"I'm afraid I don't remember your name. You were in and out of our station so quickly." The man stuck out a gloved hand.

"I'm Harlin Banks;"

"Brody, Alec Brody. Pleased to meet you:' Alec returned the man's hearty

handshake.

A puzzled' look filled Banks's face as his eyes deepened in color to match his jacket.

"I don't remember Ellen talking about anybody named Alec."

Alee stared at the tips of his mud-encrusted bouts.

"She called me ... by my nickname, Jack."

"You're Jack?" Banks gaped.

"There really is a Jack? Jeez, she always was telling some sort of

stories about you! You've done everything! I mean" -- Alec raised hishands and gestured for the man to slow down.

"No, that's not me. I mean, I'm not that Jack. I only met her a week orso before ... the fire."

The ranger nodded.

"That's too bad: I'd known her for a long time and I'll tell you, I wasimpressed with her. Quite a talented lady. Did you know she was anartist?

Ellen could create an' entire world of people with nothing more than penand ink. She got her talent from he ther. Now that guy was great. I saw"-- As the man continued to speak, Alec began to feel easy. It wasdisconcerting to hear the man speak of hi the past tense when Alecthought of her as alive i memories.

Banks pulled off his hat and swiped his sleeve ac rot forehead.

"I remember one of her dad's pictures. It v field of flowers on amountain very similar to this, w cabin in the background and beyond,those three pea Banks pointed over Alec's shoulder at the view ofsnow-topped mountains forming an even, staircasclil feet.

"I mmemher the flowers in the field. They look real, you could almostsmell them. The guy was really and so was Ellen."

Alec stared at the mounins, unwilling to turn m and let the rangerwitness the very private emotio controlled his thoughts.

Banks's voice held a note of quiet reverence.

"Sh a great artist.

It's such a waste ." A low rumble caught Alec's attention. He pi votesaw Hermitt standing behind the ranger. The dog'." bared as athreatening growl filled the air.

The man turned around,. then blanched.

"Oh, my Hermitt, is that you?"

ET. T WALM along the path, feeling no comfort fi fam'fiiarity.

George had wanted her to wait until a! partner, Harlin, had. returnedbefore she went back cabin. George had even offered to accompany hersite, but she had told him no. It was her duty, her 1 sponsibility, toface her past and accept it, and if sl 222 A Killer Smile do it now,she'd never get up enough nerve to do it. George had rescued her fromthe city, but it was her job to make a new life on the mountain. Butcould she do it without Tess?

Or Jack?

Always before, her alter ego had remained strong when she'd wanted toweaken.

Then, when Ellen felt strong and safe, she allowed Tess a chance to cry.

But now, Tess was gone, faded away to nothing more than a half memory.And what about Jack?

Ellen would have to live without the fictional Jack or the real one,Back in the truck, George had begun to tell her somhing about Jack, butshe cut him off short. She couldn't give herself the luxury to care, towonder, to dream.

She stopped just shy of the cabin after she heard a voice riding thesoft, cool breeze.

"could create an entire world of people with pen and ink ... talent from her father ... remember one picture of his she showed me. It was afield of flowers on a mount he voice sent an avalanche of fear crshingover her.

Hankl She peered from behind a shadowy stand of trees, straining to hearand see without being seen.

" ... a cabin in the background and beyond, those three That's how hefound me.

From the picture I showed him. The one Daddy did back when we used tospend summers here.

Beside the cabin ruins, Ellen could see the backs of two figures. Onewore a green jacket and what looked to be a A Killer Smile ForestService hat. The other wore a dark coat. She recognized the puckerededges of her uneven sewing, the rip she had tried to repair.

Jack? Or Hank?

She heard the hideously familiar voice but couldn't see who wasspeaking.

" ... a great artist. It's such a waste ... " Run/ Tess screamed,coming to life suddenly.

Run/ Ellen told herself. Curiosity didn't need to be satisfied at theprice of danger.

The words rang out loud and clear from one of the two men: "Oh, my God!

Hermitt, is that you?"

The man in green turned slightly in her direction, affording her a viewof a familiar profile, unchanged by plastic surgery, altered only by thepassage of time.

Hank.

Chapter Fifteen.

"C'mon here, boy." The ranger knelt and olapped.

"This is Ellen's dog, isn't it? Hello, Hermitt." The dog refused to takea step closer, standing his ground with another barrage of snarls andrumbles.

Hackles rose across the ridge of the nnimal's back.

For a fleeting moment Alec didn't know what to think of Hermitt'sunusual behavior. Reaching down, Alec slipped his hand under the dog'scollar, but the animal surged toward the ranger.

"Cool it, Hefm'tt!" Alec shrugged apologetically at Banks.

"This isn't like him at all. I've never seen him act ..."

Suddenly the sit, nificance of the dog's reactions hit Alec like a fistin the gut. Between Hermitt's uncharacteristic demeanor and theextraordinary amount of personal tail the man knew about Ellen, theanswer became evident.

Alec's stomach lurched at the ugly face of truth. Hadin Banks.

Hank Bartholomew. It has to be him!

The side of Alec Uained in security jumped into control, assessing thesituation, running through his options. He could play dumb, showing noreaction, or bide his time and wait for a chance to catch the man offguard or, the A Killer Smile 225 most satisfying of the three, go aheadand jump the bastard.

Despite a gut reaction to strike first, Alee knew the element ofsurprise would serve him better. He needed to stay in control of thesituation. He tried to look genuinely p;,. led as he stroked Hermitt'shead.

"That's strange, Mr. Banks. He's usually a friendly dog. Sit, Hermitt!"

The dog reluctantly set fled back on his haunches.

Alec repeated the command and let go of the collar. "Maybe he's spookedby being back at the cabin. You know ... remembering the fire and all?"

"Maybe so." The ranger slowly straightened and stood. "It's hard tobelieve Ellen's dead."

"Yeah." Alee knew he had to keep from telegraphing his feelings throughhis words or his expression.

"We didn't part in the best of conditions. I guess you could say I'mhere one last time to say goodbye."

Bartholomew nodded.

"Me, too." He glanced around at the ruins.

"The flowers" -- he pointed to the bouquet on the mantel "--are a nicetouch.

She would have liked them. She always liked roses, especially red ones.I member once when I gave her" -- He came to an abrupt stop, and hisface reddened.

"Uh ... were you two ... close?"

"So to speak." There was no doubt in Alec's mind thfft this was Hank Bartholomew.

"Were you" -- the man stumbled over the word "--intimate?"

Alec didn't like the question. Or the odd light which crept into the man's eyes, turning them a deeper shade of green.

"That's really none of your business."

Bartholomew backpedaled, but his expression had already betrayed him; he'd said too much, and he knew it.

A Killer Smile "Of course. You're right. I'm sorry." He stared into the

ruins, his eyes glazing over.

"She was a beautiful person, Ellen was. Innocent, pure. Such a sweet young girl."

" He reached down and picked up a rock, tossing it up nervously in his

left hand.

"She could have had such a beautiful life. I would have brought her a dozen roses every day." He paused and smiled.

"Red roses." He allowed the rock to fall from his hand.

"Bloodred roses for my American beauty."

Alee's body tmed in anticipation; he wanted a Chanc to avenge Ellen's

life of forced 1oneline. And her death in isolation.

Bartholomew stepped onto the blackened hearth.

"I'll never know why she did what she did." He pulled one flower from