"I'm going to go lie down now." A second, more urgent request surgedthrough him. "But first, I need to ..."

His hand became entangled in the curtain that con-eealed both the toiletand an old-fashioned foe ted tub from obyious view. Struggling, he freedhimself in time to drop to his knees and send Up a fervent prayer beforebeing called to a more pressing need. He retched lilm a freshman at hisfirst keg party.

E. T DECLD her unwanted guest was capable diing his own problems of themoment. When he finished throwing lip, she offered him. a drink of wal,a washcloth and a helping hand back to the bed. He ao- accepted allttuee with relative grace, evidently ing she. could give him nothingmore. But it was attempts to trivialize his health problem. that cernedher. She searched for some vague, memories of a first-aid course she aScout.

Concussions and Vomiting . they were posed to signify something set ionsperhaps threatening, but she couldn't eaiember exactly what.

She sat in the rocking chair until he feb asleep.

deflated sigh, she realized she'd meant to confront about taking histurn in the sleeping bag. After all, her bed.

Grabbing her flannel gown, she slipped bathroom curtain to change.Although couldn't bring herself to stand in front of the fireplace andstrip off her clothes.

After she finished, she allowed herself another sigh. She was bothsleepy and wired. The day had held too many surprises for her, and sheneeded something to help her relax. My private stock. EHEN searchedthrough the lower sheff of the pantry for her only bottle of wine. Ithad been a Christmas present from George, something she'd planned tosave for a special occasion, like the sale of a first book. He'd eventaped a corkscrew to the bottle's side.

He did think of everything.

Pouring a generous amount in a glass, Ellen tasted it. George definitelyknew his wines.

She savored the flavor, wondering how long it had been s'mee she'd had aglass of wine. It seemed like years. ,. a lifetime ago. She finished itquickly, hoping the alcohol would hit her system hard 'and she couldsurrender to its drowsy effects. As she lowered the wick of the kerosenelamp, her thoughts shifted back to Jack.

Maybe he had a serious injury. Requiring serious atl-lion. Maybe even afracmi skull.

Darkness draped over the cabin, releasing the harsh, rigid shadows andallowing them to join the hypnotic, flickering dance conducted by thefire.

Chapter Six.

len woke with a confused start in the middle of the night to find thebedroll twisted around hex legs and the hearth cutting an uncomfortableridge into her back. She listened to the silence, finding the cold's'tallness to be too quiet, too damning.

Standing up, she left her warm sleeping bag in order to watch her guest.He shifted and groaned in his grew oddly quiet. Ellen watc him fordeciding that whatever made his sleet Suddenly E! lea's worst fearswhispered their and doom. She placed a hand on his chest, eapecting adeadly she felt the deep, steady thrum of his purged the worst of herfears.

He era6ked open one eye.

"I'm alive," he croaked. "I think."

She fumbled for his hand.

"I wasn't sure" -- cholaxi off the rest of her admission.

He drew a hesitant breath, then mlelled it a relieved sigh.

"Pain's pasmd for the moment.

to hit out of nowhere."

A Killer Smile 93 "You need medical treatment, Jack." From a

professional.

" She reached over and pushed a strand of hair out of his eyes.

"I know, but until the weather clears ..." They both glanced toward the

dark window. Somewhere out there the moon hid behind a curtain of snow.

"I was up earlier, sick," he admitted darkly.

"But at least I got some memories back."

She flinched, her nerves going on full alert.

"What memories?"

"Only snatches." He closed his eyes and released a shallow sigh.

"Disjoinled flashes of faces, voices ... I'm not sure I want to tell

you much about it."

The reason was too obvious to her. It might prove you're Hank.

Staring into the fireplace, she. was mesmerized by the movement of the

flames along the breadth of. the largest log. The fire consumed thewood, just as t[ear seemed to eat away her sense of hope.

Jack cleared his throat.

"I like to sail. I can remember the sensation of leaning out over the water, balancing the power of the wind in the sails. The feel of a stiff breeze, the spray of the water, the speed as you skim over the waves ...

" The fire Crackled.

"I remembered my dog's name. Itwas J.B." as in John Barrymore. That mutt was a real ham. He could make you believe he hadn't eaten ina week, even

if you had just gotten through feeding him." Jack reached down and ruffled Hermitt's head.

"He died when I was fourteen."

A blast of wind blew down the chimney, and the flames "I've read Moby

Dick.

You know, "Call me Ishmael'? With Captain Ahab and the whale?"

Ellen watched his face tighten inpain.

A Killer Smile After a deep breath he continued.

"I can remember getting in trouble when I was a little kid for stealing

a pack of baseball cards from the drugstore. I can remember my mother yelling at me ..." His voice broke.

"But I can't remember her f-face."

Ellen touched his arm.

"It's all right. You'll remember her soon."

"That's not the problem." He pushed to his elbows and shifted until he leaned back against the headboard. HE voice reflected the same tension which masked his face. "Have you ever heard of Thennit?" He continued without giving her time to answer.

"It's a mixture of aluminum powder and a metallic oxide like iron orchromium. Welders use it. But you can also pack it into a cylinder andadd a timing device with a firing mechanism."

"So?" Her forced calmness was designed to camouflage the growing pain of fear that made her clench.

Shifting to the opposite side of the bed, shaky legs and braced an arm against the wooden mantel over the fireplace.

"It's a bomb, Ellen. A goddamn bomb and I know exactly how to make one!"

"It doesn't prove" -- "The hell it doesn't!" he thundered, pivoting to her.

"Why would I know how to make something like if I weren't ... him?"

Ellen moved next to him, a gesture she couldn't perform if she truly

believed he was Hank "Other people know how to make bombs, Jack. Cheaists, police, people in the military. Knowing how a bomb is not the sameas making one." She read doubt in his eyes and touched his hand lightly.

"Just cause I know the principles behind making a cocktail doesn't meanI've ever made one before."

A Killer. Smile Jack pulled away and stared at her in shock.

"My God! You're defending me--I mean him." He lowered his voice. "Why?"

Why? she repeated to herself. The answer was obvious. Either he was Hank

or he wasn't. It was a black-or-white situation. No shades of gray. He couldn't be half-Hank. Half-guaty.

Uncertainty crept in.

Could he? "I don't know," she admitted, voicing her doubts in the most honest wayshe could. She crossed over to the familiar comfort of her drawingtable. In the flickering shadows, she found a soft eraser which shekneaded between nervous fingers. Things always seemed to make bettersense when she was around her drawing board. That's where things werealways a matter of black and white. No rosy-tinged futures. No bloodiedpasts. Just a monochromatic present. One of fearful anfidpafion as shewailed for eventual death.

"Ellen ..."

"I'm desperate," she whispered."

" If I believe you're Hank Bartholomew, I'm going to have to prepare

myself for death." She spun around"

"And I'm not ready to die."

He held on to the mantel with a white-knuckled grip. "That's a damned

foolish way of looking at things."

"It's the only way I can keep my own grasp on sanity."

"By bending reality to suit your purpose?"

"I'm not doing that." The gummy eraser became soft and sticky in her