"Look, I'm really sorry about this," Bobby said. And then, a little edge of doubt crept in. How often had he seen his father exhausted when a judge had ruled out key evidence and the jury was being swayed because the con could speak so persuasively?

Did he want to believe in this guy because this guy wanted him to believe in him?

"At least, I think I'm sorry," he muttered.

"It's all right. Man is a creature who must see something, hold it, find it tangible, before he really believes," Gabe said.

"He is wearing the uniform," Bobby pointed out.

"So he is."

Gabe walked ahead of Bobby into the shed.

There were two little windows in the small building, so light could come in. When there was light. Right now, the sky was darkening. Bobby ushered Gabe in; even out of the growing wind, though, the shed was cold. The garage, he figured, was just as cold. But there were lights in the garage; several of them. The shed had one overhanging bulb. Bobby turned it on. It provided some light. A concrete floor had been poured years before, but the concrete emanated cold.

Gabe sat down against the back wall. There were wooden shelves and brackets, but, as his dad had said, the few tools they usually kept there had been brought into the house. His father, he realized, was a smart man.

"Bobby, there's nothing in this shed I could use to hurt anyone, if I had that in mind," Gabe said. "You don't have to stay out here-it's freezing."

"Yeah, it's cold," Bobby said briefly. "When Morwenna comes, I'll see to it that you get some blankets out here. And, hopefully, this won't last long. We'll get you both down to the tavern, or we'll get law enforcement up here one way or the other."

Gabe nodded. "Hard to tell. If a bad storm comes in..." He grinned. "Too bad you didn't bring your guitar. I'd be entertained. Honored, actually. And, at least you've said what you needed to say to your family now. You've got it in you."

Bobby laughed. "You want to know the funniest thing? I had confidence, and I had hope. But now that I've spit it all out, I'm suddenly afraid."

Gabe thought about that for a minute. "Well, before, if you failed, you were just failing yourself. Now, in your mind, if you were to fail, you'd be failing them instead."

"Failing everyone," Bobby murmured.

"Personally, I think the only way you fail is if you never try," Gabe said lightly.

Gabe seemed comfortable enough-he was shivering a little-but he seemed relaxed. Resigned, maybe. They might have been having a conversation in a warm kitchen over a cup of coffee.

But, Bobby thought, if he'd wanted to, Gabe could suddenly...

Head b.u.t.t him?

"I'm telling you the truth," Gabe said, as if reading his mind. "I'm the cop-he's the bad guy."

"And I want to believe you," Bobby said.

"I'm glad."

"But I can't let you go."

"I know that. I understand."

"My mother, my sister...my niece and nephew...they are all vulnerable here," Bobby said.

"I know. I told you...I understand."

Bobby walked away from the door, looking up at the sky.

It seemed the darkness was closing in all around them, but in the center of it all, there was light. Maybe the weather would break.

He prayed heartily that it would do so...and soon.

Shayne leaned against his car, the shotgun in his hand as he stared at the man in the Virginia State Police uniform.

The guy wasn't fighting with him. He was just leaning against the garage, staring at him with a hard look that made his features severe.

"I wish you'd listen to me," DeFeo said at last. "You look like an intelligent guy. You can see that I'm a cop, no matter what kind of story that guy gave you. Look, he's got that green-eyed thing going for him. He knows how to say all the right things. That's how he managed to break out. He was being transferred from one facility to another, talked the guard into letting him have a cigarette-then bashed the poor fellow's head halfway in. You should be worried-that's your sister, I take it-and your mom. And your children. You've got a lot at stake here. Think about it. He's been using you."

"He could have killed us in our sleep last night or robbed the place blind," Shayne said. "He didn't."

DeFeo sighed. "Ted Bundy."

"What?"

"Ted Bundy. The serial killer. You know he actually babysat for his neighbor, right? John Wayne Gacy-he was a clown. Hey, kids love clowns. Don't you get it-the good-guy thing is an act."

"He's been acting well enough to win an Oscar," Shayne said. His voice was even. His pulse was racing. What if they were wrong? This guy did look and sound like a cop. And he had a badge-but he didn't have an ID.

Shayne felt a cold sweat break out.

His children... What if they had entertained some kind of real crook, a killer? What if Gabe Lange was just what this guy said he was, and DeFeo had come upon them just in time to save them?

"Officer DeFeo," he said, "you may be all that you say you are, but we don't know that any more than we know that he isn't who he claims to be. Just wait it out. When we can, we'll get to the authorities, and if we've wronged you, I'll apologize a thousand times over."

DeFeo shook his head, disgusted. "And what if he breaks out? Who is watching him next? Your sister, right? What if she falls for his act?"

"My sister isn't stupid."

"Not unless he talks her into being stupid. I'm sure he's given her all kinds of speeches on how wonderful she is at something, at how she needs to trust her instincts and have belief in herself and all that. That's his game. I know this guy-trust me," DeFeo said.

"She's not going to fall for any lines. She's in a relationship."

DeFeo laughed. "Sure. And he's making her doubt that relationship."

"This conversation is going nowhere," Shayne said. "I'm not letting you go."

"Just because your father is a fo-just because your father is misguided is no reason for you to wind up caught in the trap. You're taking a chance with your children. That's d.a.m.n dangerous, my friend. I'm telling you, he's been using you. When he was done playing his game, when your mother had cooked everything up for a great turkey dinner, your family would have been done for. You really want to thank your lucky stars that I found this old house when I did."

"My father isn't a fool, DeFeo. He's done the one really smart thing-he's refused to take either of you at face value."

"Sure, that would be smart. If it weren't possible that Gabe would escape-and bring us all down, because I'm handcuffed and can't help you. Let's pray he doesn't get his hands on that shotgun, that's all I have to say."

Shayne didn't answer him. He couldn't help but listen to him, and he couldn't help but wonder if he was right.

DeFeo was silent for a while. "Cute kids," he said finally, as if he felt the need to talk about something.

"Yep."

"You here with them alone? Where's the wife? Oh, sorry, you're divorced, I take it."

"Yep."

"I've been down that path," DeFeo said. "I guess she was good to let you have them for Christmas. Usually, after a divorce, the mother has the power. Fathers are screwed. They pay all the bills, and the wives either hound them for more support, or play games, not even letting the dads see the kids."

"You're divorced?"

DeFeo nodded. "I spent hours working. She spent them at a gym. Took off with a personal trainer, and still got the kids. And I still pay the bills."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Hope you get them for a while around the holidays."

"She claimed she wanted the holiday, and then, turns out the trainer dude she was seeing didn't want kids at the holidays. But, this year, I had to work, so it was too bad." He smiled. "Sorry, I guess I shouldn't be happy, but he took off for San Diego without her. So, she has the kids for Christmas."

"How many?"

"I have the same thing as you-my boy is ten, and my little girl is five."

"Mine are nine and six."

"Just about the same."

Shayne shifted, pulling his scarf higher around his face; it was really cold in the garage.

"What's the weather doing? Can you see from there?"

"It's still dark and gray, but no snow."

"I'm just saying, I hope your dad can carry through his plan to get us somewhere before Gabe Lange makes his break. Because, if not, well, it's going to be one h.e.l.l of a Christmas."

"This is just ridiculous," Morwenna said.

Her father was pacing in the parlor; Stacy was trying to distract Connor and Genevieve with their new toys, but the children had picked up on the tension in the air.

Mike walked to the window. "The snow is deep. If it starts up again and we're walking down to the tavern, someone could really get hurt. I wish it would just do something, one way or the other."

"Well, it's like an ice age out there," Morwenna said. "I'm going to get blankets, and we'll go and spell Bobby and Shayne. They have to be half-frozen, and we've got to do something for both those men, since we've no idea which man is the good one."

"Gabe is really nice," Genevieve said. "How could he be a bad man?"

Mike looked at his granddaughter. He walked over to her, hunkered down and pulled her to him, hugging her tenderly. "Sometimes, it's just hard to tell. And sometimes, we have to really listen and weigh everything that's going on. Sometimes, wolves wear sheep's clothing," he said.

"I'll get the blankets, Dad," Morwenna said.

"There are plenty extra in the hall closet," Stacy said. "And there are some of those little hot packets that you all use when you go out sometimes. They're in a box in the closet, too. Hang on. I'll fix a couple of thermoses with coffee," Stacy said.

"We don't have to baby either of them, Stacy," Mike said.

"Keeping someone alive is hardly babying them!" she said indignantly.

"We're not killing anyone," Mike said wearily.

"I just have a bad time myself not believing Gabe," Stacy said.

Mike stood and looked at his wife. "We're not disbelieving him, Stacy. We're being safe."

He indicated the children. Stacy nodded. "But coffee won't be a bad thing."

"No, Stacy," Mike said. "You fix those thermoses."

Ten minutes later, Morwenna and her father started out of the house, each holding a thermos, a blanket and a handful of heat packs.

As they neared the garage, Mike warned, "Morwenna, take care. Please. I don't think that guy could possibly find anything in the storage shed to hurt anyone with, but...remember, words can be a dangerous weapon. Kind words can be dangerous. That man was a guest in our house...he made us all laugh. But it could have all been a lie. Don't fall for anything, please?"

"I'm not going to fall for a man I don't know. Come on-you know that I'm involved with someone else."

He was silent as they walked for a minute; she could hear the loud crunching sound their feet made in the snow.

"And I know that even while you've cheerfully explained to us why this 'someone else' isn't here, you're trying to sell yourself on the same explanation. Just be careful. I can see that Gabe Lange could be a very attractive man."

"Dad! I was raised by a prosecutor, and I live in Manhattan. I'm nearly as suspicious of all humanity as you." She kissed his cheek, and turned, heading for the shed.

Bobby hadn't closed the door; he was standing in the door frame, hugging himself, and looking as if he was nearly shriveled with cold.

"Go back to the house," she told him. "My turn to take over."

He nodded to her gratefully. "That blanket for me?"

"No, you're heading to the house. It's for Gabe."

"Oh, yeah, makes sense. You going to be okay? You're sure?"

"Fine. Go," she said.

She gave him a little shove and looked into the shed. Gabe was seated on the floor against the wall, and like Bobby, he was curled in on himself as much as was humanly possible.

"Here," she said, tossing down the blanket. He tried to catch it awkwardly with his tied hands. She came close enough to drape it over him, and then carefully stretched out her arm to give him the heat packs. "I have coffee for you, too, but you can put those down your shirt. They'll warm you up for a good hour or so, maybe even two hours."

He nodded, apparently familiar with the little beanbaglike sacks. Morwenna could appreciate her mother's wisdom in seeing that the men were handcuffed with their hands at the front of their bodies rather than behind; she wasn't sure she would have wanted the task of trying to slip the heat packs down into his clothing. It was disconcerting to come even this close.

He managed to get the packs beneath his clothing. Keeping her distance, she handed him the thermos.

"Thanks," he told her. He opened the thermos and took a long swallow of coffee.

"Makes a man feel like he might thaw out again one day," he told her.