"Sure," she said.

"That's better. May be the best coffee I've ever had," he said.

"I'm sure my mother would be glad."

"How's she doing?" he asked.

"My mother? She's fine, of course. We're all going to be fine. We'll watch both of you until we can get you down to the tavern," Morwenna said.

"Thank G.o.d," he murmured.

She stared at him.

"I've been telling you the truth. And when we reach the tavern, you'll know that. Is the weather clearing?"

Morwenna hesitated. It had grown quite dark earlier, but it did seem now that it was beginning to lighten.

"I think so," she said.

"Then we'll be able to leave soon... How about you?" he asked. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine."

"And I'm sorry. This is a tough Christmas for you."

"No, it's not."

"Sorry, I just meant-"

"You meant the fact that 'boy toy,' as my brothers call him, didn't bother to come with me," Morwenna said irritably.

"Look, I'm sorry."

"I know, sure. And maybe he's just not the right one for me. And maybe he's enjoying beach bunnies in Cancun."

Gabe grinned. "If he is, he's a fool."

"Your lips to G.o.d's ear!" she said.

He laughed. "Something like that. Honestly, I'm just anxious that we move before...well, he's a tricky devil, that one. DeFeo. I'm grateful that your family didn't just believe him. I'm afraid that he'll pull something, and everyone will be in danger."

"I thought he was just a thief."

"You can never trust a cornered thief."

Morwenna stepped away from the door for a moment, studying the sky again. It did seem to be clearing, but not in the ordinary way. It appeared almost as if the light was breaking right above the house, like a giant golden ball, and rays of darkness ebbed into it, and then curled back, ebbing away again.

"We should be able to go soon," she said curtly. She frowned. The front door to the house had opened. Genevieve, cradling her precious teddy bear, was stepping out of the house alone.

"What the heck is she doing?" Morwenna wondered.

Gabe stumbled to his feet, coming to the doorway.

"No!" Morwenna called suddenly.

Genevieve was trying to come out, to see for herself what they were doing. Whatever distraction her mother had been employing with them, it wasn't working.

The little girl was sneaking out-and trying to make sure that she wasn't being seen.

Morwenna could see that her niece meant to approach the shed from the cliff side. Since she was trying not to be seen, she was running around in a wide fashion; she knew that she wasn't allowed to go too far around the house, and yet it suddenly seemed as if she didn't remember. She was a child-a curious child. Morwenna wasn't half as angry as she was afraid.

If she went too far, which she could easily do in the snow, she'd be on uneven ground, and could tumble down a hundred feet or so.

"No!" Morwenna cried.

Too late.

Genevieve let out a shrill scream as she stepped into the snow...and hit nothing beneath it. As Morwenna bolted across the yard, Genevieve began to fall.

Chapter 7.

"We can go out soon," Shayne heard his mother say. She'd been sitting beneath the tree with Genevieve, polishing her nails with a pink color from the package Morwenna had given her, when Shayne had first come in. He thanked G.o.d for his mother; she loved his children and she was good with them.

But now, coming back to the parlor from the kitchen, Shayne saw that Stacy was looking out the window. He knew that she was anxious. The kids were growing increasingly restless. Of course, if it was storming, they knew they had to stay in. But they'd been anxious to help with the turkey dinner, and now, Stacy wasn't cooking, and Christmas Day had taken a drastic turn.

"The clouds-or whatever!-are just sitting up there," Stacy said, staring out at the sky. "It's just gray and...actually clearing, maybe."

She turned around suddenly.

"Genevieve?"

Connor was playing with the electronic game he'd gotten. He didn't look up.

"Connor, where did Genevieve go?" Stacy asked.

Connor looked up. "She was right here," he said, frowning.

Stacy looked back to the window and gasped.

"Oh, my G.o.d! She's on the side path!" Stacy cried.

Shayne bolted for the door and threw it open, unaware of the blast of frigid air that hit him. Genevieve had disappeared beyond the snow.

"My G.o.d!" he cried, and raced to the side path that was so pretty in summer, so treacherous in winter.

"Genevieve!" His daughter's name tore from his throat.

In an instant, a fraction of a second in time, he realized that he'd been a bitter fool; that even with the pain of the divorce, he'd been the luckiest man in the world. He had two beautiful, healthy children, and they were worth everything in the world.

And now...

As he ran, he could see his sister coming from the opposite direction. And someone was behind her, and then, overtaking her.

Gabe Lange.

Hands still tied, he was moving like cannon shot, a blur in the snow and the gray. Then, he cleanly disappeared.

He had pitched himself down the ledge, toward Genevieve. Morwenna screamed and followed him.

Shayne heard his heart thundering, heard the gasp of his breath as he reached the path and beyond; the ledge. And he stopped himself in time.

Gabe had managed to get himself down the slope and wedged next to some kind of brush; he'd prevented Genevieve from tumbling farther with the length of his body. He was struggling to keep his grasp on whatever bush or outcrop of rock was beneath the snow. And Morwenna was just above the two; he could see the branch she held-naked and thin, stripped bare of green, as if it were a skeletal hand reaching for her instead of the other way around.

"Hold still! I'll get rope!" Shayne shouted.

He turned to head back to the house; his mother was behind him, terror in her eyes. She was ready to pitch herself down the mountain, but Shayne grabbed her shoulders.

"Mom! The rope, the cord of nylon rope in the kitchen-go get the whole thing, quickly, please!"

"Oh, Shayne!" she cried.

"Mom, go!"

She turned and fled back to the house; he'd never seen her move so fast.

"Hang on!" he called down the slope.

"Hanging on!" Gabe called up.

Bobby and Connor came running out behind Stacy, who now had the rope. Shayne looked around; there was nothing close enough that was steady and stable to work the rope. Bobby hurried to him, seeing the problem. "You and me, bro. You and me!" he said.

He nodded. "I'm bigger. I'll be the anchor, you the control."

Bobby didn't argue with him; they had perhaps seconds before something down the slope began to give. He expertly knotted the nylon around himself while Bobby made a loop with the other end.

Bobby stood at the precipice, testing his footing. He called down to Gabe. "I've got a loop-coming your way."

Shayne angled himself down on the ground, using his weight as an anchor as Bobby tossed the rope down. It fell almost to Genevieve on the first try, and Bobby cursed beneath his breath. Shayne lowered his head, praying. He heard his sister cry up. "Bobby, I've got it. It's good. I'm getting it to Gabe and Genevieve."

"Got it!" Gabe called.

Shayne heard Genevieve's terrified tears then, and he winced, gritting his teeth, digging in farther. The ground was so slick, with patches of ice beneath the snow. He felt something on his legs; his mother had thrown herself down into the snow, too. They looked at one another, and despite his terror, he offered her a weak smile. "Thanks, Mom. We're going to do this."

She nodded grimly.

"I can't! I can't!" Genevieve cried. "Auntie Wenna, I'm so scared."

"Let Gabe get the rope around you. Your daddy is up there. He's going to get you."

"Bobby?" Shayne asked.

His brother was hunkered down, trying to guide the rope, but Bobby glanced at him. "Gabe is getting the loop around her. Morwenna is talking to her, a.s.suring her."

Shayne was aware of the soft sound of sniffles near him. He looked around. Connor was just standing there, frozen as he watched, too little to help, too big not to know what was going on.

And he was surely blaming himself that his sister had slipped out.

"Okay!" Morwenna called up. "She's secure!"

Bobby started to pull on the rope. Shayne heard Genevieve sniffling and crying again. As Bobby secured the rope, Shayne began to inch backward.

Bobby swore suddenly; Shayne saw Connor make a dive.

"What?" he cried hoa.r.s.ely.

"It was stuck-Connor slipped it. We're good. Keep moving."

His daughter wasn't even heavy; she was a little thing. And yet he felt as if he strained as he never had before, as if each millisecond was years in the making.

"I've got her!" Bobby cried, and Shayne dared look up again. Bobby was falling back from the ledge, Genevieve in his arms. Shayne lowered his head, trying to stop the shaking that had seized hold of his body.

Thank G.o.d, thank G.o.d, thank G.o.d, thank G.o.d...

His instinct was to rise and grab his daughter; he knew he couldn't do so. He called out to his mother. "Mom, get Gen. Get her inside, please. Connor, get Gramps. Get him out of the garage-now, please, Connor."

He heard the footsteps in the snow. Morwenna wasn't heavy-maybe a hundred and twenty pounds. But the snow was slick, and the hauling was hard. "Bobby?"

"I've got it back down. Morwenna has the rope...it's around her. Now, Shayne, now, I'm hauling it up."

Again, Shayne began his backward crawl in the snow. He kept fit; being a physician had made him do so, but he felt every muscle, and it seemed every speck of blood and bone in him, ache with the effort.

As he thought he might not make it, his father came running across the snow; he reached Bobby's side and took on some of the weight, and Shayne inched backward again.

He heard his sister cry out. "I'm here-I've caught the ledge. Just...your hand, Dad."

Shayne looked up again. Mike MacDougal had Morwenna in his arms. The two of them fell backward in the snow, Morwenna half laughing and half crying in their father's arms.

"We've still got Gabe down there!" Bobby reminded them all.

"If you were smart, you'd leave him there."