere," he admitted.

"Yes, and two officers were slaughtered because of it.  That's a guilt
I'll live with for the rest of my life."

"Cathryn, I know you're badly shaken, but you've got to tell me where
you are.  Let me help you, please."

"I'm sorry, Senator.  I can't."  She wished she could confide to him
that it wasn't just herself now she was fighting to save, that her
survival was essential to the welfare of someone else.  But she didn't
dare.

"Cathryn, listen to me"

"It's no use.  I only called because I couldn't just vanish without
telling you how sorry I am that I won't be testifying.  I know you were
counting on me, but... well, I'm just sorry, that's all."

"Catbryn, don't do this," he pleaded.  "Cathryn" -She couldn't listen
to him.  She couldn't weaken.  She hung up the phone.  There were two
further Calls she had to make, both of them to the only people who
mattered to her now.  --It was chancy hanging around here to phone
them, but necessary.

Afterward she would see about getting a ride out of the city on one of
those barges at the levee.  It was the only way.  They would be
watching the airport and the bus and rail terminals.  Probably checking
every car rental, as well.

She was going into hiding.  Her plan was an outrageous one.  But in her
desperation, without funds and no longer trusting anyone in New
Orleans, it was all she had.

THE PROPERTY WAS LOCATED in an exclusive neighborhood on the shores of
Lake Pontchartrain.  A brick wall surrounded the sprawling house,
guaranteeing its security and privacy.  The garage sheltered two
Cadillacs and a Lamborghini while a sleek cabin cruiser was docked on
the lakeside of the grounds.  It was.  an impressive estate, and it had
been paid for by every ruthless, illegal operation known to organized
crime.

Its owner, Red Quinn, paced the length of his spacious office
overlooking the blinding waters of the lake.  His lawyer and confidant,
Morgan Hurley, waited silently while the beefy, freckled Quinn spewed
his rage.

"They screwed up!  Went and took out those two cops, and for what?  The
McLean bitch is still out there some-.  where!"

"Take it easy, Red," the lawyer urged smoothly.  "Yot already been
released, haven't you?  Without Cath McLean, they don't stand a prayer
of bringing you to tri

"Yeah, I'm free!  But for how long?  She decides to s being scared and
play ball again with the assistant D.A.,

I'm right back where I was.  Where is she, Morgan?  " The lawyer
'shrugged.  " On the run, of course.  " Quinn snorted like a nervous
bull.  " So she's not trust the cops to protect her anymore.  Maybe
that makes smarter than we figured.  I don't like it, Morgan.  So what
we doing about it?  "

"Waiting for our connection with the D.A."  s office to us what we
need.  They're making every effort to locate ] and as soon as they know
something, the information, be passed on to us.  Just like before.  "

"It's not good enough.  As long as she's on the 1oos stay worried."

"Relax, Red.  We're going to take care of it.  I've alrea hired the man
we need.  You know who I mean.  We've u him before when we couldn't
depend on our own peot He's expensive, but he doesn't give up until he
gets rest He'll get to her."

Quinn stopped pacing.  He gazed out at the lake, his c eyes narrowing
against the brilliance.  "I want her de Morgan," he said, his voice a
chilling, lethal whis1 "Whatever it takes, I want her dead."

THE TERMINAL WORE a look of bleak desertion as Cath left the bus in St.
Louis and cautiously checked her , roundings.  It was late at night,
with only a scattering people in the drab waiting room.  A couple of
them w derelicts who had wandered in from the street to use the rooms.
The others sat on the hard benches, their lugg

tucked around their feet as they waited for their buses to be called.
None of them was interested in her.

Cathryn had no luggage of her own, other than her purse and a canvas
tote bag containing a few essentials.  She was dressed in as
nondescript a manner as possible.  Jeans, a lightweight jacket over a
T-shirt and her hair piled under a baseball cap pulled low over her
forehead.

Striving to look neither as secretive nor as anxious as she.  felt, she
began to move in a casual manner around the perimeter of the forlorn
waiting room.  All the while her gaze, watchful and hopeful, checked
the corners.

Had she failed to come?  Catbryn didn't know what she would do if that
happene& Everything depended now on Meredith.

She had reached the vicinity of the lockers when a blond woman emerged
from the shadows around the corner.  She looked tense and worried as
she hurried toward Catbryn.  "Cat," she Whispered.

And for a moment that was all either of them said as they clung
together in an emotional hug.

"Thank you for being here," Catbryn murmured when they finally released
each other.

"Where else would I be when you need me, and we're the only kin either
of us has?  More like sisters than cousins.  That's what we always
said.  Are you okay, Cat?  I haven't been able to do anything but worry
since you called me from New Orleans."

"I'm managing.  It wasn't easy getting here.  After the barge I had to
change buses a few times to confuse my trail.  What about you,
Meredith?"

"I've been careful.  No one followed me here.  But why should they?
There hasn't been anyone who's tried to contact me about you."

"But they will sooner or later.  The police won't fail to learn of your
existence.  I want you to deny that you'v either seen me or heard from
me. I won't have you volved."

"Catbryn"

"I mean it.  I don't want you at risk.  Once I leave that's it."  She
glanced at the big clock on the wall.  "I !  a little more than half an
hour before my next bus leave there somewhere we can talk safely?"

"There's a coffee shop down there."  Meredith gest "Practically empty
at this hour."

Within minutes they were in a dim booth at the bac the shop, seated
across from each other over mugs of fee neither of them wanted. Cathryn
faced the front s could keep a wary eye on the door.  New Orleans had
taught her a careful vigilance.  She could see that Meredith sadened by
this necessity, as well as by their need to confer in hushed tones.

She leaned toward Cathryn.  "There wasn't much explanation in the news.
Just what did you witness night?  Can yOU bear to talk about it?"

Meredith deserved to know exactly why she was hell' her.  Cathryn
described the horror as briefly as possiblel just because it was
painful to relate but because their together was precious and needed to
be used formal more imperative.

"I was putting in some volunteer time at Senator lard campaign
headquarters.  They had me working stairs in a back cubby entering
names and addresses in a computer for the mailing lists.  It was late
when I finis sometime after ten.  There was no one else in the buildin
then, except for the senator's brother, Francis."

"Who was also his campaign manager," Meredith s "Isn't that what I
read?"

"That's right.  I could see him through the glass wall of his office
down on the first floor when I came out on the balcony.  I started down
the stairs when I realized I'd left my umbrella in the cubby.  It was a
rainy night.  I knew I'd need it.  I didn't bother putting any of the
lights back on.  The automatic security lamps were lit by then.  Not
much of a glow from them but enough to find my way back to the cubby. I
groped around for a few minutes before I found the umbrella.  When I
came out on the balcony again, Francis was no longer alone in his
office.  He had a visitor."

"Red Quinn," Meredith whispered.

"Yes, Red Quinn.  I recognized him right away.  He's a well-known
mobster around New Orleans.  And there was no mistaking that flaming
hair, even plastered with rain."

"Why was he there?"

Cathryn shook her head.  "I don't know.  He and the senator have always
been enemies.  Senator Menard has been trying for years to see him put
away.  And that night there with Francis... well, it was some kind of
confrontation.  They were quarreling, but the door was shut so I
couldn't hear their actual words?"

"But you could clearly see them," Meredith prompted.  Cathryn briefly
closed her eyes.  "I can see them now, and I'll go on seeing them for
the rest of my life.  The two of them standing there in that blaze of
light, like it was a stage.  And me out there in the darkness, the
audience they didn't know existed.  Only it wasn't a play.  It was
real, and" -Her voice faltered.  She swallowed, then made herself
quickly finish the account.  "Red Quinn pulled a gun and he shot him.
He killed Francis, then he left the building.  And he never knew I was
crouching up there on the balcony, or he would have murdered me,
too."

Meredith reached across the table and closed her hand around Cathryn's.
"I shouldn't have asked you.  It must have been devastating for you."

"Not half as devastating as it was for Senator Menard.  He and his
brother were very close.  Francis was dedicated to his causes."

Meredith's expression was rueful.  "It's a sorry business."

"Yes, and Quinn is powerful and dangerous.  I realized that after what
happened at the safe house.  He'll never let me on that stand to
testify-against him, and there's no way I can count on police
protection now.  If it were only myself I had to think about..."

Meredith's fingers squeezed hers.  "I know."

Catbryn recovered her composure, and with it her resolve.  "Did you
bring the letters?"

"It's all here."  She produced a thick brown envelope from the depths
of her large handbag and placed it on the table between them.
"Everything you'll need, including the airline ticket he sent me."

"He mujt be pretty eager to have you there when he's willing to pay
your flight like this.  "

"Oh, he's a very decent man, at least by what I could tell from all his
letters, or I'd never let you go to him."

Cathryn nodded.  "Then I promise you I'll do everything I can not to
make him sorry he sent for Meredith McLean."

"I don't question that.  It's just that... oh, Cat, this is all so
extreme!  Taking on my identity, hiding yourself in the Alaskan
wilderness for God knows how long!  Isn't there any other way?"

"Not without funds.  All I have is what's here in my purse, enough to
take me through another week or so.  And I wouldn't have that much if I
hadn't cashed a check just be fore I went into the safe house.  I
didn't dare to go back t my apartment afterward, just as I don't dare
to use a credit card or try to work somewhere to support myself,
because any of it would leave a paper trail leading straight to me. And
Red Quinn could be the first to follow it."

Meredith's reaction was a rueful one.  "It's moments like these that I
regret being a schoolteacher in a small town in Missouri, because if I
had any real money of my own"

"I wouldn't accept it.  And you know you love the classroom, just as I
love" -She broke off to correct herself.  "Did love being a research
librarian."

Regret was pointless, Cathryn realized.  All that mattered now were the
contents of the envelope in front of her and the potential protection
they offered her.  She reached for the envelope, opened it and drew out
a bundle of letters.

"They're all there," Meredith assured her.  "Every one of the letters
he sent me over the past eight months since we began corresponding.
When you've had a chance to study them, you'll know everything I know
about him.  The ticket is tucked in there somewhere."

Catbryn flipped through the letters without opening any of them.  There
was no time for that now, though she did notice the addresses on the
envelopes were penned in a strong, masculine scrawl.  An encouraging
sign?

She glimpsed the airline ticket to Anchorage at the bottom of the
bundle.  And something else.  A snapshot.  She slid it from the packet
and lifted her eyes questioningly to Meredith, who was solemnly
watching her.

"Yes, that's Ben Adams.  He included it in one of his letters."

Catbryn gazed silently at the snapshot.  It depicted a dark, bearded
man posed rather self-consciously on the porch of a log cabin.  The
animal close beside him looked more wolf than dog.  The photograph was
an amateur's effort and lacked any real detail or clarity.

"Did you send him a picture of yourself?"

"I'm afraid so.  One of those school photos with my kids.  But it
wasn't that great so it shouldn't be a problem.  I mean, if he's
expecting me..."

"Then why should he believe he's getting anyone else but you?  And he
will before I'm finished.  He has to."

Cathryn replaced the materials and tucked the brown envelope in her
tote bag.  Then she faced her cousin.  "I have to be sure of this,
Meredith.  I have to know you don't mind that it's me going to him
instead of you."

Meredith shook her head emphatically.  "That afternoon When we talked
on the phone--you know, just before you got into this awful mess--and I
told you about Ben's invitation and how"

She broke off as the languid waitress drifted toward them to refill the
mugs of coffee neither of them had touched.  Cathryn smiled at the
woman and shook her head.

When the waitress was out of earshot again, Meredith continued.  "It's
like I said that day.  When I answered his ad and we began exchanging
letters... well, it was a kind of adventure for someone like me living
an ordinary existence in a dull town.  You know, the lonely, rugged
bachelor in far-off Alaska yearning for female companionship, and me
seeing myself as capable of providing it.  Okay, so it was damn
romantic.  On paper, anyway."

"But when it came to reality..."

"Exactly.  It wasn't exciting anymore, it was scary.  Because suddenly
he wants me to join him.  Like a mail-order bride.  All right, that's
an exaggeration.  Ben was clear about there being no commitment until
we learned whether we suited each other in person.  Even so, I realized
I couldn't do it.  I couldn't go up there and be alone with him in all
that wilderness.  I've just been too much of a coward to let him know I
wasn't coming."

"Now you don't have to," Catbryn said, the determination clear in her
voice.  "You can tell him you'll be there just as he planned."

Meredith stared at her.  There was misgiving in her gaze.  Cathryn
could see that she was suddenly losing her nerve.  "Cat, I don't know.
Ben is no fool.  Maybe it's crazy to think you can get away with
passing yourself off as me."

"Sisters," Cathryn insisted.  "We've always said we're enough alike to
be sisters.  The family resemblance has always been there.  All I have
to do is change my hair, copy your makeup.  I don't have to get any
closer than that, just near enough to that image of the woman in the
picture you sent him.  I can do it, Meredith."

"But what if you end up in a situation where you'll need to produce
identity?  A driver's license, things like that?"

"It won't happen.  And if it does, I'll bluff my way through it
somehow."

"I'm not sure.  I'm just not sure now that this isn't all a big
mistake."

Cathryn grasped both of her cousin's hands on the table and held them
tightly.  "Meredith, listen to me.  It will work.  I'm going to make it
work.  I don't have an alternative.  I have to hide, and where better
to do it than in a remote corner in Alaska?  There's only one thing
that seriously bothers me."

"What?"

"I'm using him.  There's no getting around that.  I'm using him and I'm
afraid that one day I'm going to have to pay the price for that.  But I
can't let that stop me, because right now Ben Adams is all I have."

Her cousin offered no further argument, but she could see that
uncertainty lingered on her attractive face.

Funny, Cathryn thought.  Of the two of them, it had, always been
Meredith who was outgoing and impulsive.  She, on the other hand, had
been reserved and prudent.  Partly because this was her nature, and
partly, she suspected, because of what she had had to sacrifice years
ago in college.  But n w it was as if they had suddenly reversed their
characters.  It was she who was being daring, and Meredith who was
being circumspect.

Cathryn wondered if it was necessity that was making her more like her
cousin, a borrowing of some of her traits in order for her to
impersonate Meredith successfully.  It wouldn't be surprising.  Not
when she knew she needed all the help she could get to bring off this
performance.

"I'd better go," Cathryn said.

They collected their belongings and left the coffee shop.  Meredith
walked with her toward the gates.

"Write to him first thing," Cathryn instructed her.  "Tell him I'll be
on that flight and that he can meet me in Anchorage."

"The ticket is for a week from now," Meredith said.  "Where will you be
until then?"

"I'm going to find a cheap motel somewhere that's isolated so I can
hole up while I study his letters and do everything I can to transform
myself into you.  Wish me luck."

"Oh, Cat, are you sure?"

"Don't.  Don't question it anymore.  It has to be this way."

They had reached the gate.  The bus was there, and the few passengers
waiting for it were beginning to board.

Meredith hesitated, then made herself say it.  "There is one thing.
What you're leaving back in Louisiana..."

Catbryn knew she didn't mean her job, friends or apartment.  Meredith
was referring to the reason she had sneaked out of that safe house to
make her secretive telephone call.

The same call she had made again after talking to Meredith outside the
minimart in New Orleans.

"I know.  I've thought about it.  It's all I have thought about
actually.  Because if Red Quinn or his people ever found out ... well,
that's really why I have to do this.  If I can vanish, and manage to
stay vanished long enough, it'll all blow over and I'll be forgotten.
And there won't be a risk of anyone finding out about him.  Then maybe
one day..."

But she didn't dare let herself count on the future.  It was too
painful to hope for something that might never be possible.

"They're waiting, Meredith..  I have to go."

The two women caught each other in a quick, fierce embrace.

"Be careful, Cat."

"It's what I do best these days," she said, managing to summon a
parting smile.  "Bless you, darling, and don't forget.  Tell Ben Adams
I'm on my way."

Minutes later, as Meredith somberly watched from the gate, the bus
lumbered away into the darkness.

Chapter Two

The moment was almost here, and she was frightened.  Would Ben Adams
accept her?  She stood in the cramped lavatory at the rear of the
droning aircraft, trying to renew her confidence as she gazed
critically at the image of the unfamiliar woman in the mirror.

Back at that rural motel in Illinois, Cathryn had been amazed and
pleased by her careful transformation.  She had' cropped her
caramel-colored hair, lightening it to an ash blond before copying
Meredith's cap of loose, easy-care waves.  A sassy style that flattered
her face.

Her altered makeup suited her new coloring, along with eyebrows she had
plucked and shaped to match her cousin's.  It was true that her face
was a bit more narrow than Meredith's, but they shared the same
straight nose, full mouth and thick eyelashes.  She was also somewhat
taller than Meredith, but that should present no problem when their
figures were otherwise similar.

The changes had agreed with Cathryn, making her seem less drab to
herself.  Someone who was more interesting.  That was what she had
thought back at the motel.  But now.  Now all she could see were the
differences that suddenly looked major to her in her mounting anxiety.
Aquamarine eyes when Meredith's were a pure blue.  A slight cleft in
the chin that her cousin lacked.  And Cathryn's biggest concern, a
small brown mole below the outside corner of her right eye.

Were any of these problems serious enough to betray her, or was she
exaggerating them in her fear?

A polite rap on the door interrupted her scrutiny.  She opened it to
the friendly face of a flight attendant.

"Sorry for the intrusion, but we're asking everyone to return to their
seats now.  We'll be landing shortly."  Anchorage.  That was the sight
the other passengers were trying to glimpse from their windows as the
jet descended to the international airport.  Catbryn was focused on
nothing but the snapshot she had fished out of her purse seconds after
she secured her seat belt.

She studied the bearded man in the photo just as intently as she had
examined her own face in the lavatory mirror.  Striving to invest him
with a reality.  It was no use.  He was no more tangible to her now
than when she had pored over his letters in the motel.  For all the
details of his life he had shared with Meredith, Ben Adams remained to
Cathryn an elusive, unknown force.

The best she could hope for, she thought nervously, was to recognize
him in the airport.

HE WASN'T THERE.

Catbryn stood in tbebaggagc-claim area, fighting a sense of sudden
despair as the last of the crowd streamed away toward the exits. Nearly
a half hour had passed since the plane had unloaded at the gate. She
had spent most of that time anxiously scanning faces, but none of them
had re-serobled the man in the snapshot.  Nor had anyone approached
her.

There was no more luggage on the carousel.  The area had emptied.  She
was alone.

She stood there, trying to understand her dilemma.  Had there been a
mix-up about just when and where he was to meet her, something Meredith
had neglected to make clear in her letter?  Could that letter have
failed to reach him?  Or--worst of all--had Ben Adams, suspecting
something, changed his mind and decided not to come?

Whatever the explanation, her situation was a serious one.  How was she
going to survive without him?  She had less than fifty dollars now in
her purse, and her only possession was the single, inexpensive suitcase
at her feet.  She wouldn't have that much, or the clothes packed inside
it, if it weren't for Meredith's generosity.  Her cousin had hidden
money for her inside one of Ben's letters, along with a note insisting
Cathryn couldn't arrive in Alaska with little more than the clothes on
her back.

She couldn't go on standing here being helpless.  There was still the
chance that a message was waiting for her, perhaps at one of the
airline's counters.  Hopeful of that possibility, she Picked up her
suitcase and started toward an escalator to the main floor.

She hadn't reached the escalator when she was stopped by a deep,
resonant voice just behind her.

"Meredith McLean?"

Cathryn turned, her heart beginning to hammer in a strange kind of
anticipation.  As if she was about to make some extraordinary
connection.

It was his eyes sloe noticed first.  Couldn't help noticing.  They were
dark, as dark as gleaming jet, and they seemed to drill right through
her.  As if they had the ability to penetrate her identity.

Maybe that's exactly what he was doing, because he had the photograph
Meredith had sent him in his hand.  Frowning he glanced down at it,
then back at her.  Cathryn held her breath, waiting for his challenge,
certain that he was about to deny her.

To her relief he nodded slowly and permitted a smile, that struck her
as oddly reluctant, to hover briefly on his wide mouth.

"I didn't think there would be any way I wouldn't recognize you," he
said, "but..."  He shrugged a pair of broad shoulders and pocketed the
photo.

It was her turn to express uncertainty.  "Ben?"

"Yeah, I know."  His hand stroked a square jaw.  "I lost 'the beard.  I
thought maybe you'd appreciate seeing all of me."  '

She did, she realized.  Because now she noticed more than that pair of
black eyes.  She was aware of a strong face with a Roman nose.  Thick,
dark hair with a smattering of gray at the temples, though she knew he
was only in his midthirties.  A tall, robust body clad in jeans and a
well-worn sport coat.  Things that the snapshot had failed to reveal.
And something else.  Something she hadn't expected and that definitely
complicated the situation.  Ben Adams was po-ten fly, disturbingly
sexy.

Her awareness of this was heightened when he leaned down and kissed
her.  It was a casual, brief kiss placed beside her mouth rather than
directly on it.  A greeting that shouldn't have surprised her,
considering that the letters he and Meredith exchanged had progressed
to a fairly intimate stage.  But the contact definitely affected her
equilibrium.

"Welcome to Alaska, Meredith."

"Thank you for wanting me to come."

It was a stilted thing to say, emphasizing the awkwardness of their
meeting.

He eased the situation with a husky-voiced apology.  "Sorry I'm so
late.  There was a last-minute emergency on the line that delayed my
getting away."

She knew from his letters that he was referring to the Trans-Alaska
Pipeline, whose construction had first brought him to' Alaska and
enabled him to buy his cabin.  He had stayed on after its completion in
a maintenance capacity that permitted him considerable amounts of free
time to enjoy the wilderness he relished.

"My section is all secure now," he went on, "so I'm off for the next
few weeks.  Is that your only bag?"

He took the suitcase from her hand.  "Then we'd better head out.  It's
a long drive to the cabin."

She was breathless with her effort to match his energetic, long-legged
stride that carried them out of the building into a dazzling sunlight.
The light, together with the sticky warmth that accompanied it, was
unexpected, especially since it wasn't much past six o'clock in the
morning.

He was aware of her surprise as they moved across the parking lot.
"You're in the land of the midnight sun now, Meredith.  At this time of
the year, the sun rises before four, and heat waves aren't unknown.
Here we are."

They had reached a Jeep Wrangler, which looked as though it had seen
tough service on the rough tracks of the wilderness.

He turned to her when they were settled in the vehicle, offering a slow
smile.  Again there was that quality of strange reluctance in the
smile, even a degree of impatience.  Did he regret having her here
after all?

His words, anyway, said otherwise.  "I warn you, Meredith, I'm going to
do everything I can to make you.  glad you're here."  :

There was a seductive huskiness in his promise that unsettled her.  She
was suddenly aware, for the first time, that she was going off into the
Alaskan wilds with this man.  That they would share a small cabin, just
the two of them alone together.  And that he was a total stranger who
made the breath stick in her throat.

Cathryn was no less unnerved as they drove off through the city.  She
was conscious every second of his hard bulk close beside her in the
Jeep.  This wasn't the Ben Adams she had planned on--the gentle, shy
but ultimately cheerful bachelor.  This was something else.  Something
that 'was .  what?  Grim?  No, that wasn't the right word.  Intense.
Yes, he had a compelling, mercurial intensity that made her wonder how
she was going to survive a remote cabin with him.

Maybe he was thinking the same thing, because he kept sneaking glances
at her as he drove.  Or, she asked herself nervously, was he suspicious
after all?  She kept fearing that at any second he would confront her
with a scowl and a harsh question: "You're not Meredith McLean.  What
the hell am you trying to pull?"

Enough, Catbryn.  The man is probably just being as curious about you
as you are about him.  It's only natural.

But in order to save her battered courage, she torn her eyes away from
that dark, almost brooding gaze of his.  She distracted herself with
the scenery of Anchorage.

The city, sprawled against a backdrop of the Chugach Mountains, was a
fascinating contrast of modern high-rises rubbing shoulders with
structures that looked like survivors from the pioneer days.  There was
a raw quality about the place that suggested the bleakness of long
winters and the vastness of the wilderness at its door.  No doubt about
it.  Alaska was turning out to be as much of a shock and a mystery as
the man who sat beside her.

Cathryn wasn't sum just when she became aware of the gray Jaguar sedan
that was tailing them.  It might have been there for some time, just
another vehicle in the flow of traffic.  But it was such a distinctive
car that she couldn't help eventually noticing it.  Because it was
always with them whenever she twisted or turned in her seat to take in
the sights.

In time she became certain that it was no accident the Jaguar was
there, that it was deliberately following the Jeep.  Panic gripped her.
Had her enemy somehow tracked her to Alaska?

She waited trying to remain calm and rational.  She wanted to be sure
the threat was real.  The traffic thinned as they drove north out of
the city.  Catbryn again checked the highway behind them.  The Jaguar
was there in close pursuit.

She faced forward and glanced quickly at her companion.  Ben was either
unaware of the car behind them or not worried by it.  But he did feel
her tense gaze on him.  "What?"  he asked her casually.

She couldn't tell him, not unless it became absolutely necessary.  They
were passing through a small community, a kind of suburb of Anchorage.
The place offered an appealing attraction just beside the highway.  She
used it as a diversion.

"There.  What is it?"

Ben slowed the Jeep to a crawl.  "It's a Russian Orthodox church, a
leftover from the days when Russia owned Alaska."

Cathryn tried to concentrate on the unique, onion-domed church
constructed entirely of logs.  The cemetery adjoining it was equally
unusual.  Xrvidly painted wooden structures covered each of the
graves

"Spirit houses," Ben explained.  "Made by the Athabas-can Indians to
protect the spirits of the dead."

The oncoming lane was suddenly clear of traffic.  The Jaguar behind
them surged forward.  Out of the co ruer of her eye, Cathryn glimpsed
the driver--an impatient, elderly woman.  The car swept by them without
a pause and disappeared over a rise.  All this time the Jaguar had
merely been waiting for an opportunity to pass.

Ben must have sensed her enormous relief.  He looked at her curiously.
She'd have to be more careful after this.  The constant strain that had
been with her since NeTM Orleans was making her paranoid.  She needed
to remember she was in Alaska now and that she was safe.  Wasn't she?

THEY STOPPED at a rustic roadside diner that sold miniature totem poles
and featured reindeer sausage on its menu.  Ben urged her to take
advantage of the enormous country breakfast he ordered for them,
explaining that there were scant opportunities betWeen here and his
cabin, which they couldn't hope to reach before evening.

Cathryn had been too tense to want much of anything on the plane.  She
suddenly realized she was ravenous.

Maybe it was the satisfying meal she ate or the bracing air of a higher
altitude, but she felt much more relaxed when they were back on the
road again.

Of course, the scenery could be equally responsible for that.  She had
never imagined that mountains could be so spectacular.  Their massive
presence on every side was a re minder of Alaska's awesome dimensions.
"Like them?"  Ben asked.  "They take my breath away."

He seemed pleased by her reaction.  He pointed to a range far to the
north where a snowcapped double peak loomed above the rest.  "Mount
McKinley," he said.  "Visible even from this distance.  That is, when
the weather cooperates."

They were traveling the Glenn Highway now, and to Cathryn, each vista
seemed more magnificent than the last.  Wild river gorges, sweeping
forests of spruce and aspen, a blue-tinted glacier, alpine meadows
strewed with blue forget-me-nots and magenta fireweed.

"It's all so--so big," she murmured.

Ben chuckled, drawing her attention to a nearby crag where several
horned white animals were poised against the sky.  "Dall sheep," he
said.

Cathryn was enchanted by them.  He promised her she would see many more
of them.  Alaska teemed with wildlife.

Hour after hour the Jeep wound through the remote backcountry.  Cathryn
never tired of the scenery, and Ben seemed happy to share it with her.
They talked of nothing else.  But all the while there was another
subject that was waiting to be broached.  She was conscious of it
thrumming betWeen them like a live thing, provocative and ultimately
unavoidable.  How long would she remain with him?  An extended visit or
something more definite, something involving a permanent relationship?
A mail-order bride.  That's what Meredith had said, and she couldn't
forget her cousin's tantalizing words.

Ben must be thinking of the same thing, but he wasn't pressuring her
with it.  She was comfortable with that.  And she was actually able to
relax now that Anchorage was far behind them, and the danger she had
lived with since New Orleans no longer kept her alert and frightened
every minute.

The mesmerizing landscape eventually lulled her into a peaceful sleep,
the first she had known in days.  Her last, satisfying thought before
she drifted off was centered on the

man beside her.  She suddenly realized that she felt completely secure
with him.  Strange, considering how on every other level she found Ben
Adams alarmingly intriguing.

ALLURING.  That was the word that had leapt into his mind the first
moment he'd laid eyes on her back at the airport.  He had thought her
alluring.  He still did as he glanced at her sleeping beside him, her
blond hair all mussed like a woman who'd just made wanton love, her
breasts looking lush in her embroidered cotton sweater.  He damned him
self for the treacherous tightening in his groin.

She was alluring, and she was trouble.  Big trouble.  He felt it in his
gut.  Had instinctively sensed it ever since he'd been coerced into
this job.  What he hadn't expected was to be so immediately, strongly
aroused by her.  That kind of thing was a real mistake in his line of
work, a weakness that could result in the worst kind of penalty.  He'd
already learned that, hadn't he?

There was another reason for avoiding a relationship on that level.  It
made it tougher to maintain his role, left him susceptible to Careless
errors.  He had already slipped up a bit at the airport.  She hadn't
questioned his lie about being delayed by an emergency on the pipeline,
but his attitude had puzzled her a couple of times.

He'd have to guard against any further signs of reluctance.  She
mustn't guess his resentment that bordered on bitterness, or she would
end up suspecting his identity.  He had to remember he had only one
objective that mattered.  He had to get her to trust him completely.
That meant no emotional involvement, though he wouldn't bet at this
point that he was going to be able to resist the physical temptation of
this situation.  Not when she looked like that and with the two of them
alone in an isolated cabin.

Problem was she was already suspicious of everything everyone.  Had
every reason to be.  And she was far servant.  Look how she had been
spooked by that into Jag.  Ironic that it had worried her when the
Whole trouble was the man sitting right beside her she ought to have
worrying about.  If only she knew.  Oh, hell, he hated this whole
thing. He wanted it ished, with Cathryn McLean out of the way, so that
he c go back to his solitary, uncomplicated existence.

He checked his watch and the mileage on the Jeep's Still a good
distance to go.  Meanwhile, he didn't like{ look of those clouds that
were beginning to mass ore mountains.

FV, AN-K TSLF WaS breathing hard by the time he entered8 the clearing. 
And his feet hurt.  It had been a lot farther he'd anticipated.  Uphill
all the way, too.

No choice about it.  His rented Land Rover would announced his arrival.
He had left it a couple of miles t the rough track.  Parked it out of
sight behind some { greens.

Well, it was his own fault he was puffing and sweating was overweight.
Betty had been after him to shed s pounds.  Maybe he'd work on it when
he got home.  Jus cause he was thinking about retiring soon didn't mea
should let himself go.

He caught a gFunpse of the cabin's roof through the !  Time to leave
the track.  He headed into the thick we pausing to mop at the
perspiration on his balding hear to slap as noiselessly as possible at
a persistent mosquito.  Alaskan mosquitoes were the worst.  He could
swear the last one that had tried to feed on him had been the siz
hummingbird.

Frank knew the value of caution.  He approached the clearing from the
side, screening himself behind dense undergrowth as he reached its
edge.  From here he carefully checked the situation.

Nice place, he thought, peering through the leaves at the log structure
tucked among the tall spruce.  Real homey.

No vehicle in the yard.  The place was silent, wearing an air of
desertion.  Had he come all this way for nothing?  He had to be sure.

Keeping himself hidden among the trees, he slowly circled the clearing,
alert for any noise or movement.  Nothing.  All he observed was a flash
of blue water below the back side of the cabin.  There was a lake down
there.  He wondered if it offered any worthwhile fishing.  Probably
did.

In the end Frank risked leaving the trees.  Sneaking up on the cabin's
front porch, he risked a fast peek through a window.  By then he had
his hand on his semiautomatic pistol.

There was no one inside.  The place looked empty.  He tried the door.
It was unlocked.  Guess there's no reason to bother with a lock way out
here, he thought.

At this point he didn't expect any surprises, but he was ready with his
piece when he entered the cabin.  It was just what he figured.  Nobody
home and a feeling about the place that it was going to stay that way
for a while.

The lack of groceries told him that.  That was always a telltale sign,
especially when folks weren't handy to stores and needed to keep a
stock.  He checked the cabinets and the bottled-gas refrigerator. Nope,
not a perishable in sight.

Maybe Adams and the McLean woman weren't going to hole up here, Frank
thought as he returned to the porch.  Maybe he was taking her somewhere
else.  He wondered just where that might be.

The nearest community was a place called Bearpaw.  Not much more than a
bump on the road.  He had already checked it but.  But there was a post
office there.  Must be where Ben Adams got his mail.  He'd go to
Bearpaw, then, and look for answers, And if that didn't work.  Well,
then he'd try something else.  Whatever it took.  Betty was forever
telling him he was the most persistent cuss she knew.

There was the rumble of thunder over the mountains as he came away from
the clearing.  He hoped he wouldn't get caught in a downpour before he
got back to the Land Rover.

THE CRASH OF GUNFIRE!  Red Quinn had found her--she was going to die!

Cathryn came awake in a panic, struggling against the restraints that
were preventing her escape as a second terrifying explosion rent the
air.

"Easy," advised a deep, soothing voice.  "It's just thunder and
lightning.  Sounds like the devil in these mountains."

Startled, she gazed at her companion.  Then she realized where she was.
Ben's Jeep, and the restraint holding her down was her seat belt.  A
storm.  Only a summer storm.  "Sorry," she murmured.  "I guess I was
dreaming."

He nodded his understanding without sparing her a glance.  The road
demanded his attention.  They had left the Glenn Highway, perhaps long
ago, and were traveling now over an unpaved route through the
backcountry.  Cathryn could no longer see the mountains.  They were
obscured by sheets of driving rain.

"It's getting dark.  How long have I been asleep?"

"A few hours.  It's late enough, but we're losing the light sooner
because of the storm."

"How far now to the cabin?"

"Still a way to the turnoff."

"Can we get there before night?"

"If we don't run into a washout.  The road isn't dependable in weather
like this.  Don't worry.  The Jeep has survived worse than this."

Cathryn wasn't worrying.  His presence close beside her was solid and
comforting.  They were silent now as he concentrated on his driving.
She watched the rain beating against the windshield.  For a long while
there was nothing else to see.

Then, out of nowhere, an alarming bulk loomed directly in front of
them.  The headlights, inadequate in the half light and the heavy rain,
had failed to provide a sufficient warning.  Cathryn, suddenly aware
that they were on a collision course with a bull moose, braced herself
with a sharp cry.

Ben's curse was equally pronounced as his foot punched the brake.  His
swift reaction prevented an impact, but the Jeep skidded on the
rain-slick, muddied gravel.  Had they been traveling at a less cautious
speed, the vehicle might have overturned.  As it was, it seemed to leap
off the road, defying Ben's struggle at the wheel.

There was no shoulder to control them.  Nothing but the sudden edge of
the road and a curtain of low growth through which they smashed.  Then
a sickeningly steep incline.  Somewhere down its madly bouncing length,
Ben managed to bring them to a stop.  But the halt was so rough and
abrupt that it felt as if they had slammed into a wall.

Cathryn recovered herself after a dazed few seconds and turned
anxiously to her companion.

"Ben, are you?"

She had been about to ask him if he was all right.  But she could see
by the light from the dash that he wasn't all right.  He was
unconscious, his head hanging limply to one side.  His seat belt was
still in place, so he couldn't have smacked into the wheel or the
windshield.  That last jounce must have flung him sideways, cracking
his head against the doorpost.

Was he irjured?  Maybe seriously injured?  She had to find out.
Releasing her seat belt to permit herself a freedom of movement, she
stretched across Ben's still form.  Gently she lifted and turned his
head toward the glow from the dash.  She could see it now, a trickle of
blood down his left temple.

She spoke to him insistently.  "Ben, can you hear me?"  No answer.  He
remained unconscious.  Either that or--Dreading the alternative, she
groped nervously at his neck, seeking a pulse.  There!  She released a
breath of relief as she located a slow but steady beat in the hollow of
his throat.

Counting the rhythm to be sure it was within the normal range, Cathryn
suddenly became aware that her hand was in contact with his warm,
strongly corded flesh.  There was the tingling sensation against her
skin of silky, masculine hair where his shirt was parted.  Sext by a
mixture of guilt and confusion, she quickly withdrew her hand.

What now?

The Jeep!  She realized then that the engine was still running and that
they could be in danger of rolling farther down the incline into Lord
knew what.  Her hands fumbled around the controls until she found and
secured the emergency brake.  Only then did she trust herself to turn
off the key, though she left the headlights on.

There was no helping it, was there?  She had to leave the Jeep.  She
had to gO out there and check their situation because they could still
be at risk on this slope.

There was rain gear in her suitcase, but she didn't bother trying to
get at it.  She found a flashlight in the glove compartment.  Arming
herself with that, she opened the door and eased herself out of the
vehicle.  Rain, driven by a strong wind, stung her face.  Within
seconds of leaving the shelter of the Jeep, she was soaked.  It wasn't
important.  Only their dilemma mattered.

Aided by the flashlight, the headlights and the intermittent flash of
lightning, she picked her way down the slope.  She didn't go far.  Mere
yards in front of the Jeep, the land ended in a void.  Cathryn stood on
the edge of the precipice, and when the lightning flashed again, she
found herself glimpsing a frightening drop to a canyon floor far below.
They had come within feet of tumbling to their deaths.

Gasping with shock, she swung the flashlight toward the Jeep, expecting
it to come loose and charge down the slope with Ben inside it.  That
was when she saw that the wheels were caught in a deep rut.  The rut
had saved them, but she didn't trust it.

There were rocks everywhere on the slope.  She went back to the Jeep
and began stuffing them under the tires.  Drenched with rain as she
worked, grimacing over every violent clap of thunder, she battled a
frantic sense of helplessness.

What was she going to do, trapped out here in a storm with full night
coming on?  She had 'to do something because Ben could be--probably
was--in need of professional medical assistance.  There had been no
sound or stir from inside the Jeep.

Cathryn was reaching for the door to check on him again when she heard
it--the sound of another vehicle approaching from the opposite
direction up along the roadway.  For a moment she was too amazed by the
miracle to trust in its reality.  But the promise of help actually
being there in all this remoteness was something she couldn't afford to
miss.  Knowing she had to reach the road and signal the driver, that he
would never spot them down here otherwise, she clawed her way up the
slope.  Wild with haste, slipping and sliding over the wetness, she
lost the flashlight and didn't stop to recover it.  The other car was
almost here.

She broke through the wall of undergrowth, shouting for the driver's
attention.  Too late!  The car had already swept by her its driver
never hearing her cries over the sounds of the storm.  Without pausing,
the vehicle rounded a curve, revealing itself as a green Land Rover in
a flare of lightning.  Then it was gone.

Cathryn could have wept with frustration.  For a moment she stood
there, feeling alone and abandoned in the vastness of the wilderness.
There was no other sign of life.  Even the moose that had caused their
accident had vanished.  And the Land Rover might have been a mirage for
all the good it had done her.

She had to go back.  She had to find the vital flashlight.  That much
she realized.  She was turning around when a shadowy figure lunged at
her out of the darkness.

Chapter Three

"It had quit raining by the time the Land Rover rolled into Bearpaw. It
was almost dark, though.  Or as dark as it probably ever got in Alaska
at this time of the year, Frank thought.  He had already discovered
that the sky was never absolutely black, whatever the hour or the
weather.  It made going to bed an odd experience for an outsider.

Bearpaw hardly qualified as a town.  There were less than a dozen
houses and a couple of stores.  That was about it, except for a tiny
post office that served the area.  Closed, of course.

As late as it was, however, Frank had a bit of luck.  There was a woman
out front under a pole lamp fussing over pots of geraniums that had
been battered by the storm.  He assumed she was connected with the post
office.

Edging the Land Rover to the curb, he rolled down his window.  "What a
shame," he sympathized, referring to the geraniums.  "Looks like they
were real beauties, too, before they got beat down.  Any hope of
rescuing them?"

She looked up.  She had frizzy hair almost as red as the flowers.
"They'll come back," she said flatly.

"It's always a matter of patience, isn't it?"  he observed amiably.
"Would you happen to know when the post office here opens in the
morning?"

"I'd better, since I'm the postmaster."

"Oh, now, that's handy because I figured, you know, that a rural post
office always knows its customers and that maybe this one could help me
to locate a fellow I've been trying to look up, I was out to Benny's
cabin just now, but not a sign of him."

"Benny?"

"That's right."  He chuckled.  "I suppose I should say Ben.  Ben
Adams."

She hesitated while he smiled at her guilelessly.  If pressed, Frank
would show her the impressive identification he always carried, but he
hoped to keep it simple and casual.  He didn't want Adams alerted.

"There wouldn't be any sign of him," she finally admitted.  "Not for a
few weeks anyway.  We're holding his mail while he's spending some time
down in Anchorage."

Frank went on smiling at her while hiding his aggravation.  Why hadn't
he stopped at the post office in the first place instead of asking for
directions to the cabin from that kid at the service station out on the
edge of Bearpaw?  Could have saved himself a trip and wasted hours.
Still, the cabin had needed to be checked out.  Anchorage?

"Sorry I went and missed him.  Well, maybe I'll see him in Anchorage.
Would you know where he's staying down there?"

"He didn't say."

Even if she had an address, Frank didn't think she would reveal it. She
was beginning to look as if she regretted telling him the little she
had.  He'd better not raise her suspi-don.

"It's not important.  Thanks for your help, and good luck with those
geraniums."

Once out of sight around a bend in the road, he pulled over on the
shoulder.  He was a careful driver and didn't want to risk his
concentration at the wheel with the act of unwrapping a stick of gum.

After the gum was in his mouth, Frank sat there for a moment, chewing
slowly, enjoying the fruity flavor as he examined the situation.

He'd wondered up at the cabin why Adams and the McLean woman hadn't
arrived.  They should have been there by then.  This explained it. 
They were staying in Anchorage, apparently not coming up here at all. 
At least not for a few weeks.  He wondered why.  Maybe Adams was
showing her the sights.  Or maybe, just maybe Catbryn McLean had
decided not to get herself cornered in an isolated mountain cabin.

Whatever the explanation, Frank had to find them.  Wasn't going to be
so easy now.  Anchorage was a big place.  They could be holed up
anywhere.  Didn't matter, though.  In the end he would somehow get to
them.

Easing the Land Rover back onto the road, he headed south.  It was
late, but he wasn't tired.  He'd drive as far as he could, and then
he'd park somewhere safe and grab a few hours of sleep.

There was one little thing that bothered Frank as he traveled the long
road to Anchorage, all the while working on the gum in his mouth. Adams
wasn't supposed to know the woman he'd sent for wasn't Meredith McLean.
So if Anchorage was her idea, how had she convinced him to remain
there instead of settling down all snug and cozy in the cabin?
Something not quite right about that.

CATHRYN FELT the wind punched out of her as she went down under the
weight of her attacker.  For a moment all she could do was struggle for
air, unable to cry out or fight back.  When she could breathe again,
there was no reason to defend herself.  The figure sprawled on top of
her motionless.

That was when she understood the situation.  He hadn'l lunged at her.
He had lurched into her because he'd dazed.  Was still dazed.  It was
Ben, of course, though could hardly make him out in the rain and the
darkness.  must have regained consciousness, crawled out of the and
stumbled up the slope after her.  She feared now had passed out
again.

"Ben," she called, trying to rouse him.

He didn't stir.  Cathryn was conscious of his hard pressed against
hers, of sensations she had no business perlericing under these
circumstances.  Panic of another surged through her.  She felt the need
to remove herself mediately.

"Ben, wake up!"  "

He groaned when she shoved at him and, to her relief.  rolled over on
his back.  Scrambling to her knees, she over him, anxious about his
condition.

"Ben, can you hear me?"

He didn't answer her for a moment, and then he tered, "Hear you." There
was another pause, followed a reassuring "Give me a minute.  I'll be
all right."

She waited tautly, and eventually he made an effort struggle into a
sitting position.  When she tried to help him: he growled, "Don't
fuss."

Cathryn drew back, allowing him to lift himself.  leaned forward,
resting his head against his upraised knees.  She wondered if he' was
going to be sick or whether slipping into a state of shock.  She tried
to remain calm, deal with him reasonably.

"Do you know where we are and what happened?"  Silence.

"Ben, answer me," she insisted.

"Sure," he mumbled.  "You screamed, scared the hell out of me and I
ended up losing control of the Jeep.  Okay?"

Considering his condition, she had tried to be understanding and
forgive him his gruffness.  But she wasn't about to go on sitting here
in a miserable downpour in the middle of nowhere and meekly take the
blame for an accident that was in no way her fault.

"Well, of course," she said sweetly.  "And if I hadn't been responsible
for making you late to the airport, We wouldn't have been delayed
getting on the road.  Then that moose wouldn't have been there at that
particular second, and I wouldn't have hysterically landed us in this
fix.  That about it?"

He grunted something and was silent again.

He wasn't being fair and he knew it.  But his head was pounding, and he
was in no mood to admit that no one was to blame for the situation.
Unless it was a resistant Ben Adams that he'd had to take care of
before he was able to race to meet her plane.  It was Adams who had
made him late.  This whole thing stunk.  Why had he ever let himself be
trapped in it?

"Do you think," she suggested dryly, "that it might be a good idea to
get out of this rain?"

"Yeah, okay."

This time he permitted her to help him to his feet.  Together they made
their way in the direction of the Jeep.  Halfway down the slope Cathryn
stumbled over the flash light.  She picked it up and tested it.  It
still worked.  "What's that doing there?"  he grumbled.

Had he not already suffered a blow to the head, she would have been
tempted to conk him with the flashlight.  She didn't answer him.  They
reached the Jeep and gratefully took shelter in the front seats.  Ben
must have turned off the headlights before he came looking for her.
They sat in the dark, listening to the rain on the roof.  It was
beginning to ease up.

There was silence between them for a long moment, and then he uttered a
simple, contrite, "Sorry."

She knew he was apologizing for his temper.  "You're forgiven."

"I don't make a good patient," he added,

"I could tell.  Are you going to be all right?  You were bleeding a
little when I checked you."

"Not now, and my headache is clearing.  I'll be fine.  What were you
doing out of the car?"

She told him how she had checked their situation, wedged rocks under
the wheels and tried to flag down the Land Rover.

"You did good," he said.

His easy compliment warmed her.  "What now?"

"There's no way we're going to get the Jeep back on the road in the
dark, and I don't see us sitting here for the rest of the night soaked
to the skin.  We need to find shelter until morning."

"Where?"

He didn't answer her for a moment.  The rain had stopped, and the
clouds were already rolling away.  The sky wore the faint glow of a
summertime midnight in the far north.  Cathryn supposed that at this
latitude the sun was never far below the horizon.

"You say there's a deep canyon just in front of us?"  "That's right."

He frowned, trying to remember what he had learned of the area during
his week of concentrated preparation.  There was something about this
place.  "Come on," he said impulsively, "I want to check it out.  I
think I know where we are."

"Shouldn't you be resting?  Just in case?"

But he was already out of the vehicle and headed toward the precipice.
She had no choice but to follow.  By the time she joined him, he was
planted on the very lip of the cliff and practically leaning out into
empty space in order to view the canyon floor.  He made her a nervous
wreck.  What if he turned dizzy again, lost his balance?

"What do you see down there?"  he demanded.

She peered into the depths.  Without the rain or the clouds, she was
able this time to glimpse a river in the murky light.  And there was
something else showing in patches through the trees.

"Roofs?"  she said.

"Roofs," he agreed.  "We're looking down on Percy."  "You mean a
town?"

"What's left of it.  Percy is a ghost town.  It was a booming gold
operation early in the century.  Alaska had a number of them.  Then the
ore from the river dwindled.  It's been abandoned for decades.  The
point is, enough of the buildings are still intact to offer us a place
to spend the night."

"Aside from the fact that investigating a ghost town at midnight
doesn't particularly thrill me, how do you propose we get down
there?"

"There must be a way.  Look, you can see the canyon wall starts sloping
down just off to the right there.  All we have to do is follow the
edge.  We need to take cover and try to find a way to get warm.  Both
of us are wet and miserable."

He had a point.  She was shivering in the night air.  "But why can't we
just stay in the Jeep and run the heater?"

"I don't trust it, that's why.  We're on a steep, slick slope, and the
rocks and emergency brake might be worth nothing if something starts to
slide."

She had to admit it was an uncomfortable prospect.  "You win.  But at
the risk of your snarling at me again, should you be trying a hike like
this?"

"I told you I'm fine," he insisted.

Why did men like Ben Adams forever deny any suggestion of even a
momentary weakness?  Cathryn wondered.  Exasperating.  "Fine," she
mumbled.  "You're fine, I'm fine, Percy is"

"Where are you going?"

"To get my purse and suitcase from the Jeep."

"No suitcase.  We don't need any burdens."

She had been looking forward to changing into dry clothes, but she
didn't argue with him.  "Okay, but I'm not leaving my purse," she said
stubbornly.

"You thinking of checking in down there with a credit card?"

She could see his white teeth gleaming in a wide grin.  "You're going
to regret that," she promised.

"Probably.  All right, let's go get your purse.  And the flashlight. At
least that's a useful item."

Minutes later, with the Jeep behind them, they were picking their way
along the edge of the bluff on a rough,

narrow track that was probably an animal trail.  Even with the aid of
the flashlight, it was a difficult route.  Brambles tore at them, rocks
and roots tripped them and Cathryn was aware every second of her damp
clothes sticking to her unpleasantly.  She had wanted Alaska and now
she was getting Alaska.

She didn't complain but she did worry.  What if Ben had a relapse and
passed out on her again?  She refused to ask him how he was doing,
though.  Not after his testy response back at the Jeep.  Anyway, he was
handling the rugged terrain better than she was.

The real challenge came when the path started to descend toward the
river.  It would have been a treacherous route in full daylight, but by
night Cathryn considered it practically suicidal.  It doubled back on
itself without warning and in places was merely a thread overhanging
the gorge, inviting a headlong plunge into nothingness.

In one of the worst spots they had to ease themselves down using their
hands, as well as feet.  Ben, in front of her and waiting to catch her
if she missed a hold, chuckled and asked wickedly, "Enjoying yourself,
Meredith?"

Funny man.

"Well, if I remember correctly," he persisted, "you did say in one of
your letters that Alaska sounded like a romantic adventure."

"I was probably thinking of a salmon dinner On a catamaran cruise.
Speaking of water, do I hear it?"

There was an unmistakable gurgle several yards ahead of them.  The
flashlight revealed a spring oozing from the rock of the cliff face.
The action of the water had washed away a portion of the ledge along
which they were traveling, leaving a perilous gap several feet in
width.  There was no way around it.

"This is where I stop being a sport," she threatened, "and crawl back
to the Jeep."

"Come on, Meredith.  It's an easy jump, and once on the other side
we're almost down."

"Got a question."

"Is Percy worth it?"

"You'll never know if we don't get there."

He swung around, leapt the gap with ease and turned to her, hand
extended.  "See, you can do it.  I'm here to catch you."

She approached the gap with uncertainty, thinking that her work as a
research librarian had in no way prepared her for something like this.
But she was a long way from that tranquil library in New Orleans.  She
could no more return to her existence there than she could go back
alone to the sanctuary of the Jeep.  All she could do was go forward.

"Better free yourself of the flashlight first," he instructed.  "Here,
toss it over."

Aiming carefully, she lobbed the instrument in his direction.  He
caught it without effort and placed it on a flat boulder so that its
beam was focused on the gap.  The measure enabled him to use both hands
to grasp her.

After making sure the shoulder strap of her purse was securely in
place, Cathryn launched herself from the brink.  Her nervous leap was
more forceful than the gulf demanded.  She landed against Ben's chest
with an impact that sent them staggering backward.  He managed to
steady both of them.

He might have released her then.  He didn't.  His arms were still
around her.  Tightly around her.  Neither of them stirred.

"What did I tell you."

" he whispered.  " Nothing to it.  " He was wrong, she thought.  It was
a risky undertaking and growing more dangerous by the second.  Trouble
was, she didn't know how to extricate herself from this per ilK

Worse, she didn't want to.  "Ben"

"

" Mmm?  "

"Am I safe now?"

"Let's see.  You're on this side, standing on solid rock and I've got
you."

"That's what I figured.  So I;m not safe."

"No," he drawled, "I guess you're not."

That's when he kissed her.  A deep, probing kiss that sent her head
spinning.  She had known from their first meeting that if his mouth
ever claimed hers, it would be a sensual, compelling business.  She
hadn't guessed that it would be a joining of such intensity it would
threaten her with destruction.

She was weak and trembling when his mouth finally lifted from hers. She
could still taste his skillful tongue, could still feel his clean
breath mingling with hers.

"A few more minutes of this," he said, "and our clothes ought to be
dry."

She was completely befuddled.  "What?"

"Wasn't that steam rising from us?"

She laughed softly.  "Probably mist from the river.  Don't you think it
would be a good idea if we got down there before it turus into fog?"

"Sounds reasonable."

But she regretted her practical suggestion when the powerful body that
had been holding her so intimately moved away from her.  He recovered
the flashlight, and they continued their descent into the canyon.

Neither of them referred again to the kiss they had shared, Catbryn
because she didn't trust herself to mention it, and Ben because.  Well,
she didn't know.  Maybe it had meant next to nothing to him.  It would
probably be safer for both of them if that were the case.  So then why
did she find this wisdom depressing?

Better forget that and concentrate on the trail.

Not that it demanded much attention at this point.  There were no
further hazards, and the incline was much less challenging.  Within
minutes they reached the level floor of the canyon.  They came through
the trees to the edge of the burbling river.  Looming in front of them
was a great hulking shape that, at this hour and in this place, might
have been a crouching monster that ought to have been extinct cons
ago.

"What's that?"  she demanded.

"A gold-dredging machine, I think.  Probably was easier to just abandon
it here and let it rust than to try to remove it."

Harmless, Cathryn thought.  Nothing to worry about.  She went on
reassuring herself with those words as she followed Ben into the
remnants of Percy itself.  But her chant was far less comforting among
the shadowy, sagging structures that fronted the river.  What might
have been fun to explore under a cheerful midday sun was, in the feeble
light of an Alaskan midnight, damn eerie.  There was, after all, a
reason why they called them ghost towns.

The evidence of desertion was everywhere.  Weathered walls, gaping
black holes that had once been windows and doors, the odor of neglect
and decay.

"Not very encouraging," she said.  "Most of these places look like they
lost their roofs long ago, and the ones that are still in place...
well, I don't think I'd trust spending the night.  under any of
them."

"No, not very sound," he agreed, "except..."

' He had been sweeping the flashlight over the faces of the buildings
as they progressed along the single street.  Now he pinned the beam on
the walls of a structure that was in far better shape than the other
shells.

"what do you knoW," he said, referring to a faded sign, "Percy had
itself an opera house.  Not a very grand one, but it somehow ended up
getting preserved.  Let's see what it offers us."

"Ben, do you think maybe?"

But he was already on his way through the open doorway.  She had no
choice but to hurry after him or remain alone on the spooky street.

She caught up with him in the small auditorium behind the tiny lobby.
He was busy with the flashlight investigating the walls.

"Look at the fancy decorations."

Cathryn did look.  They were filthy and peeling, though she had to
admit they must have been handsome in their day.  The only thing that
mattered was the place was intact and dry.

"There's a lantern there at the side of the stage."  She pointed it
out.  "Do you suppose it still?"

Her speculation was interrupted by a loud clattering from behind a
curtained doorway at the other side of the stage.  Cathryn's heart
seemed to leap into her throat.  Someone, or something, was lurking in
the wings.

"Who's there?"  Ben challenged the intruder.

They heard only a silence followed by a soft scrabbling noise.  The
ragged curtains at the doorway began to stir.  Catbryn held her breath,
expecting an apparition to materialize in the auditorium.  She was
prepared to hear moans and the rattle of chains.

But something far less appropriate to a ghost town poked through the
curtains and stood there regarding them mildly.  Cathryn couldn't
believe her eyes.

Neither, apparently, could Ben.  He looked at the creature in surprise,
then at Catbryn.  She looked at him.  They blurted it simultaneously.
"A llama?"

The animal snorted at them.

"Just what," Catbryn asked, recovering herself, "is a llama doing in
here?"

"Auditioning?"

The buff-colored beast must not have cared for Ben's humor.  Head high
with dignity, it trotted up the far aisle, clumped through the lobby
and disappeared into the street.

Cathryn stared after the departed animal, relieved that it had
preferred to escape instead of charging them.  "All right, I'll buy a
llama wandering around an abandoned opera house.  At least, I might in
Peru.  But Alaska?  Even I know llamas aren't native to Alaska."

"Must have gotten away from somewhere and is living wild now.  Let's
investigate that lantern.  We could use some real light in here."

Ben, headed toward the stage, had lost interest in the llama.  She
hadn't.  The mystery of its presence worried her.  But she didn't press
it.  By the time she joined him on the stage, he had the lantern down
from its wall mount and was checking its reservoir.

"Ah, still oil in it.  Now let's see if we can light it."  While she
steadied the flashlight for him, he patted the pockets of his sport
coat, eventually producing a lighter.  "Here we go.  Left over from the
days when I smoked.  Hold the lantern for me, can you?"

Within seconds the lamp was lighted and back on the wall, where it cast
a comforting glow.

Ben rubbed his hands together in satisfaction.  "I'm going to take the
flashlight and poke around backstage.  If the llama was wandering
around in there, maybe he's turned up something interesting."

Catbryn wasn't exactly pleased over the prospect of being left alone
while he went off exploring, but she didn't argue about it.  "Be
careful back there," she cautioned him as he vanished into the wings.

There was a battered trunk near the back of the stage.  She thought it
might produce something useful, but she approached it with misgiving.
She half expected bats to fly into her face as she cautiously raised
the lid.  Instead, she found only a pair of heavy velvet draperies that
might once have graced the arch of the stage.  They smelled musty, and
there was dust along their folds, but the trunk had kept them dry. They
would be something warm to wrap around themselves during what was left
of the night.

She could hear Ben rattling around somewhere backstage while she
removed the draperies.  She was spreading them open when he
reappeared.

"Look what I found," he said, pleased with his discovery.  "And it's
clean.  It was wrapped in a plastic sheet.  Our bed for the night."

She watched him as he dragged a double mattress from the depths of the
wings, flopping it down in the center of the stage.

"Ben?"

"Blankets, too," he said, eyeing the draperies.  "We're in business."

"Ben?"

"Huh?

"Don't you think this is all a little too coincidental?  A mattress
that's still Useable, a lantern that still has oil in it and a llama
that probably belongs to somebody."

"What's your point?"  "Someone is camping out here."

"Couldn't be.  That mattress hasn't been touched.  in months, maybe
years.  The plastic wrapping had a layer of dust thicker than Grandma's
attic."

"I still say" -- "Meredith, relax."

He demonstrated his advice by dropping down on the mattress, tugging
off his boots and tossing them onto the stage floor, where they landed
with loud clumps.  Cathryn perched gingerly on her side of the mattress
and began to remove her own shoes.

Ben sighed.  "Comfort at last.  Well, almost.  I'm all hollow inside.
That breakfast we had was a lifetime ago."

"Did you check the lobby?  Maybe there's a refreshment stand."

'"Did that.  They were all out of popcorn."

"We'll just have to substitute, then."

He watched with growing interest as she reached for her purse and began
to rummage through its contents.  His dark eyes gleamed with eagerness
when she removed a paper napkin wrapped around four buttermilk biscuits
she had slipped into her bag back at the diner.  "Well, you did warn me
it was going to be a long time between meals," she explained.  She
started to offer him the biscuits, then pulled her hand back.  "Wait a
minute.  I seem to remember you objecting when I refused to leave my
purse behind in the Jeep."

"You're going to make me beg for one of those biscuits, aren't you?"

"Me?  Never.  Never hold a grudge."

"All right, next time I trust you.  Guaranteed.  Now pass me those
biscuits."

She obliged, dividing the biscuits and handing him his share.  They ate
in silence, seated cross-legged on the mattress.

"Don't look at me like that," she cautioned him when he'd finished his
two biscuits.  "I don't have any cold beers in my purse.  The biscuits
were it."

"I was thinking about our clothes.  Yours still look pretty damp, and I
know mine are.  Time to get rid of them and hope they dry before
morning."

She stared at him.  He was already removing his sport coat.  "You mean
sleep in the raw?"

"Well, yeah.  That's not a problem, is it?  We've got the drapes there
for covers."

"Uh, I guess that makes sense.  I guess we shouldn't be sleeping in wet
clothes."

She hated her sudden awkwardness in this situation, her inability to
remain composed.  If she weren't so inexperienced.  But that was the
trouble.  She was inexperienced.

It was why the breath stuck in her throat as she watched Ben
nonchalantly unbutton his shirt and cast it aside.  He wore nothing
underneath, making his chest a riveting sight in the mellow glow of the
lantern.  He was all hard muscles and.  a wedge of dark hair that
narrowed tantalizingly at his belt line.

The breath caught in her throat turned into a lump when he got to his
feet and began to shuck his jeans.  He noticed her hesitation.

"If you'd rather not do this, Meredith... I mean, if it bothers you
to"

"No, of course it doesn't," she croaked, forcing her gaze away just as
the jeans dropped to the floor.

She concentrated then on hastily peeling off her cotton sweater and her
slacks.  The whole time she kept her eyes lowered, but she was
conscious of his shorts joining his jeans on the floor.  She would have
been fine if his sudden approach hadn't startled her into looking up.
He was standing so close she could feel the heat from his body.  She
found herself viewing a very powerful, totally naked virility.

Flushing, she dragged her gaze to the level of his face and learned
that he was equally aware of her exposed flesh.  "What?"  she
murmured.

He cleared his throat, betraying his own tension.  "Just waiting to
collect your things so that I can lay them out to dry."

She began working feverishly on her socks, which, in their dampness and
her nervousness, resisted her efforts.  She was conscious the whole
while of his nearness.

She succeeded with the socks, added them to her other garments and
shoved the bundle in his direction.

"Aren't you taking off the rest?"  he urged.

She knew he was referring to her bra and panties, but this was as far
as she was prepared to go.

"No need to.  Nylon.  They're already dry."

A slight lie, since they were still faintly damp, though not enough to
mater.

If he was disappointed, he didn't comment on it.  He took their clothes
and moved toward the apron of the stage.  Cathryn used the opportunity
to dive under one of the velvet draperies.  Her action afforded her a
glimpse of a very shapely male backside as he set their things to dry
along the edge of the stage.

She managed to avoid looking in his direction again until he was safely
under the other drapery on his side of the mattress.

"The lamp," she reminded him.

"Let's leave it burning.  Helps to keep the llamas away."  Not a bad
idea, except she had counted on darkness to shield her from those dark,
probing eyes of his.  The drapery suddenly didn't seem nearly adequate
enough.

Cathryn turned on her side, facing away from him.  This was better. She
could hear him settling down on his half of the mattress, making a nest
for himself under his own drapery.

"Night, Ben," she whispered a moment later.

He didn't answer her, and when she glanced over her shoulder, he saw
that he was already asleep.  The man was understandably exhausted after
his long day at the Wheel and their ordeal in the rain.

Cathryn curled into a snug position and closed her eyes, hoping to
sleep but not expecting to after her lengthy nap earlier in the Jeep.
Besides, she was still uneasy about their surroundings.  She must have
been more tired than she realized, however, because in no time at all
she drifted off.

She dreamed.  A nasty dream, where--alone and help-lessmshe wandered
the fog-cloaked streets of New Orleans.  She was lost and couldn't find
her way, and when the fog thinned New Orleans had become Percy.
Specters from its past were on the dark street with her.  They began to
close in from all sides, and each of their faces wore the cruel
features of Red Quinn.  She began to run, but it was no use.  She was
surrounded.

She must have cried out.  The next thing she knew, she was sitting up
on the mattress and Ben was pressed to her side, his arms securely
holding her.

"All right, sweetheart," he crooned, his voice still husky from sleep.
"It's all right.  You were having a nightmare.  Must have been a
doozy."

She was trembling.  She tried to collect her wits, wishing she could
tell him about the dream.  She couldn't.  She was supposed to be
Meredith McLean.  She wasn't supposed to be on the run from a man who
wanted her dead.

It didn't matter.  Ben's arms around her were comfort enough.  His warm
flesh was against her flesh, no barriers between them.  The draperies
had slipped down to their waists.  That was when she remembered she
wore only her bra and panties and that he wore nothing.

Ben must have been equally conscious of their provocative situation.
His black eyes suddenly wore a drowsy, seductive look in them.  One of
his hands holding her shifted.  She felt his thumb slowly caress the
underside of her breast.  The thin fabric of her bra might have been
nonexistent.  Both her nipples instantly hardened.

That was when Cathryn realized that it was not the ghosts of Percy she
had to worry about.

"Ben," she pleaded.  "

"I'm here," he said, his voice raw with desire.  "I'm here for you,
sweetheart."

He leaned toward her, continuing to stroke her breast with his thumb as
he began to kiss her.  She was still shaken from his kiss back on the
trail.  But this was even deeper, far more potent.

Cathryn, fighting for self-control, knew that she had a serious problem
on her hands.  She was a fool not to have anticipated this moment and
prepared herself for it.  A man like Ben Adams, a lusty man, would
never have sent for Meredith McLean if he hadn't expected a total
relationship.

All right, she had known this moment would occur.  She just hadn't
counted on it happening so soon.  All that had mattered was getting far
away from Red Quinn and his goons.  She had figured the rest could
wait.  Well, obviously it could wait no longer.

She had a fast decision to make.  She could surrender to Ben's passion,
to her own awakened yearnings, and pray there were no serious
consequences, or she could end this situation before it was too late.

Ultimately there was no choice, because those consequences already
threatened her in the shape of an emotional involvement.  She didn't
want to be unfair to either of them, anyway no more unfair than she was
already being with her masquerade.  And if she engaged in lovemaking
before either of them was committed to this relationship.  She
couldn't.  She couldn't compound the lie.

His mouth was on her shoulder now, planting a series of moist, eager
kisses.

"Ben, wait," she whispered.

He either didn't hear her or was ignorihg her.  She began to struggle
in his embrace.

"Ben, no," she demanded.

For a few seconds she was afraid he wouldn't listen to her.  To her
relief, he abruptly released her and leaned back.

"What is it?"  J

She tried to explain it to him.  "It's--it's too soon.  Remember what
we agreed on in our letters?  No pressure on each other about this kind
of thing until we knew each other in person and were sure of
ourselves."

He gazed at her in silence.  There was a hard glitter in his eyes, a
dangerous glitter that alarmed her.  Then he relaxed, his tight
expression softening to a gentleness.

"You're right," he said.  "We don't want to make any mistakes."

"I'm sorry, Ben."

He nodded.  "We'll wait.  You okay now?"

"Yes, fine."

But she wasn't fine at all, Cathryn realized a moment later after Ben
had settled down again on the mattress, his eyes closed in sleep.  She
was worried.  Worried that her resistance had amounted to nothing but
another lie, that all of it was the result of the mistake she had made
years ago, leaving her with so many insecurities about the intimacy of
relationships.  Would they always interfere like this, prevent her from
giving herself freely to a man?

This man, she thought, sliding down on the mat tres so that she was
facing him, his head only inches from hers.  She gazed at his sleeping
face.  It was an appealing face with its dark shadow of beard.  There
was an ethnic quality about it, something in the features that
suggested a Latin or Indian heritage.  Maybe both.  There had been
nothing in his letters referring to such a background.  It was another
mystery about him.

She didn't count on falling asleep again.  She expected to go on being
intrigued by Ben Adams's strong face.  But a deep sleep claimed her in
the end, this time without nightmares.

When she awakened, it was morning.  Sunlight penetrated the auditorium
from the street, Ben's arm was stretched across her hip and the double
barrel of a lethal shotgun was inches from her nose.

Chapter Four

The bearer of the shotgun was no ghost from Percy's vanished heyday but
a sinister reality.  Cathryn was terrified.

Eyeing the weapon that remained steadily leveled at their reclining
figures, she sneaked a cautious hand in Ben's direction, nudging him
insistently.  He failed to stir.

"Ben, wake up," she whispered to him frantically.  "We've, uh, got
company."

He opened his eyes, muttering a groggy, "That damn llama back?"

"Not exactly."

"Then who?"  -He lifted his head, saw the gun.  "What the hell"

"Got the full attention of both of you now, have I?"  said the voice
behind the shotgun.  "Then maybe you'd care to tell me what the two of
you are doing in my town."

Cathryn was startled by the voice.  It was rough in its challenge.  It
also belonged unmistakably to a woman, a fact that had escaped her
until this instant, which was understandable, since the burly figure
was clad in stained pants, a loose denim shirt and a prospector's hat
crammed over short, iron gray hair.  The hat looked as if it might have
arrived in Alaska during the gold rush of the previous century.  So did
the weather-beaten face under its brim.

Ben fearlessly answered the woman with a demand of his own.  "You
telling us you own Percy, including this opera house?"  '

"I'm a full-time resident of the town.  That makes it as good as my
own."

"In Other words," he observed dryly, "you're a squatter here, same as
us."

She smiled at him, a smile that meant business.  "There's a difference,
mister.  I'm the one with the shotgun."

"Doesn't give you the right to point it at us.  Put it down."  Cathryn
could see from the woman's scowl, and her refusal to lower the gun,
that Ben was clearly alienating her.  She began, swiftly and
apologetically, to explain their presence.

"Our Jeep went off the road last night, so we took shelter down here.
We had nO idea someone was living in the town, or we would have asked
permission to spend the night."  She suddenly realized something.  "The
lantern and the mattress must be yours, then.  Sorry we went and
borrowed them."

The woman regarded Catbryn, her hostility diminishing.  She shrugged.
"They're not my property.  Left behind by a couple of guys who camped
out here for a week or so last summer.  Something about researching
ghost towns for a book.  Left a second mattress back there like this
one.  But I guess," she added, gazing meaningfully at their state of
undress, "one was all you needed."

Catbryn meant to have a word with Ben about that second mattress, whose
existence he had conveniently omitted, but this was the wrong moment.
The shotgun was still confronting them.

"I suppose you two have names."

Cathryn hastened to introduce herself and Ben, adding, "Ben hasa cabin
in the area.  That's where we were headed."

"I've heard the name.  Work the pipeline, don't you?"  He nodded,
relieved that she'd never met the real Ben Adams.  But she continued to
observe him with suspicion, though her attitude toward Cathryn had
softened considerably.  Enough, anyway, that she relaxed her hold on
the shotgun.

"Well, I'm satisfied.  Can't be too careful when you're on your own.
They call me Sourdough Annie.  A real hoot,

huh?  Don't ask for the rest.  That's all the name you get.  "

" Sourdough?  "

"A sourdough is someone who's been in Alaska for a long time," Ben
explained to the mystified Cathryn.

"And if anyone qualifies," Annie said proudly, "it's me.  Been kicking
around this state for over thirty years."

Cathryn decided that she liked Sourdough Annie.  She was a character by
any definition.  She was also sharp-witted.

"Yeah, I know.  I'm an eccentric.  Being a hermit, though, doesn't mean
I can't offer hospitality when it suits me.  In this case it's
breakfast, if you two are interested."

Cathryn wondered if the invitation was Annie's way of apologizing for
the shotgun.  In any case she was too hungry to refuse.  "Breakfast
would be good," she said.  Ben, too, was famished and made no
objection.

Annie grunted her approval "In that case I'll leave you some privacy to
climb back into your duds.  When you're ready, follow your noses to the
end of the street.  My shack will be the one with the odor of frying
bacon coming from it."

When she was gone, Ben emerged from the cover of his drapery and went
to the edge of the stage to recover their things.  Cathryn, hurrying
into the clothes he brought her, avoided gazing at his tempting nudity.
He might in no way be bothered by it, but she certainly was.  Besides,
she had to concentrate on an accusation.

"About that second mattress," she said.

"You mean the one you could have been spending the night on all by
yourself instead of sharing this one with me?"

"That's the one."

"Never noticed another mattress back there," he claimed innocently.
"Must have overlooked it in the darkness."

"Uh-huh."

"Hey, a single mattress made the evening interesting, didn't it?  Well,
maybe not as interesting as it could have been, but promising anyway.
Come on, let's go find out if Sourdough Annie can cook as well as she
can handle a shotgun."

"You're sneaky, Ben Adams, but I don't have the strength to argue with
you about it.  Not until after I eat."

Annie had breakfast underway by the time they reached her shack near
the edge of the river.  She showed them a privy out back, which they
used gratefully, and provided them with the essentials for washing up
before they settled at her table.

In spite of the primitive setting, no meal had ever tasted better to
Cathryn.  The shack was small and bleak, containing the bare
necessities, but it was scrupulously clean.

Annie noticed Cathryn curiously eyeing a wide, shallow pan hanging on
the wall beside the door.  "My batea," she said.

"A what?"

"Batea," she explained.  "It's what you use to pan for gold in the
creeks and rivers.  Separates the sand and dirt from the heavier
deposits that carry the gold bits.  Not enough out there to support a
mining operation anymore, but I get by with what I find."

That was how she existed, then, Catbryn thought.  By panning for gold.
It apparently suited her, but it had to be an extremely lonely life.
Not altogether lonely, however, as she learned a moment later.

Cathryn was working on her second cup of coffee when she felt herself
be' rag stared at from the open window at her back.  She swung around
in her chair to find the head of the llama poked through the opening.
Annie crowed with laughter over their startled expressions.

"That's Lulu.  She's always looking for handouts."

"Must have been what she wanted last night," Ben muttered.

"Lulu go and visit you?  Never know where she'll hang out.  Thinks the
whole town belongs to her, don't you, girl?"  " Lulu belongs to you,
then?  " Cathryn said.

"Makes a better pack animal than a burro.  Takes me to places that old
heap of a pickup out there won't go.  Good company, too."

The llama, accepting an apple from her mistress, retreated from view.

"We may have to beg you for a lift in that pickup," Ben said.
"Providing, that is, I can't get my Jeep back on the road."

"Tell me again just where it's stuck," Annie said.  Cathryn noticed
that the woman's manner was whenever she spoke directly to Ben.  He
might not be aware of it, but she still didn't trust him.  Cathryn
wondered

Ben described the Jeep's location.

Annie nodded.  "Think I know just where you mean.  You wouldn't have
noticed in the dark last night, but that rut ) that caught you is part
of the old wagon track that original road down into Percy.  If you can
turn the rut and bear left, not right like you went on foot come to a
fork in a couple of miles.  The right branch winds down in easy levels
to Percy, the left one puts you back on the road."

"Let's hope I can manage to squeeze the Jeep around, because this way
sounds easier than trying to gun that risky slope."  He scraped his
chair back and got to his feet.  "Time to climb back up there and see
if we're in business."

Cathryn, thanking Annie for the breakfast, started to join him.

"Why don't you wait down here and let me collect you in the Jeep?"  Ben
suggested.  "No need for you to tackle that rough footpath again."

Catbryn hesitated.  "I wouldn't mind staying behind if you're sure you
can handle it On your own.  I hate to leave Annie with all these
dishes."

To her surprise, Annie made no objection to her offer to help with the
cleanup.  As it turned out, she had a reason for wanting to be alone
with Cathryn.  But Catbryn didn't learn that until after the dishes
were washed and put away.

The two women had wandered outside and were standing beside the
battered pickup truck, waiting for Ben's arrival in the Jeep.  Annie
had been thoughtfully silent for the past few moments.  Then, in that
abrupt manner of hers, she asked, "How well do you know this friend of
yours?"

"Ben?  Fairly well, I guess.  Like I told you over dishes, we've been
corresponding for months."

"Not the same thing as being familiar in person, is it?"

"You don't like Ben, do you?"

Annie shrugged.  "He's a good-looking devil and maybe he's not too good
to be true.  Maybe I'm all wrong to have this feeling that there's
something there that doesn't add up.  Look, just do yourself a favor,
girlie, and watch yourself with him."

Cathryn gazed at her, not sure whether to be amused or alarmed.

"One other little thing," Annie added, "and then we'll drop the whole
subject.  You ever need me, I'm here for you.  Even if you have to come
on foot, you come."

"I appreciate the offer, Annie, but I think Ben's cabin is miles from
here."

"Yeah, I know just about where it is, and by road it is a good haul.
But as the crow flies... well, there's a foot trail almost straight to
Percy.  Comes off the road near where his cabin track joins the main
drag.  Wouldn't hurt for you to remember that.

"Listen, there's the sound of the Jeep coming down.  Guess he had luck
turning it."

CATHRYN EYED her companion at the wheel as he drove the

Jeep the final miles to his wilderness cabin.  She tried to see him
through Sourdough Annie's perspective and failed.  She couldn't find
any solid reason to be suspicious of Ben.  Not after last night.  Not
after the humor he had revealed in their shared banter and his caring
warmth following her nightmare.

But she couldn't seem to shake Annie's warning, even when it made no
sense.  Because it had to be nothing more than the imagination of an
elderly woman who had lived by herself for too long and didn't trust
outsiders, maybe men in particular.

On the other hand, Cathryn remembered that, beneath his concern and his
humor, there was an intense quality about.  Ben Adams.  As if he were
at war with himself Over something.  She had sensed it immediately at
the airport yesterday and again on the drive from Anchorage before
their accident.  Or was this, too, imagination, no more than the result
of her terror in New Orleans?

Ben interrupted the long silence between them.  "What were you and
Annie talking about while I was wrestling with the Jeep?"

She started with a guilty lowering of her gaze.  Had he read the
direction of her thoughts?

"She told me about some of her experiences in Alaska.  I told her they
were fascinating enough that she ought to write a book."  That much was
true.  Over the dishes Annie had talked about her varied career.

Ben made no comment.  Cathryn concentrated on their imminent arrival at
the cabin and tried not to be anxious about remaining in an isolated
situation with a man who was still a stranger to her.  She also tried
not to watch for a sign of that footpath Annie had described to her.
But when she caught what she thought was a glimpse of it just before
the turnoff to the cabin, she couldn't deny a small satisfaction in
knowing it was there.

She was able to put her concerns behind her as they climbed the long,
winding track to the cabin.  The forest crowded in on both sides,
aromatic spruce and thickets of slender birch and aspen.  And suddenly
they were in a clearing, climbing out of the Jeep, and Ben was showing
her his cabin.

"Like it?"  he asked.

She did.  It was the image of what a northern cabin was supposed to be.
Walls of heavy spruce logs, a welcoming porch stretched the full length
of its front, an expansive stone fireplace and simple but solid
furnishings.

She remembered his telling Meredith in one of the letters that, though
the cabin was lit by old-fashioned oil lamps, tanks of propane made
possible a range, a refrigerator and a water pump that provided indoor
plumbing, a luxury in the Alaskan wilderness.

What he had never described was the layout of the cabin, and it was
this that worried her.  The place was small, after all.  One long room
at the front that was living room at one end and kitchen-dining area at
the other.  Behind that was the bathroom and.  She didn't know what the
sleeping arrangements were.  Would there be a single bedroom with a
solitary bed in it that he expected her to share with him?

Ben must have understood her nervousness over the subject.  "Relax,
Meredith."  He steered her into a tiny hallway, pointing to a doorway
off one side.  "My bedroom."  Then he indicated a second doorway in the
opposite direction.  "Your bedroom."

Cathryn was grateful to him.  He hadn't forgotten last night's promise
about waiting.  But he must think she was a fool.  She couldn't help
it.  Though she risked cheating him by her resistance, there was the
greater danger that an early surrender would only delude him further.
She had to be sure of the outcome.  The trouble was, she had never
expected her masquerade to be s emotionally complicated, nor Ben Adams
to be so powerfu} a temptation.

"Of course," he added in that smoky drawl that made her pulse quicken,
"if you find the mattress in that room isn't comfortable enough, I'd be
more than happy for you to try the mattress in my room.  Half of it,
anyway."

The hallway was very tight.  There was no way for two people to occupy
it at the same time without standing so close that they were touching.
And Ben was touching her.  Pressing against her, in fact.  No room for
'her to back away.  Nor had she the will to remove herself.

Her eyes sought his.  But his gaze was distracted and wore a
questioning, slightly puzzled expression.  She didn't understand until
his hand lifted, his fingers lightly, thoughtfully investigating the
area of her cheek just below her right eye.  And then she knew, and her
heart seemed to stop beating.

The molel The small brown mole that had worried her on the plane.  The
mole that Meredith McLean wasn't supposed to have.  He had just
discovered it.  Was he remembering that it hadn't been visible on the
photo Meredith had sent him?  That something was all wrong?

Cathryn held her breath, expecting his harsh challenge.

"They once called these beauty marks, didn't they?"  he murmured. "They
were right."

She felt a rush of relief.  It was all right.  She was safe.  Safe,
that is, until he began to brush the slightly rough pad of his thumb
slowly, sensually across the mole.

A few more seconds of this, and he would be kissing her again.  She
couldn't be sure of where it would lead.  Maybe to that mattress of his
sooner than either of them planned.  He didn't realize that she wanted
this as much as he did, but she still needed them to know and be sure
of each other.

Self-control.  She had to exercise self-control before it was too late.
She east around in her mind for some way to defuse the moment.  And
then she remembered.

"Angel," she said with a suddenness that confused him.  His hand left
her cheek.  He frowned.  "What?"

"Angel," she repeated.  "I just realized she wasn't here to greet you.
I haven't seen any sign of her since we arrived."

He looked blank for a second and then he understood.  The dog.  She was
talking about Adams's dog.  "Angel ran away," he said, "I haven't seen
a sign of her in.  days."

"I'm sorry.  I like dogs."

"I think she might have been responding to the call of the wild.  She
is part wolf, you know."

"I remember that from your letter and the snapshot."  Cathryn didn't
think he seemed very concerned about the loss of Angel.  "Any chance
she'll find her way back?"

"Maybe."  He led the way back into the living room, abruptly changing
the subject.  "Would you mind if I left you on your own for a few
hours?"

"I don't think so.  Is something wrong?"

"Nothing that some intensive shopping down in Lovejoy won't fix.  I
need to stock up on supplies.  I always let the groceries get low
before I go out to the pipeline.  That way there's nothing to spoil
while I'm on my tour of duty."

"Makes sense.  But isn't Bearpaw the nearest town?"

"Yeah, Lovejoy is a lot farther.  But it's much bigger than Bearpaw, so
it has more facilities to choose from.  I've even moved my mailbox down
there."

Cathryn wondered why they hadn't stopped somewhere for groceries on the
way up from Anchorage.  Instead of which, he was turning around, almost
without pause, and facing another long drive.  He must have sensed her
puzzlement.

"I know," he said.  "But you'll come to see that distances don't mean
anything to Alaskans.  They think nothing of heading down the road for
a hundred miles on a casual errand.  And if there is no road to drive
on, they'll fly there."

"I've heard that."

"Anyway, I need Lovejoy because there's a mechanic there I trust.  I
want him to check over the Jeep to make sure nothing was damaged in the
accident.  When you're this isolated, you have to know YOU'Ve got
transportation you can count on.  You're welcome to come with me,
Meredith.

i just figured after all that traveling, you were ready to stay put for
a while.  "

He was right.  She also thought it would be wiser for her to avoid any
more towns.  At least for the present.  "I'll be fine," she assured
him.  "Gives me a chance to unpack and have a bath."

"I figured as much.  Uh, just one thing.  Stick close to the cabin
while I'm gone, huh?  I wouldn't want you wandering off and getting
lost on your first day here."

ALL this, HE THOUGHT as he followed the road to Lovejoy.  Practically
everything he'd told her had been a lie,

While it was true that the cabin needed provisions, they could have
been picked up on the way from Anchorage.  And Bearpaw would have been
the logical place to acquire them.  But he had to avoid Bearpaw.  It
was too small, and everyone in it was familiar with Ben Adams.  Lovejoy
was just big enough and far enough away that there was less risk of
questions he didn't want to answer.

Nor did the Jeep require a mechanic, but there were telephones in
Lovejoy.  And he couldn't have her with him while he used one. 
Besides, he had to keep her away from other people as much as possible.
 That damn Sourdough Annie was already suspicious of him,

The phone was a necessity.  He had to obey orders and check in with the
man who had hired him, report that Catbryn McLean had arrived and
everything was under control.

Except everything wasn't under control.  He was still fighting his
treacherous desire for the woman.  He had almost lost the battle last
night in Percy.  Probably would have if she hadn't called a halt to the
whole thing.  She was still suffering from New Orleans, of course,
afraid to let down her guard.  And she was shy about sex, which was
surprising for a woman of her looks and maturity.

Just as well, he thought.  Her resistance would help him not to fall
for her.  Fatal in his kind of work.  There had been another woman he'd
cared for, and in the end--when she'd been sacrificed--a part of him
had died with her.

He had to go on reminding himself that Cathryn McLean was nothing but a
job.  A target whose trust he had to win.  Once that objective was
achieved, the rest was supposed to be easy.  He just had to remember to
control his wcaknces.

Didn't help that he couldn't seem to shake the mac of her last night:
stripped down to bra and pan tice all soft and luscious.  The memory
alone made him go hard.  Made him wonder how long he could maintain
this frustrating masquerade.

He glanced at his watch.  It was still early.  He should be able to
make it to Lovejoy and back before midafternoon.  He hadn't liked
leaving her, but the cabin was remote.  She'd be all right on her own
for a few hours.  She thought the Was safe now, with nothing to worry
about.

CATHRYN FELT SECURE for the first time in days.  She was finally hidden
away in the wilderness, confident that the threat of New Orleans was
thousands of miles behind her and that Red Quinn couldn't reach her in
this place.  Everything was going to be fine.  There was only her
relationship with Ben to think about, and in time they would work that
out.

It was in this state of optimism that she busied herself around the
cabin.  She had her bath, unpacked her belongings and stowed them away
in closet and drawers, all the while familiarizing herself with a place
that might eventually become.  her permanent home.  The cabin was snug
and friendly.  She could see herself living here, a mail-order bride in
reality.  Too early, though, to count on something like that.

It was past noon when she investigated the kitchen and found only a
limited stock of canned goods.  They would have offered her some form
of a lunch, but she wasn't interested after Sourdough Annie's enormous
breakfast.  She would wait for Ben.

Restless now, Cathryn went outside and explored the clearing.  On the
back side of the cabin, where the land sloped away through the trees,
she caught a tantalizing glimpse of blue water.  There was a lake down
there, and it was a lure she couldn't resist.  She had promised Ben not
to wander away from the cabin, but she preferred to think the lake
didn't count.  Not when it could be reached by a direct path from cabin
to shore.

She was glad of her decision when she descended the hill and came to
the edge of the lake, which must have been a mile or so in length and
embraced several wooded islets.  The sight of shining blue water
against the backdrop of snow-frosted mountains was breathtaking.  And
she was alone in all this splendor.

The path here turned and followed the shore.  She began to stroh along
it, not planning to explore it for any rash distance.  She had traveled
less than a dozen yards when she realized that she was mistaken about
her solitude.  A figure suddenly trotted into view ahead of her.

Cathryn came to a standstill, gazing nervously at the creature.  Why
hadn't she listened to Ben and remained at the cabin?  Now she was on
her own out here and confronting what might he a dangerous animal.
Defenseless, she did the wise thing and kept perfectly still.

The wolf, too, was motionless in front of her, regarding her warily. It
demonstrated no evidence that it considered Cathryn a threat, neither
bolting nor snarling a warning.

It seemed forever that they stood there considering each other.  It was
the sun shining on the animal's thick coat, emphasizing its silvery
color, that finally made her remember the photograph Ben had inserted
in one of his letters.  Realization brought relief.

Angel!  Not a wild wolf, but Ben's dog, Angel!

Thrilled that the animal had returned, Cathryn crouched down on the
path until she was level with the dog.  Slowly extending one hand and
careful not to startle her, she called to her softly.

"Here, Angel."

The dog's ears lifted as she recognized her name.  She dropped back on
her haunches, interested but undecided.

"It's all right, girl," Cathryn coaxed.  "I won't hurt you.  COme on,
Angel, let's go back to the house."

For a moment she thought Angel would approach her.  Then, trading
curiosity for caution, she turned and plunged through the trees.
Reluctant to abandon her effort to re-claim the dog for Ben, Cathryn
got to her feet and followed.

There was another thread of a path where Angel had left the shore
trail, She followed it up the steep slope and glimpd the dog ahead of
her.  Angel paused and looked back, as though she were worried, and
then she streaked out of sight.

When Cathryn reached the spot where the dog had disappeared, she
discovered that the hill here sharpened into a series of mossy ledges.
It was under the closest ledge, where the overhang formed a shallow
cavern in the rock, that An gel reappeared.

Fallen stones were piled on the sandy floor of the hollow in what might
or might not be a naturally oblong arrangement.  The animal was
stretched out on this bed of stones, panting slowly as she watched
Cathryn with suspicious concern.

When Cathryn knelt down just outside the cavern, Angel whimpered
softly.

"What is it, girl?  What's wrong?"

The dog stirred and whined but continued to occupy the stones.  As
though she were guarding something.  Except there was absolutely
nothing here to guard.

Cathryn spent another few moments trying to persuade Angel to come to
her, but the dog refused to leave the cavern.  Deciding in the end that
it was wiser to leave her recovery to Ben, she got to her feet and
headed back to the cabin.  She hoped that in the meantime Angel
wouldn't vanish again.

SHE WAS SEATED on the front steps, waiting impatiently, when the Jeep
finally pulled into the clearing.  An eager smile on her face, she left
the porch and went to meet Ben as he climbed from the vehicle.

"Looks like maybe you missed me," he said with a pleased grin.

"You wish.  Come on, I've got something to show you."  "The
groceries"

"Can wait for a few minutes.  I just hope my surprise is still
there."

"What's going on?  Where are we going?"  he demanded, mystified as he
followed her around the cabin and down the hill toward the lake.

"Something nice," she promised.  "You'll like it."

"Have you been out exploring?  Thought I" -- "Don't fuss.  I didn't go
far.  Here, this way."

She led him along the shore toward the place where the path branched
inland to the cavern.  When they came to the turning, Angel was
blocking the way.

"Look," Cathryn said, "she's come down to meet us."  She stepped aside
on the narrow trail so that dog and master had a full view of each
other.  But the excited reunion she had been anticipating didn't occur.
Angel didn't bound into Ben's outstretched arms.  Ben didn't issue a
shout of gladness.

Animal and man confronted each other for a long, silent moment.  Then,
hackles raised and teeth bared, Angel growled menacingly at her owner
and began to back away.  Catbryn was stunned.

"Ben, what's wrong with her?  She wasn't this way before.  She wouldn't
let me get close to her, but she wasn't unfriendly."

"I don't know," he muttered, wearing a scowl.  "Let her alone.  Come on
back to the house."

"But"

"Meredith," he said, plainly irritated, "she's part wolf, remember? The
wild side makes her unpredictable sometimes.  Forget it."

"Look, she's headed back to the ledges."  Angel had turned and was
slinking off through the trees.  Catbryn explained how she had followed
her to the cavern under the overhang.  "Shouldn't we go after her?"

"She's all right on her own.  And don't go up there again poking
around," he warned her.  "It can be dangerous.  There are rockfalls."

"Ben, it's Angel.  Don't you even care?"

"Right now I care about getting those groceries unloaded and put away.
The dog will come back when she's ready.  Are you coming?"

He left her no choice.  She followed him back to the cabin, puzzled by
the whole thing.  Angel's reaction to Ben just didn't make sense.  If
she didn't know better, she would think that he had abused the dog in
some manner.

Chapter Five

Cathryn awakened with a sense of alarm.  For a moment, still fogged
with sleep, she didn't understand what was wrong.  Then a faint
movement behind her warned her that she wasn't alone in her room.

Turning quickly on her back, she discovered a figure looming over her.
She couldn't see his face in the shadows, but there was enough light
from the open door that she could tell it was Ben.

This was her third night at the cabin, and to her knowledge, he had
never entered her bedroom before this.  What was he doing here now?

"What is it?"  she whispered nervously, struggling to sit up.

"Sorry if I startled you," he said.  "I've been calling you, but you
were dead to the world."

"It's all this pure Alaskan air," she muttered.  "Better than any
pill."  Not to mention her feeling of well-being since arriving here.
She noticed then that he was fully dressed.  "Haven't you been to bed
at all?"

"I fell asleep over my book in the living room.  Then I went outside
for a bit to stretch my legs."

"In the middle of the night?  What time is it?"  She glanced toward the
window and saw that it was the darkest hour of the short northern
night.

"Late," he admitted.  "After midnight."

"Why were you calling me?  Is something the matter?"

"I want you to get up and get dressed.  And, no, there's nothing for
you to worry about.  But there is something I want you to see."

"Can't it wait until morning?"

"Absolutely not.  Come on, you can sleep all you want afterward."  This
time she detected a note of mischief in his voice.

"You're crazy," she grumbled.

"And you're missing the opportunity of a lifetime."  "That special?"

"Guaranteed," he promised.  "Get moving.  I'll wait for you on the
porch."

Five minutes later, having donned jeans and a light jacket against the
chill of the evening air, she joined him outside.

She saw that he had a flashlight in his hand.

"Where are you taking me?"

"No more questions.  If we don't get going, we'll miss it." Exasperated
by his obstinate mysteriousness, but also intrigued, she accompanied
him around the cabin and down the path that led through the woods to
the lake.

He stopped her just before they emerged from the trees near the shore.
"I want you to close your eyes now," he directed, "and let me lead you
the rest of the way."

"Trust me.  It's worth it."

He was like an eager boy with his surprise.  "All right, but if you're
planning to drown me"

"We'll keep it dry.  And no peeking."

Reluctantly she obliged him.  He took her by the hand and guided her
carefully in the direction of the lake.  She could hear the gravel of
the beach crunching under their feet.  Then she felt the planks of the
little pier where he kept a small outboard.

"Now?"  she asked when he brought them to a standstill at the end of
the short pier.

"Not yet.  Wait until I tell you you can open them."

He helped her to sit down on the edge of the pier, her legs dangling
toward the water that she could hear lapping softly against the piles.
She felt him lower himself close beside her on the boards.

Just when she was no longer able to bear the suspense, he reprieved her
with a soft, "Now you can look."

Lifting her head, Cathryn opened her eyes, stared for a moment in
silent wonder, then gasped with grateful pleas-are.

"Luke it?"

"It's awesome," she whispered, feeling suddenly humble.

Above the majesty of lake and mountains, the evening sky was shot with
banners of light that shimmered in a fantastic array of colors. Yellow,
green, red and violet arced across the vastness in restless, shifting
waves.

"It's rare to see the northern lights at all at this time of year," he
said.  "And to have them this brilliant... the conditions must be just
right."

"Thank you," she said, touched that he had wanted to share this
dazzling spectacle with her.

They went on watching the display in a companionable silence.  And
Cathryn thought about Ben Adams.  She thought about other intimate
moments they had experienced together these past few days and what she
had learned of this man that had somehow not been expressed in his
letters Things of tenderness and humor.  Things that she loved about
him.

"Better than fireworks, isn't it?"  he said.

"Yes," she agreed.

But there was all the rest, as well, she remembered reluctantly.  The
things that were in conflict with the good moments.  It wasn't just
that intermittent intensity in him that still troubled and puzzled her.
It was other things, little things mostly.  Like his inability
sometimes to recall where he had put items in his own cabin.  He
claimed he had cleaned the place just before her arrival, rearranging
its contents to make room for her.  It did make sense, this explanation
of his forgetfulness, so why should it bother her?

Maybe it was because of his disregard of her own errors, such as her
occasional failure to respond to Meredith's name.  Or the mistakes she
knew she must at times be committing concerning the contents of her
cousin's letters.  He never referred to them.  She wondered if he had
kept Meredith's letters.  And, if so, where?

"Look down at the water," Ben said.

She did and discovered that, because the bursts.  of light in the
northern sky were so strong, they created mirror images across the
surface of the lake, rippling streamers that were equally lovely.

Cathryn continued to enjoy the miracle, but on a deeper level her mind
returned to the subject of Ben.  She had two other concerns about him.
Why would a man of his rugged good looks, with so much to offer, need a
mail-order bride?  When she had playfully asked him about this, he had
briefly informed her that men far outnumbered women in Alaska.  It was
a reasonable explanation, she supposed, but he had no satisfying
explanation for Angel's puzzling behavior.  The welfare of the dog
continued to worry her, but Ben refused to discuss it further.

"A fascinating mystery, huh?"

Her insides tightened.  Had he read her thoughts?  "What is?"

"What we're watching.  The aurora borealis."

"Oh.  Yes, I guess it is one of nature's mysteries."

She relaxed, told herself that she had to stop all these paranoid
suspicions.  They had no true substance, were nothing more than the
residue of New Orleans.  Except for one thing.

Cathryn knew that she was not imagining the sexual tension between
them.  It was very real--and constant.  Even now, in this serene
interlude, she was aware of his exciting closeness and how in moments
it could se'tze her with an exhilaration that was positively dangerous.
But it never blinded her to her persistent feeling that Ben Adams was
tormented by something, some demon from his past perhaps that could
explain his enigmatic intensity.  If so, she prayed that eventually
there would be enough trust between them that she could help him to
resolve this dark thing.  But that couldn't happen until she was honest
with him about her own secrets.  Until she confessed her deception.

"This is nice," Ben said.

"It is nice," she agreed, forcing herself to forget all the rest and
concentrate on the luminous phenomenon above them.  The performance
they were witnessing was too special not to be fully appreciated.

Ben, conscious of her restlessness, thought resentfully that her mind
was probably on the damn dog again.  Why couldn't she let it alone? Why
did she insist on daily putting out food for the animal?  He didn't
want to see the dog starve, but she was half-wild anyway and could fend
for herself.  He didn't want her hanging around, growling at him
whenever he appeared.  She was a threat to him.

And so, he realized, was his constant yearning for Cath-ryn McLean.  He
had to keep his distance, try to cool his desire by remembering what
had happened in that safe house and how she had been responsible.  He
had to remind himself that she was only using him.  Or at least the guy
he was playing, which amounted to the same thing.  All he was supposed
to do was win her confidence.  Nothing more.  At least for now.

Hell, face it.  What he was' supposed to do just wasn't working.  She
was driving him nuts.

"I can't believe the colors," Cathryn said.  "I never knew the northern
lights had colors like these."

"Like a rainbow."

They went on watching the curtains of dancing light, sitting there on
the pier together and sharing the magic until the glow diminished and
faded with the first signs of daybreak.  What they did not share was
trust.

FRANK TESLER SAT on a park bench overlooking Cook Inlet, idly observing
the boat traffic and nursing a can of diet soda.  What he really wanted
was a cold beer, but he was trying to be good.  He had even switched to
sugarless gum in an effort to shed some pounds.  Betty would be proud
of him.

Maybe a weight loss would help his feet.  He sure hoped so.  Right now
they were sore as hell from long hours of tramping over hard
pavement.

Anchorage was turning out to be a real bummer.  He had spent three days
systematically checking out the hotels, guest houses and motor lodges.
Had even asked around the bars.  No luck so far.  Not a clue as to the
whereabouts of Adams and the McLean woman.  Well, they had to be
somewhere, and eventually he would find them.

Problem was, he had to be careful.  He didn't want to raise any special
curiosity, risk having the word somehow passed to Adams that a stranger
was asking questions about him.  Frank was experienced and knew how to
be cautious with his inquiries, but it was a big city.  He could have
used help with his search.  Only there were no contacts here he was
willing to rely on.

He had only himself and his bulldog determination.  It all took time.
Time and patience.  Meanwhile his feet hurt.

There were a couple of kids playing along the waterfront while their
father supervised them.  Twin girls.  Couldn't be more than six years
old.  Cute as all get-out.  Frank watched them with a smile on his
round face.

The father glanced at his watch, calling to his daughters.  "Come on,
kids.  Time to pick up your mother."

Their departure reminded Frank that he had to be underway, as well.  He
needed to get to a phone.  New Orleans would be expecting another
report from him.  They were getting impatient for results.  He was
equally frustrated that their research had failed to produce any
further information that could be helpful to him in his search.  You'd
think with all their sources down there they could turn up something
useful on Catbryn McLean.

He headed for the Land Rover, unable to shake the feeling that had
troubled him back in' Bearpaw.  There was something about all this that
didn't fit.  A piece that was missing.

C^THmq was not in the cabin this morning.  Ben, hoping to land a trout
for their supper, was out on the lake fishing.  He had asked her to go
along, but she had declined with the excuse that she wasn't fond of
boats,

That was true, but there was another reason why she had stayed behind.
She was trying to write Meredith a letter, and she didn't dare work on
it when Ben was in the cabin.  Heaven only knew when she would ever get
a chance to post it or even if it would be safe to send it.  But she
owed her cousin some kind of report on her status, and a letter was the
only way since a telephone wasn't available.  Ben had told her the
nearest lines were in Bearpaw and that the cabin was too remote for any
cellular phone.

You're kidding yourself, aren't you ?

Hunched over the kitchen table, pen in hand, she made an effort to
concentrate on the letter in front of her.

Come on, face it.  This isn't the reason why you wanted to be alone.

Cathryn put down the pen and gazed out the window.  All right, so she'd
been lying to herself.  But she didn't like the truth.  She didn't like
the nagging little voice that had told her that, with Ben out of the
way, she was free to investigate that hollow under the overhang.

The image of the place had been haunting her since the first day when
she had followed Angel there.  Why was the dog drawn to that pile of
stones, and why had Ben warned her to stay away from the cavern?  Did
the rocks conceal something that Angel felt compelled to guard?  It was
a chilling concept, like a forbidden room in an old Gothic romance.

She was being very silly.  It was simply a sheltered place that a
half-wild animal was using for its lair.  And that was all there was to
it, even if this didn't explain Angel's hostile behavior to the man she
was supposed to be devoted to.

Cathryn also felt she was being disloyal.  She didn't want these
suspicions.  Not after the magic of the other night.  Not while
noticing how Ben gazed at her in that melting way whenever he thought
she wasn't looking.  Not when a casual contact, as they brushed by each
other in the confines of the cabin, sent sparks charging through her
veins.

But don't you see that this is your chance to settle it one way or
another?  All you have to do is go down there, look under those stones
and satisfy yourself that there's nothing hidden there.  Nothing for
you to worry about.  And if there is something there.  It was no use.
She couldn't resist the temptation.  She couldn't go on with these
conflicting feelings.  She did have to know.

Scraping her chair away from the table, she took the half-finished
letter and tucked it out of sight in her bedroom.  Then she left the
cabin and made her way down to the shore.  There was no sign of the
boat on the lake.  He must be anchored behind one of the tiny islands.
It was safe for her to proceed.

As she followed the path to the cavern above, she wondered if she would
find Angel there.  Maybe the animal wouldn't let her near the stones.
In which case she wouldn't have to worry about what they might be
covering.

But the dog was nowhere in sight when Cathryn reached the overhang. The
pile of stones in the sandy hollow was undisturbed.  She crouched down
in front of it, gazing at the mound for a long, indecisive moment. Her
determination had suddenly failed her, together with her nerve. She
didn't know if she could bring herself to pull the rocks away, if she
could bear now to know a truth that might be awful.

They're just stones.  Probably nothing under them.

Leaning forward, she rested her hand against the hard, rocky heap.
Again she hesitated.

"What are you waiting for, Meredith?"  came the' harsh voice directly
behind her.  "Go on, drag the stones away.  Dig up the sand.  That's
what you've been wanting to do since you found this place, isn't it?"

Cathryn tensed, afraid to turn around, afraid to see the expression on
his face.

"Too bad I came back in for another set of lures.  If I hadn't
interrupted you, you could have gone ahead in secrecy and satisfied
your curiosity.  Maybe learned the worst."

She couldn't bring herself to answer him.

"What's the matter?  Too embarrassed to look at me?"  She swung around
in defiance and found him towering over her threateningly, his face a
rigid mask of anger.  "You didn't have to sneak up on me like that."

"Is that what you call it?  And what do you call what you're doing?"

"Ben, please"

"Forget it.  Just go ahead and do what you came to do.  Dig up the
grave.  Because that's what you think those stones look like, don't
you? Maybe they are.  Maybe there's a body under there, someone I
killed and buried."

Cathryn couldn't bear to admit that this was exactly what she had
feared.  Only she hadn't dared to name the unthinkable to herself, much
less confess it openly now.  She was suddenly ashamed of her despicable
suspicion.  She made what she considered was a vital decision.

"I don't want to remove the stones," she informed him quietly.  "Let
them stay where they are."

"No?"  He hunkered down close beside her.  "All right, if you've lost
your nerve, then let me do it for you."

He began to tug at the rocks.  She placed a hand on his arm, trying to
stop him.

"Bpn, don't," she 'begged him.  "Let's just forget the whole unpleasant
thing.  I don't have to know."

"Yes, you do," he insisted coldly, shaking off her hand.  "We're going
to set He this right now because if we don't, it's going to go on
coming between us."

Sitting back on her heels, she watched helplessly as he cast the stones
aside, quickly reducing the pile to a bed of sand.

He began to paw at the loose stuff underneath, shoveling handfuls of
dry sand out of the way.  Within seconds they were assaulted by a
powerful odor.

Cathryn stared at him in dismay.  He paused, looking uncertain for the
first time.  Then, mouth tightening grimly, he renewed his effort,
scraping away more sand until the thing that had been buried under the
rocks was uncovered.  "Maybe you'd better not look," he warned her.

It was too late for that.  She found herself gazing at the decaying
remains and feeling as though she might be sick.  "My God," Ben
whispered.

She knew then that he was as shocked as she was by their appalling
discovery.

Chapter Six

It was a body.

Not a human body.  Cathryn was grateful for that much, though for a
nauseating moment she feared the bloodied carcass was Angel.  Then she
realized it couldn't possibly be Angel.  The dog had been guarding the
pile of stones, already in place.  And she had glimpsed the dog only
last evening devouring the food she'd been regularly placing for her at
the edge of the clearing.  Angel would approach the cabin no closer
than that.

This animal had been under the ground for at least a week or so.  Its
rough gray coat was much darker than Angel's.  That and the gunshot
wound that had killed it were all she could 'stand to see before she
looked away from the vile sight.

Ben, however, was examining the remains more closely.  "A wolf," he
muttered angrily.  "A full-blooded male wolf.  The question is, who
shot it and put it here?  And why?"

Cathryn didn't answer him.  He turned his head and found her gazing at
him speculatively.  The accusation and distrust were back in her eyes.
He knew what she must be thinking.  That he was only pretending disgust
and outrage over the senseless slaughtering of the creature.  That he
must be responsible for its death and that this was the explanation for
Angel's dislike and fear of him.

"I didn't kill the animal and bury it here, Meredith," he promised her
softly.

She nodded silently.  Damn it, why couldn't she believe him?  And why
did he care so much that she should?

He began rapidly recovering the wolf with the sand, replacing the rocks
over the grave.  No, he hadn't shot the animal.  But he suddenly
realized who probably was responsible.

Cathryn was waiting for him back on the shore path when he finished. He
didn't speak to her.  He struck out ahead of her along the trail,
passing the boat tied up at the pier without a pause or a glance.

"Aren't you going back out on the lake?"

"No," he called over his Shoulder as he strode up the hill toward the
cabin.  "Tin driving into Bearpaw.  There's a bar there where the
locals hang out.  If anybody knows who's been hunting wolves in the
area, one of those guys will."

It was a lie.  He wanted to find the nearest telephone so he could call
Anchorage.  He didn't invite her to go along.  Couldn't.  She didn't
ask to join him.  She stayed behind on the pier.

All right, so it didn't make sense, he thought as he drove the long
miles to Bearpaw.  What was the point of satisfying himself with
answers when he couldn't share them with her afterward?  When she'd
probably go on thinking he was some cold-blooded bastard who went
around murdering the wildlife for the fun 'of it?

But then, none of this whole deception made sense to him any longer.
Why had he ever agreed to a ridiculous masquerade that was pulling him
apart emotionally?  All he'd wanted was to be left alone with his
grief, and now this woman was in his blood.  Worse, he was beginning to
fear that all of it was going to end in disaster and that he would be
powerless to control it.  He knew what that was like.  It had happened
to him before.

There was a decrepit service station out on the far edge of.  Bearpaw.
He figured it would be safe for him to use the public phone affixed to
one of its outside walls.  If anyone was curious, and they usually were
in these small communities, he would be just another traveler on the
road.

The real Ben Adams must have been sleeping late.  He sounded as if he'd
just gotten out of bed when he answered his call.  "Something wrong?"
he asked.

"You tell me.  I want to know about your dog" "Angel?  I did tell you.
She ran off a little while back."

"Well, she's back and acting none too friendly.  She won't let either
of us near her, me especially.  I'm thinking maybe it's because of what
got buried under those rocks above the lake.  What do you think?"

"Oh."  There was a brief silence before Adams continued.  "You found
the wolf, huh?  How'd that happen?"

"Never mind.  I just did.  Why did you shoot it and put it there?"

Adams was immediately defensive.  "Listen, I had no choice.  The thing
was hanging around the place weeks ago, driving Angel crazy.  Probably
trying to lure her into the wild.  I hear a'rogue will do that.  I
finally got rid of him, only to have him turn up again the other week.
I wasn't going to put up with that crap again, so I took care of him
and made sure Angel wouldn't try to dig him up.  What's the difference?
Just another sneaky wolf."

He had decided from the beginning of this operation that maybe he
didn't care much for Ben Adams.  The guy had started out being
agreeable to their switch.  Too agreeable, considering he was losing a
woman who was supposed matter to him.  Then, just before they'd left
for Anchorage, he'd suddenly been reluctant about giving up his cabin,
causing the delay that had been responsible for Cathryn's having to
wait at the airport.  Adams had probably been hoping for more money. He
hadn't gotten it.

Now.  " hearing this story about the wolf, he was sure of it.  He
didn't like Ben Adams.

"Seems to have made a difference to your dog when she's gone and left
you."

"Angel will be fine.  Give her time, she'll settle down."

Adams didn't deserve his dog.  "Okay, forget it.  I'll handle it.
Everything all right down there?"

"Fine."  His laugh was a suggestive one.  "Anchorage is turning out to
be fun since I found me some consolation."

He could imagine what Adams had managed to find.  A replacement for
Meredith McLean.  The guy was a jerk.

A FRANTIC CATHRYN PC'F- around the corner of the cabin just as he swung
into the clearing.  When he climbed from the Jeep, she met him with a
breathless cry.  "It's Angel!  I tried to help her, but the line is
snarled.  She's in a panic and wouldn't hold still for me.  I couldn't
break the line.  I was on my way to the cabin for a knife when you"

He cut her off with a brisk, "Meredith, slow down.

You're not making sense.  Where is the dog?  "

"I told you--in the lake!"

"No, you didn't tell me.  But I guessed that much already.  You're
soaked from the waist down."

"Ben, there's no time for this!.  I'm afraid she'll drown before we can
get her out!"

At this point, appreciating the need for action, he wasted no more
precious seconds demanding explanations.  "All right, let's go."

She was behind him as he trotted toward the path.  Struggling to keep
up with his long-legged gait, she filled him in on the situation in
anxious little snatches.

"I was relaxing on the pier when I saw her.  She was swimming out.
Trying to catch a teal that landed on the water.  Next I knew, she was
caught on something.  Yipping like crazy.  I waded out to her.  She was
all tangled in the stuff by then.  Twisting to get free.  Making it
worse."

"Fishing line?"

"I imagine.  Something like that, anyway.  I held her up, tried to work
it loose.  But she kept squirming and yelping.  Ben, she can't touch
bottom.  And I don't know how long she can keep afloat."

They had reached the shore by then.  Cathryn, fearing the worst, was
relieved to spot Angel's head still above the water several yards off
from the pier.  Barely above the water.  The animal was tiring rapidly
in an effort not to sink against the tug of the fishing line that
permitted her to do no more than paddle in tight, endless little
circles.

Ben didn't hesitate.  He plunged into the water, working his way
rapidly toward the dog.  Cathryn started to follow him, but he stopped
her.

"Get me the penknife, Meredith.  Should he in the top tray of the
fishing box in the boat."

She turned back to the pier.  Of course.  Why hadn't she thought of the
fishing gear instead of losing time by flying off to the cabin?  She
appreciated Ben's coolness in the emergency.  She admired his restraint
even more after she quickly found the knife and joined him out in the
cold waters of the 'lake.

Instead of rushing directly to Angel's rescue and making the animal
even more panicked in her distrust of humans, Ben had stopped a few
feet away, allowing Angel to accept his presence as he spoke to her
soothingly.

"it's all right, girl.  We're going to get you out.  Just hang

011 .  " '

He went on talking to the dog with gentle encouragement as he began to
edge toward her slowly.  Catbryn, creeping forward behind him over the
stony lake bottom, held her breath, praying Angel wOUld permit him to
approach her.

The animal was either too exhausted to resist him or else in her
desperation she sensed that he was a source of help.  Cathryn was
relieved when Angel accepted him as he reached her.  She made no
objection to Ben's hand sliding down under her chest to support her.

"Hold still now, Angel," he murmured.

Amazingly she obeyed him as his free hand began to explore the mass of
knotted line that had snagged her.

"It's a regular spider web," he muttered.  "And one end of the line is
caught down there on a sunken log, which is what kept her paddling in
circles.  I'll need the knife for this."

Cathryn, just behind him, passed the penknife to him and watched
tensely as he sawed through the stuff in several places.  Within
seconds he had cut Angel free of the trap.

"A lot of it is still wrapped around her," he reported, "but we'll wait
for the beach to remove the rest."

Cathryn took the knife from him, allowing him to scoop Angel into his
arms.  She followed as he waded with his load back to the shore.  He
placed the dog on the sand and crouched beside her to examine her
condition.

"Here's the answer to why she was yipping when you tried to help her.
Every time the wrong move was made, this damn thing cut into her."

Cathryn dropped beside him on the beach, discovering the wicked points
of a three-pronged fishing hook still attached to the line and pressing
painfully close to Angel's front paw.

He cursed savagely.  "I'd like to get hold of the irresponsible idiot
who cut this thing loose and just left it floating out there." Probably
Adams, he thought angrily.  Who else would have been fishing the
lake?

"How can I help?"  Catbryn asked as he took the knife from her again.

"Be ready to hold her still.  She may not be so cooperative this
time."

But Angel, as Cathryn held her head and stroked her comfortingly, never
stirred when Ben went to work on her.  She lay there quietly with
patience and trust, her earlier dislike of him entirely forgotten.

Catbryn, watching him carefully slice and unwind the fishing line,
regretted anything she had ever suspected him of with regard to Angel.
But her emotions went beyond that as she followed the gentle movements
of his strong, capable hands.  She experienced something soft and
yearning deep inside her, something that tugged at her powerfully.  But
she wasn't prepared to identify that feeling.  It was much too
unexpected, much too awesome.

Struggling to sound ordinary as Angel was released from the last shreds
of the fishing line, Cathryn asked quickly, "Will she be all right?"

The dog answered that for her.  She was suddenly all over Ben,
wriggling and licking her gratitude.  Cathryn shared in his rich
laughter and felt that joyous sensation swelling inside her again.

"You know what she's bound to do next, don't you?"  Ben said, trying to
lean away from Angel's enthusiastic assault.  "She's going to"

He never got the chance to finish.  The dog, fulfilling his prediction,
shook herself vigorously, showering him with lake water and sand.

Catbryn laughed at the disgusted expression on his face.

"That's right, Angel.  Give him what he asked for."  "Get her,
Angel!"

And Angel obeyed.  Rolling happily on the beach until she was properly
coated with sand, the animal launched herself against Catbryn, knocking
her flat and covering her with debris.

"You dog!"  Cathryn shrieked.  "No, not you, love.  Your stinker of a
master."

Still playful, Angel leapt away with a shrill bark and began to tear
around them in excited circles.

"I guess she doesn't object to being rescued," Ben said dryly.

"I'd say that's an accurate observation.  She's like a Ben, look.
What's wrong with her now?"

Angel had come to a standstill.  Her head lifted and turned alertly in
the direction of the hill above the beach.  She stood there
motionlessly for a few seconds, as though she'd suddenly heard or
remembered something.  Then she swung around and streaked away from
them in the direction of the ledges.

"The cavern," Cathryn said.  "She's going to the cavern.

Oh, Ben, I can't bear for her to go back there after"-- " Angel?  " he
shouted.  " Come back here!  "

The dog ignored them.  Scrambling to their feet, they chased her.

"Did you find out who shot the wolf?"  Cathryn asked him as they
climbed the steep slope.

"No," he said, unable to share the truth with her.  "No one was
admitting anything."

Angel was in view ahead of them as they reached the crest.  She had
paused at the mouth of the deep overhang.  She looked back, checking on
them.  She didn't seem worried now by their presence.  Cathryn,
saddened by the dog's at-tach merit to the dead wolf, waited for Angel
to dive under the ledge.

"What the-Now where is she going?"  Ben demanded.  Not.  into the
cavern, Cathryn thought, equally puzzled as they watched Angel lope
away along a thread of a path that cut off to the left of the overhang.
She disappeared into the trees.

They followed and came to another place where the ledges formed a deep
hollow.  This second, narrower cavern was slightly above the first.
There was the sound of activity within the dimness that told them Angel
had reached her destination.

Getting down on their hands and knees, they peered into the shadows of
the den.  Angel was there, lying peacefully on her side.  She was not
alone.  A litter of almost full-blooded wolf puppies, four in number
and surely less than two weeks old, was already suckling eagerly.

"Well, I'll be damned," Ben murmured in wonder.  "You clever girl, you.
This is what yoU've been protecting all along."

It had never been the body of the wolf at all, Cathryn realized.  Angel
had merely utilized the grave in that other cavern as a kind of blind.
Mother love was very strong throughout nature, sometimes impelling
animals to use themselves as decoys to keep danger away from their
young.  With the father of her puppies destroyed, Angel must have
sensed a threat to her litter and behaved accordingly.

Cathryn related to that maternal instinct.  The practice of decoying
was something she could easily understand be cause She didn't trust
herself to finish the thought.  There was a sudden lump in her throat
as she watched the contented dog nursing her puppies.

"I suppose there's no question of who the father was," Ben said,
wanting to wring Adams's neck for shooting the wolf.  '

"I guess you never noticed she was pregnant."

"Dumb, huh?"  he said, excusing himself.  But he couldn't have known,
since Angel had already fled by the time he'd arrived on the scene.

"Well, she does have an awfully thick coat," Cathun Said in his
defense.  "And she'd never let either one of us that close?"

"Because she was nervous about us.  And this is why."  But Angel was no
longer bothered by their nearness.  Her eyes closed in lazy
satisfaction as her offspring continued to feed.  Ben and Cathryn, side
by side on the ground, went on watching the tender scene.

She was conscious of their sharing a special moment.  She didn't
realize how special until she felt his gaze on her.  She turned her
head and was riveted by the longing she read in those jet dark eyes.
She felt a similar ache tighten inside her.  "Meredith," he said, his
voice gruff with emotion.

And that was all he said.  All he needed to say.  She swallowed
nervously.

Ben got to his feet.  "Come on," he urged, his voice still disarmingly
husky.  "Let's leave Mama with her babies.  We've got something else to
do."

She was afraid to ask him what and where as she stood beside him.
Afraid and at the same time eager.  "Like what?"  she ventured.

"A cleanup.  Look at us."

She was disappointed by his answer, though she appreciated its
accuracy.  She realized for the first time that both of them were a
mess, sopping wet from the lake and plastered with grime from the
beach.

"You're right.  So, do we race each other to see who gets the shower
first?"

"The hell with that.  I want a long, relaxing soak in a hot tub,
Together."

"Oh," she said breathlessly, then added quickly, "Too bad we don't have
one."

"Wanna bet?"  There was a wicked gleam in his eyes and a promise in his
tone.

"Care to explain that little mystery?"  she challenged him.  "More fun
to show you."

"Trust me," he said, leading the way down the hill.

"I seem to remember hearing that before.  I think it was the night of
the accident down in Percy, just before we confronted assorted ghosts,
an indignant llama and a nasty shotgun."

The thing of it was, like Angel, she did trust him implicitly now.  She
even wondered, after his caring moments with the dog, how she could
have ever doubted him at all.

She followed him to the shore, her heart beating with a strange, happy
expectancy that was in conflict with her sudden shyness.  When he
started for the pier, however, instead of turning in the direction of
the cabin, her anticipation changed to reluctance.

"Oh, you're not going to propose we go swimming in that frigid lake.
Wading in to rescue Angel was one thing, but"

"I said hot tub, remember?"  Reaching the pier, he scrambled down into
the boat.  "Come on, we're going for a little ride in the outboard."

She regarded with misgiving the hand he extended toward her.  "Uh,
maybe this isn't such agood idea."

"I remember, you're not crazy about boats.  Don't worry.  It's not far,
and I'll stick close to shore."

Trust, Cathryn.  You told yourself you trusted him now.  "Take a
chance, Meredith," he encouraged her.

The gleam was still there in his dark eyes, making his secret objective
ultimately irresistible.  "I give up.  I'm a sucker for surprises."

She accepted his hand, taking pleasure in his firm grip as he helped
her into the small boat.  She was settling herself on the seat in the
bow while he bent over the motor when she remembered something.

"Towels and fresh clothes!  I mean, if you're serious about us having a
bath out there somewhere"

"Not necessary.  We're going to let nature provide us with all we
need."

It was a provocative assurance.  She didn't argue with him.  Seconds
later the outboard was cutting along the edge of the lake.  Once she
commanded herself to relax, Catbryn enjoyed the experience.  From this
open perspective, the mountains and lush forests were even more
spectacular, the water a pure, incredible blue.

Within minutes they glided into a sun-warmed inlet fed by a creek
emerging from a dense grove of willows.  Ben secured the boat on the
gravel shore.

"This way," he directed, leading them along a narrow path that climbed
steeply through the trees.

She was thoroughly perplexed by now.  "I hear the sound of rushing
water."

"Right.  The source of the creek down there.  Here we go."  He held
aside the low boughs of a spruce, allowing Cath-ryn to precede him.
Head low, she ducked through the opening.  When she emerged on the
other side, she found herself in a glade.

The scene was as enticing as a travel poster.  Water tumbled from the
fern-cloaked ridge above them, cascading into a rocky pool at their
feet before spilling away again into the creek below.  The slowly
swirling pool had all the proportions of a large bathtub.  A fine mist
rose from its serene surface, like a thin layer of smoke.  When Cathryn
held her hands over the curling wisps, she felt a low, steady heat.
"It's warm," she said in wonder.

"Hot springs," he explained.  "Alaska is volcanic, so they're common in
the state."

She smiled at him in delight.  "You weren't kidding.  We do have our
own hot tub.  Uh, how do we... ?"

"Take the plunge?  Simple."

He demonstrated for her.  Kicking off his tennis shoes, he lowered
himself into the pool with a carefree confidence.  The sight of him,
immersed up to his neck while fully dressed, had her crowing with
laughter.

"You're crazy!"  she accused him.

"I'm being practical," he insisted, paddling around the pool.  "My
clothes are as dirty as I am, aren't they?"

"You have a point," she conceded, realizing her own clothes were
equally grimy.  Besides, his method was probably less awkward than
stripping down to nothing in this intimate situation.  But not as
interesting.

"Are you going to stand out there or join me?"

She accepted his challenge, recklessly pulling off her own shoes and
easing herself into the pool.  The sensation, even with the restriction
of clothes, was delicious.  A soothing warmth seeped into her body.

"Good, huh?"  He stroked around her in lazy circles.

"Mmm," she agreed, closing her eyes as she crouched down to her chin.

They drifted in silence for a moment in the balmy waters.  She should
have known he had no intention of maintaining the safe barriers of
clothing.  She heard him stirring, and when she opened her eyes, he was
climbing out of the pool.

"That takes care of the laundry," he drawled, his voice wearing a new,
husky tone.  "Time for the body."

With the same confidence he had displayed that night they had spent in
the old opera.  house, he began stripping away his wet clothing,
spreading the garments to dry on a flat, sun-warmed boulder.  Cathryn,
watching his robust body emerge from shirt and jeans, knew that her
flushed face was not a result of the heated water.

He was in no way self-conscious about his sleek nudity.  But she was
aware of every facet of his tantalizing masculinity.  Hard shoulders,
haft-darkened chest, strong thighs and above them a blatant virility
that made her catch her breath.

When she lifted her eyes, their gazes collided.  There was no teasing
expression in his eyes now.  The gleam that burned in them was earnest,
vital.  "It's time, Meredith," he said, his voice low and rough with
need.

Time for her to shed her own clothing.  But she knew he meant much more
than that.  She also knew he was right.  The situation was not just
ripe; it was appropriate.  It was time for her to become the bride he
had sent for.

But she was unable ko perform the simple function of removing her
clothes.  He must have sensed her nervousness, even though he was
unable to understand the reason for it.

He came to her then.  Sliding into the pool, he approached her with e
same unhurried care and patience he had used to woo the frightned
Angel.

She rose to her feet, trembling as he advanced on her slowly.  He stood
facing her, so close now that the heat from his compact body was more
potent than the temperature of the water drifting around them lazily.
He seared her with out touching her, his hot, black eyes making her
aware that the shirt clinging to her revealed the contours of her
breasts and nipples.

"I'll help you, Meredith.  Let me help you."

He lifted the hem of the shirt, began to draw it over her head.  She
raised her arms to accommodate him.  When it was off and slung over his
shoulder out of the way, he savored the vision of her naked breasts.

"Beautiful," he said.  "You're a beautiful woman."

She gazed at him.  Expectant.  Eager.  And still very nervous.

He began to work on her jeans.  She didn't resist him but she didn't
assist him, either.  Somehow he freed her of the garment, as well as
her panties underneath, without unbalancing either one of them.  He
took her clothes and placed them near his own on the boulders.

Her last defense had been eliminated.  She was totally vulnerable when
he returned to her in the pool.  Even her will was stripped from her
when his hands molded the fullness of her beasts, his thumbs slowly
stroking her nipples into yearning peaks.

His mouth dipped toward her face, and she waited for his kiss.  But it
was not her mouth he sought.  It was the mole just below her eye that
his lips caressed with a sweet, lingering sorcery.  From there he
trailed a path to her mouth.

Her lips opened to his, inviting the intimacy of his stroking tongue in
a deep, prolonged kiss that had her straining against his slick body.
They were so tightly clasped that she could feel his rigid arousal
surging against her.  She fought for self-control.

When his mouth lifted from hers, he searched her face.  "It's not there
yet," he said.

"What isn't?"  she whispered weakly.

"The wildness I want to see in your eyes before I make love to you. The
same raw need for me as I have for you.  But it will be before we're
through."

It was no rash promise.  Within the space of seconds, she learned about
the sensual magic he could perform.  He taught 'her with his skillful
mouth on her breasts, his capable hands between her thighs.  None of it
was quick or rough.  All of it was applied with a care and a tenderness
that erased the last of those old, lingering memories of failure and
humiliation.  It was as if on some intuitive level Ben knew about the
disastrous relationship that had left her so unwilling to be involved
all these years.  He knew, and was determined that she would never be
hurt like that again.  And she responded to his stirring kisses, his
sensitive, probing fingers, with a desire that inflamed her.

"Now," he said, staring into her eyes.  "Now I see it."

"Yes," she gasped, ready for him.  More than ready.  Consumed by a need
to have him joined with her in every way.

He answered her urgency, lifting her from the water, placing her on the
velvety surface of a ledge thick with moss at the edge of the pool.
Only when his body covered hers, hot and suddenly demanding, did
Cathryn experience a reluctance.

Ben, feeling her hesitation, drew back.  "If you tell me not to go on,
Meredith, I won't."

It was all the reassurance she needed.  "Please," she implored him,
"it's going to be all right."

But it was.  more than just all right once he was inside her, her body
clasping his.  More than just good.  There was an incandescence about
their oneness that filled her with awe.  She had never known it could
be this way between a man and a woman.

But patience was no longer possible for Ben.  Nor for her.  She moved
with him, matching his compelling rhythms with her own.  The rapturous
waves that broke over them at last were as molten as the deep rock that
fueled the hot springs beside them.

The wonder stayed with Cathryn afterward as she lay peacefully in Ben's
arms.  Their lovemaking had brought her more than just a profound
pleasure.  It had freed her of the resistance that had haunted her for
too many years.  She would always be grateful to him for that.

But there was even more.  There was a recognition of that sweet
sensation that had swelled inside her as she had.  watched him gently
free Angel from the fishing line.  She could name it now.  It was the
moment when she had begun to fall in love with Ben Adams.

Frightening.  Wonderful but frightening.

But why should this admission scare her?  What was left for her to
worry about?  That elusive, mysterious intenseness she kept glimpsing
in him?

Catbryn lifted her head to gaze down at him.  There was nothing intense
about him now.  His eyes were shut, his mouth wearing a little smile of
satisfaction.

She had a longing suddenly to touch those bold, masculine features, to
assure herself there was nothing dangerous here.  Her fingers, with a
will of their own, began to trace lightly the planes and angles of his
face.

He wasn't sleeping.  He chuckled when she came in contact with his
strong Roman nose.  "Gift from an Indian ancestor," he said without
opening his eyes.

She remembered thinking that night in that ghost town that there was a
suggestion of an ethnic heritage in his looks.  "Bet he was a Sioux."

"You'd be wrong.  Choctaw."

"Interesting."

He rose up on one elbow, sporting a wickedly sexy grin.  "If we're
going to do some body exploring here, let's be thorough about it."

She didn't mistake his meaning.  "Again?"

He glanced over at their clothes spread on the boulders.  "Hey, it's
going to be a long while before they're dry.  We've got to find
something to do until then, don't we?"

Chapter Seven

It was an unfurnished apartment, newly redecorated and waiting for a
renter to fall in love with it.  Frank Tesler had admired the place
when he broke into it.  It was almost as nice as his own apartment back
in New Orleans.

That had been hours ago.  Nothing to admire now.  It was night, and the
rooms were silent and dark.  Frank had stationed himself behind the
window blinds of the empty master bedroom.  His carefully chosen
position provided him with a clear view into the living room of the
apartment.  directly across the yard from this one in the complex.
Sooner or later his objective would appear in that living room.

It was not an easy vigil.  His feet were killing him.  Blisters now.
Painful blisters from pounding too much Anchorage pavement.  It helped
that he had brought a folding camp stool into the apartment with him
and could sit while he waited.

He would have been a lot more comfortable if he could have removed his
shoes.  It wasn't possible.  Once he had scored the hit, there would be
no seconds to waste.  He would need to be fully ready to get out of the
building and under way in the Land Rover parked down the block.

A little patience, he counseled himself.  You're almost there.

He'd be in the air by morning, with Alaska and this job far behind him.
Once back home, he would put his feet up and let them heal while Betty
waited on him.

All he needed now was to squeeze just a little more luck out of the
situation.  He would get it, he thought confidently as he helped
himself to a fresh stick of gum.  It was all going in his favor
suddenly.  Had to be, after that huge slice of luck this morning.

Days of hunting for Ben Adams, and where had he found him in the end?
Behind a traffic light on a busy Anchorage thoroughfare.  The shiny
Ford Explorer just in front of his Land Rover, waiting for the light to
change, hadn't captured his attention.  But its license plate had.

Frank had a habit of checking out plates on the road.  Not for any
professional reason.  It was because the best of the vanity plates
amused him.  Some of them were damn cute.  This one had been a
disappointment--BN DMS.  Nothing clever about that.

He had glanced away in disinterest.  Then his gaze had shot back to the
plate with excited awareness.  BN DMS.  Restore the vowels, and it
read

BEN ADAMS.

A long shot.  Maybe the letters stood for something else or nothing at
all.  Maybe the plate represented another Ben Adams.  The Anchorage
phone book listed several of them, all of whom he had already checked
out.

But something told Frank that he had his man.  He'd followed the
Explorer and its lone occupant.  A dark, bearded fellow somewhere in
his thirties.  There had been no description of Adams made available to
Frank, but the age had to be right.

The Ford Explorer had led him to the complex here on the outskirts of
Anchorage.  He had watched its driver disappear into one of the
apartments.  The name meant nothing

 to him when he cautiously checked the mailbox.  Nick Gillette.

Did he have the wrong man, after all, or was Adams merely visiting the
apartment?  Frank had to know, and that meant taking a risk he didn't
like.  He'd hunted up the maintenance man for the buildings, displaying
his impressive identification.  A forgery, of course, but the guy had
bought it and answered his questions.

"Yeah, Gillette's the tenant there, but he's away for a few weeks.
Letting this Ben Adams from up Bearpaw way use his place while he's
gone.  No, he's not alone.  Not now, anyway.  Has a g'trlfriend in
there with him.  I don't know her-name.  I haven't seen her around, but
I know she's there."

Cathryn McLean, Frank had thought.  It had to be Cath ryn McLean. "Hey,
is somebody in trouble?"

Frank had assured him a mistake had been made and that these weren't
the people he was looking for.  The maintenance man had been distracted
then by the arrival of an elderly couple asking about a vacancy in the
adjoining building.  That was when Frank had learned about the empty
apartment before quietly slipping away.

Luck, all right, he thought now as he worked on the gum in his mouth.
Only it was the kind of luck you made for yourself with patience and
persistence.  They always paid off in the end.

The night wore on as he tried to forget about his angry feet.  He kept
a constant watch on the Gillette apartment with his binoculars.  They
weren't asleep over there.  The lights were on, and he glimpsed Adams a
couple of times on his way to the kitchen or bathroom, mouthing
something once to the woman who had yet to show herself.

Neither of them ever entered the living room.  They kept to what had to
be the bedroom.  From the look of Adams,

who always had a towel wrapped around his hairy body and a grin on his
face, they must be exhausting themselves in there.

It was after midnight, and Frank was struggling to keep awake despite
the fresh air from the open window, when Adams finally sauntered into
the living room.  Picking up the remote, he switched on the TV and
settled on the sofa.  He called something to the girlfriend in the
bedroom.  Urging her to join him?

This was it.

Alert now, Frank dropped the binoculars and picked up the weapon
waiting at his feet.  A high-powered, custom-made rifle equipped with a
telescopic sight.

Moving into position, he sighted on the doorway of the living room
across the yard.  He had a clear, unobstructed target.  He waited.  She
was taking her time about appearing in that doorway.

"Come on, come on," he muttered tensely.  He braced himself, finger
ready to squeeze the trigger.  There was a movement in the doorway.  A
woman struggling into a robe.  Now!

He never got off the shot.  He stopped himself just in time with a
grunt of surprise.  Lowering the rifle, he snatched up the binoculars
and trained them on the figure crossing the living room.

No, this wasn't Cathryn McLean!  Couldn't be.  The woman over there was
a brunette, voluptuous but on the heavy side and with coarse features.
Nothing like the photograph and description he'd been provided.  So
much for all that luck he'd been congratulating himself he had
earned.

Uttering a violent obscenity, Frank sank back onto the camp stool.
Chewing his gum, he tried to work it out.  Something was wrong about
this whole setup.  He had sensed it from the beginning.  He just
couldn't seem to put his finger on it.

He was still trying to understand it during the following two days as
he kept a cautious surveillance on the apartment.  Adams and his
brunette left the building several times and were never guarded about
their appearances.  There was no sign of anyone bearing a resemblance
to the McLean woman.

Unless Frank's information was wrong--and he'd been assured he could
count on it--Cathryn McLean was supposed to be in hiding with Ben Adams
while she pretended to be her cousin.  Only she wasn with Adams.  So
what was going on here?  Where was she, and who was she with?

He considered grabbing Adams.  He knew some intereSting ways to make
him talk.  But that was dangerous.  He didn't want the Mclean woman
alerted before he reached her.

It was afternoon of the second day in the apartment before the
possibility finally struck him.  Nick Gillette.  The guy whose
apartment Adams was borrowing.  Out of town for a few weeks, the
maintenance man had claimed.  Out of town where?

That was when Frank remembered the cabin by the lake.  Adams's cabin in
the wilderness.  What if Adams and Gillette had switched addresses?
What if the cabin was occupied?  Occupied by this Nick Gillette,
whoever he was, and Catbryn McLean was there after all?

Frank would have tgo back to that cabin.  It was a long drive, and his
blisters were worse than ever.  But his feet would have to wait.  He
wanted Cathryn McLean and he would do whatever was necessary to get
her.

WHAT WAS WRONG.  9

Cathryn had been asking herself that question for the past ver al days.
She was still asking it tonight as she stirred restlessly in her lonely
bed, unable to sleep as she listened to the sound of insects in the
warm darkness outside her open window.

Ben hadn't touched her since that magic afternoon at the hot springs.
Not so much as a casual kiss.  She couldn't believe he was in some way
angry with her.  He was warm and friendly, joked with her constantly.
But he avoided any physical contact, even though she tried to indicate
without being blatant about it that she would welcome further
intimacies.

The trouble was, she had almost no experience with sexual
relationships.  She didn't know the rules.  Had he been disappointed in
their lovemaking beside the pool?  It didn't seem possible.  She could
swear their afternoon had been as incredibly rapturous for Ben as it
had been for her.

Then what was wrong?  She didn't understand.  And she was afraid to ask
him.  Afraid to hear a truth she might not he able to handle.

That wasn't her only fear.  There were others that she hadn't
considered until now.  Like her fear that she might one day endanger
Ben because of her association with him.  She couldn't bear it if
anything happened to him because of her.  He was everything she had
ever dreamed of in a man and never expected 'to find in reality.

Love.  It wasn't supposed to involve fear on so many levels, was it?
But the fear of loss because of her masquerade was worse than all the
rest, probably because it was already in progress.  She would have to
tell him the truth, and tell him soon, but what if he hated her when he
learned about Cathryn McI.  can and her deception?

But not yet.  She hadn't the courage to risk it.  She preferred to live
with the anguish of her guilt.  Her recognition of that guilt had been
there from the start, but it was so much more intense now that she was
emotionally involved with the man she had come to Alaska deliberately
to use.

"Forgive me, Ben," she whispered in the darkness.  "I didn't plan for
any of it to happen this way.  Forgive me..."

She turned restlessly on the bed, longing for the man who was just a
room away.

THEIR DOORS WERE AJAR.  He could hear her moving on her bed and
wondered if she was as sleepless as he was.  He pictured her lying
there in her thin night wear, blond hair all mussed, her body flushed
from the warmth of this particular evening.  An alluring image that
taunted him.

Every nerve ending in his body, rigid with arousal, screamed for him to
go to her.  He wanted to hold her, bury himself in her sweet flesh and
watch the passion for him burn again in her eyes.

Instead, he pounded his pillow in angry frustration.

He couldn't touch her.  He couldn't make that mistake again.  The
outcome could be fatal for both of them, just.  as it had been for
another woman back in New Orleans.

He had already made too many errors.  Choctaw.  He had really slipped
up with that one.  Hell, why hadn't he gone on and told her that there
was Cajun in him, too, probably Creole, as well?  That would have
cinched it for sure.  Sent her running for her life.

There could be no confessions until she was completely secure with him.
And he knew he hadn't won her absolute trust, because she had yet to
reveal herself to him.  Even then, when he could finally risk an
admission of his own, she might hate him.  Probably would.

In the meantime he had to guard against losing her.  If she suspected
anything, there was the chance that she wouldn't stop to ask questions
before she disappeared again.

Damn, why hadn't he restrained himself?  Why had he complicated this
whole mess by making love to her?  Worse, much worse, why hadn't he
obeyed his self-promise not to fall for her?  Now he had to live with
this torment.

Cathryn McLean was slowly killing him, and there was nothing he could
do about it.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE to these feet, man?  Deliberately abused them?"

Frank gazed anxiously at the raw blisters on his bare heels, then into
the thing face of the man who was examining them.  He looked more like
a teenager than a qualified M. D. "They're going to be okay, aren't
they?"

"The blisters are infected," the young doctor bluntly informed him.

Frank could see that for himself.  It was why he'd decided to interrupt
his drive to Adams's cabin with this detour into Lovejoy.  In the end
he had no longer been able to stand the pain, and Lovejoy was the
nearest town of any size.

"So you can give me something for them, huh?  I have this really
important appointment north of here, and I need to be on my way."

"Cancel it.  You're not going anywhere for a few days.  Not unless you
want to wind up with blood poisoning and a trip back to the hospital
here for what could be an ex tended visit.  Which I wouldn't encourage,
considering the head nurse over there has the disposition of a Toklat
grizzly."

"But I can't hang around here."

"Sure, you can.  We've got a comfortable hotel in town.  You'll love
it.  Used to be the local brothel.  You can rest and stay off those
feet there.  Before you check in, you stop at the pharmacy down the
street. I'm going to give you two prescriptions and I want to see you
back here in forty-eight hours."

No choice about it, Frank thought dismally as he watched the doctor
write the prescriptions.  His trip up to the cabin would have to be
delayed.

The doCtor handed him the slips of paper.  "One more thing.  You have
slippers in your luggage?"

"No."

"Get a pair.  You can buy them at Horuer's next door.  The kind without
backs.  You wear them without socks whenever you're on your feet, and
you don't worry about how it looks.  Any questions?"

Frank had none.  He left the office.  Cathryn McLean would have to
wait.  But not for long, he promised himself grimly.  He would take her
if he had to hobble on his knees to doit.

Chapter Eight

"You're from the South, aren't you?  Somewhere in Louisiana, I bet.
Maybe around New Orleans."

Catbryn stared apprehensively at the clerk behind the drugstore
counter.  Was it possible?  Had she fled thousands of miles from home
only to end up somehow being recognized?

Seeing her startled expression, the young woman waiting on her laughed.
White teeth gleamed in an attractive Native American face.

"I have an ear for accents," she explained, bagging Cathryffs
purchases.  "A gift for duplicating them, t9o, I hope.  I'm studying to
be an actress.  University at Fairbanks."

Cathryn regarded the lively, friendly face across from her and relaxed.
There was no danger here.  "I didn't realize my accent was enough to
show."

"I'm right, aren't I?"  the clerk persisted.

"Yes, I'm originally from the New Orleans area," Cath-ryn admitted.
After all, there was no reason to hide it when Meredith had come from
Louisiana herself.

The clerk chortled, tossing back her long, sleek black hair.  "Knew it.
One of my teachers said I'm a regular Professor Higgins when it comes
to dialects."

Cathryn smiled at her, wished her well in her career and left the
counter with her purchases.  There was a public phone in an alcove at
the rear of the store.  But before moving toward it, she checked the
street entrance to make certain Ben was nowhere in sight.  He was
supposed to be getting his hair cut in the barbershop down the block,
but she didn't want to risk his wandering in here while she was making
her calls.

They had separated after leaving the supermarket.  He had been
reluctant about that.  Come to think of it, he had been hesitant about
her joining him at all on this latest, necessary shopping trip into
Lovejoy.  Probably just because' he had sensed a tension in her about
the outing, even if he didn't understand it.

This was her first time away from the cabin since her arrival.  She had
made herself come to Lovejoy today, knowing she couldn't hide up there
forever and that there was no real threat in this remote town. Besides,
she couldn't stand not phoning Louisiana.  She had to know everything
was all right.

But first, she thought, reaching the telephone in the alcove, she would
call Meredith in Missouri.  She had never finished that letter she owed
her, and her cousin must be frantic by now.

Meredith answered on the first ring, as though she had been sitting
there just Waiting for her call.  Cathryn quickly filled her in on all
the essentials.  They had been talking for several minutes when she
realized that Meredith didn't sound like herself.  She could detect a
kind of stress in her manner.  An explanation occurred to her.

"Meredith, do you have a visitor there?"

"No, I'm all alone."

"Oh.  I just thought maybe"

Her cousin interrupted her.  "You're sure everything is Okay with you
and Ben?"

It must have been the third time she had asked the question.  And for
the third time Cathryn reassured her.  "Yes, we're getting along fine.
Meredith, don't worry about it.  It's all working out beautifully."

"Just wanted to be sure," she mumbled, "that I--we did the right
thing."

Meredith seemed satisfied when they finally ended their conversation.
But maybe reluctantly so, Cathryn thought, still wondering about her
manner.  Could Meredith be having second thoughts about the switch they
had made?  Wishing now that it was she who had come to Ben Adams and
not her cousin?  Cathryn hoped this wasn't the case, because at this
point there wasn't much she could do about it.  She turned her
attention to her next call.

Minutes later, having learned that for the present everything was going
smoothly in Louisiana, she left the alcove.  She was wearing a smile of
relief as she started out of the drugstore.

-There was a heavyset man blocking the entrance when she came out the
door.  He was paying no attention to where he was going, and they
almost collided.

Cathryn felt sorry for him as she stepped aside.  The poor man, bent
over almost double, was struggling to keep a pair of scarfs on his bare
feet as he flapped along the pavement, muttering curses of frustration.
He kept reaching down to pull the slippers back into place.

He murmured a brief thanks when she held the door for him, but he never
looked up as he shuffled into the drugstore.  He was still battling the
strange scuffs.

She checked her watch as she strolled along the sidewalk of Lovejoy's
main street.  She had some time left before she met Ben at the Jeep
parked behind the barbershop.

Pausing in front of a store that catered to the tourist trade, she
admired the window display featuring a fascinating array of Alaskan
products.  Gold-nugget jewelry, canned salmon, fur mulduks, wild berry
jellies, seal oil candles.  They were all there.

Cathryn was trying to make out the price on an exquisite jade carving
When a rough-edged voice raised a shout behind her.  She swung around
in faint alarm, scanning the sidewalk in both directions.

"Girlie!  Here, over here!"

Across the street a burly figure in grubby pants and shirt stood by a
battered pickup truck, arms waving to draw 'her attention.

FRANK S the two prescriptions across the counter.  "What are the
chances of getting these filled while I wait?  Oh, and I'll take this
package of gum.  Also, have you got a phone in the place I can use?"

The young woman behind the pharmacy counter stared at him in silence.
Frank scowled at her, thinking she was too mystified to answer him.  He
knew what he must look like slapping in here with these damn mules on
his feet.  Like a circus down trying to get around in a pair of shoes
miles too big for him.  These were the closest to his size that Homer's
Store could produce.

He was in no mood to assume the affable manner he used to keep
strangers from being suspicious.  His infected blisters were driving
him crazy.

"There a problem?"  he demanded.

The clerk was suddenly all apologies.  "Sorry, I'm sorry.  It's just
that I was so surprised.  You'vegot it, too."

What the hell-Did she think he had something catching?  "What are you
talking about?"

"Your accent.  It's the same.  Southern Louisiana.  It is Louisiana,
isn't it?"

Frank's scowl deepened.  "So?"

"Well, the blond woman who was in here a minute ago buying cosmetics,
she had a Louisiana accent, too.  What are the odds for a coincidence
like that in a place like this?  I would have figured you were together
except you hardly even glanced at each other when you passed in the
doorway.  It's too weird.  Oh, you must he together."

Frank suddenly understood.  Cathryn McLean!  She was here.  It had to
have been her, and he had let her slip right by him without even being
aware she was within his reach.  All that had registered when she held
the door for him was a pair of shapely legs below white shorts.  He had
been occupied with the miserable slippers.

"The blond woman.  Where did she go?"

"I don't know.  Just out.  About the prescriptions" -- "Fill them," he
barked.  "I'll be back for them."

He was already on his way toward the entrance.  She couldn't have gone
far.  If she was on foot, he could still catch up with her.

He burst onto the sidewalk, stumbling over the loose slippers, cursing
the pain of the infected blisters that slowed him down.

IT WAS SOURDOUGH ANNIE.  Cathryn would have recognized that ancient
prospector's hat from two blocks away.  She crossed the street to speak
to her weather-beaten friend from the ghost tow ia

"How you doing, girl?"  Annie seemed pleased to see her.  She grinned a
welcome when Cathryn reached her.

"Hot."  The sun was glaring on this side of the street.

"Yeah, it can be murder in summer.  Something newcomers to Alaska don't
expect."

Annie draw her around the front of the pickup parked at the curb until
they were standing close to the high cab that cast a welcome shade,

"Otherwise, I'm flourishing."  Cathryn smiled at her.  "How about you,
Annie?"

"Me?  I'm always good.  You on your own in town?"

"No, Ben is visiting the barber.  I'm exploring Lovejoy while I
wait."

"Not much to see, but this is the closest we come to a metropolis in
these parts."  She cast a glance along the street, whose storefronts
were mostly wooden, as well as old-fashioned.  Then her beaming
expression sobered.  "So, how's it going with Adams?  He treating you
okay?"

"He couldn't be better, Annie," Cathryn said, anxious 'to assure the
woman that her distrust of Ben was without foundation.

"No problems, then?"

"Nothing that we aren't working out."  Not quite true, but she didn't
think Annie was referring to their sex life.

"Good.  That's good, then."  Annie didn't looked con-vi need

Cathryn was grateful when the conversation Was curtailed by the arrival
of a teenage boy.  He emerged from the feed store where the pickup was
parked, staggering under the weight of a cumbersome sack of flour.

"In the back," Annie directed him.

"Are you opening a bakery down in Percy?"  Cathryn teased her.

"Always buy it in bulk.  Cheaper that way.  Hey, go easy with that,"
she barked at the teenager, who was getting ready to heave the load
over the side of the truck.  "Don't want my grub spilling out all over
the street."

She charged to the rear of the pickup to lower the tailgate while
Cathryn remained in the shade of the cab.  t can Barrett

"Where are my apples?"  Annie demanded.

"Coming up," the boy mumbled, depositing his load in the bed of the
truck and heading back into the store for the apples.

"Buy those by the bulk, too," she explained.  "Treats for Lulu."

The arrogant llama, Catbryn remembered.

Annie, leaning against the tailgate, chuckled.  "Get a load of that."

Cathryn moved along the side of the truck in order to gain a view of
the figure her friend indicated on the opposite side of the street.  It
was the heavyset man from the drugstore.  He was slip-slopping from
store to store just as furiously as the loose scuffs on his feet would
permit, peering through the glass of each door before rushing on to the
next.

"Looks like he lost something he's desperate to get back," Catbryn
observed.  "Probably his wife."

"And they call me a character.  Well, it's Alaska.  You see all
kinds."

' The teenager reappeared with the apples.  Cathryn hastily got out of
his way, retreating into the shelter of the cab.

Annie joined her there after the apples had been loaded and the
tailgate closed.  Her seamed face wore a solemn expression again.

"What I told you down in Percy that morning about coming to me if
things don't work out... well, that invitation still holds."

Poor Ben, Cathryn thought.  She just won't believe in him.

"I appreciate that, Annie, but I don't think it will ever be
necessary."

She grunted.  "You just remember it, girl."

The pickup departed a moment later.  The man in the strange slippers
had disappeared by then around the corner up the street.  Catbryn moved
off in the opposite direction, cutting through an alleyway that led to
a gravel area where the Jeep was parked behind the shops.

HE was RELIEVED to get out of the barbershop.  The place had been busy,
and he'd had to wait his turn while suffering the fumes of someone's
bad cigar.  He stood on the sidewalk, filling his lungs with clean air.
And that's when he saw it.

A Land Rover.  A green Land Rover.  It was cruising slowly along the
street, its driver's gaze slewing from side to -side.  On the lookout
for something.  Or someone.

Land Rovers were expensive vehicles.  They weren't common in Alaska. So
he probably would have noticed it in any case.  But this one held his
interest as his eyes followed it up the block.  It triggered something
in his memory.  Something he couldn't pin down at first.  And then it
came to him.

That rainy night when the Jeep had gone off the road and he'd been
knocked unconscious, Catbryn had tried to flag down a passing car.  A
Land Rover, she had said.  A green one.

It hadn't meant anything at the time.  There had been too much else to
think about.  But now he wondered.  an unfamiliar Land Rover been doing
out there at that of night on a seldom-traveled back road?

He was probably overreacting.  There was no evidence he had anything to
worry about.  But he continued the vehicle as it reached the far end of
the business district,:i It made a U-turn and came crawling back along
the street.

He stood at the curb looking bored, as though he were waiting for a
ride.  But this time when the Land by him, he made an effort to
distinguish the driver's the man's restless gaze continued to probe
both sides of street.

He was passed over without interest but not before he caught a clear
glimpse of a pudgy face and a balding head.  It was not a face that he
recognized, but there was something about the thin, determined mouth
that made him uneasy.

That uneasiness escalated into a tight feeling in his gut when the
vehicle, suddenly gathering speed, swung around the next corner into a
side street.  The street led to the area in back where the Jeep was
parked.  And Cathryn must be there by now waiting for him!

He didn't hesitate.  Pivoting, he raced toward the mouth of the alley
that was a shortcut through the block.  He knew it.  He knew he should
have left her back at the cabin.  But she would have been suspicious if
he had refused her this time, and Lovejoy had seemed a harmless
outing.

He heard the slam of a car door and the squeal of tires somewhere
toward the rear of the buildings as he pounded through the alley.  The
warning in his gut was now making him sick with alarm.

He reached the parking area.  The locked Jeep was there, but there was
no sign of Cathyn.  And no sign of the Land Rover.  Convinced that. the
worst had happened, he charged toward the Jeep, searching his pockets
for his keys.

He didn't find them.  That's when he realized that he had given the
keys to Cathryn, knowing she would return before he did and that she
would want to let herself into the Jeep.

He was a damn fool, he thought as he skidded to an angry halt in the
gravel.  Why had he ever let her go off on her own?

The Land Rover!  He had to go after the Land Rover, get her back before
it was too late.  He needed a fast car to follow them.  The Jeep was
alone in the parking lot.  But there were other cars on the street out
front.  He would commandeer one, steal it if necessary.  Whatever it
took to find them and recover her.

He was halfway back through the alley before he remembered that he kept
a spare ignition key in the glove box of the Jeep.  All he had to do
was pick up a rock and break through a window.

Time.  He was losing valuable time.

Turning around, he sped toward the parking lot again.  When he emerged
from the alley this time, relief went through him like a flash fire.
Catbryn, carrying a bag of ice, was coming toward him through a gap in
the shrubbery at one end of the lot.

She looked cool and desirable in those white shorts and a tank top that
had been gnawing at his self-control ever since they had left the
cabin.  He wanted to fold her in his arms, crush her against him
protectively and thank the Almighty that she was safe.  What he did
instead as she reached him was rail at her like a scared parent.

"Where the hell have you been?  I've been going crazy wondering where
you got to.  Are you all right?"

She stared at him; her aquamarine eyes wide with surprise.  "What are
you so excited about?  I just went for more ice from the machine at the
bait-and-tackle shop.  And Why shouldn't I be all right?"

"No reason," he mumbled.  "Just ice, huh?"

"Just ice, Ben.  I got worried when I 'checked the cooler after I got
back to the car.  With this weather, I thought maybe we didn't have
enough cubes to keep our stuff cold until we got home."  She tipped her
head to one side, regarding him with puzzlement and a touch of
mischief.  "Are you sure they didn't do more than just barber your
head?"

"Cute."  He held out his hand for the keys.  "Do I get trusted to drive
us back, or are you going to leave me at the hospital here for
observation?"

She laughed and tossed him the keys for the Jeep.

All right, he thought on the long drive back to the cabin, so maybe he
had overreacted.  And maybe he was being too cautious about the
situation, but she was his responsibility.  More than ever now, he
realized.  But he didn't dare to go into that.

Instead, he thought about the Land Rover and its driver.  There was
probably no threat there.  The guy could have been looking for anybody
or anything, and for any number of reasons.  All the same, he wasn't
comfortable with the presence of that car and its occupant in the
area.

So why take a chance?  he decided.  Why not just make himself feel
better about the whole thing by getting Cath-ryn out of the way for a
few days?

Besides, he was fed up with restraining himself.  She had indicated in
a dozen subtle ways that she would welcome his lovemaking again.  And
with them alone together in the romantic setting he had in mind.  Maybe
he would just throw caution to the winds.  Damn it, he wanted her.
Desperately wanted her.

"Got an idea," he proposed enthusiastically.  "What would you say to a
camping trip for a couple of days?  I've got all the necessary gear at
the cabin."

"I've never been camping.  Where would we go?"

"I was thinking the Athabascan River.  The salmon should still be
running there.  It's quite a sight if you've never seen a salmon
run."

"I'd like that.  When?"

"Why not today?  There's still plenty of daylight left, enough to get
us over there and settled in before dark."

"Tempting.  But what about Angel and her puppies?"

"We'll put out enough dry food.  She'll be all right on her own for a
couple of days.  Remember, she knew how to survive when she ran away.
Okay?"

"Okay."

He allowed himself to relax.  It was going to be all right.  There had
been no sign of the Land Rover, either, since it had turned down that
side street back in Lovejoy.  They were alone on the road to the cabin.
Catbryn watched a little smile of satisfaction settle on his wide
mouth.  He concentrated on the winding road, permitting her to steal
glimpses of him.  She enjoyed the sight of him.

That visit to the barber had changed his appearance.  His thick black
hair, which had been much longer at the nape and grown shaggy around
the ears, had made him seem tough sometimes.  Cutting it made his face
leaner and more vulnerable.  Younger, too.  There was much less
evidence Of the gray now at his temples.

Maybe it wasn't the haircut that was making her see him in a new way.
Maybe it was other things.  Like the way he had been worried about her
when she wasn't there at the Jeep.  As if she were pr ious to him.

That idea had been touching to her back at the parking lot.  Now it
excited her, as did his desire for them to go camping together.  They
would he alone in the wilderness in a special way that would be
different from the cabin.  Sharing a closeness that could create an
incredible intimacy, an intimacy she had been longing to repeat since
experiencing it with Ben that day at the hot springs.

She had never been so aware of her need for him.

IT HAD BEEN a wonderful day, Cathryn thought, her arms locked around
one upraised knee as she watched Ben cook their supper over the open
fire.

They were camped in a small clearing miles from any other human,
surrounded by nothing but the beauty and peace of raw nature.  The
river was close by.  She couldn't see it from her seat on the blanket,
but she could hear its wild water through the thickening twilight.

Earlier, just after their arrival and while the light had still been
strong, they had stood on a flat bOUlder at the river's edge and
watched the spectacular activity just below them.  Thousands of salmon
were fighting their way upstream to their spawning grounds.

Cathryn had marveled at the swarms of fish, their bodies flashing in
the sun as they executed impossible leaps up one high cascade after the
other.  Ben had told her over the roar of the river that this mass
migration from the sea would have begun in late May or June.  And here,
weeks later on the upper reaches of the Athabascan, these salmon were
still battling their way to the quiet pools from which they had
originated.

They weren't the only creatures interested in the salmon.  Across the
fiver a trio of brown bears had waded into the tumbling waters.  The
bears had skillfully slapped fish onto the banks and feasted on their
catches.

As we're going to feast on ours tonight, Cathryn thought.  Or maybe
not.  Her anticipation was suddenly troubled by the odor of something
burning.

"Uh, are you sure you know what you're doing in that' frying pan?"

"You're going to love it," he assured her.  "Blackened fish hot with
pepper.  It's my specialty."

She had her misgivings until he served them generous portions of the
fresh salmon.  It was a succulent dish, and she ate it with relish,
even if its seasoning did leave her mouth on fire.

The heat of the day had fled, the evening air turning cool by the time
they finished their meal.  Cathryn shivered and drew her sweater around
her shoulders.

"I can find a better way than that to keep you warm," he said.  "Just
let me take care of the cleanup, and I'll show you."

His husky promise made her weak with yearning.  It was going to be all
right.  They were going to renew their magic.

Wanting him, she was impatient with the delay as he got to his feet and
began to clear away the meal.  He had insisted earlier on handling
everything himself, telling her she could be responsible for their
breakfast in the morning.

Resfmg her chin on her knees, she watched his rugged figure moving
around the clearing by the light of the fire.  There was a tenseness
inside her that was nothing more than her eagerness for his embrace.
That was what she told herself at first.  But as the moment she longed
for drew nearer and her gaze continued to follow him, this time with an
unwanted sadness, she knew she could no longer deny the explanation for
her tension.

Ben joined her at last on the blanket.  His arms went around her
without hesitation, drawing her close.

"Now, where were we?"  he asked, his mouth moving tenderly toward
hers.

It would have been so easy to melt into him.  The easiest thing in the
world.  But she' couldn't.  Not this time.  Not loving him now as she
did so deeply.  He didn't deserve her deceit.  He deserved the truth.
No more lies, no more delays, she challenged herself fiercely You will
tell him cry thing and you will tell him now.

And if afterward it ended here, if he was outraged by her masquerade
and unable to forgive her.  That was the risk she had to take.

His mouth was settling on hers when, hands placed against his chest,
she pushed him gently away.  The glow of the fire revealed the
immediate puzzlement on his face.  She could hear it in his voice, as
well.

, "Meredith?"

"Oh, Ben" -There was a catch in her voice and anguish in the wry laugh
that followed.  "There--there's a truth you have to hear and I can't
hide it any longer.  I'm sorry, so sorry.  I..."  She faltered, then
struggled onward.  "Ben, Meredith isn't here with you.  She never was.
I'm Catbryn, Ben.  I'm Meredith's cousin, Cathryn."

He said nothing, demanded no explanations.  There was a blankness on
his face that had to be hiding his complete bewilderment.  The silence
stretched on.  She heard no sound but the rapids in the river.

She refused to let her nerve fail her.  She had to get it out.  All of
it.  She went on in a hoarse voice, telling him everything from the
beginning back in New Orleans.  Telling him how and why she and
Meredith had switched places.  There was only one thing she left out,
and she hadn't the right to talk about that.  Not yet.

And through it all, he listened without interruption, that old
intenseness now in his expression.  An intenseness that scared her.

He made no comment when she finished.  She watched him get up and leave
her there on the blanket.  A wall of misery closed around her heart as
her gaze followed his tall figuie.  He stood by the edge of the river,
ignoring her as he studied the dark, powerful water.

Cathryn couldn'.  t stand the suspense.  Did he hate her now?  Had she
sacrificed everything by admitting the truth?  Lost him forever?

Her fear was unbearable by the time he finally returned to where she
waited.  He hunkered down in front of her.  She could see by the glow
of the flickering fire that he wore an expression of decisiveness.

"You break my heart, Cathryn McLean," he told her in a slow, deep
yoiee.  "You break my heart with your courage."  '

The breath she had been holding came out in a rush of sweet relief.
"Then you understand what I did and why I had to do it?  You don't
blame me?"

"I understand, and I don't blame you."

"But it must matter that I'm not Meredith when it's Meredith you
wanted."

"I only know the woman who came to Alaska.  And she's the one I care
about now, the one I want to stay with me and be my
mail-order-bride."

"Ben, are you sure?  I need to know that you're sure."

"Then let me show you just how certain I am."

He reached for her, dragging her into his eager embrace.  She lifted
her mouth to his, welcoming his fierce kiss.  Rocked by the urgency of
his need for her.  Taking joy and pleasure in the solid feel of him.
Trusting the hands that lovingly stroked her breasts and hips.

They were ready for each other long before they shed their clothes with
a feverish impatience.  There was no cool night air now.  There was
only the heat of Ben's hard body coveting hers on the blanket where
they were stretched, and her own body strained against his as she drew
him deep within herself.

The first stars blinked overhead.  The fire crackled in the clearing.
Catbryn wasn't there to see or hear them.  She was in another place.  A
place where Ben took her with his wet kisses and whispered endearments.
A place where they soared to a pinnacle even more incredible than their
first time together.

BAS TAm H THOUGHT as she lay sleeping in his arms.

He had taken advantage of her again.  He had promised himself he
wouldn't touch her.  At least not before she had learned the truth. She
had given him her own truth, bared her soul.  That should have been the
moment when he shared his confession.  Instead, standing by the river's
edge, he had made a selfish decision.

He could no longer contain his need to have her again.  But if he
revealed himself, there was the strong possibility, perhaps even the
certainty, that she would turn away from him.  Catbryn herself had had
the courage to take that same risk with her disclosure.  But in the end
he'd been a coward, wanting her too much to gamble on it.

"What have you done to me, Cathryn McLean?"  he whispered into her
soft, ash blond hair.  "You make me weak just looking at you,"

Weak when he needed all his strength for what lay ahead of him.  He
would have sworn just days ago that no woman could ever matter like
this again.  Not after the loss he had suffered.  But Cathryn had
brought him back to life, taught him with her spirit and warmth that he
could care again.  Care with a rich, deep meaning.

But a need like that was dangerous.  It could make a man reckless with
emotion.

He couldn't help himself, he thought, his arms tightening around her
possessively.  His defiant embrace made her stir in her sleep, brought
a smile of contentment to her full mouth.  He felt that smile deep in
his gut.  He couldn't resist brushing his lips across the slight,
tantalizing deft in her chin.

For tonight anyway she was completely his.  But soon, very soon now,
she would have to know about him before it all blew up in his face.

THE AIR WAS PURE and bracing when Cathryn crawled out of her sleeping
bag early the next morning.  She had a vague recollection of Ben
rousing her sometime in the night.  The temperature had dropped sharply
by then, and he had insisted they needed the insulation of their
clothes and the sleeping bags.  She had stumbled through the process of
getting into both like an exhausted child.

She was fully awake now and exhilarated by the freshness of the morning
and the memory of their lovemaking last night.  Kneeling by the
sleeping bag close to her own, she checked on her companion.  He was
still asleep.

She bent over him, a tenderness swelling inside her at the sight of his
face darkened by the shadow of an early-morning beard on his proud jaw.
Her gaze traced the lines of his high cheekbones that sometimes gave
him that enigmatic, brooding quality.  She had once found that look
tough, even dangerous.  But there was nothing hard about him now.  He
was Ben, the man she trusted and loved.

He was also, she reminded' herself sternly, the man who would expect to
eat when be got up.  And breakfast was her obligation.

Regretting the need to be practical when all she wanted to do was sit
here and savor the sight of him, Cathryn got to her feet and busied
herself with preparations.  She soon had the camp fire going again and
fresh water from the river heating.

Ben had stored all of their food in a chest, placing the container
inside the Jeep to keep any wild animals from scenting it.  The Jeep
was parked on the other side of the clearing where a track emerged from
the woods.

Catbryn headed for the vehicle.  She had no warning.  The bear was
simply and suddenly there as she reached the back end of the Jeep.

Chapter Nine

Cathryn's body went as rigid as ice.  The bear, too, froze in surprise.
For a moment that lasted forever, they stood there regarding each other
in silence.  There couldn't have been more than four yards separating
them, a distance that the beast could have closed in one swift, vicious
charge.

Trembling now, she tried to remember what Ben had told her yesterday
about this species while they had watched the three bears on the other
side of the river.  He had said that Alaskan brown bears were the
largest in the world, more powerful than the ferocious grizzly.  They
were dangerous if aroused, but they were also easily frightened and
stayed clear of humans.  This one didn't seem to know that.

There was nothing either useful or comforting in any of this
information.  If anything, she was even more terrified.  And desperate.
The animal was not lumbering away as she had hoped it would do.

Trying to quell her panic, Catbryn began to back off as slowly and
carefully as she could manage.  But even this cautious movement was a
mistake.  The bear began to growl, a threatening rumble deep in its
throat.

Then another warning came from behind her.  This time a welcome one.

"Cathryn, don't move.  Not a muscle.  Stay just where you are."

Ben!  Thank God for Ben!

She obeyed him and remained perfectly still again.  It was the hardest
thing she had ever done.  Every instinct inside her cried out for her
to run into his arms.  But she dared do nothing, not even turn her head
to learn his intention.

She could hear him moving behind her, but it wasn't until he appeared
in her peripheral vision off to the right that she understood his
purpose.  He was creeping along the perimeter of the small clearing,
clutching the first weapon he had been able to lay his hand on.  He had
snatched a length of wood from the fire.  One end of it was glowing and
smoking with heat.

The bear was aware of his activity, too, and didn't like it.  It was
snarling now and stubbornly holding its ground as Ben advanced.

"I'm going to try to drive him off," he informed her softly.  "Or at
least distract him.  When that happens, and he's paying more attention
to me than you, I want you to dive into the Jeep and I want to hear the
door slamming behind you."

She opened her mouth to object, but he silenced her with a fierce "No
arguments!  Just do it."

Cathryn waited, praying the bear would d the wise thing and retreat. It
didn't care for the hot menace waving slowly in Ben's extended hand as
he approached in a half crouch.  The bear star led to back away. She
was sure it would turn and run.

But a second later its mood' changed The animal suddenly reared back
with a challenging roar, growing to an immense size.  And then it
lunged.

Ben was ready for the attack.  Just as one huge paw came the air, he
rod and thrust the brand into the bear's sensitive snout.  With a howl
of pain, the animal dropped to all fours, whirled and took off through
the trees.

Cathryn flew across the clearing, her relief turning to alarm when she
saw that Ben had dropped the chunk of wood and was holding his right
arm with his left.  He hadn't escaped the attack.  The bear's
lightning-quick blow had connected with his forearm, its razor-sharp
claws lea ring a gaping wound several inches long.  There was blood.  A
lot of blood.  It was welling up from the wound, spilling onto the
ground.

"I think this isn't so good," he said calmly.  "I think maybe you're
going to have to help me."

The first-aid kit, she thought, battling a threatening bout of
hysteria.  They had brought a first-aid kit with them.  It was in the
Jeep.

She was back with the kit in seconds.  Ben was looking woozy by now,
weaving on his feet.  She was afraid he would pass out on her.

"Down," she instructed him.  "Sit down on the ground."  He complied
without argument.  She knelt beside him, searching quickly through the
contents of the kit.  They had to stop the flow of blood.  Sick with
worry that a vein or an artery might have been punctured, she found a
tourniquet and fixed it to his upper arm just above the elbow.  He was
silent and still as she tightened it with shaking fingers.

She was getting ready to dress the wound when he finally spoke, his
voice sharp with anger.  "You were supposed to get inside the Jeep
before the bear went for me.  Why didn't you get inside the Jeep?"

He was sitting here with his arm ripped open, the raw flesh exposed.
She was scared out of her mind for him, and all he could do was
complain about her disobedience.

"Don't talk," she ordered him.  "And keep still."

Her own tone was tougher than his.  He was meekly s'fient again.  She
didn't bother trying to clean the injury.  That would have to wait. She
applied a compress and began to wrap it with gauze.  The blood soaked
through.  She kept on binding it until the flow seemed to ease.

"You'll have to keep it elevated," she said, releasing his arm.  "Can
you stand up?"

"Yeah."

She helped him to his feet.  She didn't care for the way he looked.
"How do you feel?"

"Like shi" -He broke off, sucking in air and then finishing lamely,
"Not so great."

"Ben, we've got to get you to the nearest medical assistance."

When he nodded, raising no objection, she knew he must be in a bad way.
He had lost a lot of blood.  Too much, she was afraid.

She saw him settled on the passenger side of the Jeep before she took a
moment to douse the camp fire and grab her purse.  She wasted no time
trying to gather their supplies, abandoning them in the clearing
without a thought as she raced back to the Jeep.

It wasn't until she slid behind the wheel and reached for the keys that
she remembered.  She turned to him in horror.

"Ben, I can't drivel It's a stick shift.  I've never driven anything
but an automatic!"

"Cathryn, there's no way I can operate this vehicle myself.  You'll
have to manage it."

"But a clutch... I don't know how to handle a clutch."  He turned to
her, his expression earnest.  "You can do it," he promised her
confidently.  "It's not that difficult.  I'll tell you how."

He was right.  Hadn't she kept her wits when confronted with the bear?
Played nurse when she knew next to nothing about proper first-aid
treatment?  She'd been cool and decisive in the emergency when she'd
wanted to go to pieces.

She could go on doing what was necessary.

"Show me," she said quickly.

He gave her a fast lesson in the use of the clutch and the gears,
pausing every few seconds to take a steadying breath.  She knew he must
be in real pain, and she regretted the delay.

Taking her own deep breath, she started the engine, depressed the
clutch and slid the stick into first.  Her first efforts were hopeless
ones.  When she wasn't grinding the gears or jerking the car, she was
killing the engine.  Repeatedly.

"Cathryn, listen to me.  Be patient with yourself, take it a little
slower."

She concentrated, obeying his advice.  Her progress was better after
that, and though the Jeep lurched down the track, she was able to keep
the engine from dying.  She had gotten the hang of it by the time they
reached the roadway and was able to shift gears with an acceptable
smoothness.

She paused when they reached the turning.  "Where do we go?  Bearpaw?
It's closer."

"No," he said sharply.  "Not Bearpaw."

"Isn't there a doctor there?  I thought you mentioned in one of your
letters that Bearpaw has a doctor."

"Not a practicing one.  He's retired, elderly."

"You're right.  You should have a hospital.  That means Love joy."

"No," he insisted, "not Lovejoy, either.  There's a midwife that lives
just off the main road about halfway between Bearpaw and Lovejoy.  She
can patch me up."

She stared at him.  "Are you crazy?  You're going to need stitches and
God knows what else.  I'm not taking you to any midwife.  You're
getting the professional treatment of a full staff.  Hang on."

She swung the car onto the road, executed the shifts with the
determined skill of a speedway driver and accelerated grimly.  The Jeep
leapt forward like a bull out of a chute.  "Cathryn"

"No arguments about it.  And, damn it, keep that arm elevated.
Please."

He surrendered, slumping back against the seat.  He must have finally
realized that his condition could require a transfusion, and that with
his blood type a hospital was absolutely necessary.  They didn't talk
about it, but she knew he had to be worried about this aspect of the
situation.

Cathryn was worried, too.  A pink patch on the surface Of the bandage
told her that blood was still seeping from the wound.  She didn't like
his color, either, or the way he sat there without any energy, eyes
closed.

At intervals she pulled over to the side of the road.  She hated the
loss of these precious minutes, but the tourniquet had to be loosened
periodically to prevent a failure of circulation.  The rest of the time
she drove like a fiend, amazing herself with her handling of the Jeep.
But she was frantic.  If anything happened to him,.  She didn't know
what she would do.  He meant everything to her now.

She blessed the Jeep for its performance.  They ate up the long miles,
covering the rough stretches without a problem.  But the distance
frustrated her.  Her nerves were on fire with impatience before they
finally arrived at the emergency entrance of Lovejoys small brick
hospital.

The Jeep ground to a halt, the engine cutting out when she released the
clutch with a jerk.  It was her first awkward maneuver since leaving
the river behind them.  It didn't matter now.

Cathryn turned to him.  He had been absolutely silent on that last race
down the valley.  She was afraid he might have passed out on her.

"Ben," she informed him urgently, "we're here."  She was relieved when
he opened his eyes and nodded.  "Should I have them bring out a chair
for you?"

"Hell, no," he grumbled, favoring her then with a cocky grin.  It was a
weak grin, but it made her feel bet ten "If I survived that wild ride,
I can certainly walk into an emergency room.  You're a maniac at the
wheel, McLean."

"All of us ambulance drivers are."

She went around the car to help him, but he waved her off with his good
arm.  His refusal to have her fuss over him made his sober request as
they headed toward the hospital doors seem odd.

"You'll stick close to me, won't you?  No matter how long I have to be
in there, you'll be right there.  You won't leave the building."  She
promised, wondering why he was so anxious about that.

Lovejoy apparently had few medical emergencies.  The only staff on duty
was a young woman who received them with an enthusiasm that suggested
she was inexperienced.  But she did dispatch an immediate call for
qualified personnel.

While they waited for the arrival of a doctor from elsewhere in the
hospital, she got Ben prepared for.  treatment, taking down the
essential details.

"Sounds like you might need blood," she said solemnly.  "Do you know
your blood type, Mr.  Adams?"

"Uh, yeah, as a matter of fact I do.  It's O positive."  "Sure?"

"I'm sure.  I've never received blood, but I have given it."

Cathryn, hovering in the background, was astonished by his answer.  It
couldn't be right.  It just couldn't.  And yet Ben had been
unhesitatingly confident in his claim.  Then what was the
explanation?

She never got the chance to ask.  A stentorian voice from the doorway
cut in on the scene.  "It doesn't work that way, Ms.  Dukowski.  We
don't ask patients their blood types or suggest they might need blood.
That's for the doctor to determine, and only after the patient is
tested for his type."

The head nurse, who looked every bit as tough as the bear that had
attacked Ben and almost as large, had arrived in time to hear the last
exchange.  She marched across the room to the examining table where Ben
was situated.

"I'll take over, Ms.  Dukowski.  Bear mauling, huh?  Hardly ever
happens, but when it does it can be a real stinker."

A lanky young doctor in jeans and a baseball cap appeared seconds
later.  Cathryn was asked to remove herself to a waiting area next door
while they worked on Ben.  His eyes met hers before she left the room.
They wore a silent appeal for her not to forget her promise to stay
close.

She went and stood by a window overlooking the parking lot, too shaken
and confused to sit in one of the chairs.  Was she wrong in her
recollection?  She didn't see how she possibly could be.  She had read
Ben's letters to Meredith over-and over, practically memorizing them in
her need to be as familiar as possible with the man she was coming to
Alaska to meet.

And that long passage in one of his earlier letters.  she could almost
see it now.  It was memorable because he'd made a big deal out of it.
He had described an accident on the pipeline where he worked and how it
had worried him.  Because if he'd ended up needing blood, maybe his
type wouldn't be so readily available in the wilderness.  Ben Adams was
a rare AB negative.

Oh, she must have it all wrong!  Ben must have been talking about one
of the other workers on the line.

But her uneasiness increased as she stood there waiting for them to
come to tell her that Ben was going to be all right.

Her tension was unbearable by the time the young doctor joined her in
the waiting room.

"Your boyfriend is one lucky son of a gun," he reported cheerfully.
"Old bruin came that close to tearing an artery."  '

"There was so much blood."

"Always does seem to be more than there actually is."

"Then he didn't need to have blood?"

"Nope, thanks to your quick 'action.  No surgery neees-sary, either.
Just a lot Of stitches he wasn't happy about, along with the
appropriate shots.  That arm is gonna be as sore as hell for a while,
but it should heal without a problem."

"Can he go home?"

-"I probably would have released him by the end of the day, but I
understand it's a long ride back to your place.  It's much safer if he
stays here overnight for observation.  I want to check him again in the
morning to make sure everything in that ann is working like it should.
He's none too happy about that, either."  He glanced at his watch and
grinned.  "He's not going to be complaining much longer, though.  I
gave him something so he'd rest.  He's asking for you.  You'd better go
see him before he drifts off to Happyland."

The doctor took her out in the hall and pointed to the room where Ben
had been settled.  He was already looking drowsy when she joined him
seconds later.  His gaze had been fixed on the doorway, waiting for
her.  He looked relieved when she appeared.  Then he made a face.

"This is dumb.  All I've got is an injured arm that will be as good as
new in a couple of days.  So what am I doing lying here like a helpless
baby?"

"Mending.  Go to sleep."

"Come here."  He held out a hand.

Cathryn hung back in the doorway.  Then, angry with herself for her
hesitation, she crossed the room and seated herself on the chair beside
his bed.  His hand reached for hers, closing snugly around her
fingers.

"You're an amazing lady," he told her warmly.  "Thanks for playing
paramedic."

"You're welcome."

His thumb lightly stroked her knuckles.  "Don't get bored and decide to
take a walk while you wait," he reminded her.  "Be here for me when I
wake up."

"I member."  Why was it so important to him?

"I'll try not to be too long."

His eyes closed, his features relaxing.  She gazed at his lean face,
hating the suspicions that were chasing through her mind.  What was the
matter with her?  This was Ben, the man she loved.  She could have
cleared up the whole thing with one simple question.  But she didn't.
She didn't ask him about his blood type.  Why?  Because she was afraid
he might not tell her the truth?

His hand no longer clung to hers.  She thought he was asleep.  But a
moment later he whispered her name.  She leaned toward him to hear his
mumbled words.

"Couldn't bring myself to do that to you.  I had a commitment.  Still
do.  But I couldn't do it."

He was under the influence now of whatever the doctor had given him. He
didn't know what he was saying, she told herself.

That's what she wanted to believe.  Desperately wanted to believe.  But
as she sat there watching him finally sink into a peaceful sleep, she
couldn't deny her mounting conviction that something wasn't right.  Nor
her fear that the man on the bed was suddenly a stranger.

Oh, this was insane!  She couldn't go on waiting here all day with
these ugly, disloyal doubts.  She had to settle it.  There was only one
way to do that.  She had to go back to the cabin, find that letter and
learn exactly what Ben Adams had written about his blood type.

The head nurse satisfied her concern about leaving Ben when she found
her at the nurse's station down the hall.

"He doesn't want to admit it, but his body suffered a trauma with that
injury.  He'll be out for hours.  Best thing in the word for him."

"If he should wake up and ask, tell him I've gone home to check on our
dogs and to bring him some things he'll need for the night."

With any luck, Cathryn thought, she could get to the cabin and back
before he ever realized she had left.  She didn't want to renege on her
promise to him, but she had to know.

THF.  m W'S NO SlOW of Angel when she reached the cabin, but some of
the dry food they had left for her in the dishes on the porch had been
eaten.  The dog was probably with her puppies.

Cathryn was sorry she wasn't around.  She would have welcomed her
company in this anxious moment.  She hated going into the cabin by
herself.  The place that had been so warm and friendly guddenly seemed
alien to her.

She knew what she really feared when she went inside.  Not the silent,
empty cabin itself but what she might learn here in the next few
minutes.

Summoning her courage, she went into her bedroom and knelt on the
floor.  Her suitcase was under the bed.  She hadn't touched it since
the day she had arrived.  She dragged it out and opened it.  Its
contents had been unpacked and placed in the closet and chest of
drawers.  All but the bundle of letters Meredith had given her that
night in St.  Louis.

Cathryn sorted through them, finding the particular letter she wanted.
The others she returned to the suitcase, which she pushed' back under
the bed.  Then she settled on the side of the bed, the letter in her
lap.

How silly.  Her hands were trembling, as if she were about to consult a
document that would decide the rest of her life.  An ordinary letter.
She picked it up, removed the three pages inside the envelope and began
to read.

A moment later, heartsick, she stuffed the sheets back in the envelope.
It was true.  The man who had written this letter had clearly described
his blood type as AB negative.  And the man in the hospital back in
Lovejoy had insisted he was an O positive.  There would have been no
reason for him to lie about it.

But they were the same man.  Weren't they?  Then what did it mean?

All the way from Lovejoy, on that endless drive to the cabin, Cathryn
had permitted herself to do nothing but pray that her memory was wrong.
She could no longer do that.  She had to deal with them now, all those
suspicious little things she had chosen to overlook in her growing love
for Ben.

They had been there from the start, those things.  Hadn't Sourdough
Annie sensed there was something not right about Ben and tried to tell
her so?  Even Angel in the beginning had distrusted him.

And lately.  lately there had been other troubling signs.  That day at
the pool he told he had a Choctaw ancestor.  Only afterward had she
remembered that the Choctaw were a Louisiana tribe.  Then just last
night he had fixed blackened fish hot with pepper, boasting it was his
specialty.  A Cajun dish.  Louisiana again, and Louisiana spelled
danger for her.

Oh, this was ridiculous.  These weren't reasons to condemn him.  Or
even reasons to suspect he might come from the New Orleans area.  He
didn't have an accent, did he?

A lot of people from New Orleans don't have accents, gibed a cruel
little voice inside her head.  What's it going to take to convince you
that he isn't what he pretends to be?  "Evidence," she insisted out
loud.  "Hard evidence."  But from where?

Maybe one of those places he was reluctant to have you go, taunted the
voice.  Like Lovejoy.  He never wanted you out of his sight in Lovejoy.
Even in the hospital he wanted you to stay close to him.  Why?  What
was he worried about?  That you might learn something you weren't
supposed to learn?  And Bearpaw.  You never did get to Bearpaw.  He had
all kinds of excuses for you not going there.

Bearpaw, Cathryn decided, shoving the letter carelessly into the drawer
of the bedside table as she got to her feet.  She would drive
immediately into Bearpaw.  There must be someone there who could answer
her questions.

Her determination was strong.  But there was no satisfaction in it,
only a deepening misery.

BEAR PAW WASN'T MUCH of a community--a small collection of clapboard
buildings, some of them dilapidated, strung out along a narrow valley.
The tiny wooden post office, with pots of flourishing geraniums out
front and elk antlers mounted above the prominent zip code over the
door, was the most presentable structure.  Cathryn decided it was her
best bet.

The frizzy-haired woman behind the counter inside looked bored and
impatient.  "Help you?"

Catbryn smiled at her guilelessly.  "I'm trying to locate a friend
somewhere in the area.  I think his mail is delivered here.  Ben Adams.
Do you know him?"

For a moment she thought the woman wouldn't answer her.  Her mouth had
tightened in exasperation.  She finally nodded, offering reluctantly,
"I'll tell you the same thing I told the guy who stopped here a while
back asking about Ben."

"Who?"

"I don't know.  Somebody from the pipeline, I guess, wanting directions
to Ben's cabin.  Which I didn't give him,

just like I won't give them to you.  "

"But why?"

"Because they wouldn't do you any good.  The place is deserted.  Ben is
somewhere down in Anchorage for a few weeks while we hold his mail. And
don't ask me where he's staying, because he didn't say."

"I see," Catbryn said in a small voice.  So he had lied to her about
the mailbox here being moved to Lovejoy.  Everything had been a lie.

The woman leaned on the counter, grinning at her without humor.  "With
all these friends of his turning up, Ben is turning out to be a real
surprise.  I wouldn't have figured him as the popular type.  Not the
way he always kept to himself, hiding behind that beard of his, like it
was just to cover the scar on his chin."

Cathryn didn't respond to that.  She had.  learned all she needed to
know.  Everything she had prayed not to hear.

She thanked the woman, left the post office and drove numbly away in
the Jeep.  She didn't go far.  She was too blind with pain to manage
the road.  Once Bearpaw was behind her, she pulled over on the shoulder
and sat there behind the wheel in a swelling despair.

, Fear soon invaded her wretchedness.  A chilling truth she could no
longer avoid.  The evidence was too blatant.  He was not Ben Adams.
Then who was the man she had been intimately living with?  How had he
come to replace the real Ben Adams?  And why?

But there was only one explanation for his presence here.  He had to be
one of Red Quinn's people.  No one else would have a reason to keep his
identity a secret from her.  Her enemy had somehow traced her and
placed his man here even before her arrival in Alaska.  The false Ben
had known all along exactly who she was.  Ironic that she had convinced
herself the wilderness would be safe for her, when all this time Wait a
minute.  If he was Red Quinn's hired assassin, then why hadn't he
killed her immediately?  Why had he continued his elaborate
masquerade?

Simple, mocked the voice inside her head.  He fell for you.  Remember
what he told you in the hospital just a few hours ago?

Cathryn did remember those mumbled words he had spoken under the
influence of the sedative.  Couldn't bring myself to do that to you.  I
had a commitment.  Still do.  But I couldn't do it.  She hadn't
understood those phrases then.  Now they made perfect sense.

This was the reason for the demon that haunted him.  The reason for
that elusive quality of intenseness she had glimpsed in him from time
to time.  Even the reason-why she had sensed a resentment in him that
first day.  It all fit.

I had a commitment.  Still do.

Which meant that sooner or later he would have to kill her.  No matter
what she meant to him, he would do it.  Red Quinn's kind never let
anything stand in their way, not even love.

But he never did actually say he loved you, did he, Cath-ryn?  No
matter what passion or tenderness the two of you shared, including that
sweet promise last night about want-ingyou for his mail-order bride, he
never once said it.

She couldn't believe it.  She couldn't believe that she was no' more
than a sexual infatuation to him.  That there was no more meaning to
their relationship than that.  That when he'd tired of her, he would
kill her.

Can't believe it or don't want to believe it?

In the end it didn't matter either way, she thought dismally.  She
couldn't take a chance on it.  She couldn't risk her life, because if
something happened to her, the only person who really mattered now
would be alone in the world.  She had to get out.

The need for urgent action helped her to put the anguish of her
shattered faith behind her.  Concentrating on the details of her
escape, she swung the Jeep back on the road and sped toward the
cabin.

It would take her only a few minutes to pack her things, and then she
would return to Lovejoy.  There was an airfield there.  She would hire
a plane to fly her to Anchorage.  It didn't matter if she used one of
her credit cards now.  By evening she would be aboard a jet and on her
way out of Alaska.  Never mind her destination.  She would figure that
out on her way to Anchorage.

Whatever happened, she had to be gone from Lovejoy before he got
suspicious waiting at the hospital and decided to come looking for her.
It would all work out.  She still had plenty of time.

But that time had already run out for Cathryn when she emerged from the
Jeep in the clearing and hurried toward the cabin.  A figure who had
been sitting in the shadows on the porch stood and came down the steps
to meet her.  He wore a hard, demanding expression on his face, and his
jet black eyes glittered dangerously.  Her heart dropped at the sight
of him.

Chapter Ten

"Where the devil have you been?"  he confronted her.

His appearance at the cabin was the last thing she expected.  She was
stunned by it.  But it was imperative that she behave as though nothing
was wrong, whatever massive effort it cost her.  He mustn't guess she
was on to him.

Cathryn thought fast and came up with a weak but acceptable excuse for
her absence.  "I ran down to Percy to see Annie.  I wanted to ask her
to look out for Angel and her puppies before I drove back to Lovejoy.
You know, just in case there turned out to be complications with your
arm, and we had to stay on there for a while."

To her relief, he bought her story and relaxed.  "You and those mutts.
You had me thinking the worst when you weren't here.  What am I going
to do with you, McLean?"

She had once been touched by his repeated concern for her.  Now she
knew it for what it was--a fear that she would get away from him.
Before he could question her further, she quickly reversed their roles,
playing out her own concern.

"Ben, what are you doing here?  You're supposed to be in the
hospital."

"And you were supposed to stick close.  I woke up, and when they told
me you'd come back here, I decided not to wait."

"You mean they released you?"

"Uh, let's just say I discharged myself."

"That was foolish of you.  What if there are complications with the
arm?"

"The arm is okay, but if there are problems with it, I'll go back. Hey,
you're worse than that drill sergeant who calls herself a head nurse. 
Any more questions?"

"Yes," she said, stalling for time, knowing that she had to figure out
some other way now to make her escape.  "How did you get here?"

"Bought a lift from some kid in his jalopy.  Come on inside."

The last thing she wanted to do was go inside the cabin with him, but
if she refused, it would make him suspicious.  Besides, he still looked
a little shaky, as though he could use ac hair His condition might be
useful to her.

"Yes," she agreed, leading the way into the house, "I think you need to
sit down.  Or better still, lie down."

But he was in no mood to do either.  Once inside, he paced around the
living room a few times and then came to stand in front of her.  He was
too close.  She was suddenly afraid he would try to touch her, hold her
with his good arm, kiss her.  There was a perverse something inside her
that actually wanted that.  Still longed for it.  A wiser side warned
her to back away.

She held her position and waited tensely.  His gaze, a little puzzled
now, searched her face.  "Cathryn, we have to talk."

A temptation, she thought.  An opportunity to do what she yearned to
do.  Challenge him with her discovery, ask him his version of the
truth. But she didn't dare.  She reminded herself that he was
dangerous.

She eyed his bandaged arm, noticed that he was weaving a little now on
his feet.  This was her chance.

"Fine," she said with a little smile.  "But not until after you lie
down and rest.  You're in no shape to do anything but go back to sleep.
It's either do that in your own bed, or I'm taking you back to the
hospital."

He needed to talk to her, he thought.  Needed to explain things.  And
he didn't want to wait, because there was a kind of remoteness about
her that he didn't understand.  It worried him.  But he couldn't argue
with her.  Damn it, he was feeling dopey again with the lingering
effects of whatever that doctor had given him.

"Maybe for a little while," he agreed.  "Then we talk."

"Right," she promised.

She went with him into his room, made sure that he stretched out on the
bed.

"Just one thing," he said before he closed his eyes.  "What did I say
to you in the hospital before I drifted off?

I don't think I was making sense by then.  "

"I don't remember."

He nodded, satisfied.  "Okay.  So what are you going to do while I
nap?"

"Maybe take a walk down to the lake, check on Angel and the puppies.
Don't worry.  Go to sleep."

She stayed by the bed for a few minutes, making sure that he did drift
off.  When his even breathing told her that he was asleep, she went
into the living.  room.  Her nerves were in a bad way by now, but she
didn't dare to leave until she was sure he wouldn't wake up and stop
her before she could escape

She waited for a few tense moments, and then she slipped back into his
room to check on him.  He hadn't stirred.  Trying not to look at that
virile face, afraid she would weaken in her resolve, she backed
carefully out of the room.

She never even glanced in the direction of her own room.  She would
have to abandon her things now.  She couldn't risk rousing him with the
activity of her packing.  She had her purse and the car keys, and that
was all that mattered.

Time, she thought as she crept out of the cabin.  She was losing
valuable time, and it was a long way to Lovejoy.  Once off the porch,
she hurried across the yard to the Jeep.

His bedroom was at the back of the cabin.  Even so, she worried he
might hear the sound of the engine.  She couldn't take that chance.
This edge of the yard, where the Jeep was parked, sloped away down the
track and into the woods.  Mayhe if she released the brake and shifted
into neutral, the Jeep would roll far enough along the lane that, when
she started the engine, it wouldn't he heard at the house.

She climbed as silently as possible behind the wheel and tried it.  It
didn't work.  The Jeep sat there.  She got out and cast a swift glance
in the direction of the cabin, fearing that she would see his face at
the window.  Nothing.  But her heart was racing by now.

Putting her hands against the door frame, Cathryn summoned all her
energy and beg ah to shove.  No use.  She tried again.  This time the
Jeep began to move, gathering such surprising momentum on the incline
that she almost lost her footing before she clambered inside and took
control of the wheel.

Seconds later, with the woods swallowing the vehicle, she found it safe
enough to close the door properly and start the engine.  Then, with one
fast look over her shoulder, she was off down the winding track.

She tried not to think about the man she was leaving behind her, tried
to concentrate on nothing but her driving.

But by now she could feel the tears of sorrow and betrayal threatening
to fall.

She was within a half mile of the main road when her luck failed her.
The engine began to sputter and labor.  She attempted to feed it more
gas, but a second later it abruptly died.  Her effort to restart it, as
she furiously pumped the accelerator, proved useless.  Then her eye cut
to the fuel gauge.  It registered empty.

Cathryn slapped the wheel in frustration.  In all her frantic,
long-distance chasing, she had neglected to stop and fill the tank. Had
never even thought to check the gauge.  How could she have been so
stupid?  Fear, of course.  Fear had blocked out everything else.

She sat there for a long moment with the silence of the forest around
her, appalled by her situation.  She searched her mind for an answer to
her dilemma.  And then she remembered.

The foot trail to the ghost town.  The shortcut that Sour-dough Annie
had described that first morning.  It was within easy reach, just below
the turnoff into the track.  Annie had told her to come to her if she
was ever in need, and Annie had a truck.  A truck that could take
Cathryn to Lovejoy.

She was out of the Jeep in a flash and rushing along the lane, purse in
hand.  As a precaution, she had snatched the keys from the ignition.
She flung them off in the undergrowth before she reached the main
road.

She found the path without delay.  But as she trotted along its length
through the thick evergreen forest, she worried.  What if Annie wasn't
there?  What could she do then?  Where could she hide from the man she
had fled?  Because there was no question about it.  Once he learned she
was gone, he would go to any lengths to overtake her and get her
back.

HE SLEPT, but it was not a deep sleep.  His mind was too restless for
that, fighting the stuff they had given him.  He had resisted the drug
back at the hospital, too, wanting to stay alert and eventually losing
the battle.  But that had been in Lovejoy, where the man in the Land
Rover might still be hanging around, a potential threat to Cathryn.

They were both safely back at the cabin now.  No reason for his
uneasiness here.  He didn't understand it.  Whatever the explanation,
he was fully awake again less than a half hour later.  His arm was
aching, but he ignored that, grateful that the maddening drowsiness had
finally faded.

He lay there on the bed, wishing Cathryn were here beside him.
Preferably naked and with his arms wrapped around her, pressing her
close.  Well, one arm anyway.  Maybe that could be arranged.  But not
until after he had talked to her as he had promised to do.

No more delays.  The time had come to tell her everything.  All he
could hope was that she would forgive him and accept the situation. And
if she didn't.  He refused to think about that.

Aware now of the prolonged silence in the cabin, he roused himself and
sat up on the edge of the bed.  Cathryn must still be at the lake or
with the dogs.  He was impatient for her return.  No, he thought with a
frown, more than just impatienL Anxious.  He hadn't liked her manner
with him before his nap, had sensed that something wasn't right.
Probably nothing at all.  Still.  Restless again, he left his bedroom
and went into her room across the hall.  The window over her bedside
table had.  a view of the path to the lake.  Before he went out looking
for her, he wanted to see if she was on her way back to the cabin.
There was no sign of her on the path.

He was stepping back from the window when he noticed it--the corner of
a letter sticking out from the table's single drawer.  The drawer must
have been hastily closed, catching the letter before it was completely
inside.

There was enough of the corner showing to reveal most of its return
address.  It was the address of the post-office box Ben Adams kept in
Bearpaw.  The letters to Meredith McLean, he thought.  Cathryn must
have brought them to Alaska with her.  Must have been rereading this
particular letter just recently.  Why?  A gut-level instinct told him
that he'd better find out.

Snatching open the drawer, he scooped up the letter, perched on the
edge of the bed and began to read.  Seconds later he had the
explanation for his nagging uneasiness.

She knew, She knew he couldn't be Ben Adams.  This business of the
blood types had given him away.

This would never have happened if he hadn't surrendered to her
determination to bring him to the hospital in Lovejoy.  But he had
decided in the end that he'd better have reliable medical treatment, or
he might not be in any shape to look out for her.  He had risked
Lovejoy, and it had been a big mistake.

Lovejoy meant a possible enemy in the form of the man in the Land
Rover.  That was why he had wanted her to stick close, why he had been
alarmed when he'd awakened and learned she had left the hospital.  And
now Damn it, he should have told her everything instead of worrying
that he might lose her with the truth.  He shouldn't have let her find
out this way.  She must be thinking the worst about him.

And that's when it struck him like a fist in the stomach.  Of course
she was thinking the worst.  And if she was convinced he was the enemy,
she wouldn't hang around to ask questions.  She would be running, just
as she had run before.

Catbryn!  Where are you?

Dropping the letter on the bed, he surged to his feet and sped toward
the front door.  He had already anticipated the grim result before he
hit the open porch, his gaze sweeping the yard.  The Jeep was gone!

He didn't hesitate, didn't even think about the impossibility Of
recovering her on foot.  He pounded across the clearing and down the
track with an impractical aim of reaching the main road and somehow
catching another lift back into Lovejoy.  Because that must be where
she was headed.  Lovejoy would offer her the fastest transportation out
of here.  And danger could be waiting for her in Love-joy.

His lungs were on fire when he rounded a bend and spotted the stalled
Jeep just ahead of him.  He sprinted to the vehicle with the hope of
finding Cathryn inside.  She was gone, taking the keys with her.  He
grabbed the spare key from the glove box, but quickly realized that the
gas tank was empty.

Taking a moment to recover his wind, he stared off into the forest.
Where could she be headed now?  Probably down to Annie's shack at the
ghost town.  The woman didn't like him, and she had a pickup.  She
would.  willingly help Cath-ryn to get away.

They would probably be on their way to Lovejoy before he could reach
the shack.  He realized the madness now of trying to overtake her on
foot.  And the Jeep was useless to him.  Or maybe not.  He suddenly
remembered the can of gas for the boat on the lake, enough to get the
Jeep to a service station.  There was still a hope of intercepting
her.

He took off up the lane, his long legs carrying him back to the
clearing.  He refused to think about the difficulty of managing the
Jeep with an injured arm.  All that mattered was Cathryn, who could be
charging straight into death.  He had to get her back.  The loss that
had driven him away from

New Orleans months ago would be nothing compared to his grief now if
anything happened to her.

THE ANCIENT PICKUP truck was willing but maddeningly slow as it rattled
toward Lovejoy.  Cathryn, clinging to the passenger side of the shabby
interior, tried not to be impatient with the delay.  She had to
remember that, without the Jeep, he couldn't possibly follow her.  She
was safe.  But she knew she wouldn't feel easy until she was on a plane
to Anchorage.

Annie, who was hunched over the wheel as if to coax more speed out of
the old pickup, had been silent for some miles.  Finally, without
turning her head, she expressed her concern.

"Look, girlie, maybe instead of the airfield, you ought to be going to
the cops."

Catbryn hadn't told her friend everything, just enough to make her
understand the urgency of the situation.  Annie didn't realize what her
suggestion involved.

"No," she said sharply.  She had trusted the police before, much to her
regret.  "Please, all I want to do is get away."  '

"Well, maybe you're right.  Lovejoy's version of law enforcement isn't
too great."

There was silence again in the cab-as they bumped over the rough road.
Catbryn leaned her head back against the seat, making an effort not to
think about the man she was leaving behind.  Impossible.  His image was
still strong in her mind.  And if she was honest about it, in her
heart, as well.

She couldn't help it.  The tender moments they had shared were still
vibrant, still very much a part of her.  They were also a mockery,
making her angry with herself for cherishing them.  Because behind all
the gentleness and passion were deceit and the treachery of a killer.

But no matter what he was, she couldn't simply stop loving him.  Just
turn off all her emotions like a faucet.  That was the worst part of
all this desolation that was clawing at her.

Her eyes were brimming now with the tears that had been threatening her
since Bearpaw.  She made an effort to squeeze them back, not wanting
Annie to see how much she was hurting.

But Annie was no fool.  "You went and fell for him, didn't you?"  she
growled softly.

Cathryn nodded miserably and dug in her purse for a tissue.

"Yeah, I could see that yesterday when we talked on the street.  You
had a glow that wasn't there the first time."

"I'll get over him," she said, mopping at her eyes.

She had to, she promised herself fiercely.  She had to remember that he
was the enemy now.

Annie didn't turn her head, but she removed one of her gnarled hands
from the wheel and awkwardly patted Cath-ryn's knee.  She appreciated
her friend's comforting ges THE YOUNG MAN with the ponytail, who stood
behind the counter of the tiny building that was more shack than air
terminal, shook his head in regret.

"Can't do it.  Our twin engine already took off with a load for
Fairbanks, and the Cessna out there is laid up for repairs.  Won't be
ready before tomorrow, if then."

Cathryn stared at him in dismay.  She should have known it wouldn't be
easy.  "And that's it?  No other plane?"

"Sorry."

She knew that Annie, standing beside her, could feel her desperation.
"I'd take you to Anchorage myself, but I wouldn't trust that heap of
mine to get us that far."

"A car rental?"  Cathryn asked hopefully.

Annie shrugged helplsly.  "Not in these parts, girl."

"But there must be some way out of here."

The young man leaned on the counter.  "There's always the excursion
train," he offered.

"What train?"  Catbryn demanded.  "Where?"

He explained it to her cheerfully.  "It's a special they run for
tourists on the old logging route.  Comes down from Denali and lays
over here for a couple of hours at the Love-joy station so the
passengers can take in the local sights and shop for souvenirs. They've
got all these cars from the fifties they restored, even play big-band
music on board.  Real retro stuff, and the scenery is great."

None of this was important to Cathryn.  "Where des it go from here?"

"Valdez.  No problem from there to Anchorage.  You've got the ferry or
all kinds of float planes to choose from."

"I take it," Annie said, "you wouldn't be suggesting this if you didn't
know that the train is due at the station."

"I keep up with the schedule.  We sometimes make connections for our
own passengers."  He glanced at the clock over the door.  "Train's
there now, should be there for another half hour.  Plenty of time to
make it."

It wasn't an ideal means of escape, but it appeared to be her only
option.  There was one advantage.  She could lose herself among the
tourists on the train and again at Valdez, making her trail that much
harder to trace.  She turned to Annie.

"Do you know how to get to the station?"

"Like it was home.  Let's go."

Annie urged the maximum speed out of the old pickup as they left the
airfield and headed for the center of town.  Cathryn leaned forward in
the seat, anxiously waiting for a glimpse of the depot and praying that
the train was still there.

They swung at last into the station yard.  To her relief, the gleaming
silver cars, streamlined versions from another era, stood on the
tracks.  Annie braked the pickup just inside the lot.

"You hop out and get your ticket while I find a parking spot.  I'll see
you on the platform."

Catbryn climbed from the truck.  A green Land Rover pulled in behind
them as she hurried off to the old-fashioned station window.

The other passengers, noisy With talk and laughter, their arms loaded
with their purchases from Lovejoy, began to return to the train when
Catbryn joined Annie a moment later, her ticket in hand.  The music of
Glenn Miller poured from a loudspeaker, interrupted by the voice of a
guide describing the spectacular scenery the tourists would see on the
next portion of the trip.

On the platform there was a bustling holiday mood, to which Catbryn was
oblivious.  Her only thought was to get away.  She had wanted the train
to wait for her.  Now she was nervously eager for it to depart,
impatient with the delay.  Annie, aware of her tenseness, tried to
distract her.

"Look over there," she said, nudging Cathryn.  "That character we saw
chasing up and down the street yesterday and still wearing those dopey
slippers.  Wonder if he ever found what he was hunting for.  Got
himself a ticket, too, I see, so I guess he'll'be joining the party on
board."

Cathryn glanced without interest in the direction of the thick-wasted
man down the platform.  He was busy unwrapping a stick of gum.  There
was nothing harried about him today.  He looked totally relaxed.  She
turned her attention back to Annie.

"I hate to ask this, Annie, when you've done so much for me.  But the
dogs, Angel and her puppies... If there's any way you could look out
for them, because after this I don't know whether he will.  But not,"
she added hastily, "if there's any risk to you about it."

"I'll manage to see to it somehow," Annie promised her.  "I'll try to
write to you.  That is, if it ever turns out to be safe to write."

"You're gonna be okay, girlie," Annie assured her.  "Once this train
pulls out, you'll be in the clear."

Chapter Eleven

Frank Tesler was careful to maintain an expression of boredom On his
broad face.  But underneath that bland mask, he was charged with
excitement as he strolled down the platform.

Cathryn McLean at last!  And this time there was no mistake about it.
Her hair was shorter and a lighter blond than in the photograph they
had given him, but it was her, all right.  And the beauty of it was,
she had fallen right into his lap.

Until mere minutes ago, an easy score had seemed an impossibility to
him.  Hanging around Lovejoy had driven him crazy, especially after he
had lost her on the street yesterday.  He had had enough of it by this
afternoon.  To hell with that doctor and his warnings.

Convinced that the infection in his blisters was beginning to clear up,
that his feet would be all right, Frank had climbed into the rented
Land Rover and headed out of town.  He needed to get to that cabin.  He
needed to close in on his target.

He couldn't have driven more than three blocks when the pickup, on its
way to the depot, had shot by him.  He had immediately recognized her
in the passenger seat.  He didn't have to go after her.  She had come
to him.  What a break!

Turning the Land Rover, he had chased the pickup, followed her into the
station, bought his own ticket for the excursion.  He didn't cam where
she was going or why.  And he wasn't worried about the tough-looking
old woman who had brought her here.  Cathryn McLean had purchased a
single ticket.  She would be alone on the train.  And vulnerable.

Frank stole another quick glance along the platform to make sum of his
target.  Pretty, he thought.  Much prettier than her picture.  A lot of
that had to do with her smile.  A pity he would have to end all of
that.  But business was business.

She was involved in a long goodbye with her friend.  She wasn't going
to disappear on him this time.  He could safely leave her for a few
minutes.  He needed to check out the interior of the train before it
got too crowded, try to decide just when and where it would be best to
manage the hit.

Ticket in hand, Frank climbed aboard the end car.  He was managing just
fine now in the slippers, not drawing any partiCular attention to
himself.  k The other passengers were beginning to collect on the
train, settling themselves with their packages.  The big-band music
continued to play.  Murals and framed movie posters, all from the
forties and fifties, decorated the walls.

It was not a long train, he discovered as he shuffled from one end to
the other.  No more than four cars.  The two in front were dining cars.
Waiters were already setting up for the supper that would' be served
shortly after they were underway.

Frank found himself back in the club car where he had started.  He had
one last place to investigate.  The club car was also a dome car.  A
narrow stairway curved up to the observation level.  No one seemed to
be going up there.  He found out why when he reached the top.

A meshed accordion gate had been mounted in the entrance to the deck.
There was a padlock on the gate t secure it to a metal ring in the
wall.  For some reason they were sealing off this part of the car,
though at the moment the padlock was open, the gate folded back.

Frank understood the situation as he moved up the aisle between the
rows of seats.  The glass in one of the great curving windows overhead
had been shattered.  A skinny teenager in cove rails was pulling the
remaining shards of glass away from the metal framework.  He paused
when he became aware of Frank's presence.

"Dome is off limits for the rest of the trip, sir."

Frank smiled at him amiably.  "Looks like somebody might have been
partying a little too wildly."

"Naw.  A rockfall along the side of the tracks down from Denali.  Chunk
went right through the glass.  Now we gotta keep the dome closed off
until we can get a replacement pane."

"Sorry.  I didn't know.  I'll get out of here, then."

"Yeah, I gotta finish clearing up the last of this so I can be off the
train before it pulls out again."

Frank retreated.  When he reached the gate, he made sure that the young
maintenance man's attention was on his work.  Then he snatched the key
out of the bottom of the padlock, pocketed it and went down the curving
stairway.  At the bottom he stood against the wall, out of the way of
the boarding passengers, and waited to see if any problem would result
from his action.  He didn't think so.  The kid in the cove rails didn't
look overly bright.

Ducking his head to a window, Frank checked the platform outside.
Cathryn McLean was just parting from the old woman with an emotional
hug.  He pulled back from the glass and took a moment to deliberate.

Killing her on a crowded train was going to be one hell of a problem.
But he didn't want to wait for Valdez.  He didn't want to risk her
slipping away from him again.  It had to be here and now.  Besides, the
challenge in the situation pleased him.

Not the gun concealed in his jacket, he decided.  Too noisy, even with
the speakers blaring all that crap.  He was wearing a fabric belt.  It
would make a perfect garrote.  He had powerful hands.  Came from those
years when he had boxed.  All he had to do was get close enough.  The
trick would be to lure her up into the dome, where they could be alone.
He'd manage it somehow.

A second later he spotted the legs' of the maintenance man as he
started down the stairway.  Frank leaned idly against the wall and
pretended to be interested in the brochure that had accompanied his
ticket.  But he checked out the teenager with quick, stealthy
glances.

The rest of the kid appeared, looking puzzled as he searched his
pockets for the missing padlock key.  His concern was only momentary.
The speakers announced that the train was about to depart.  Frank
understood the young man's shrug.  The gate had been safely closed
behind him, the padlock snapped in place.  No time to worry about the
key.

The kid left the train, brushing by Cathryn McLean as she boarded.
Frank Was busy consulting the brochure when she passed him in the
narrow corridor.  Seconds later, with a single lurch, the train was
underway.  He wandered after her into the club car.  He was already
feeling elated.

THE JE' down the highway to Lovejoy, squealing around the curves at
reckless speeds.  He didn't care about the risk, ignored the painful
stress to his injured arm that had to manage the gears while his left
arm handled the wheel.  All that mattered was reaching Cathryn.

The airfield, he thought.  She would probably try for a plane out of
here.  He would go there first.

He was nearing the turning to the airfield when he saw it.  A faded red
pickup truck approaching in the other lane.  He recognized the rusting
vehicle.  He had seen it parked behind the shack in the ghost town.

He knew Annie wouldn't stop.  She would gun the pickup and sweep on by
him.  He made a lightning decision.  He smacked the brake with his
foot. Then, while the Jeep was still in the process of grinding to a
halt, he whipped the wheel over to the left.  The vehicle skidded
sideways across the highway, blocking both lanes.

The pickup, within inches of a collision, screeched to a stop.  Its
driver stuck her gray head out of the window and blasted him with her
curses.  He wasn't surprised to see she was alone in the cab.  But he
was worded about Cathryn's whereabouts when he burst from the Jeep and
raced around it to confront Annie on the other side.

"I'm not afraid of you, Adams!"  she yelled at him defiantly from the
cab.  "Or whoever you are!  And get your damn car out of my way before
I plow it off the road!"

"Not before you answer a couple of urgent questions," he informed her
grimly as he approached the window.

"I don't have to tell you anything!  And you don't have a right to stop
me like this!"

"Wax/na bet?"

He reached for his wallet in his back pocket, aware that his arm was
throbbing.  He had wrenched it pretty severely when he'd shoved the
wheel over like that.  But it wasn't important.  He found his
identification and thrust it in under Annie's nose.  She gazed at it
suspiciously for a long minute, then at him, then back at the badge and
card.

"You're a cop?"  she muttered in disbelief.  "New Orleans PD on
extended leave."

"Says you.  How do I know this is genuine?"

"For now you trust your gut instinct.  And if you care at all about
Cathryn, you trust it fast and without an explanation.  Where did you
take her?  To the airfield?"

Annie spent a few prgcious seconds coming to a decision.  She finally
shook her head.  "No plane available.  She's on the excursion train to
Valdez.  Pulled out just a couple of minutes ago."

Gone, he thought, his insides tightening with alarm.  But just how bad
was her departure?

"Now let's test your powers of observation," he said swiftly.  "Let's
see if you can tell me who might he on that train with her."

He briefly described the Land Rover and the man who had driven it. Even
before she answered him, he could see by the expression on her face
that the worst had happened.

'"Yeah, he went aboard.  But he wasn't interested in her."

"Annie, we're both going to have to believe my own instinct now when I
tell you that this bastard is plenty interested in her.  I think he's a
professional assassin, and I think her life won't be worth anything if
he manages to corner her."  '

"What are we going to do?"

Annie's news was a blow that left him feeling sick.  But personal
feelings were an obstacle to helping Cathryn.  He thrust them aside,
allowing his professionalism to take charge.  "I'm going after that
train."

"How?"

"The road south of town runs parallel with the rail tracks, doesn't
it?"

"Yeah, for about twenty miles or so.  Then they separate for good.  But
that train's got a head start.  How can you hope to catch it
before--wait a minute.  There was someone on the platform saying that,
on account of the scenery being so gorgeous in this next section, the
train would be going slower so the passengers could enjoy the views.
So, if that's true, maybe..."

He didn't let her finish.  He was already backing away toward the Jeep.
Every second now was critical.  "Go back to the station, Annie," he
shouted to her.  "Do whatever you have to to get them to stop that
train!"

Within minutes he was on the other side of Lovejoy, blessing the Jeep's
reliability as it tore down the highway.  There was no other traffic.
He was alone on the road.  That much was an advantage anyway,
permitting him a maximum speed on the straightaways.

The railroad tracks were just off to his right, and on the other side
of the tracks was a narrow river in a deep gorge.  He checked the
odometer on the dash.  He must have traveled almost ten miles south of
Lovejoy.  No sign of the train yet.  He refused to believe he wouldn't
overtake it.

' His service revolver.  What he wouldn't give to have his service
revolver with him.  But he'd refused to carry a gun after New Orleans,
couldn't bear even to touch one.  Not that a weapon would do him much
good if he didn't reach that train, managed somehow to board it.

He had driven this route only once before.  He tried to remember just
where the road and the tracks diverged.  A bridge.  That was it.
Eventually the highway took a sharp right across a bridge that passed
over both the railroad and the fiver.  Then the highway continued west
while the railroad disappeared straight into the wilderness of
mountains and forest.

He had to intercept the train before that bridge, or he would lose it.
And that meant losing Cathryn.  But where the hell was it?  He should
have sighted it by now.  He'd even expected to find it stopped on the
tracks.  Annie ought to have had plenty of time to reach someone in
authority, convince them to halt the train.  She must have encountered
problems.  He was on his own.

The train.  Where was the--wait a minute.  Was that silver flashing
through the grove of aspen up ahead?  He peered hopefully in the
direction of the trees, but it wasn't until the Jeep cleared the grove
that he knew for certain.  The train at last!

The Jeep was already rocketing along the highway.  He urged it to an
even greater speed.  The train was still on the move, but the Jeep
surged forward, quickly closing the gap.  " He slowed when he came
abreast of the cars, matching the leisurely pace of the train.

He wondered what his chances were for signaling someone on board,
getting them to understand that this was an emergency and that they
needed to stop.  He laid on his horn, punching it repeatedly.  And he
prayed.

Cathryn, be all right.

THE MOURNFUL SOLI ND of Harry James's trumpet wailing through the
speakers was a suitable counterpoint to Cath-ryn's mood.  She was alone
in the club car.  The last of the passengers had drifted forward to the
dining cars, where, according to the announcement, they would be served
a supper as lavish as the views from the windows.

She had eaten nothing during this long day, but she was no more
interested in food than she was in the scenery.  The Alaskan landscape
from her window had never been more breathtaking.  A sinking sun gilded
the snow fields capping the mountains and turned the countless
waterfalls into liquid gold.

None of these sights made an impression on her.  She scarcely noticed
them.  It was something else she saw in the glass of the window.  The
smiling face of the man who had called himself Ben Adams.  He was the
enemy, and she would never see him again.  Then why did that sexy grin
keep haunting her?

And why was the train crawling?  Why couldn't it go faster?  She needed
to put distance between herself and the man she had fled, as much
distance as possible.  Hopefully, before this time tomorrow, thousands
of miles of distance.

Harry James was interrupted by another announcement.  Something about a
certain glacier they would soon be passing.  The big-band music
resumed.  This time it was something more cheerful.  It did nothing to
help Cathryffs mood.  She continued to gaze absently at the view.

It must have been less than a minute later when she spotted it on the
highway that paralleled the tracks.  A familiar dark red vehicle.  A
Jeep Wrangler running with the train.  It couldn't be real!  She must
have conjured it up along with his face.

Pulse racing, Cathryn strained toward the window.  She couldn't catch a
glimpse of the driver, couldn't even be sure it was the Jeep she knew.
The growth between the road and the rail line kept interfering with her
view.  Dear God, what if it was him?  She had to know.

"Frustrating, isn't it?"

Cathryn jumped, startled by the voice behind her.  She swung around and
met the affable gaze of the man in the slippers.  Where had he come
from?  She could have sworn she Was alone in the club ear.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Trying to get an unobstructed view of the scenery," he said
cheerfully.  "It's impossible down here with all the trees in the way.
That's why I've been in the dome.  Perfect views from up there on both
sides.  You can see everything right over the tops of the trees."

"This is a dome car?"

"You must have missed the stairway on your way in.  It's just off the
far end back there."

He turned and moved a few steps along the aisle, pointing in the
direction of the stairway.  She could see his bare feet in the scuffs
and now understood their necessity.  Painful-looking blisters covered
both of his heels.

He looked back at her.  His round, friendly face was all smiles. "Great
scenery at the top."

Cathryn didn't hesitate.  This was her opportunity to get a clear look
at the Jeep out there.  She left her seat and started to scurry up the
aisle.  He moved aside for her.

"I'll excuse myself," he said.  "Time I was putting on the feed bag in
the dining car."

"Yes, thank you," she murmured.

She reached the curving stairway and quickly mounted the metal treads.
She hesitated briefly at the entrance to the deck, aware of the cool
air that was rushing in from overhead where one of the large panes was
missing.  It must be all right to be up here, though.  The gate was
open, and the man in the slippers had been here.  All that mattered
were the uninterrupted views he had promised.

She went far forward, away from the stream of air, and squeezed into
one of the seats.  She pressed toward the glass, her anxious gaze
searching the highway below.

The Jeep was still out there, its speed matching that of the train's.
"She couldn't see the driver from this angle.  She didn't have to.
There was no mistaking the vehicle this time, nor the man who must be
at its wheel.  Never mind how he had managed to find and overtake her.
He was here, and she was frantic, at a loss for action.

She heard it then.  Over the noise of the train and the whistle of the
wind invading the dome came the insistent blare of the Jeep's horn.  He
was trying to stop the train.  He wanted her.  What should she do?

In a panic, Cathryn started to rise from the seat with a vague aim of
rushing below and finding someone in charge who would listen to her.
Someone who would help.  Her eyes were still on the Jeep, her feet
feeling for the recessed aisle between the seating platforms when evil
struck from an unexpected direction.

The lethal cord was looped over her head with such lightning violence
that she had no chance to avoid it, much less understand it.  Then,
when she would have reacted to the vicious attack, it was too late. The
twisted thing, whatever it was, was being tightened around her neck,
cutting off her air.

Even as the lights exploded inside her head, followed by a blackness
that started to swallow her, Cathryn'was aware that she had made a
terrible mistake.  The man in the Jeep outside couldn't be her enemy,
because her enemy, whoever he was, was right here.

Understanding brought an absurd relief.  A relief that triggered her
will to survive.  Struggling against the fog of shock and fear, using
anger as her weapon, she began to resist her assailant, body twisting,
hands clawing at him.

So ferocious was her opposition that he momentarily lost his advantage.
The garrote loosened, permitting her to gulp a fresh supply of oxygen.
He began to drag her out into the aisle to a position where he could
secure his powerful grip.  She went on fighting, squirming so wildly
that she finally glimpsed his face over her shoulder.

The ambush had occurred with such swiftness that she'd never detected a
movement behind her, much less had the opportunity to identify her
attacker.  But now, even with his face contorted cruelly, the
expression no longer genial, she recognized the man who had lured her
to the dome. A relentless killer.  But a killer with a weakness.

They.  were out in the aisle now, her back still to him.  Finding her
balance, Cathryn managed to hook one leg behind him and raised it as
high as she could.  She was blind to her.  target but desperation made
her aim true.  The hard toe of her shoe came smashing down against the
infected blisters on his heel, grinding against his sore, exposed
flesh.

The blow was effective.  Howling with anguish, he released her and
staggered back against the seats.  Catching herself on an armrest, she
whirled to confront him.  He would have recovered, come after her
again.  But the train,-jolting over a rough stretch of track, destroyed
his footing entirely.  He toppled over backward, his head striking the
edge of the seat platform.  Then he was silent.

Cathryn, hanging on the armrest as she dragged in great mouthfuls of
air, saw that he was still clutching the belt he had tried to strangle
her with.  He would use it on her again if she didn't get out of here.
She was sure he was only stunned.  He would be back on his feet within
seconds.

Swinging herself upright, she tore down the aisle, scrambling over his
sprawled body without a pause.  Hope turned to despair when she neared
the stairway.  He had closed the gate, fastened it with a padlock.  She
was trapped with him in the dome!

Shouting through the mesh would be a useless endeavor.  There was no
one on the level below, no one who could hear her over the music on the
speakers.  The key to the padlock.  He must have it on him.

Cathryn whipped around.  Too late to search him.  He was already
regaining his senses, groping for a support to pull himself to his
feet.  He was strong, much stronger than her, and she had no weapon.
But she wasn't simply going to give up and let him kill her.  There
must be some The missing glass in the dome!  If she could pull herself
up through the window overhead, reach the roof of the train, maybe he
would be unable to follow her.  Even if he did manage to force his much
heavier body through the opening, it was a chance to avoid him.  She
would do anything in her desperation.  It was probably suicidal
crawling out there on a moving train, but she didn't let that stop
her.

Cathryn was up on the seat in a flash.  Climbing onto its back put her
so close to the bowed glass ceiling that when she stood erect, hands
gripping the edges of the metal frame to steady herself, she found her
head and shoulders already through the opening.

The wind blasted her, making her hesitate.  Then she heard his furious
curse from somewhere close below, and it fueled her with new
determination.  Arms out on the roof to lever herself, she summoned all
her strength and heaved herself through the opening.

One of her legs still dangled in midair.  She glimpsed him up on the
seat just beneath her, grabbing for her ankle to haul her back.  For a
second he had her, her foot clutched in his hand.  She kicked wildly,
and he came away with her shoe.  Her leg free, she drew it quickly up
through the gap.

She was fully on the roof now, body flat and clinging like a scared
insect.  It was a precarious position with the wind tearing at her and
the train swaying drunkenly.  It would have been impossible to hang on
at all if she hadn't managed to emerge on the flat spine of the dome,
from which the windows descended on either side like curving ribs.

She had to get off the dome, reach the almost level roofs of the other
cars and work her way toward the engine.  And that meant wriggling
forward on her stomach foot by foot.  Even crawling on hands and knees
was something she didn't dare to try.  The spine was too narrow.

Like a swimmer paddling in heavy seas, she pulled herself along the
spine.  Her breath was coming in labored gasps by the time she was
finally able to lower herself from the dome to the less treacherous
roof of the next car.

Only then, steadying herself against the rocking train, did Cathryn
permit herself to look back across the dome.  What she saw through the
strands of her blond hair whipping across her face added another degree
to her terror.  Her enemy hadn't abandoned the pursuit.  He was
squeezing through the opening behind her.

HE KEPT THE JEEP level with the train and went on blaring the horn.  He
feared it was a wasted effort, but he had yet to think of something
else to try.  Damn it, where was Annie?  Why wasn't she getting the
train stopped so he could board it?

Ducking his head, he checked again on the train to see if his clamor
might have alerted anyone on board.  What he discovered with that
glance made the blood go cold in his veins.

God in heaven, there was a figure out there on the roof of one of the
cars.  Not just any someone.  It was Cathryn up there!  How had she?

He almost lost control of the Jeep then, almost ran off the road with
another chilling discovery.  He'd sighted a second figure emerging on
the roof of the last car.  There was no mistaking who it was and what
he was after.

Gripping the wheel,i he steadied the Jeep along with his nerves.
Cathryn would die unless he could reach her.  She needed him and she
needed him now.  A new urgency provided him with a possibility.  Wild
as it was, it was the only solution available.

His foot plunged the accelerator to the floor.  The Jeep leapt forward,
racing ahead of the train.  The bridge that crossed the tracks and the
river couldn't be more than a few miles down the road now.  He had to
beat the train to the bridge.

Hang on, sweetheart.  I'm coming.

He had already outdistanced the train.  It was behind him now.  The
bridge.  Where was the bridge?  There was a wooded bend in the road. 
He took it at a dangerous speed.  Cleared the woods.  And there was the
steel span just ahead, arching over the tracks and the fiver gorge.

The Jeep bane led toward the sharp turn to the bridge.  He slowed it
just enough to make the swing.  Then he was on the approach and
climbing.  Only yards to go, and here was the bridge itself.

He brought the Jeep to a halt, left the engine running and flung
himself from the car.  The train was already thundering down the tracks
beside the gorge as he reached the rail.  No time to consider his
action, to calculate the risk.  It was almost here.

He climbed over the rail, positioned himself on the lip of the bridge.
Mere seconds to take a measure of the drop.  It was an easy distance in
feet.  But a leap onto a moving train made it seem like an impossible
task.  Where Cathryn was concerned, he would manage the impossible.

He tensed in a half crouch, timing himself as the engine roared under
him.  Then, as the first car started to roll by, he launched himself
into space.

He hit the roof on hands and knees, the impact sending a jolt of pain
through his injured arm.  But he couldn't worry about that, couldn't
even grab a second to congratulate himself on the success of a landing
that a stunt man would have envied.  A startled Cathryn, gaping at him
in disbelief, had managed to work her way to the car just behind his.
But her pursuer was closing on her from the roof of the third car.

Scrambling to his feet, he found his balance against the yawing train
and executed what amounted to a fast tightrope walk from the first car
to the second one.  All right, he was on the same roof with Cathryn
now, but how did he protect her?  Because if that bastard had a gun He
did!  With the threat of interference, the hired killer had produced a
semiautomatic pistol from inside his jacket.  He was creeping toward
them now, a vicious grin on his fleshy face.

"Cathryn, get down," her rescuer commanded as he reached her.  "We may
have to take our chances and go over the side of the train."

She dropped to her hands and knees, stating in terror at the trees and
boulders flashing by.  "It's too fast!  We'd never make it!"

He crouched beside her.  "It's either risk a jump or die up here."  '

And that seemed to be a certainty, because their enemy was now on the
same roof with them.  He already had the gun leveled at them in
triumph.  He had only to cover a few more feet to be sure he wouldn't
miss.

"Cathryn, go!"

She tensed but she couldn't do it.  She couldn't willingly spring to
her death.  She didn't have to.  At that second a head poked through
the gap back in the dome.  It was someone from the train, shocked to
see that there were people on the roofs.  He shouted a challenge, his
words lost in the wind.

But the unexpected yell behind their enemy was enough to alarm him. His
head swiveled in surprise.  And the man Cathryn knew only as Ben
instantly seized advantage of the situation, diving at their
adversary.

Clinging to the roof, she watched the two men locked in a raging
struggle.  In spite of his bulk, the killer was agile.

Ben, weakened by his injury, was exerting a tremendous effort to
overcome him.  Cathryn never knew how he managed it, but the gun
suddenly spun into the air and came bouncing down on the edge of the
tool

She went for it, crawling rapidly across the width of the car.  She
never reached it.  The killer, desperate to reclaim his weapon,
delivered a powerful blow to his attacker's vulnerable arm.  Ben,
slammed aside, lost his footing and went down.  In one swift rush the
enemy pounced on the semi-automatic.  Recovering his balance on the
treacherous brink of the roof, he raised the gun tOWard Cathryn, his
face livid with hate.

She would have died in that second if it hadn't been for the river.  It
turned at this point.  The rail tracks did not.  Without warning, the
train jounced onto a trestle that crossed the gorge.  The jarring
motion destroyed the restored balance of the man on the edge of the
roof.  He teetered there for an instant, fighting to save himself.
Then, with a whimper escalating into an angry howl, he went over the
side, plummeting to the rocky water below.

The next thing Cathryn knew, she was up on her knees.  And he was
there, also on his knees and holding her tightly.  Covering her face
with kisses and asking her between those kisses if she was all right.
She wasn't all right.  She was still shuddering over the horror of that
man's death, even if he had been determined to kill her.

"Your arm," she kept muttering foolishly.  "Is it open again?
Bleeding?"

He didn't answer her.  The train was in the forest again on the other
side of the fiver.  It was slowing, stopping.  She was dimly conscious
of people he low pouting from the cars, of raised shouts along the
embankment.

He lifted his head.  There was a grin on his lean face.  "Oh, sure," he
said, "now Annie manages to get the train stopped."

She stared at him.  "Would you answer just one question for me?"

"Anything."

"Who are you?"

Chapter Twelve

"Nick Gillette."

Cathryn had been repeating the name to herself all the way back to
Lovejoy.  This time she said it aloud, trying to accustom herself to
the sound of it.  Trying to get used to his real identity.  Not easy
when all these weeks she had been thinking of him as Ben Adams.  But
she liked his name.  Nick Gillette.  It had a strength that suited him.
"French," he said.  "Cajun French.  Probably Creole, too.  And Italian.
Definitely Italian in there somewhere.  And who knows what else.  My
ancestors liked to mix it up."  "Choctaw," she reminded him.

He grinned at her.  "Slipped up with that one, didn't I?"

"Only after I began to put everything else together."  They were
outside the hospital where Ben's arm--no, Nick's arm, she prompted
herself--had been treated again and pronounced no worse for his ordeal.
The body of their attacker was being recovered from the gorge by the
local authorities, and then Nick would meet with them to present his
statement.

There was a stream behind the building that meandered through the
alpine meadows.  Nick had asked her to stroll with him on the path
along its edge.  He wanted a quiet place away from interruptions to
offer his 'explanation.  And Cathryn needed that explanation.

"So tell me, Officer Gillette," she asked him.  "Just how did I wind up
with you instead of Ben Adams?"

"I could claim something like authorized urve'filance, but it was much
sneakier than that.  Blame it on Gary Boning, and just be glad that
devious mind of his is on the side of the good guys."

Catbryn knew he was referring to the assistant district attorney in New
Orleans.  "Gary Boning can also be very persuasive.  Like he was with
me when I first agreed to testify against Red Quinn."

"And with your cousin, too.  Eventually, that is.  Gary showed up at
Meredith's place just hours after she saw you off on that bus.  She
refused to tell him anything, even denied that she'd had any contact
whatever with you."

"But in the end..."

"What else could she do when Gary had the best argument in the world?
He promised her that, no matter where you were hiding, Red Quinn and
his people would find you.  But if he could get to you first, he would
move heaven and earth this time to make sure you were kept safe."

"So Meredith told him everything."  No wonder her cousin had sounded so
guilty and uncertain when she'd phoned her the other day.

"Leaving Gary with one hell of a situation when he flew back to New
Orleans.  He couldn't reach you because Meredith didn't know where you
were holed up for the week before you were scheduled to leave for
Alaska.  And he had no legal right to hold you at the airport. Figured,
too, that after what you'd been through, you would refuse protection
and just vanish again."

"But there was a way not to lose me," Cathryn said, realizing the
scheme the assistant D. A. must have devised.

"Correct.  He'd let you go on to Alaska, and he would see to it that
you had professional protection when you got there.  Only you couldn't
know about it because you'd run again."

"Enter Nick Gillette," she said softly.

"Yeah," he admitted with a gruff reluctance.  "Nick Gillette."  '

His fingers had been threaded through hers as they moved along the bank
of the bubbling stream.  A never-let-you-go kind of connection that
gave her a warm glow.  But the pressure he 'exerted now on her hand was
another form of communication.  An appeal for forgiveness.

"Go on," she said, squeezing back with her own message of
reassurance.

He didn't respond for a moment.  He stared off into the endless Alaskan
twilight that cloaked the mountains.  There was regret in his deep
voice when he continued.  And that recurrent pain she had yet to
understand.

"I was' the perfect candidate," he said.  "Been living in Anchorage for
almost a year, so I was already in place, and Gary knew and trusted my
work from New Orleans.  He also knew I was low on funds and prObably
wouldn't need much convincing to accept the job.  He was right, damn
him."

"And Ben Adams?"

"Also caved in for a reasonable price," Nick admitted with a trace of
bitterness.  "So there we were, the three of us engaged in this
conspiracy that had to be kept secret.  Gary realized by then that the
information leaking to Quinn and his crowd must be coming through his
offices.  He told no one down there about the setup or my involvement
in it."

"But they must have immediately learned somehow about my coming to Ben
Adams in Alaska.  The man on the train had to have been sent by
Quinn."

away from interruptions to offer his explanation.  Cathryn needed that
explanation.

"So tell me, Officer Gillette," she asked him.  "Just did I wind up
with you instead of Ben Adams?"

"I could claim something like authorized iurve'filance, it was much
sneakier than that.  Blame it on Gary and just be glad that devious
mind of his is on the side of l good guys."

Cathryn knew he was referring to the assistant district torney in New
Orleans.  "Gary Boning can also be very suasive.  Like he was with me
when I first agreed to against Red Quinn."

"And with your cousin, too.  Eventually, that is.  I showed up at
Meredith's place just hours after she saw off on that bus.  She refused
to tell him anything, even denied that she'd had any contact whatever
with you."

"But in the end..."

"What else could she do when Gary had the best merit in the world?  He
promised her that, you were hiding, Red Quinn and his people would find
But if he could get to you first, he would move earth this time to make
sure you were kept safe."

"So Meredith told him everything."  No cousin had sounded so guilty and
uncertain phoned her the other day.

"Leaving Gary with one hell of a situation when back to New Orleans. He
couldn't reach you because edith didn't know where you were holed up
for before you were scheduled to no legal right to hold you at the
airport.  Figured, after what you'd been through, you would refuse
extradition and just vanish again."

"But there was a way not to lose me,"

alizing the scheme the assistant D. A. must have

"Correct.  He'd let you go on to Alaska, and he would see to it that
you had professional protection when you got there.  Only you couldn't
know about it because you'd run again."

"Enter Nick Gillette," she said softly.

"Yeah," he admitted with a gruff reluctance.  "Nick Gillette."

His fingers had been threaded through hers as they moved along the bank
of the bubbling stream.  A never-let-you-go kind of connection that
gave her a warm glow.  But the pressure he exerted now on her hand was
another form of communication.  An appeal for forgiveness.

"Go on," she said, squeezing back with her own message of
reassurance.

He didn't respond fora moment.  He stared off into the endless Alaskan
twilight that cloaked the mountains.  There was regret in his deep
voice when he continued.  And that recurrent pain she had yet to
understand.

"I was' the perfect candidate," he said.  "Been living in Anchorage for
almost a year, so I was already in place, and Gary knew and trusted my
work from New Orleans.  He also knew I was low on funds and probably
wouldn't need much convincing to accept the job.  He was right, damn
him."

"And Ben Adams?

"Also caved in for a reasonable price," Nick admitted with a trace of
bitterness.  "So there we were, the three of us engaged in this
conspiracy that had to be kept secret.  Gary realized by then that the
information leaking to Quinn and his crowd must be coming through his
offices.  He told no one down there about the setup or my involvement
in it."

"But they must have immediately learned somehow about my coming to Ben
Adams in Alaska.  The man on the train had to have been sent by
Quinn."

Man of the Midnight Sun ii

Nick frowned.  "You're right, of course.  That much did get out, and as
soon as everything is settled here, I intend calling Boning on it."

They paused on the edge of the stream.  A cold wind blew down from the
mountains, rest ling the leaves on the willows nearby.  Cathryn
shivered.  Nick turned to her, sliding his arms around her and drawing
her into his warmth.  "Better?"

She nodded, then shook her head.

"Make up your mind, McLean."

"Can't.  Not until you tell me what you did with the real Ben Adams."

"Tucked away in my Anchorage apartment.  You wouldn't like him.  He
never mourned a bit over the loss of your cousin.  Unfaithful, too.
Already found hself a new girlfriend somewhere."

"What a pity.  I was hoping to look him up, satisfy my curiosity about
how the original compares with the replacement."

His arms tightened around her.  "I wouldn't advise it."

"

" No?  "

" Definitely no.  "

"Maybe you're not being fair.  Mayhe you never gave him a chance."

"A week holed up with him in that cabin was more than a chance.  It was
a sentence.  We drove each other crazy, but I had to learn everything I
could about him and the area before you arrived."

"We were holed up in that same cabin," she countered.

His teeth gleamed through the dusk in a wicked smile.  "Not the same
kind of intimacy, was it?"

Cathryn pressed against his solid warmth, savoring his familiar male
scent, the way his body was molded to hers, arms cherishing her.  "I
think you're right," she said weakly.

"I think this is acase where the replacement is much superior to the
original."

Head lowered, he tenderly nuzzled the mole high on her cheek.  "I hope
so," he muttered.  "I was half out of my mind the whole time I was with
you."

"Why?"

"Because you were supposed to be just an assignment.  You know, getting
you to trust me so that eventually you'd confide in me, and maybe then
I could persuade you to go back and testify, which was a commitment I
had real trouble with."  This explained his drugged mumbling in the
hospital earlier.  "I wasn't supposed to fall for you.  That wasn't in
the plan.  You'll never know how many kinds of bastard I called myself
and how many times I came close to telling you the truth.  I couldn't.
I was afraid you'd vanish on me."

"Awful thing to have a mail-order bride walk out on you," she said.
"Especially after you've gone and paid for her ticket."

"True.  There should be a fair return on the investment."

"Consider this the first dividend, then."  She locked her hands behind
his head, drew his face down close to her own and kissed him slowly and
thoroughly.

"Sweet profit," he murmured when her mouth finally released his.

"Count it as the first of many."

He chuckled deeply, his beard-toughened cheek slowly caressing her
smooth one.  They stood there holding each other for a long moment,
listening to the sounds of the water in the stream and the wind
searching through the willows.

"Nick?"

"Mmm?"

"Why did you leave New Orleans and come to Alaska?"

Her question was a mistake.  His mood altered immediately, becoming
dark and strained.  She felt his body go rigid against hers.  Then he
pulled away from her abruptly, left the path and moved down to the
close edge of the stream.  He stood by the willow thicket, his back to
her.

Cathryn followed him, determined to understand whatever it was that
made him so intense at times.  He was like that now, she thought,
gazing at his profile in the murky light.  A strong profile with its
Roman nose, but a brooding one.

"You were a runaway like me, weren't you?"  she pressed him gently.

"You see too much, Cathryn McLean."

"I was a research librarian, remember?  We never give Up until we've
gathered all the data."

He was silent.  She waited for him patiently, hoping he would tell her.
When he realized she wasn't going to give up on him, he began to share
his secret.

"I had to get away from New Orleans.  I had to go just as far as I
could, and Alaska seemed as far off as any place."

"Why, Nick?  Why did you have to leave your work and your life down
there?"

"Because I was coming apart."  He went on in a mechanical voice, and as
he spoke, his hand steadily and systematically stripped away the leaves
on a willow bough hanging beside him.

"There was this woman I was involved with.  Karen Justice.  Not smart
having an affair with your partner, especially when you're both cops.
But since when does smart have anything to do with it when it comes to
attraction?  Old story, huh?"

"Were you in love with her?"

"I don't know.  I never had the chance to find out.  She was gone
before we ever got to that stage."

There was a harsh edge in his tone, telling Cathryn what she'd already
guessed.  That Karen Justice was no longer alive.

"We were on a routine drug bust," he continued.  "Not that any of them
is ever really routine, but this one was supposed to be a straight
operation.  They have to be selling the stuff to you before you can
collar them.  I was all set to meet with the dealer, but Karen wanted
to do the trade.  Said her cover would be much less suspicious.  Our
superior agreed with her."

"And you objected to that?"

"Not enough.  Karen was good but not all that experienced.  And I had a
bad feeling about the scene.  I should have listened to my instinct.  I
should have fought the decision."

"It all went wrong?"

"Very wrong.  She went in wearing a wire.  We were outside as backup,
ready to storm the place as soon as the exchange was made.  The dealer
was supposed to be alone.  He wasn't.  His friend fingered Karen as the
cop that had arrested him two months before.  I don't think I'll ever
stop hearing her screams over that wire.  Before we could get to her,
the scum had executed her."

Nick tugged viciously at the willow bough, released it with a snap and
then added woodenly, "It was a situation as familiar as an old TV
movie, but when it's real and you're in-volred in it... Believe me
there's nothing that feels familiar about it."

"You blamed yourself for her death."

"Yeah, I guess so.  Maybe.  I just know they kept telling me the pain
would go away, and it didn't.  In the end I had to get out."

Cathryn ached for him, knowing how haunted by grief and guilt he must
have been.  And still was, she feared.

"Htyv you must have resented me," she said softly.

He turned to her, wearing a little smile that tugged at herI insides.
"You were an assignment I didn't want, but I

trying to start a security service and I

the money.  You involved me again with life,

of that.  I didn't want to feel, didn't want to know all the old
emotions.  But they were there from the minute you stepped off that
plane.  "

"Regrets?"

"That much of a fool, I'm not.  As for what happened in New Orleans..."
His arms slid around her, drawing her close.  "Someday I'll make peace
with it for good, put it all behind me."

She hoped so.  There could be no future for them together otherwise.

"I've got shadows back in New Orleans to put behind me, too, don't I?"
she said.  "The murder of Francis Menard, the senator's brother.  It
must have been something vital for Red Quinn to have risked killing him
like that himself, for not waiting for one of his goons to handle it.
There's just something strange about that, Nick."

"Maybe, but that's for New Orleans to deal with.  Be cause after today
you're out of it."

"Am I?"

"Damn right you are."

His arms tightened, holding her safely.  She enjoyed that sense of
total security: For a moment.  In the end there was no way to avoid
reality.

"It's not over, is it, Nick?"  she whispered.  "We both know what I
have to do."

"You're staying right here with me in Alaska," he insisted, hanging on
to her so fiercely she thought her bones would snap.

She understood his sudden anger.  It was motivated by fear.  The fear
that if he let her go, he would lose again, as he had lost so
tragically in New Orleans.  She understood, but it didn't change
anything.

She shook her head.  "I have to go back and testify.  I see that
now."

"To hell with Boning and what he wants.  It isn't his life that's on
the line.  Quinn's hit man is dead.  That gives us the chance to get
you away, and this time no one will know where except you and me.
Alaska is a big place."

"The death of Red Quinn's hit man may already have been picked up by
the media and he all over the news.  If it has, he'll immediately send
someone else after me.  Nick, there's nowhere left to hide.  I realize
that now.  The only way I can ever be free of him is to help put him
behind bars where he belongs.  Because once I go on that stand, there's
no longer a reason for him to"

"No!  It's too risky.  I won't let you do it.  Not after what almost
happened on that train.  The assistant D.A."  s got to understand that
now"

He had no chance to continue his argument.  They were interrupted by a
sturdy figure hurrying along the path from the hospital.

"Hey, you two," Annie called to them.  "They're back from the gorge
with the body and waiting to talk to you.  Gonna be a long session, so
I'll leave you with one piece of advice.  Avoid the coffee in those
machines.  Tastes like something that head nurse might're brewed in a
mean mood."

RJED (UINN'S THICK, freckled hand squeezed the remote control as if it
were flesh and bones he wanted to crush.  He stared for a few seconds
at the blank television screen he had just switched off.  Then he cast
his savage gaze in the direction of the man who shared the richly
paneled office him.

"Been all over the news since late last night," the mob-smr growled.
"Haven't identified him yet, but I don't kid myself it wasn't Tesler
who ended up on those rocks.  Which means the McLean bitch is still on
the loose.  How long, Morgan?  How long is she gonna stay lucky?"

The lawyer, immaculate in an expensive business suit, smiled
confidently at his friend and employer.  "Her luck has already run out,
Red."

"Yeah?  What is it this time?  Another lead on her through our
connection with the D.A."  s office?  They're not stupid over there,
Morgan.  They've got to realize by now there's a leak.  Boning's not
g0una let any more information get passed to our source.  How many hit
men can we keep sending anyway, even if one could get near her again?
"

Morgan Hurley shook his head.  "We don't have to go after her anymore.
This time she'll come to us.  Willingly."

Quinn leaned forward in his chair, his brutal face flushed with
eagerness.  "Let'shea and it better be good."

"Since when am I not dependable, Red?  And thorough.  I've been digging
into her life all this time, trying to find something useful. Something
that could provide us with the means of an alternative, just in case
Tesler failed.  Kn Wl edge is power, Red.  You know that."

"And?"

"Nothing.  Not at first.  Then I went back to her days at the
university in Baton Rouge, ended up calling in a favor before I was
through.  I struck the mother lode, Red.  You're going to like this."

The lawyer went on to explain what he had learned about Cathryn McLean
and how they were going to turn her secret against her.

When he was through, Quinn chuckled.  "Yeah, it's good.  It's real
good.  You taking care of it?"

"Everything is already in place, Red.  You don't have to worry.  The
boys were careful."

Quinn turned his gaze in the direction of the wide windows overlooking
Lake Pontchartrain, cruel eyes squinting against the brilliance of the
early-morning sun on the expansive water.

"So now we just sit back and wait, huh?  You sure this'll work?"

"It will work.  And I don't think we'll have to wait long.  She cares
too much not to make regular contact."

"Which means she'll end up just where I want her," Quinn snarled.
"Mouth shut forever."

Tmm was ^ cI-imL in the early-morning air that felt more like autumn
than summer at its peak.  Cathryn, shivering, hurried into the fresh
clothes that Annie had managed to obtain for her last night from one of
Lovejoy's stores.  She dressed quietly, careful.  not to disturb Nick,
sprawled on the bed in a deep sleep.

He needed to rest.  Yesterday had been long and arduous, robbing him of
his strength after the injury to his ann.  There had been no question
of returning to the cabin after that late meeting with the local
authorities.  Both of them had been exhausted and gratefully accepted
the hospital's offer of a room for.  the night.

Cathryn wouldn't have minded another hour or two of sleep herself.  But
she had a phone call to make, and she didn't want Nick knowing about
it.  Not yet.  She needed first to reassure herself that everything was
still all right back in Louisiana, and then.  She paused to draw a
steadying breath, her gaze softening as it lingered for a moment on his
sensual face and sleep-tousled black hair.

And then, she promised herself with a nervous smile, she was going to
tell Nick about the other man in her life.  She was already praying
that he would forgive her silence and understand.  That he would accept
Zachary.

Their conflict over her testifying had also to be settled, she thought
as she slipped out of the room, purse in hand.  They hadn't returned to
the subject last night, too tired to do anything but tumble into bed.
But it could no more be avoided today than the matter of Zachary.

It was too early for any activity in the hospital corridor.  There was
no one around as she made her way to a public phone at the other end.
But it would be hours later in Ba2 ton Rouge, a reasonable time to
reach her party.

Cathryn was startled when the phone at the other end was snatched up on
the first ring.  The frail grandmother ally needed a moment to get to
the telephone.  She must been right there by the instrument.

"Hilda?  It's Catbryn.  Is everything-- ?"

"Thank God, thank God," the elderly woman "He said I wasn't to do
anything but wait for your Nothing.  But it could have been days before
you again.  Even waiting hours was unbearable.  I didn't what to do.
What should I do?"

There was a pitiful pleading in her voice that ryn instantly sick with
alarm.  "Hilda, what's

Zachary, isn't it?  "

"I couldn't keep him indoors.  Not all the time.

is so small.  He had to go out and play sometimes.  Just the backyard.
Never any farther than that.  And I check on him from the window. Every
few checked.  "

She was hysterical, not making sense.  Catbryn fought self-control, an
essential calmness.  "Hilda, slow down.  me clearly exactly what
happened."

"I am telling you.  Zachary went into the yard just all breakfast.  One
minute he was there in his sandbox, and the next minute he was gone.  I
went out to the garage to look for him.  He goes into the garage to
find bits of wood buildings.  So I went into the garage after him.  He
was there, and that's when"

Her voice broke on a sob.

"The rest," Cathryn urged her.  "Hilda, you have to me the rest of
it."

"There was a man," she continued.  "I didn't see his face.  He wouldn't
let me turn around to see his face.  He sto behind me and spoke in this
rough voice.  He said they to Zachary, that he would be all right if I
kept my mouth shut But if I called the police, told anyone but you,
we'd never see him again."

"What else?"  Cathryn demanded.  "What else did say?"

"That you were to come back at once and alone.  with me at the house.
They would contact you here, tell y what you had to do to get Zachary
back."

"Hilda, you didn't call the police, did you?"

"I was scared," she wailed.  "Too scared to do anythi but sit right
here by the phone and pray you would call."  :

"You did the right thing, These people mean what tk say.  Hilda; sit
tight now and wait.  I'll be there as soon a can."

"You'll hurry.  Please hurry."

"As fast as I can.  Remember, not a word to anyone."  Cathryn's hand
was shaking as she hooked the phc back on its cradle.  Her worst fear
had been realized, the w thing she had been making every effort to
avoid.

Quinn and his people must have learned immediately of the'tr assassin's
death, and this was their response.  But how had they discovered
Zachary's existence when she'd been so careful?  Not that it mattered
now.  Her escape to Alaska, using herself as a decoy, had failed.

She had to believe they wouldn't hurt Zachary if she obeyed them.  She
would go out of her mind otherwise.  It was her they wanted.  She had
no illusions about what would happen to her when they got her.  But she
was prepared for that as long as she won his freedom and safety.

Don't think about what Zachary must be feeling right now, how terrified
he must be.  You won't be able to bear it if you think about it.  You
can only help him by holding' yourself together.  You have to act.

She picked up the phone again and called the airfield.  She learned
that the plane had returned from Fairbanks and would fly her to
Anchorage as soon as she reached the field.

Her next action was harder.  Much harder, but necessary.  Mercifully
Nick was still asleep when she slipped back into their room.  She had
never hated anything so much in her life as having to walk out on him
like this without a word of explanation.  Knowing how much she would
hurt him, especially after what he had shared with her about Karen
Justice.

But she couldn't.  She couldn't tell Nick about what she must do.  He
would try to stop her.  He was a cop, would insist she involve the
police.  Would want to accompany her to Baton Rouge, plaCing himself at
risk along with Zachary.  There was nothing he could do that would
guarantee re-suits.  Only she could do it.  Protect both him and
Zachary.

She had come to get the key to the Jeep, which had been retrieved and
brought to the hospital the night before.  She found the key on the
table beside the bed, along with the other contents of his pockets he
had emptied there last night.

Pausing beside the bed, key in hand, she stole one brief moment to
search his sleeping face.  To impress its wonderful image on he? brain.
She didn't deceive herself that she would ever see it again. She
wanted to do more than just look.  She longed to touch him.  She didn't
dare.

Forgive me, Nick.

Turning, she crept from the room, closing the door silently behind her.
The Jeep was waiting out front in the parking lot.  She would arrange
at the airfield to have it returned to him.  Have whoever brought it
back let him know that she hadn't been snatched, that she had left by
choice.  He deserved that much.  No note.  What could she say?

The image of his face was with her as she sped toward the airfield.
Would be with her all the way back to Louisiana.  But his face wasn't
the comfort she had sought.  She was leaving him, and it was tearing
her up inside.  She didn't know how she could stand it.

Chapter Thirteen

"Take it easy, Nick.  You sound like a guy on the hyperventilation, and
I'm not there to help you bleat he into a paper bag."

As always the assistant district attorney was composed and reasonable.
Nick was in a mood to appreciate neither of those qualities.  He was
frantic.

"I want answers, Gary," he barked into the telephone.  "I need
answers."

"Nick, I told you.  She hasn't contacted me or my office.  You sure you
got her message right?"

"She wasn't snatched.  She walked out.  I'm telling you, she changed
her mind.  She's determined now to testify, and she knew I was against
it.  Why else would she take off on me?"

"Okay, but it seems funny.  Why the sudden haste?  If its her intention
to testify, why risk trying to rush back here all on her own after what
she's just been through?"

"Because she knew I would try to stop her, and you can forget any
lectures about that.  Look, we've been through all this.  We're wasting
time.  Every minute we talk, she's getting farther away."

"Nick, I can relate to your desperation."

No, you can't.  You're not in love with Cathryn McLean.

"I'm as worried about her as you are," Boning continued, "but maybe
this isn't the explanation.  Maybe she's just plain scared and in the
end simply decided on another disappearing act."

"You don't know her.  She wouldn't do that.  Not this time."  '

"All right.  I'll start making inquiries, get out an alert for her.
Let's hope in the meantime she gets in touch with me."

"It's not good enough, Gary.  I want her back.  Safely back.  I'm going
after her myself, whatever it takes.  And don't try to take me off the
case."

"You do what you have to, Nick.  Just watch yourself.  You know what
Quinn and his crowd are like.  Keep me posted.  And no heroics.  You
need backup, you call for it.  Anything else?"

"Yeah.  Clean your house and discover who that informer is.  Catbryn
wouldn't be in this fix if Quinn hadn't had a pipeline."

"I'm working on it, buddy.  Trust me, I'm working on it."

NICK'S MIND WAS TRAVELING as fast as the Jeep that carried him toward
Percy.

Where was she?  Where the hell was she?  On her way to New Orleans?  He
had been certain this was her destination before talking to the
assistant D. A. Now he wasn't so sure.  Much as he hated to admit it,
Boning was right.  Her sudden departure without a word of explanation
just didn't make sense.

So why had she run out on him this time?  Fear?  A failure to trust him
after his admission last night that he had been hired to persuade her
to go back to testify?  Had she ultimately viewed that as a betrayal?
Convinced herself he had only made love to her in order to win her
cooperation?

How could she think he wOUld deliberately seduce her?  He was furious
with her if she thought that.  Didn't she know by now that he was in
love with her?

How could she know?  He hadn't told her he loved her.  He should have
told her he loved her.  But there had been no time, and now No He
refused to think it was too late.

But he was scared.  Angry and scared.  Angry that she had left him.
Scared that maybe she didn't feel the same about him, that this might
even he an explanation for her flight.

More than anything elsg, he was anxious about her safety.  She was out
there somewhere, vulnerable to an enemy who would do anything to locate
and destroy her.  He had to find her.

Calls to the airlines out of Lovejoy and Anchorage had gained him
nothing.  They would divulge no information about their passengers, not
without official intervention.  No time to secure that.  That was why
he was on his way to Percy.

He hated the necessity of this trip to the ghost town, the frustrating
delay that was involved.  But he couldn't just go off blindly searching
for Cathryn.  He had to begin with a direction of some kind.  He was
praying Sourdough Annie could provide that.

Cathryn must have told the old woman something about her plans in order
to enlist her help yesterday.  Maybe she had confided a destination on
the long road into Lovejoy.  A destination that was still her
intention.  It was his one hope.

Nick was relieved when he rounded the last turn on the rough track
descending into Percy and saw smoke curling from the chimney of Annie's
shack.  There had been the chance she hadn't gone back to the ghost
town after parting from them at the hospital last night.

Annie had just stepped into the yard to feed her llama when Nick
arrived.  She stared at him in surprise as he climbed from the Jeep and
approached her.  Then her gaze went back to the vehicle, looking for
another passenger.

"No, Annie, Cathryn isn't with me.  I don't know where she is, but
maybe you do.  I need your help."

He went on in an earnest voice to explain what had happened and just
why he had come.  She listened with no expression on her seamed face
but what he feared was a lingering suspicion of him in her rheumy eyes.
And all the while he pleaded with her, the damn llama kept nudging his
shoulder.  Looking for a handout, he supposed.

Annie's only comment when he finished was addressed to the animal,
"Lulu, back off.  He doesn't have any apples, and you already had your
quota for the day."

The disdainful llama trotted away in the direction of the river.  Annie
regarded him blankly for a minute.  Then she shook her head.

"I think you're all right.  I think you do love her.  That's why I wish
I could help.  Can't.  She never said where she was going.  Not a hint
about it.  And that's the truth, I promise you."

Nick nodded dismally.  This was it, then.  A dead end.  Annie
considered him for another moment, face sympathetic this time.  "Did
mention her cousin back in Missouri,

but I guess you've already taken her into account.  " Meredith.

He was a fool.  About as complete a fool as you could get.  He should
have remembered Meredith straight off.  Cath-ryffs cousin was the only
person she had trusted and turned to when she'descaped from New
Orleans, So why wouldn't she go to her again?  And if she wasn't with
her cousin, there was the strong possibility that Meredith had heard
from her.  Would know where to find her.

"Annie, I could kiss you."

"Better rethink that.  The last man who tried ended up sore for a week
in a spot I won't mention."

"Will you settle for a large thank-you?  And, uh, doin another favor
maybe?"

"Like?"

"I'm going to be on the next plane to Missouri.  Would you look after
Angel and the puppies while I'm away?  I'm not sure when Adams will
return to the cabin or if he can be counted on to take care of the dogs
when he does come hack."

"Already promised Cathryn I'd be checking on regularly.  What are you
waiting for?  Go find her."

Nick obeyed her command, folding himself behind the wheel of the Jeep
and racing up the track that took him out of Percy.  Once back on the
main road, he turned in the direction of the cabin.

He regretted the need for this quick detour before he headed back to
Lovejoy and the airfield, but he had to have the letters from Meredith
to Ben Adams.  They bore her address in Missouri, something that Gary
Boning could provide him, except he didn't care to waste time on
another call to New Orleans.  Besides, he wanted to study those letters
on the long flight.  They just might offer some clue that could lead
him to Cathryn.

The letters that Adams had loaned him were still there in the drawer of
the bedroom bureau when he reached the cabin.  He scooped them out and
tossed them into a bag along with a few clothes and essential
toiletries.

He was on his way out of the cabin when he remembered that Cathryn had
abandoned her own clothes.  He went into the room she had occupied,
found her suitcase under the bed and flung her things inside.

He shouldn't have taken the time.  Seconds counted.  But he needed to
do this.  Packing her clothes was an act of faith.  It made him
confident that he would be able to bring them to her.

Be there for me, sweetheart.  Wherever you are, be there for me.

NICK'S PATIENCE WAS at its lowest level as he sat behind the wheel of
the rental car, anxiously searching the numbers of the houses along the
residential street of the rural Missouri town.

Getting this far had cost him exasperating delays at two airports,
three exhausting flights over an indirect route and disappointment in
St.  Louis when he'd checked with Gary Boning again by phone.  There
had been no contact from Cathryn, no word on her whereabouts.  She had
been missing now for more than thirty hours, and the strain was almost
more than he could bear.

He crawled past a brick building surrounded by a playground.  It was
summer.  No kids in evidence.  Probably the school where Meredith
McLean taught.  There were more houses shaded by maple trees.

Meredith's house was the last one on the street, located in the open
where the town turned into a countryside of farm fields and rolling
hills.  It was a small, neat ranch house with a picture window and
black shutters.

Nick parked in the driveway.  A blast of afternoon heat struck him as
he climbed from the car.  "This wasn't Alaska.  He had forgotten just
how hot July could be in this part of the country.

He was on his way to the front door when he heard a radio playing
somewhere from the vicinity of the backyard.  Altering his direction,
he followed a flower-bordered path that took him around the side of the
house.  There was a deck attached to the back of the building.  A
portable on a redwood table filled the air with a tune.  There was no
one on the deck.

And then he saw her.  She was wearing cutoffs and an old T-shirt, her
familiar blond hair like a halo in the sunlight.  The sight of her
casually weeding a vegetable garden at the edge of the lawn made his
insides go soft with sweet relief.  "Cathryn!"

Startled, she lifted her head from the tomato vines over which she was
bending.  Shading her eyes against the glare, she turned to stare at
him with a nervous smile.  The relief immediately drained away from
him, leaving a dull ache in its place.

It wasn't Cathryn, though the resemblance was remarkable.  They shared
the same slim figure, cap of ash blond hair and pleasing features.  But
there were distinct differences.  Even from here, Nick could tell that
Cathryn's cousin lacked the radiance of her smile, the warmth of her
eyes, the mole high on her cheek that he loved.

She put down the plastic bucket into which she had been thrusting the
uprooted weeds and came toward him across the narrow lawn, her manner
plainly guarded.

"You've made a mistake," she informed him.  "There's no one here by
that name."

Her voice was husky, without Cathryn's lilting quality.  Maybe because
she was rightfully suspicious of him.  Or may he just because his
feelings for Cathryn made any other woman seem ordinary to him.

"Sorry for the mistake," he said.  "You're Meredith, of course.  I'm
Nick Gillette, the guy who's been looking out for her in Alaska."

Her blue eyes widened as she sensed a reason to be alarmed: But she
kept her face blank and admitted nothing.  Even after he displayed his
identification and quickly filled her in on all that had happened, she
was reluctant to trust him.

"This sun is murder," she said.  "If we're going to talk, we'd better
move into the shade."

She led the way up onto the deck, where the back of the house cast cool
shadows.  She didn't offer him a chair.  Neither of them was in any
mood to sit down.  She turned off the radio and faced him.  She looked
as worded now as he felt.  She was hesitant for another moment as she
measured him.  Then she made up her mind.

"I don't know where Cat is..  She didn't come to me this time, and I
don't blame her.  Not after the way I betrayed her to your assistant
district attorney."

"She'd be dead by now if you hadn't helped him to arrange protection
for her.  Ben Adams wouldn't have prevented that assassin from getting
to her.  You did the smart thing, Meredith."

"And now you want me to help you again."  There was a bitter note in
her voice as she leaned back against the deck's rail.  "Not this time,
even if I could."

"Why?"

"Because Cat doesn't trust you, or she would have let you know herself
where she was going.  And why should she trust any of you?  This is
twice now Quinn almost got to her because information was leaked on her
whereabouts.  First with that safe house in New Orleans, and then
Alaska."

"I'm not the district attorney's office, Meredith.  Anything you tell
me goes no further."

Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug.  "But I don't have anything to
tell you.  I haven't heard a word from her.  I don't know where she
could have gone or why."

She was lying.  He could tell by the way her eyes evaded his.  He
remembered something he had read on the plane in one of Meredith's last
letters to Ben Adams.  Something he'd regarded as potentially useful.
She had mentioned panying her cousin to Baton Rouge over the weekend.
explanation for the trip, but her tone had suggested something
secretive and unpleasant about it.

"What's in Baton Rouge?"  Nick demanded.

She cast her gaze around the deck, searching for thing.  Then she
laughed, her hands spread in a gesture of helplessness.  "I was looking
for a cigarette.  I gave them up ages ago, but I suddenly had this urge
for a cigarette.  Silly."

He refused to be sidetracked.  "What's in Baton Rouge, Meredith?"

"The state capitol.  You want a cold beer?  I have some in the
refrigerator."

"Meredith, help me," he pleaded.  "I'm trying to save her, not hurt
her.  She's out there on her own somewhere, and I've got to get to her
before Quinn does.  If I don't get to her..."  He couldn't finish.  All
he could do was shake his head in desperation.

She surveyed him in silence for a moment.  "Oh, hell, you're in love
with her."

"Then you'd better deserve her.  And I'd better not be making a mistake
by telling you something she might kill me for revealing.  It's true I
don't know where she went, but it could be Baton Rouge."

"Why?"

"Because Zachary is there.  Someone she cares about more than herself.
He was her biggest reason for hiding out in Alaska.  She was using
herself as a decoy to keep Quinn away from Zachary."

"Who is Zachary?"

There was a roughness in his voice that must have betrayed the' sudden
jealousy he couldn't help.  She smiled at him wryly.  "Her six-year-old
son."

Nick was astonished.  "She has a kid, and no one knew anything about
him?"

His face had o be an open book to Meredith.  The emotion she read this
time was resentment because Cathryn hadn't trusted him to know
something so major about herself.

"Don't judge her, Nick.  There are good reasons why Cat kept his
existence a secret from everyone, even you.  It's complicated, and I'm
not going to say any more.  It's up to her to explain it, if and when
she wants you to know."

"All right, it isn't important now.  Getting to Baton Rouge, and hoping
Cathryn is there, is all that counts.  But where in Baton Rouge?"

"Hilda's.  Zachary is with Hilda now.  His grandmother."

"Your?"

"No, no relation to Cat and me.  Nor to Zachary's biological father,
may he rot in hell.  I told you it was complicated."

' This was something le for Nick to ignore momentarily, though he was
even more mystified now.  "So, have you got a phone number for this
Hilda?"

Meredith shook her head.  "Wouldn't do you any good.  Even if she.
bothered to answer the phone, she'd only deny Cathryn was there."

"You're right.  Much better if I go there directly."

"We," she corrected him.  And before he could object to her intention,
she added quickly, "The woman would probably be too scared to open the
door to you.  She's elderly and not in the best of health.  On top of
which, she suffered a terrible loss not long ago.  But I'm someone she
knows and trusts."

Another mystery, Nick thought.  "Can you leave right now?"

"Give me five minutes to change and toss a few things into an
overnight bag."

"You've got them.  Meanwhile where's your phone?  I'll check with the
airport in St.  Louis.  With any luck we should be on a flight to
Louisiana this afternoon."

Even better, he prayed, they would find Cathryn at the other end.

Tm I-gO USE WaS in a blue-collar section of the city where most of the
properties were small but decently maintained.  It was a narrow,
old-fashioned bungalow that sat Well above the perpetually damp
Louisiana earth.  Two ancient pecan trees graced the front yard.

Twilight was settling on Baton Rouge, but the air was still heavy with
the humid heat of the day when Nick parked the rental at the crumbling
curb.  He left the car, accompanied by Meredith, and led the way along
the overgrown walk and up onto the porch.

He rang the bell, waiting anxiously as the seconds crawled by.  There
were no lights in any of the windows.  "What if she's not at home?"

"Hilda almost never leaves the house," Meredith answered him
confidently.  "She's arthritic.  Give her time."

Nick was tense with impatience before the curtain at the window of the
front door was parted slightly.  He glimpsed a lined face in the
opening and a pair of nervous eyes peering at them through the glass.
He wisely moved to one side so that the old woman would have a full
view of his companion.  He let Meredith do the-talking.

"Hilda, it's all right.  It's Cathryn's cousin, Meredith.  Remember?
And the gentleman with me is a friend."

There was a long, uncertain moment of hesitation, and then came the
sound of a lock being turned.  The door opened on a chain, revealing a
small, frail woman in crack.

"What do you want?"  The nervousness was in her vo as well as in her
eyes.

"Can we come inside?"  Meredith coaxed.

"I don't know .... "

"Please, Hilda, it's very important.  We'll only stay a J minutes."

There was another long pause.  Nick could scarcely c trol his
frustration.  It was Meredith's pleading smile t finally persuaded the
woman to admit them.  She nod{ reluctantly, closed the door and
released the chain.

Seconds later they were in a dim parlor that smelled mildew and
furniture polish.  There was no air-condition in the house.  The room
was sweltering.  A window fan did a poor job of circulating the air.

Hilda, moving slowly, lowered herself onto a sofa.  edith set fled
beside her and introduced Nick, who per el tensely on the edge of a
chair facing the two women.

"This is Nick Gillette.  He was with Cathryn in Alas They became very
close."

Hilda glanced at him, then looked away.  "Why are, here?"

"We've come looking for Cathryn," Meredith plained.

"She isn't here.  Why should you think she should here?  I haven't seen
her or heard from her."

"Where is Zachary, Hilda?  Can we talk to Zachary?"

"I shouldn't have let you in.  It was a mistake.  You'll h to go
now."

Nick noticed how her voice trembled.  Her hands w shaking, too.  The
woman had fear written all over her.  leaned forward in the chair,
forcing himself to speak to gently.

"We're here to help Cathryn, Hilda," he appealed to her.  "The boy,
too, if he needs it.  You do know where they are,

don't you?  "

"No."

"Look at me, Hilda, and tell me you don't see how much I care about
Cathryn and how scared I am for her and her son."

She gazed at him through the shadows of the room.  "I--I can't," she
said, her voice quavering.  "They'll kill Zachary if I tell anyone."

Her admission was a blow.  Nick, preserving his self-control, struggled
to win her confidence.  "They have the boy.  That's it, isn't it?
That's what brought Catbryn back from Alaska.  Hilda, they may kill him
anyway if you don't help us to get to them.  Tell us, Hilda.  If you
value either of them at all, tell us."

There was silence in the room except for the lazy whir of the fan.  A
taut silence.  And then the old woman began to speak in rapid, broken
phrases.  The whole story came pouring out in a rush.  She was weeping
by the time she finished.

Meredith squeezed close to her on the sofa and held her, trying to
comfort her.  Her eyes met Nick's, exchanging their mutual horror.
Cathryn was going to exchange her life for her son's.

It couldn't happen.  He refused to let it happen.  It wasn't too late
to save both of them.  He wouldn't let it he too late.

"How long ago did they make the contact?"  " he demanded.

The woman shook her head.

"Hilda, answer me."

"Just before you arrived, they phoned.  And then Cath-ryn left in a
taxi like they instructed."

"Where?  Where is the switch to be made?"

"Riverbend."

"Where?"

"I know it," Meredith explained.  "Cat and I used to go there as kids.
It's an amusement park south of town.  No longer open.  Scheduled for
demolition, I think."

"You remember the way?"  "I can find it.,"

"Let's go."

He surged to his feet, putting his emotions on hold as he headed for
the door.  The only thing that could serve him now was a brain like
ice, and maybe his training as a cop.  Along with a fast car.  He
trusted the rental out front to be that.

Chapter Fourteen

The taxi pulled away and vanished around a corner, leaving Cathryn all
alone in the rapidly fading light.  She crossed the deserted street
toward the fanciful Moorish-style entrance to Riverbend.  The sight of
those twin plaster towers, now tarnished and crumbling, had thrilled
her as a child with the promise of all the magic that lay behind them.
The only feeling they evoked now," was anxiety for the welfare of her
son.

The iron grille gates were padlocked, barring her entry into the park.
But, as she had been instructed to do, she stood in front of them for a
minute, a streetlight clearly re-yea ling her.  They wanted to be sure
she was unaccompanied and bearing no visible weapon.

The evening air was sultry and still.  The only sound the drone of a
dredging operation in the levee at the far.  end of the park.  The
noisy crowds that had once thronged to Riverbend were gone forever.
There was no one in evidence now.  But Catbryn knew that the thu who
wanted her were hidden somewhere in the shadows watching her.

The required minute of waiting seemed like a lifetime.  When it ended,
she turned to the right and followed the lean wall surrounding the
park.  A few yards along she reached a narrow service door.  It had
been left unlocked for her.

Slipping inside, she closed the door behind her as directed and
retraced her route to the main gates.  The broad avenue that was the
midway stretched out in front of her.  She began to walk slowly up its
length, careful to remain in the center of the street and to display no
action that might be defined as threatening.  She didn't dare to look
back toward the freedom of the street.

She knew that her progress was being monitored, knew what would soon
happen to her.  She was prepared for that moment and refused to let it
unnerve her.  She had to stay calm in order to negotiate Zachary's
release.  Keeping her mind numb, she distracted herself with
memories.

She and Meredith had come here years ago.  Even then, Riverbend had
been a little seedy.  They hadn't noticed that.  Their young eyes had
seen only excitement and the lure of pleasure.  Not now.  Now the games
and concession stands along both sides of the midway were shuttered and
pathetic looking in the weak glow of the few security lamps.

She was nearing the webs of steel that formed the double Ferris wheels
when a voice barked at her from the darkness.

"Far enough!  Get your hands up and keep them up!"  She obeyed, coming
to a standstill and raising her arms.  A figure emerged from the side
of the penny arcade.  She ordered herself to betray no fear as he
approached her, gun in hand.

"Where's my son?"  she demanded.

"Shut up," he growled.

He circled her cautiously at a safe distance, then moved in to frisk
her.  Her skin crawled at the intimacy of his hands examining her.  She
could smell a cologne on him.  Strong and overly spicy.

"She's clean," he reported.

Two other shapes appeared from the depths of the arcade.  One of them
was dark and burly and gripping a much smaller figure by the hand.
Zachary.  They moved toward her as she held her breath.

When they were close enough for her to see the blindfold on Zachary,
she exhaled in relief.  There had been the awful risk that, once they
had her, they would refuse to free Zachary.  But the blindfold was
their safeguard against any future identification of them by the boy.
At least they drew the line at murdering a child.  That was the only
thing in their favor.  It was all she asked for.

They reached them; and Cathryn started to go to her son.  But the
younger one who had searched her grabbed her by the arm.  She dared to
defy him.  "Stop that!"  She twisted free and crouched down in front of
Zachary.

He was thin and small for his age, and she knew he must be terrified.
She spoke to him gently.

"Sweetheart, it's Cathryn.  Are you okay?"

He had been told recently that she was his biological mother, but she
was still a stranger to him.  Someone he called Cathryn and had yet to
fully understand and accept.

"Cathryn?"  he whispered in a small, uncertain voice.  He started to
remove the blindfold, but she caught his hand.

"No, not yet.  In a minute.  Everything is going to be fine in just a
minute."  There was so.  much she wanted to say.  So much she wanted
him to know, but she wasn't given the opportunity.

"That's enough," the older one ordered in a rough voice.  "Tell him
goodbye and let him go."

She got to her feet.  "He'll need the money I brought him.

All right to take it out of my pocket?  "

"Make i quick."

She extracted the folded bills from the pocket of her jeans and placed
them in Zachary's hand.  "Listen to me carefully, sweetheart," she
instructed him, praying he wasn't too scared and confused to follow her
instructions.  "I'm turning you around now.  When the blindfold is off,
you'll see some gates straight in front of you at the end of the
street.  I know you can climb over them.  I've seen you climb the trees
at your grandma's.  When you're on the other side, you go as fast as
you can toward the bright lights down the block.  There's a store not
too far.  Ask someone to call a cab for you, and when it comes, tell
the driver to take you home, Do you remember your address?"

"Yes.  Why can't you come with me?"

"This isn't smart," interrupted the younger one.  "We're taking a
chance letting him go."

"Can it," his companion muttered.  He stood behind Zachary and leaned
over him with a sharp warning.  "All right, kid, I'm taking off the
blindfold.  But you don't turn your head and look back.  You run for
those gates without a peep behind you.  Understand?"

Seconds later, choking on her emotions, Cathryn watched her son clamber
over the iron gates and disappear into the darkness.  It wasn't fair.
She hadn't gotten to tell him goodbye or how much she loved him.  She
would never see him again.  Never watch him grow up.  But he was safe.
That much she had managed for him.

"Let's go," the one in charge commanded.

They were impatient now to get it over with, the younger one uneasy
about the delay.  Red Quinn's two goons closed in on either side of her
and began to lead her into the depths of the park.  She didn't ask them
where they were taking her or what was going to happen when they got
there.  She knew.

She tried to keep her mind a blank as she walked between them, thinking
it would be easier that way.  Impossible.  She kept seeing Zachary's
small face, frightened and bewildered.  She saw another face, as well.
The face of the man she loved.  She was stricken by its image.

I don't want to lose you, Nick.  I mind that the most, but there was no
other way.

They passed the merry-go-round under the Victorian-style pavilion.  The
dismantling of the park had already begun.  The valuable hand-carved
horses were gone.  The pavilion looked forlorn and ghostly without
them.

The thinner, younger one snapped his head to the right.  "What the hell
was that?"  he muttered.

His companion glanced at him without interest.  "What was what?"

"Thought I saw something moving out there."

The older one chuckled.  "Yeah, the Phantom of River-bend.  Don't be an
ass.  Nothing there.  If there was, it'd be the night watchman, and
he's been too well paid to interfere."

"Place gives me the creeps," grumbled the younger one.  Cathryn was
silent as they moved on.  Imagination, or had she also glimpsed a
flitting shadow?  Wanted to glimpse it, because hope in any form
refused to be extinguished?  No point in deceiving herself.  She would
seize any opportunity to survive, but no.  chance would present itself.
 Better if she prepared herself for the inevitable.

They crossed the tracks of the kiddie train, passed the tilt-a-whirl. A
giant skeleton loomed above them, pale against the evening sky. Cathryn
recognized the structure.  The Thunderbolt.  The park's most
breathtaking roller coaster.

There was a jagged gap at the bottom of the coaster's first steep hill
where timbers and track had been removed.  The tall fence against the
levee close on the other side had also been torn open.  The hole must
have been created to permit the loading of demolished materials onto
barges.

Apparently the easy access to the river was just as convenient for her
two escorts.  When they turned into the opening, she knew this was the
place they had chosen for her execution.  The ground was uneven.  She
stumbled, and one of them jerked at her savagely.

There was the sound of heavy machinery somewhere nearby, the clanking
of chains lifting a load, Her younger captor started nervously.

"What's spooking you now?"  the older one challenged him.  "It's just
the dredging across the levee.  Gonna cover the shots, remember?"

"Then let's do it and get out of here."

They had come to a stop now in what had been the coaster's first
valley.  They faced Catbryn, guns drawn.  The plunging, broken tracks
ending abruptly at their backs.

"Relax.  Another two minutes, we're gone, and she's floating down
river."

Cathryn shut her eyes, waiting for the impact of the bullets that would
end her life.  She heard a roaring in her ears and thought it must be
the sound of her own terror inside her head.  It was followed by wild
yells.  She couldn't be responsible for those

Her eyes flashed open, gaping in astonishment at the sight above her.
She understood it immediately.  The earlier noise hadn't been the
dredging operation.  Someone at the Thun-derholt's loading platform had
raised the coaster's cars to that first lofty peak.  And now those
empty cars were drop ping over the incline, hurtling straight toward
them like a rocket out of control.

For a fraction of a second, like her shouting captors, she was too
paralyzed to move.  Then all three of them scrambled to safety.  The
two men dived toward the levee.  Cath-ryn instinctively flung herself
in the other direction.

What followed were images so rapid and explosive that they barely
registered on her brain.  The Thunderbolt's cars leaping into the
vacuum where the tracks ended.  The screaming of rending metal.  Sparks
flying from the wreckage.

The shadow that they'd imagined minutes before suddenly became a
reality.  Sprinting from under the lacework of the coaster's tim hers
he snatched her by the hand.  And before the confusion had time to
subside, she was running with him toward the midway, away from the
howls and gunfire behind them.

The park's security lamps were too scattered and dim to permit
recognition.  But she would have known her rescuer anywhere, even in
absolute darkness.  He couldn't be here.

Shouldn't be here.  But he was, and her heart soared.  "Nick!"
"Surprise!"

"I like your surprises.  Even when they're runaway roller coasters."

"Yeah, well, without a gun I had to point something at them.  Look,
save your breath until we get out of here be-cause--uh-oh."

They had reached the midway, where they came to a halt.  Charging
toward them through a pool of light from the other end of the street
several hundred yards away was the uniformed figure of the night
watchman.  The gun in his hand cut off their escape.

"He's one of them, Nick," she warned him.

"Time to duck out of sight

They turned and fled into the deepest shadows at the side of the
street, keeping their voices to the level of urgent whispers as they
ran.

"One of them, huh?  And with those other two bastards behind us-Any
other way out of here besides the front exit?"

"Not without making us clear targets on top of the levee.  Loops right
around the park.  Riverbend, remember?"

"Trapped.  Then we evade them until help arrives.  Only which way?"

She tried to think as they hugged the darkness, feeling their way.

"Make it fast, Catbryn.  Can't see the watchman now, but he must be
closing on us."

Decide, she ordered herself.  Decide now.  "I know this place like you
probably know the back alleys of New Orleans.  This way!"

She took off at a fast trot, cutting to the right between the bumper
cars and the moon ride.  Nick was close behind her.

They spoke in breathless undertones.  "Hung out here a lot, did you?"

"Every chance I got."  "Where you taking us?"

"Not sure yet.  I'll know it when we get there.  The watchman"

"No sign of him behind us.  Looks like we lost him."

"But he's out there somewhere, along with the others, and they"

"Yeah, they won't give up until they find us."

"I have to get us to a safe hiding place, then."

They were in a landscaped area now where the light was very poor.  They
slowed their tense pace briefly in order for

Cathryn to make sure of her direction.  "Nick?"  "Right here."

"What you said back there about help arriving.  Is it on the way?"

"Let's hope so.  With any luck Meredith will find a way to send in the
cavalry."

"Meredith?"

"Long story.  All you have to know right now is that Zachary is with
her.  I waited until they were safely in the car before I climbed the
wall."

She was grateful for that.  Grateful that he was with her now.

"So all we have to do," he said, "is hang on long enough.  Where are
we?"

"Center of the park.  We should he-Yes, there it is."  In front of them
was the gleam of softly lapping water.  "What is this place?"

"A series of connected lagoons.  This is the largest one.  There were
boats for riding on them.  Like Venetian gondolas."

"Romantic.  Can't say the same for that."

He indicated the dark bulk of a structure occupying an island in the
middle of the lagoon.  The sinister Gothic pile, complete with turrets,
was reached by a drawbridge from the other side.

"The Devil's Castle," she said.  "My favorite.  It was the park's"

Her explanation was interrupted by the frantic shouts of their pursuers
not far behind them.

"If you're going to get inspired," Nick urged, "this is the time for
it."

"Think I have."

She caught him by the hand, drawing him swiftly along the edge of the
lagoon in the direction of the island.  It was when they rounded a
large concession stand that she found what she was seeking.  There,
just visible in the thick shadows, was the fleet of gondolas stretching
in an arc toward the island.  The craft had been lashed together to
keep them from drifting.

"How are you at boat-hopping?"

"Thought you were the one who wasn' if crazy about them."

"No choice.  The gondolas are deep.  If we can get out to that farthest
one and lie flat"

"Let's do it."

Keeping low, they scrambled silently from one rocking gondola to
another.  Reaching the last one, they dropped over the side and
stretched themselves along the bottom.  Seconds later came the sound of
feet pounding along the pavement that circled the main lagoon.  The
searchers called to each other as they spread out along the
waterways.

Cathryn and Nick were squeezed together face-to-face on the floor of
the gondola.  His arms were around her, holding her securely.  Neither
of them moved or dared to speak.  They waited.  The footsteps finally
retreated, the cries faded.  Mercifully the gondolas hadn't been
investigated.  Their pursuers had moved on.

For the moment they were safe, but they stayed where they were on the
floor of the craft, clinging to each other.  Slowly lifting her hands,
she began to touch Nick's face.  She couldn't see him in the warm
darkness of the night.  She suddenly needed to be sure he was real.

"I thought I'd never see you again," she whispered in awe, her fingers
stroking his beloved features.

He pressed a kiss against the pall of her hand.  Then he groaned softly
in what she hoped was frustrated passion.

"Nick, I know this is an awful time for confessions.  But

I want you to know about Zachary and me.  Just in ease.  " " We will
make it," he promised her fiercely.

"Yes, but I want you to know now.  I wanted to tell you about him long
ago, but I didn't dam.  I was too afraid for him.  Then, when I finally
did trust you to know, it was too late."

She paused, permitting them to check for any sound that might he their
searchers returning.  But the heavy, humid air was silent except for
the faint stirring of the water in the lagoon.

Cathryn made herself go on.  This was the hard part, but she could bear
no more secrets between them.  "I was nineteen and going to college
here in Baton Rouge.  I had never dated much and was terribly naive, no
real experience at all.  This boy I met... I thought we were in lOVe,
that he genuinely cared.  I found out just how wrong I was when I got
pregnant, and he simply disappeared."

"Sweetheart," he whispered, his arms tightening around her lovingly,
"you don't have to relive this for me."

"Yes, I want you to know how it was.  How vulnerable I was after that,
thinking I'd never again have a real relationship with a man because I
was just plain scared of another disaster, of repeating all my
mistakes.  But then you came along, Nick, and everything changed."

"I know, love," he murmured.  "I know."

"Not about Zachary," she went on softly.  "You have to hear about
Zachary.  I--I gave him up for adoption right after he was born.  There
was no way I could keep him.  The pregnancy was a diffiCUlt one, and I
wasn't well afterward.  And with no funds to speak of and no family
left by then, except for Mredith ... well, I just wasn't in any state
to raise a child.  I did what I thought was best for him.  I gave him
up to a couple who would love him and make sure he had all the
advantages I couldn't Provide."

"And you regretted it afterward," he guessed.

"There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't regret it.  But I made
myself stay out of his life.  I thought he would grow up never knowing
me.  Then just weeks ago his adoptive mother and father' were killed in
a car accident.  Zachary went to his only surviving adoptive relative,
his grandmother, Hilda."

"I met her," Nick said.

"Yes, of course.  That would be how you found me.  You must have
noticed then that Hilda's health is poor.  She's in no position to
bring him up.  She was able to contact me, ask me if I would take
Zachary.  Did I want him?  There was nothing that could keep me from
having my son."

"Except Red Quinn," he said.

"That's right.  Before I could make the arrangements to have Zachary
with me in New Orleans, Francis Menard was killed, and I was suddenly a
hunted woman.  Hilda had to keep Zachary safe here in Baton Rouge, and
I had to keep his existence a secret by going away from him as far as I
could."

"Alaska."

"Yes, Alaska.  I'thought under another identity I could build a new
life, and that when I was settled, Zachary could"

She was interrupted by the sound of voices.  The killers looking for
them had returned.  Cathryn could feel Nick tensing.  They kept silent
now, listening.

"They're somewhere around here," one of them called insistently.  "I
can almost smell them."

"Did you check those boats before?"  the other answered from farther
away.

"Thought you did."

"Jerk!  Do it now."

"We've got to get out of here," Nick whispered.

"How, without running straight' into him?"  She could already bear the
clatter of the gunman boarding the first gondola.

"How deep is the lagoon?"

"If you're thinking about our going over the side, it isn't a good
idea.  They used to say when I was a kid that they couldn't keep the
water moccasins out of the lagoons.  I'm not too eager to test those
rumors."

Nick shuddered.  "Me, either.  Then let's go to Plan B."  She
understood his intention when he lifted his hands to the ropes that
connected them to the other gondolas and began to work rapidly at the
knots.  If they could free their craft and get the gondolier's pole
into the water, they could shove themselves to cover on the nearby
island.  Cathryn joined him in attacking the knots.

It was no easy job.  They had to huddle below the level of the gunwale
or betray their presence.  And all the while, as they fought the knots,
they could hear the enemy moving closer as he climbed from gondola to
gondola.

"That does it," Nick breathed when the last rope slid loose.  Snatching
up the pole, he started to get to his feet.  "Nick, he'll see you!"

"Don't know any other way to push us out of here.  Keep down."

The second the pole dipped into the water, there came a volley of yells
and curses.  Cathryn, crouching below the side of the gondola, was
terrified for Nick, who was exposed to the barrage of bullets that
immediately followed.  At least two of them struck the gondola.

The bullets were still flying a moment later when their craft reached
the island, but at this distance they were ineffective.  Cathryn,
looking over her shoulder as she followed Nick ashore, glimpsed the
shadowy form of the younger gunman already rushing back to the
embankment on his side.  There was no sign of his friend.

"You weren't hit, were you?"  she anxiously questioned Nick as they
fled through the shrubbery.  "Tell me you weren't hit."

"Never touched me," he assured her.  "Handguns like his aren't reliable
except at close range.  Let's keep it that way."

"Meaning we'd better get off the island before they cut us off on the
other side."

The gloomy, massive castle loomed above them on the right as they
worked their way rapidly in the direction of the drawbridge.

"Cheerful," Nick remarked.  "What's the Devil's Castle doing in an
amusement park?"

She was too busy finding a path for them through the azalea bushes to
answer him.  How long now had they been evading their enemy?  And how
much longer must they try to conceal themselves before help arrived?
Had something prevented Meredith from contacting the police?  .

Rounding the island, they gained the approach to the drawbridge.  They
had wasted no time, but they were already too late.  The heavier man
was racing toward the bridge on the other side, his companion not far
behind him.  They would be caught on the bridge before they could cross
it.  They were trapped on the island.

Nick swore violently.  Cathryn had a more useful reaction.  She was on
familiar ground here.  Neither of those two gorillas chasing them could
possibly know this place as she did.  Hopefully she still remembered
all the surprises.

"Come on," she said, grabbing Nick by the hand and pulling him
around.

"Where to now?"

"Inside," she insisted, dragging him through an archway.

"What are we getting into with this Devil's Castle of yours he demanded
as she led him swiftly up a brick ramp.

She supposed it was time he knew.  "The fun house, of COUrSe."  '

His only answer was a strangled noise deep in his throat.

"Don't worry, Nick.  I know all the devil's tricks, even in the dark.
And this is the first of them."

They had reached a screened porch that was the way into the fun house.
But it was a screened porch like no other.  It consisted of wall upon
wall of floor-to-ceiling screen doors.  Nick came to a startled halt.
"What the?"

"It's a maze.  The challenge is to discover which door will let you
into the next row, because most of them are fixed and won't open."

"I hope you've got the answer to all of them.  Now, Cathryn."

She understood his urgency.  There were footsteps pounding through the
archway behind them.

"This way."

Hurrying to the center of the outer wall, she thrust against a screen
door.  It swung open, admitting them into the first passageway.

Thereafter, they twisted and turned rapidly through the labyrinth.  Her
accuracy was rexaarkable.  They were just two rows away from the
doorway into the solid wall of the castle now.  Her judgment failed her
at this point, trapping them in a stubborn dead end.  By then the first
of their pursuers was banging away at the screen doors of the outer
wall, trying to force his way inside.  Seconds later, bullets came
winging through the layers of wire mesh.

"Uh, it's getting a little crucial here, Catbryn."

"I'm trying, Nick.  I think they changed some of these doors.  Wait,
here we go."

Two screen doors later they were plunging into the castle itself,
leaving the enemy slapping viciously at the walls of strong mesh behind
them.

"Ought to keep them occupied for a bit," Nick chortled.  "Whoa, where
are we?"

Blackness, total and bewildering, had swallowed them.

"Stay close and hang on to me," she hissed, "or you'll find out the
hard way."

They were traveling through a winding corridor.  The air was damp and
stale.  The sound of their footsteps echoed and then changed in tone a
moment later, telling Nick that they had reached an open space.

"We're in the crooked room," she informed him.  "There are railings
here, but they're not much good in the dark.  You've got to be careful
because"

A loud thump told her he hadn't been listening and had landed in a heap
at her feet.  "The damn floor is slanted!"

"Told you to hang on to me.  The whole room is built at crazy
angles."

"Devil's Castle is right," he grumbled, pulling himself erect.  "It is
hell in here."

"You okay?"

"Dandy.  Just get us out of this place."

"I'm afraid the next room isn't much better, Nick."

He found that out.  There were disks embedded in the floor of the
chamber.  It was like finding your way through a field of land mines.
Step on a disk, and it whirled you off your feet.

He lost count of the corridors and the hazards.  Somewhere along the
Way he heard thuds and howls of rage and frustration a safe distance
behind them.

"Sounds like they got to the crooked room," he observed with a grim
smile.  "Hope they break their butts in there."

There was no answer.  He suddenly felt all alone, and he panicked like
a kid.  "Hey, where are you, Cathryn?  I'm up against a wall here, and
something about it feels treacherous.  If it's another one of your
sur-Holy smoke!"

The whole wall had abruptly come alive with a blinding light.  Nick
found himself face-to-face with the fiery, leering figure of Satan
himself.  Even if the castle's mechanical host was safely behind glass,
he was sure his blood pressure suffered a blow.

He quickly backed away from the display, discovering that he was in a
Hades-style torture chamber.  Phony or not,

the place was damn eerie.

Cathryn suddenly appeared from around a corner looking worried.  Not by
any of the devices in the chamber, he realized.  She was staring at the
red lanterns on the walls, which hadn't been glowing a minute ago.
There was more light streaming through a small, pointed window in one
of the castle's turrets located at the side of the room.  She rushed to
the window.

"The whole park is blazing with light!  The watchman must have turned
on the power for them everywhere, including here."

This was bad, she thought.  They had been able to keep well ahead of
the two hoodlums in the dark because she had the advantage of knowing
her way through every obstacle in the fun house.  But now, with the
lights, she and Nick could be overtaken or cut off at the exit.

He appreciated the situation himself.  "I wouldn't be opposed to a fast
way out of here."

He hadn't meant that plea quite so literally, he thought a moment later
when he found himself launched into a chute behind Cathryn on what had
to be the longest, steepest, swiftest slide anywhere.

"Great!"  he croaked as they whizzed down to the lower depths of the
fun house.  "What's waiting for us at the bottom?  Old Lucifer himself
with a flaming pitchfork?"

He wasn't.  What did receive them was a kind of giant whoopee cushion
over which they had to wallow to gain the solid floor of another
corridor.

"This is nearly the last of it," she promised as they turned a corner
to confront an enormous, open-ended barrel.

Looks harmless enough, he decided, eyeing the shoulder-high, horizontal
drum.  But in this place nothing was what it seemed.  Ducking his head,
he followed her through the short tunnel.  They emerged in a chamber of
mirrors.  Their distorted images leapt out at them from every side.

"Exit," he implored.  "Where's the door out of here?"  Cathryn wasn't
listening to him.  She had moved to the back of a tall mirror situated
at an angle just outside the barrel.  She was in no hurry now.  She
should have been in a rush.  Couldn't she hear it?  The clatter of
footsteps rapidly approaching the barrel on the other side.  The first
gunman was almost here.

"It'sa two-way mirror," she explained, resting her hand on a lever high
on the wall.

"He groaned over the delay.  " And guns shoot, and we don't have one.
They do, remember?  "

"What I remember," she said, 'is a fun-house attendant lurking behind
the mirror here to surprise unsuspecting victims.  "

It was too late to make her understand their desperate need to run. The
younger hood, well in advance of his heavier friend, was already
entering the barrel, revolver' waving in his hand.  Nick was prepared
to shove Cathryn behind him.  She had her own agenda, choosing that
instant to throw the lever.

The great cylinder immediately began to revolve.  With an oath of fury
and surprise, the gunman was tumbled off his feet.  Nick was impressed.
He also knew an opportunity when it was so readily offered to him.
Issuing a battle cry that would have made his rebel ancestors proud, he
dived into the rumbling barrel on top of the sprawled and screaming
enemy.

Slipping, sliding, cursing, the two men slugged it out on the floor of
the rolling drum.  Cathryn tensely followed the struggle, Watching for
a chance to help.  It wasn't necessary.  Nick managed to wrest the
revolver out of his opponent's grip.  By the time she got the barrel
stopped, he had the brute pinned under him and the weapon ready to face
their next pursuer.

It wasn't the second gunman who appeared in the opening moments later.
This arrival was wearing the uniform of a Baton Rouge police officer,
as were the other figures who swarmed into the chamber of mirrors from
the opposite direction.

Cathryn didn't pause to welcome them.  She was too busy speeding
joyfully into the barrel to fling herself into Nick's arms.

Chapter Fifteen

"Your son all right, Cathryn?"

"He seems fine," she answered the assistant district attorney.
"Meredith took him back to his grandmother's and promised to stay with
him until he fell asleep."

Gary Boning nodded, his earnest manner in contrast with his boyish
appearance.  "That's a blessing.  Had to have been a tough experience
for him, but children Zachary's age are pretty resilient."

Catbryn, aware of Nick's prolonged silence, glanced at him.  He was
seated close beside her on the sofa of the amusement park's front
office, where they were meeting with Boning, who had arrived just
minutes ago.  She wondered what was bothering Nick.  He was glowering
at the assistant D. A. "It's all getting sorted out," Gary assured
them, leaning against the edge of the desk from where he faced them.
"They've got the night watchman now, too.  He'll face charges along
with Quinn's two goons."

Small talk, Nick thought impatiently.  He didn't like it.  He didn't
like the fact that Boning was suddenly here in Baton Rouge.

Gary eyed him insight fully "Something wrong, Nick?"

"You tell me.  You didn't have to race up here by chopper to deal with
any of this in person.  AnOther phone call could have assured you that
we're all right now and that Catbryn is ready to go back to New Orleans
and testify.  So what is it you want?"

"all right, I'll get to the point.  I need Cathryn to help us. Tonight.
Before anyone back in New Orleans has a chance to learn what happened
up here or how it turned out.  We're going after that informer."

Nick's response was immediate and emphatic.  "No way.  It's enough that
she's willing to testify against Quinn.  You're not going to ask more
than that, not after all she's been through.  I don't want to even hear
what you're proposing."

"I do," Cathryn said in a low, solemn voice.

He swung his head, stating at her.  She didn't like it that he was
making decisions for her.  What could he do?  It was her choice to
listen.  He could only fume in helpless silence while Boning briskly
pressed his advantage.

"We think we know now who's been passing knowledge of your whereabouts
on to Quinn and his crowd.  In fact, I'm certain of his identity, but
without real evidence I can't act on it."

"Someone inside your office?"

He shook his head.  "That seemed the obvious explanation for the
leaks,.  even though I trusted the handful of people who had to be
involved in your situation.  There was only one outsider who shared in
any of the secrets, and that was because, not only did he have a right
to know, he was above suspicion.  That was before I put an investigator
to work.  Interesting results."

"Who?"

"Senator Hugh Menard," Boning informed them quietly.

Catbryn stared at him in disbelief.  "That's impossible!  It just can't
be!  The senator has always been a sworn enemy of Red Quinn.  He hated
everything he stood for, and his brother... He took Francis's death
very hard and wanted Quinn to pay for his murder."

"I'm sorry, Catbryn.  I know how much you admire Menard, but it all
points to him."

"It's crazy.  It would mean he and Quinn are somehow in collusion."

"That's right.  And incredible as it seems, there is an explanation for
such a complicity.  My investigator found it among Francis Menard's
notes, a jotting that was either overlooked or considered not important
when the examiners went in after the murder.  Francis had scrawled a
question on the back of an envelope about a large, unexplained
contribution to his brother's campaign fund.  You were a volunteer for
the senator's reelection, Cathryn.  You tell me what the biggest
concern was at his campaign headquarters."

"Money," she admitted reluctantly.  "Everyone knew what a close race it
was going to be and that his opponent had no problem with funds.  But
the senator..."

"Exactly.  Know what I think the scenario was?  I think Red Quinn went
to the senator and offered him a whopping sum in exchange for future
favors, and a desperate Menard caved in and agreed.  I imagine that sum
got buried somehow, but the senator's campaign manager, Francis,
eventually found evidence of it and was outraged over his discovery."
'

"And that night at the campaign headquarters," Cath-ryn said in a
small, disillusioned voice, "Francis must have been threatening to
expose Quinn and his brother."

"So Quinn shot him."  Boning nodded slowly.  "Yeah, I think that's just
how it was.  And the senator is protecting himself now by helping
Quinn.  Only I can't prove it.  I need to prove it, Cathryn.  I need to
bring both of them down."

There was silence in the office.  Nick glared at the assistant D. A. "
hating and fearing what was about to happen and feeling helpless to
stop it.

"What do I have to do?"  Cathryn asked, her expression already
decisive.

"With your cooperation we can move quickly on this.  We have to move
quickly before Quinn learns his two goons failed tonight and warns the
senator.  The chopper is waiting We can be in New Orleans in
minutes."

"And then?"

"The senator will be shocked when you turn up at his house and tell him
you're through running and ready to testify.  That you've gone straight
to him because he's the only one you trust now to secure the protection
you didn't get before.  He'll be alarmed and, if Quinn told him about
tonight, he'll wonder how you got away.  The one thing he won't fail to
do immediately is alert Quinn you're there.  When he does, we've got
him, because my people will be close outside.  The phones will be
covered.  I've already obtained a court order to monitor all calls
there.  You won't be alone, Cathryn.  We'll be ready for action because
we'll hear every word.  We're going to fit you with a wire."

A wire, Nick thought.  Cathryn would wear a wire.  As Karen Justice had
worn a wire on that drug bust and gone to her death.

It was the casual mention of the wire that sent him over the edge.  He
surged to his feet.  "You bastard!  You'd use her as bait,.  sacrifice
her just to get a resolution of your lousy case!"

Gary stood away from the front of the desk and tried to deal reasonably
with his violent opposition.  "Take it easy, Nick.  It's not going to
be that way.  Catbryn will be removed from the scene, well out of
danger before Quinn or any of his people arrive to collect her."

"It's a risk.  You can't be positive Menard will phone Quinn.  That he
won't try something himself."

Cathryn got to her feet and stood close beside him, her hand on his
arm.  "Please, Nick."  Her voice was calm.  It was also frighteningly
determined.  "I need to do this.  I need to see all the loose ends tied
up.  I don't want to live with any more shadows or uncertainties.
Besides, Francis Menard was a good man.  I'd like to help expose the
brother who betrayed him."

Nick stared at her, knowing that no anger or argument was going to
change her mind.  He turned his head, facing the assistant D. A. with a
savage expression, "Tin going to be there when she goes in.  Right
there, just as close to the action as I can get.  And I wouldn't advise
you to object-to that."

CATHRYN EMERGED from the deep shadows of the live oak where she had
been left to wait.  A nearby streetlight allowed her to check her
watch.  It was time.

She moved a short distance down the block and started up the brick walk
of the Menard home.  It was a handsome, Georgian-style residence in the
upscale suburb of Metairie.  Most of the windows were dark.  It was
late.

Nothing stirred in the warm darkness.  Cathryn, suddenly nervous, felt
as if she were all alone in the night.  Only an illusion, of our se She
realized that, though they were well hidden, Boning's officers were now
in place everywhere on the grounds, covering all the doors and windows.
And Nick.  She knew that Nick was somewhere out there close by.

The certainty of his presence renewed her courage as she mounted the
front stoop and rang the bell.  A dog in the neighborhood barked and
then was silent.  Seconds later the porch light came on over her head.
She waited, feeling certain she was being checked from the peephole in
the door.

She must have been recognized, because the door was quickly opened.  It
was the senator's wife who stood there in the foyer, a stunned
expression on her face.

"Cathryn!  It/s you, isn't it?  I could hardly believe my eyes."

"I'm sorry to come to you like this out of Yhe blue," she apologized,
"but in the end it seemed the safest thing to do."

Vivian Menard, still bewildered, glanced out into the night.  "You
didn't come here all alone, did you?"

"It's all right.  I was very careful.  I left the taxi two blocks down
and walked the rest of the way.  Mrs.  Menard, I know it's late, but I
need the senator's help."

Xqvian didn't hesitate.  She drew her into the foyer, closed the door
behind her and faced her with a concerned expression.  "Are you all
right, Cathryn?  You must have had a terrible time out there on your
own."

"It was pretty rough, yes."

"And, of course, you're in no state to go into any of that right now.
Never mind, it's enough that you're here.  And thank heaven you made
it."

"I had to.  I'm ready to turn myself in as a witness, but I don't trust
anyone now except the senator to help me do that."

"I don't blame you.  You did the right thing in coming to him.  I know
how relieved he'll be to see you.  Let's get you comfortable, and then
I'll tell him you're here."

Catbryn, following her out of the foyer, could see why Vivian Menard
was such a famous hostess on the Washington scene.  She was small and
elegant and immensely likable.  The living room into which she led her
reflected her cultured tastes.

She insisted on settling Cathryn in an easy chair.  "Can I

get you anything?  The housekeeper is in bed, but"-- " No, I'm fine.
"

"Forgive me.  You're anxious to see Hugh, and I'm prattling.  He's
still in his office.  I'll just be a minute.  You try to relax,
dear."

It was a kind but impossible invitation Catbryn realized as Viviafi
hurried away.  Left suddenly alone, she was tense over the prospect of
facing Senator Menard.  She had to remind herself that she wasn't alone
at all, that help was just outside listening to everything.

The reassurance did nothing to ease her doubts that were triggered by
the presence of what must be cherished family heirlooms everywhere in
the room.  They seemed so wholesome, making her wonder if Gary Boning
could be mistaken about the senator.  His contention was still more
theory than fact.  Maybe.  A smiling Vivian reappeared.  "He's waiting
for you in his office, Catbryn."

This was it.  She got to her feet and followed the senator's wife. They
went down a long hallway toward the back of the house, passing the
darkened kitchen.  Turning a corner, they reached a closed door. 
Vivian stepped aside.

"No need to' knock Go right on in."

Catbryn thanked her and opened the door.  She found herself looking,
not into an office, but into a garage occupied by two cars. Astonished,
she wheeled around.  Vivian Menard stood there still smiling.  A pistol
was now in her hand.

"Go on," she said in a silky voice.  "Into the garage.  And don't try
anything because I'm not afraid to use this gun on you myself if I have
to."

"What?"

"Not 'what," Cathryn.  Who.  We're going to take a little drive over to
Lake Pontchartrain to meet him.  Did you know that's where Red Quinn
lives?  Lovely property right on the water.  He'll be so glad to see
you.  "

' The senator"

"Oh, he's been in bed for the past hour, so I don't think we should
disturb him.  In any case, he wouldn't approve.  Or understand."  She
gestured with the pistol in the direction of the garage.  "Let's move
now.  You can tell me on the way just how you managed to survive Baton
Rouge."

Cathryn started to turn toward the garage.  In that instant the door
directly behind Vivian opened on a back stairway to the second floor.
The silver-haired figure of Senator Menard, clad in robe and pajamas,
emerged into the passage.

He was clearly startled by the presence of the two women.  And equally
staggered by the sight of the gun in his wife's hand.  "Dear God,
Vivian, what have you done?"

"What you should have done yourself," she answered him, her voice laced
with contempt.  "I got the funds that are going to make it possible to
return you to office and me

to Washington, where I belong.  And now I intend to see to
it that we don't lose those funds.  "

"Vivian, give me the gun."

"Don't interfere, Hugh.  Go back upstairs.  Forget" -Her head swung
around in alarm at the sound of glass and wood shattering from the
front of the house.  It was followed by other crashes from the side and
back, along with the pounding of feet.

Senator Menard used that opportunity, while his wife was distracted, to
snatch the pistol from her hand.  He was holding it when Nick, the
first to reach the scene, dropped' in a rigid crouch, his own weapon
raised toward the senator.  There was a murderous expression on his
face.

"Nick, no!"  Catbryn cried out to him, realizing he must have entered
the house before hearing over the wire the last part of the exchange.
"It was his wife!  He never knew!"

There were other officers then crowding into the area to take charge of
the situation.  Their bodies blocked the way, preventing her from going
to Nick.  He hadn't moved.  Though he had lowered his gun, he remained
in that frozen crouch, a shaken expression on his face that scared her.
What was wrong?  Now that she was safe and it was all over, why was he
suddenly unable to deal with the scene?

The area was cramped with too many people.  As soon as the questions
and confusion eased, she struggled through the sea of figures to reach
Nick.  He wasn't there.  He had dropped his gun on the floor and walked
away, disappearing without a word.

THERE WAS very little traffic in the streets at this late hour.  Gary
Boning was able to talk freely while he drove Cathryn to her
apartment.

"She didn't argue about it," he said, referring to Vivian Menard.  "She
knew it was either cut a deal with us or face charges that Wouldn't be
mitigating.  She told us everything."

Cathryn nodded, pretending an interest she didn't feel.  She could
barely concentrate on Gary's explanation.  All she could think about,
worry about, was Nick.  He was still missing.

"The senator always shared everything with his wife," the assistant D.
A. continued.  "Even the sort of information he had no business telling
her.  But it was that kind of relationship.  She was a part of him.
And, of course, she had enormous influence with him.  We turn left at
this light?"  "Yes," Cathryn murmured.

"And that was what she was able to sell to Quinn--her influence and her
useful knowledge.  She proved how valuable they were when she could
pass on to him the secrets of your whereabouts."

Gary was trying to be kind.  Trying to relieve her anguish over Nick.
The least she could do was summon a spark of concern about the case.
"It's hard to believe her life-style in Washington mattered that much
to her.

"But it did.  She loved the power and politics as much as the social
scene.  It was how Vivian Menard defined herself, and she was ready to
do anything to keep from losing it."

"Macbeth's wife," Cathryn said.  "I don't suppose the senator will go
on with his campaign now."

"Probably not ."  "

"I'm sorry about that and what he must be suffering over this."

"And I," Gary said, pulling into the street where her apartment was
located, "am unhappy that you insist on going back to your place."

"I told you, I'm through running and hiding.  There aren't going to be
any more attempts on my life now that they're all in custody and their
confessions already on record.  You admitted as much yourself.  It's
that building there."

"All right," he relented, drawing to the curb in front of the
three-story, converted Xrctorian that overlooked City Park and Bayou
St.  John.  "I know you want to be alone in your own surroundings while
you wait for Nick.  I guess I can appreciate that.  But remember the
deal.  You don't stir out of this car until the officer I arranged for
arrives."

He'd left her no choice.  She had agreed to the posting of.  'an
officer at her door, at least for the time being.

Gary turned off the engine while they waited.  There was silence in the
car.  It lasted for several minutes.  It lasted until Catbryn could no
longer stand it.

"Maybe he's not going to come.  Maybe I'm just kidding myself that he
will."

She was not referring to the officer Gary had called for, and he knew
that.  "Trust him," he advised.

"I'm trying to do just that, but I keep remembering how he looked
tonight.  There was such torment in his eyes.  I

didn't understand it then, but I think I do now.  "

"Tell me."

"It was because of his partner who was killed in that drug bust.  I
didn't remember about Karen Justice and what she meant to him when I
insisted on going alone into the Menard house wearing the wire.  It was
the same scene all over again.  Don't you see what I did to him?  I
made him relive that hell, and now..."

"You think he can't forgive you."

"Why else would he have vanished once he knew I was in the clear? Gary,
I'm afraid I've lost him, and I--I just don't think I can stand
that."

"Don't do this to yourself, Cathryn.  Give him a chance."

"I hope he'll let me."  She was silent for a moment, staring out at the
night.  Then she turned to him again.  "Tell me something, Gary.  You
know him probably better than anyone.  Is a part of Nick, maybe even a
big part, still in love with Karen Justice?"

She shouldn't have asked.  She could see that Gary was uneasy with her
question.  He was saved from answering her by the appearance of the
patrol car bearing the young officer who had been dispatched to look
out for her.

Gary accompanied them to the front door of her building.  "Look," he
said before parting from her, "I think I have an idea where Nick might
have gone.  I'll do my best to hunt him up and bring him back to you.
In the meantime try not to worry.  And get some rest."

He departed without further explanation.  The officer escorted Cathryn
to the second floor, checking out her apartment before stationing
himself on a chair outside her door.

Left alone, Cathryn gazed around her tiny apartment, wondering now
whether it had been wise of her to insist on returning here.  She had
made it a pleasant, cozy retreat, which hadn't been difficult since
many of the original Victorian embellishments were preserved in the
conversion, including a marble fireplace in what had been the master
bedroom and was now her living room.  But it was a lifetime ago she had
left these rooms.  The place seemed strange and unfamiliar to her, not
the comfort she had counted on.  Her spirit was still in Alaska, and
her heart with the man who had shared the wilderness with her.

She made herself a cup of tea, which she didn't want, but it gave her
something to do.  Then she settled in her favorite spot, the window
seat that overlooked the street.  It was impossible to obey Gary's
advice.  She could neither rest nor keep from worrying.

She thought about Zachary and how eager she was to have him with her as
soon as the matter could be arranged.  But mostly she thought about
Nick.  Where did the assistant district attorney think he had gone? She
wished she had made Gary tell her.  This waiting was torture.

It was almost an hour later, and she was anxiously watching the street,
when a car arrived out front.  She pressed to the glass of the window,
her breath quickening with hope.  Then she realized it was just one of
the other.  'tenants in the building arriving home after a late night.
Disappointed, she went on waiting.  A few minutes later the phone rang.
She rushed across the room to answer it.

"It's Meredith, Cat," her cousin identified herself.  "I'm at Hilda's.
They told me when I called the police department that you'd gone
home."

"Zachary.  Is something"

"He's fine, Cat.  Both he and Hilda are just fine, the two of them in
bed long ago.  But I couldn't go to sleep until I knew what
happened."

Cathryn was instantly contrite.  "I'm sorry.  I should have phoned, but
it was so late I was afraid I'd wake everyone in the house.  Besides,
I've been... pretty distracted."  She filled her cousin in on the
night's events.  "So, no word on Nick yet, huh?"

"Not yet."

They talked for another few minutes, Meredith offering her comfort
along with her opinion of Nick.  Her cousin's closing observation of
him made Cathryn smile even in her misery.

She was alone again when their conversation ended, her only companion
the monotonous hum of the air conditioner.  She curled up in an easy
chair, but there was no question of sleep for her.

Gary had no luck finding him, she thought.  If he had found him, she
would have heard by now.  They would have been here after all this
time.  He wasn't coming.  She had to face that now.  Nick wasn't
coming.

But a spark of hope refused to be extinguished.  She went on clinging
to it.

The first streaks of daybreak were lighting the sky when she heard the
slam of a car door out front.  She raced to the window and looked down
into the street.  Her heart missed a beat at the Sight of the two men
standing by the car shaking hands.  Gary and Nick.

The assistant district attorney climbed back into his car and drove
away.  Nick turned and started for the front door.  She buzzed him into
the building and then waited for him in the open doorway of her
apartment.  The alert young officer asked no questions.  He could see
by the joy and anticipation on her face that there was no cause for
concern.

Thank you, God.  Thank you for bringing him to me.  They met in her
doorway, where he gathered her into his arms.  They stood there for an
emotional moment.  " Saying nothing.  Just holding each other
tightly.

In the end she had to know.  She pulled away from him and searched his
face.  He looked terrible.  Unshaved, face haggard with exhaustion.  As
though he'd been through a grueling ordeal.  But there was one
encouraging sign.  Bloodshot though his eyes were, there was a
peacefulness in them.  The haunted shadows were gone.

He favored her with a tired little smile.  "I've put you through hell,
haven't I?"  lean aarrett

"It doesn't matter.  Not now."  She took him by the hand and drew him
into the apartment, shutting the door behind them.  "All that counts is
you're here now."

"Year, it does matter," he insisted.  "You didn't deserve my running
out on you like that.  I lost control, Cathryn.  I'd been holding it
all in since Baton Rouge, sick over the possibility of something
happening to you.  And then when it was all over and you were safe... I
just suddenly went to pieces."

"Because of Karen Justice, you mean.  Because you'd lost her like
that."

He didn't answer' her.  tie gazed around the apartment.  Then he asked
quickly, "Everything okay in Baton Rouge?"

She told him it was, that Meredith had called and they had talked.  He
nodded wearily and went and settled on the window seat.  She joined him
there, watching as he collected his thoughts.

"I want to tell you where I've been."

"You don't have to tell me," she said, clinging to his hand.  She
didn't want to know.  She was afraid to know.

"It's important," he said.  "I went to Karen."

The unhappy expression on her face moved him to remorse.  "No, you
don't understand.  I Went to the cemetery, Cathryn.  See, I didn't
attend her funeral or her burial.  I couldn't bring myself to do it.
BUt I realized last night that I had to go there now and tell her what
I should have told her when she died.  And that's where Gary found me
and where we talked it out."

Removing his hand, he turned on the window seat to face her.  He framed
her face, his hands on either side.  "I had to tell Karen goodbye.  Let
her go.  Closure.  Isn't that what people call it?"

"That's what I did, then.  Closure.  No more ghosts, Cathryn.  Not for
us."

Her eyes had misted with tears.  He saw them and was anxious about
them.

"Don't cry, sweetheart.  There's nothing to cry about now.  We should
he celebrating.  You brought me back.  I'm alive again because of
you."

"No tears, then," she promised him.

"That's right.  Just smiles.  For people in love it should always be
smiles."

"Are you in love?"  "You want evidence?"  "It would help."

He kissed her then.  A long, deep, provocative kiss.  "Sufficient?"  he
whispered.  "Uh-uh."

"What do you want?  Words, too?  Oh, hell, I haven't, have I?  I've
never said it.  We've never stopped running long enough for me to tell
you how much I love you.  So, anyway, I do."

"And I do.  Love you, that is.  And now it's sufficient."

"Or will be when..."  "What?"

"When you tell me what Meredith said about me when you two talked on
the phone."

"Now, why would you imagine she had anything at all to say about
you?"

"Because women compare notes about guys."  "They do, huh?"  "It's a
fact."

"Well, I don't think I will."

"Why not?"

"Because it'll just swell your male ego."

"That good, huh?  Come on, it deserves a little swelling after the
beating it's taken these last couple of days."

She considered him, head tipped to one side.  "I'm going to regret
this, but all right.  What she said was, " Keep him.

He's not only a hunk, he's one of the worthwhile ones.  "" Nick beamed.
"Are you keeping me?"

"That depends.  Do I still get to be your mail-order bride?"

"Only if I can take you back to Alaska with me.  You think Zachary will
like Alaska?"

"Sure to.  All that wildlife to chase, all those mountains to climb."

He grabbed her by the hand and pulled her to her feet, his body
recharged by excitement.  "Let's find out."

She laughed.  "Now?"

"Why not?  You've got a car, haven't you?  And the distance to Baton
Rouge is nothing.  Let's go get our son and tell him he's moving to
Alaska."

Our son.

"I like that," she said softly.  "I like that very much."