She jammed the stocking hat on her head and tugged on her gloves,heedless of the tears that spilled down her cheeks. She didn't like theformality of the word goodbye, yet she had to say it.

Aloud.

Just in case. Ellen stood by the bed and looked down, then she bent overand kissed his unresponsive lips. Her teardrop left a glistening traildown his cheek, and She thumbed the moisture away with her glove.

"Goodbye, Jack. You'll always be my Jack, no matter who" -- Her voicebroke as the words spilled freely from Killer Smile her honesty.

"How can I love a man who may or may not be the worst enemy I have inthis world?" she whispered. "I don't understand how it could havehappened."

Ellen paused for a moment, then turned away from him, Shooing Hermittfrom the hearth. She banked the fire with logs, hoping to fix a blazethat would continue for hours and keep the cabin warm until she couldhike back.

Returning to the bed, She kissed her lover one more time. This time atear lingered in the corner of his eye, spilling down to make a wettrack across the bandage on his temple.

She gently touched the tape, allowing her glove to absorb the droplet.

"I love you, Jack."

Ellen swung the pack into place and headed out.

After the door closed, Jack released the breath he. held. He had clungto Consciousness, fighting his dizziness so he Could say aloud the wordshe had held for so long.

"And I love you, Tess."

Chapter Nine.

Ellen respected the treacherous nature of snow, which camouflaged thedangers lurking on and off the path. After her first winter on themountain, she'd learned not to rely on a compass and map as much as shedid her own instincts and a strong wslking stick.

It was the same instinct that pwtested the need for the trip. She foundit disturbingly easy to ignore the evidence that supported Jack'stheory: Hank had been sidetracked from his vendetta only by a temporarymemoqr loss.

Vendetta.

She had never thought of using the word in describing Hank's threat.

A vendetta meant a payback, and she had never done anything' to Hsni todemand a payback. She usually used the word revenge, It had a suitablyunbalanced ring to it. Revenge, retribution, retaliation-- A sudden. ms.plunged her into snow up to her knees, Vtch what you're doing. Shestopped and probed around in the snow with her stick, using it forbalance as she stepped over a hidden tree trunk.

Her success was fleeting, and she tipped over a second branch and fellface first into a deep drift.

The sudden darkness frightened her, and she flailed for a minute beforefiguring out how to extract herself. She A Killer. Smile 145 backed outof the suffocating snowbank, spewed out a mouthful of snow and brushedaway the clumps that dung to her coat and pants.

White. Her mind latched on to the word as she fell back in step.

White gloves. Grandma Clara and her wonderful tea parties. Vtth whitegloves, dainty pink cakes and a miniature china tea set.

White shoes. Trying to cover the scuff marks on my good white shoes'after Mother caught me climbing the tree on Sunday morning.

White paint. Learning the chemistry of the paints from. Daddy.

White coats. The' color of the coats the doctors wore who treated me for smoke inhalation after the auditorium fire. ' Each step broke through anundisturbed expanse of snow, and the rhythm turned into a chant.

"White ... white ... white ..." Instinct took over when her conscious mind shut down. She lost all sense of time and distance, measuring herworld only in steps.

Step. White.

"Ellen, can you hear me? Ellen? Honey, what in the hell are you doinghere?" George grabbed her by the elbow and led her inside the warmcabin.

He propped her up by the fhplace and began to strip off her gloves andhat.

"C'mon, sweetheart. Let's try to thaw you out. That's the way."

She began to grow aware of the inviting fire that crackled its welcometo her by returning some of the life to her frozen fingers.

Savoring the familiarity of the rangers' 146 A Killer Smile station, sheallowed herself a few minutes to collect her thoughts.

She knew George would wait patiently for her explanation.

Finally she drew a deep breath and plunged into her story.

"There's a man in my cabin," she began.

George gripped the edge of the hearth.

"Are you all right? Did he hurt you?"

Ellen shook her head.

"It's nothing like that. At lea sty not quite. He's hurt and needs medical attention."

"How did this happen?"

"He fell from one of the trails. I found him a couple hours before the

storm started."

The result of his rapid calculations stunned. her.

was almost a week ago. How's he doing?"

It's been a week?

"I don't know, George."

gloss over Jack's memory loss.

"He doesn't much. One moment he seems healthy, but the next, running a

fever and throwing up."

"Sounds serious. Can he walk, or do we need to out on a litter?"

"He can walk ... I guess."

"You stay here by the fire, and I'll get contact the Mounin Rescue

Squad. If we can to the clearing, the pilot can bring lift him to thehospital." George disappeared into dio room, and she could hear thestatic turn voices. A few minutes later he reappeared and glass in herhands.

"Dbnk this."

"What is it?"

"Brandy.." - Ellen had only tasted brandy once. Hank had her during one

of his moments of planned she had refused to finish it after one sip. It nothing like the liquid she sipped now. In a A Killer Smile 147 of wisdom, she realized Hank's drink might have tasted peculiar because it was drugged.

Had he hoped her inhibitions could be loosened by one of his mother's

many tranquilizers?

Ellen tasted the brandy once more, then drank deeply, almost wishing the drink did contain some drug to make her forget.

"Hey, go easy on that stuff. It's potent." George crossed his arms and glared at her. '. "Whas going on, Ellen? There's something else you're not telling me,"

Doihaveto tehhhn? Yes.

"I think ... ha ... themanin my cabin is Hank."

George's face paled to an ugly shade of gray.

"Good God! Did he do anything? Say anything? Threaten you?"

"No." She stood, flexing stiff fingers toward the fire, "He didn't hurt

me at all. In fact, the only reason we think he may be Hank is because he knows so much about me. Things only Hank would know."

"We? You mean you talked to him about it? I don't understand."

"He has amnesia. He thinks his name is Jack."

"This is crazy! You actually told him about Hank?" She shrugged.

"It seemed the right thing to do at the time. Jack's memory started to

come back in bits and pieces, and he insisted I go for help. He was'

afraid he might revert and become Hank again."

eorge planted his fists on his hips.

"Th is weird. You're saying this guy isn't Hank right now, but he's afraid he will turn into Hank? And he wants to protect you ... from himself?"

She nodded.

"So he's just waiting for you to come back with help?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"And he said for you to bring a gun."

A Killer Smile A Killer Smile A red flush flooded George's grayed

features.

"Good God."