"I warned you what would happen. This is your own fault."

As the knife sliced into her skin, Kate screamed into the floor.

"That's A. Now C."

She could feel the blood trickling down her skin, warm against cold.

"K."

"What's wrong, Mommy? Why are you on the floor?" Kate opened her eyes. Tommy stood at the door, his thumb in his mouth, his blue toy clutched under his arm. "I woke up." His gaze moved between her and Jack.

"Mommy's fine. Tell him you're fine, Kate."

"Fine...." Kate could barely speak, the word sounded wrong.

"Did you hurt yourself?"

"No. Mommy loves me so much she wanted my name on her back. You've heard of tattoos? That's what I've done. Come and look."

"It's bleeding," Tommy muttered from the doorway.

"Only a bit. It doesn't hurt, does it, Mommy?" Kate said nothing and Jack shifted his weight so his knees ground harder into her palms, pushing her knuckles down so she cried out.

"Well, maybe it hurts a little, but Mommy doesn't mind. In fact, I think Mommy would like your name, too. What do you think, Kate?" A sound came from her throat, an animal-like whimpering.

"Pass me that towel, Tommy. We don't want to make any more mess. Now, come and kneel down next to me."

Tommy stood by the door, tears rolling down his face.

"Get over here, right now," Jack shouted. "Don't make me tell you twice." Tommy shuffled to Kate's side and knelt down. His fingers slid over her face.

"Where's your glasses?"

Jack pulled him away. "Mommy broke them. Here, hold the knife like this."

"Don't want to." Tommy screwed up his face and cried harder.

"Sure you do. Mommy wants your name on her back so she remembers how much she loves you."

"I can't write."

"We'll only do a T'. Just a little one. I'll help you. One line across and one down."

"Jack...don't," Kate whispered.

She bit down on her arm when the knife went in. Tommy wailed.

"There you are, see that's T' for Tommy and it didn't hurt at all, did it, Mommy?"

Kate couldn't speak.

"Go and get dressed, bud. I'll help Mommy clean herself up. You've been a good boy and we're going for ice cream, like I promised." Kate watched Tommy go. At the door, he turned and looked at her and the only thing Kate could do was blink. He disappeared.

The pressure came off her hands as Jack got to his feet, and she groaned in relief. But he came back with handcuffs, snapping one end around her wrist before dragging her to the wall and attaching the other cuff around the faucet on the bath.

Kate lay sprawled against the side of the tub like a rag doll. She wanted to shut her eyes but they remained open, fixed on Jack. He put in the plug and started the water.

"I warned you, Kate. Didn't I?"

He looked calmer now. The tension in his face had gone. The pain in her back grew like something was eating her. Tears sprang into her eyes.

"I don't understand you," he said and looked genuinely puzzled. "You should be grateful for what I've done. I rescued you from a dead-end job, married you, found our child and gave you a home. I've been a fucking saint. Why do you still want to leave me?"

He was getting angry again and Kate thought about Tommy downstairs. She tried to think of something to calm Jack down, but her mouth wouldn't work.

"You know, your mother couldn't get enough of me. She used to sneak to my room and I'd wake up and find her sucking me off. I'll let you in on a secret, Kate. She was having my baby."

Kate swallowed hard. The lump stayed in her throat.

"Your father knew. She told him just before he died." He laughed. "Oops, I guess finding his wife was pregnant could have been the last straw for his poor little heart since he hadn't fucked her for years." Jack stared at her and his face turned so dark, Kate thought the room dimmed.

"You know what your mother did to me, sweetheart? Do you want to know the really terrible thing she did?" He leaned over so his face was next to hers. "She killed my baby."

He turned off the faucet and walked out. For a moment Kate couldn't think at all. Then she thought too much. She sprawled with her face pressed against the tub, her back on fire and her mind in hell. Jack had gotten her mother pregnant?

What kind of sick game was he playing now?

She heard him talking to Tommy. The door slammed. The generator stopped humming and a few minutes later the car started. Then there was silence.

Kate couldn't move her hands and thought maybe Jack had broken them.

Blood trickled down her shoulders and back. The coppery tang of it filled her nose. She needed the warmth of the water but she couldn't move. Had he really made her mother pregnant? Ashlands hadn't said anything, but they were already worried Kate might sue after the suicide. Why give her additional ammunition?

Had Jack kidnapped her as punishment for what her mother had done? She couldn't tell truth from lies. Maybe he was some psycho who'd picked her at random. It was possible all he'd said had been created from a little knowledge and an insane imagination.

But the skeletons under the boathouse weren't imagined. The moment Kate began to think of a way to use that to her advantage, she began to calm down.

Jack didn't know what she'd seen. He'd been angry with Tommy for playing with the door of the boat house, but if Tommy had gone inside, he wouldn't have found what Kate had seen. The bodies were under the boards. So it was possible Jack didn't know. She'd keep it secret. She shouldn't give up hope. Even if no one was looking for her, they'd be looking for Tommy. Maybe someone would recognize him eating ice-cream.

With a superhuman effort, Kate got to her knees and slithered into the tub.

Suddenly, there was a terrible noise. A keening sound she'd never heard before, and her heart leapt in her chest, fighting to get out of her body. Only the noise was coming from inside her and Kate couldn't stop it. She was washed away in a raging flood of pain, rolled over and over until she no longer knew which way was up, which way down.

Chapter Twenty-Four.

As Jack drove to town, the snow fell fast and thick, not only coating the trees and shrubs, but covering the road as well. He tuned out Tommy's chattering about building a snowman. He'd almost had it with Kate. She'd seemed weak and pliable and turned out to be stupid and impulsive-a bad combination because it had made him lose control. Jack clenched his teeth when he thought of her back.

Luckily, he hadn't touched her face. He didn't want his father thinking he beat his wife, or he'd get nothing out of him.

After stopping to drop the house garbage in a dumpster, Jack made the turn onto a snow-covered main street and parked in front of Harper's. Someone had shoveled the path to the door and the open sign showed in the window.

Jack looked at Tommy. "What's your name?"

"Tommy Thompson."

"Good boy. Where's your mommy?"

"She stayed home cause she's sick."

"That's right."

Jack unfastened Tommy from his seat and took him into the cafe. A bell tinkled when they walked in. It was exactly as he remembered: silver chiseled cash register, old-fashioned tin signs on the walls with prices in cents and red and green Tiffany-style lights hanging from the ceiling. Red upholstered stools lined the counter and wrought iron tables stood along the wall. The place was empty.

Tommy climbed onto a chair at one of the tables.

An elderly white-haired man was filling up a coffee machine. Jack recognized Ben Harper, the owner. Same round face and round body.

"Morning folks, I'll be right with you," he called in a cheery voice.

"Can I really have anything I want?" Tommy asked.

"Anything you like." Jack sat next to him. "You've been a good boy and good boys get rewarded."

Ben came from behind the counter. "Here are a couple of menus for you two gentlemen." He handed over laminated menus. "So, what's your name, young man?"

"Tommy Thompson."

"And let me guess how old you are. Seventeen, maybe eighteen?" Tommy giggled. "I'm three." He looked at Jack.

"Only three? You're a big boy for three. Passing through? Taking a break from the weather?"

"No, we just moved here," Jack said.

"Can I have that?" Tommy pointed to a picture of a banana split, the biggest dish on the menu. "Please," he added.

"Sure," Jack said.

"Ice cream in this weather? You must have teeth of steel." Ben laughed.

"I'll have coffee." Jack handed back the menus.

Ben went back behind the counter, returned with coffee and a little jug of cream before going back to work on the ice-cream. "So whereabouts you folks staying?"

"Echo Lake."

"Renting?"

"No, it's a family place. I used to come here when I was a boy." Ben looked across as he peeled the banana. Jack watched the recognition hit his face like an axe blow.

"Jack Thompson." Ben's voice wavered and then came back strong. "Extra chocolate sauce and hold the nuts."

Jack smiled. "That's quite a memory."

"How many years has it been?" Ben shook his head. "I'm sorry about what happened. Your mom was a real nice lady. How's your dad doing?"

"He's fine."

"Is it just you and the boy?"

"No, my wife Kate is back at the house. Mommy's not feeling well, is she, Tommy? We're giving her some peace and quiet."

Ben shot a blast of whipped cream onto the dish in front of him and then reached for the cherries. "Working around here, Jack?"

"Not at the moment."

"I don't think you'll find much in the winter. The tourists are all at the big resorts like Breckenridge and Keystone. No skiing or snowboarding in these parts."

He brought the sundae to the table. Tommy's eyes grew when he saw the size of it, a mountain of ice-cream and bananas. Ben had made a face with the toppings. Cherries for eyes and nose, dark sprinkles for the mouth.

"Two spoons in case your dad needs to give you a hand. And extra chocolate sauce." He winked at Jack.

As Nathan approached Echo Lake, the wind whipped the snow into eddies that swirled across the road like mini tornados. He drove slowly through the town.

The place was smaller than he'd expected: a hardware store, grocery and pharmacy. He wondered if it had changed at all in the last ten years.

When he'd discovered his mother had been murdered here, he read everything he could about the case and the town. At eighteen, he'd harbored dreams of solving the crime. By the time he had the skills and the money, he'd lost the heart.

Echo Lake seemed a million miles from San Antonio and the trail was frozen solid. What could he do that the local experts couldn't? Then or now, for that matter.

Nathan couldn't help wondering if things might have been different for Jack if he'd been around. Maybe Jack and Steven wouldn't have been enemies with an older brother to arbitrate. It gnawed at the back of Nathan's mind like a slow cancer, what his life would have been like if his mother had taken him with her and not left him with his father. She'd abandoned him completely and his throat tightened at the thought.

Although Nathan couldn't forgive Jack, he hadn't lost sight of the fact that Alison was to blame, too. Three happy years destroyed by her ecstatic cry in another man's arms. Why had she preferred Jack? That was all he needed to know. Nathan hadn't thought he'd been bad in bed. He'd never had any complaints. Maybe his partners hadn't wanted to say. Insecurity about his sexual performance had a lot to do with his unhappiness over the last year. How could he talk to anyone about that? It was something he just had to get through.

Nathan drove though the town without stopping, afraid if he did, he wouldn't get going again. Snow fell in flakes the size of quarters, settling everywhere now the wind had dropped. The wiper blades struggled to cope. No plows out yet.

Although they'd had freak snows in San Antonio, he'd never driven in anything like this. Nathan gripped the wheel and squinted. The zooming fat flakes were hypnotizing. He kept his foot steady on the gas, plowing through a good six inches. The snow scattered around him like he was locked in one of those children's snow globes. He prayed he didn't get stuck. But God, it was beautiful.

He found the turn to Echo Lake more by chance than design and pulled off the highway. There were no tracks to follow, but the route through the trees was clear. He made a right turn at the fork, figuring he needed to go down rather than uphill.