"No. He just..." Her brave face suddenly crumbled. "Dave," she whispered, "do you think everyone knows?"

"Knows that you're a great person?" he countered, even though he knew she was referring to the nightmare she'd lived through as a prisoner and concubine of a vicious man. "Absolutely."

But Sophia shook her head. "Doesn't it seem too coincidental? That Alec should hit on me now? After hanging out with Gillman and Lopez, who saw my scars..." Her voice trailed off as she looked over his shoulder, and Dave realized Deck was standing right behind him.

The look in his eyes was pure I'll fucking kill them. "I'll meet you at the car," Deck told Dave, and it was clear he was going to go kick some Navy SEAL ass. Sophia was too busy trying to hide her upset from Decker to notice.

Dave's choice was between defusing the Decker-bomb or trying to set Sophia straight, and he let Deck disappear.

"Soph," he said. "Come on. I've worked with these mega-mondo-alpha types before. Mac wasn't hitting on you because he thinks you're easy, or that you'll put out. I mean, obviously, he's hoping you'll put out. You're beautiful and extremely sexy and he wants you-both on his arm and in his bed. How could he not? But I've never heard him or anyone else talking about you with anything less than respect. In fact, it's usually reverence. Worshipful, even."

That got him a disbelieving smile. "Okay, that's laying it on a little thick," she said.

"It's the truth," he told her. "You're a goddess, and they're all overachievers. If they're gossiping about you, I'd bet it's about the fact that you keep saying no. These are men who take no as a challenge. You said no to Gillman, which probably made Mac more determined than ever to get you to say yes to him. Make sense?"

Sophia nodded. And hugged him. "You always say the right thing. I don't know if it's true, but, okay. It might be."

"It is." He closed his eyes as he hugged her, too, his cheek against the silkiness of her sweet-smelling hair.

"Be careful out there," she told him.

"You be careful, too."

She pulled away. "Careful not to burn my mouth on hot coffee? I'll be here, safe and warm, while you're-"

"Seriously," he said. "Until we catch this guy, I want you to stay close to Lindsey or Tess."

"Wait, haven't I heard this story before?" she teased. "The men leave the women behind at the hunting lodge-or in this case, the Motel-ARama. Where's Izzy with his Give me back my leg?" She laughed at his expression. "I'm kidding. Now you come on. Lindsey and Tess are both armed. And Stella and Robert are here. We're ridiculously safe."

"Those sound like such famous last words," Dave said, glad, though, that her smile seemed more genuine. "Cut to scene of you, tied to railroad tracks."

Her laughter was warm. "Go," she said, pushing him away. "Find Tracy and bring her back here, healthy and alive. Then we'll all have a celebration dinner."

Those were much better last words. Cut to scene of bedroom, where the hero and the fairy-goddess blond heroine finally kiss, and fade to black.

Provided the hero ever got his head out of his ass.

"Go," Sophia said again.

Dave bowed, just very slightly. "As you wish."

It was then, as if punctuating his words, that the power went out.

In the dim light from the overworked generator, Lindsey had the full attention of all of the personnel, both SEALs and Troubleshooters, who were going out in groups of two, three, and four, to canvass the area.

She'd already pored over the maps, looking for isolated houses that were in relatively close-but not too close-proximity to both the quarry and the pharmacy that had been robbed, and had identified quite a few starting places.

She'd also played them the message Tracy had left on Lindsey's home answering machine. God, it was weird to hear her voice. Tom had ordered them to assume she was still alive, but Lindsey could see from their eyes that many of them doubted it.

Yeah, hi, it's me, Tracy. I'm calling from some pay phone on the freaking North Pole. I just got your cell number, so I'll call you right back in a sec. See, there's this guy who's kind of hot, but kind of not-think if Ralph Fiennes sniffed glue-and he's...Shoot, he's getting out of his car. I feel like I should give you the license plate number, in case I drop off the face of the earth. Except it's dark and...I think there's a nine...That's all I can see. There's mud or pig poop on it, or whatever animal they farm up here. It's got New Hampshire plates. Except, okay. He's just refilling his windshield wiper fluid. Silly me. I'll call you back on your cell.

Lindsey had shown the teams-thanks to the motel generator, Tess's computer, and imdb.com-a photo of Ralph Fiennes, the handsome English actor who'd starred in The English Patient and The Constant Gardener. She'd also shown them photos of glue-sniffers-of their glazed and vacant eyes. It was probable that Tracy had been exaggerating in her description of the man who'd abducted her, but Lindsey wanted to arm them as thoroughly as possible.

"When they answer the door, be friendly," Lindsey reminded them. Alyssa was going out with Sam and a SEAL officer named John Nilsson. Dave was with Decker, although Deck was conspicuously absent from this briefing. A group of SEALs she didn't know very well were actually taking notes. Good for them. "Ask for their help in finding a missing woman-don't mention serial killers or the murder of the pharmacist. Ask to come inside. Use small talk-the flu's been going around, ask if anyone in the house has been ill. Notice the smell. You can smell sickness, and you can smell death. Especially in the winter with the windows closed. Notice, too, any overpowering scents that might be used to mask those odors. Ask to talk to all of the other people who live in the house. Ask about their neighbors-how long have they known them. Remember, it's possible that Richard Eulie, our suspect, has only been living in the area for three years. He may be perceived as a relative newcomer. Any questions?"

God, she wished she were going out there, with them.

But even more than that, she wished Tracy had never disappeared.

And as long as she was making wishes, she wished Jenk were sitting there, looking back at her. Instead, he was with one of the teams that would be moving the sat dishes to new locations.

Lindsey didn't feel as frightened when he was beside her. The panic came when he was gone. What was she doing, telling him she'd think about going home with him for Christmas? Meeting his parents as if she were his girlfriend?

There were no questions-everyone was eager to get on their way.

Chains had been put on tires.

Weapons were checked and holstered. She herself had her usual setup-a pair of .22 caliber handguns, lightweight and easily concealable. Not extremely useful in long-range situations, but completely capable when up close and personal.

Not that she'd be needing a weapon.

Still, both Tom and Alyssa had checked with Lindsey and Tess, too, making sure they were armed.

As the motel cleared out, with the wind howling and the snow falling sideways, swirling around, the emptiness was decidedly creepy.

Lindsey went back to the maps, studying the twisting labyrinth of mountain roads.

If she were a serial killer, where would she be?

Visibility sucked.

And the tires kept slipping off the freaking road.

It wasn't due to the whiteout conditions caused by the wind and falling snow, although that didn't help.

It was the lack of guardrails or markers on these poorly maintained back roads that were screwing Jenk up the most. With a blanket of snow already on the ground, drifting high in places, he found himself unable to define just how wide the road was. He invariably ended up leaving the pavement with his right wheels.

The shoulder often sloped, sometimes rather steeply, but he was always able to wrestle the vehicle back.

Except for this time. Shit. "Hold on!"

He focused on keeping the car on all its wheels, managing only to slip and skid down into a ditch along the side of the road.

"Jesus, Jenkins." Gillman was less than pleased. "Will you let me drive now?"

"That was fucking awesome driving, asshole," Izzy came back at him. They were all already out of the car, working to get it back up to the road. He shouted over the howl of the wind. "He kept us from rolling over. You think pushing this is heavy? Try turning one of these fuckers over."

Getting the SUV back up the slippery hill wasn't going to happen with mere muscle. They needed traction. Jenk opened the rear door. There were shovels and bags of sand in the back.

"Danny's still freaked out," Lopez said, his voice muffled beneath his ski mask and hood, as he tore open one of the bags, "from that whole confrontation with Larry Decker."

"You were freaked, too," Gillman told Lopez. "Don't deny it. He's one scary mofo."

"Yeah, but I'm not the one who hit on Sophia," Lopez pointed out. "You're freaked out about that, too."

"I wouldn't have hit on her," Gillman said, "if I'd've known about...I mean, God, the shit she's been through. A woman like that should come with a warning label. I mean, she told me she had baggage, but, man."

"Will you fucking stop yapping and push?" Izzy said.

Jesus, it was cold. The windblown snow felt like needles of ice on Jenk's face. He climbed behind the wheel and put the vehicle in gear as his teammates dug in their boots and heaved. The engine whined and the tires spun-and finally caught.

And they were back on their way.

"My hair's entirely iced," Gillman complained as Lopez cranked the heater.

Izzy was unsympathetic. "Next time wear a hat, douche-bag." He turned to Lopez, who had the map. "How much farther?"

"Another three kilometers."

"Jenk," Gillman said, "you and Lindsey are pretty close, and she's friends with Sophia, right? Did she tell you about...? You know."

Jenk did know. Gillman was talking about how Sophia had gotten those scars.

"No," he answered, looking at him in the rearview mirror. "But even if she had...Didn't you just promise Decker not to gossip?"

Larry Decker, who was not the type to make idle threats, had pointed to Gillman, Lopez, Izzy, Jenk, and Lieutenant MacInnough, back at the motel, while they were gearing up.

"The five of you," he'd said. "Over here. Now."

Once a former Navy SEAL chief, the man could put a boatload of authority into his voice when he wanted to. Even Mac, an officer, hopped to it at Deck's command.

"Stay away from Sophia Ghaffari," Deck had told them. The man was seriously pissed, but his voice was quiet. His delivery was far more effectively frightening than any angry shouting would have been. "Don't touch her. Don't talk to her. Don't even look at her. What she's been through is bad enough without you making it worse. And you see it as something to take advantage of. She's an easy target, right? Wrong. She's strong. And brave. More than you sons of bitches could ever hope to be. So when you gossip to your friends about her, about her scars? Be sure to mention that. And mention me, too. Because if anyone so much as looks at her sideways, I'll rip out their fucking throats."

Mac had been seriously confused. "What scars? Deck, I appreciate your concern for Sophia, but I've neither gossiped about her, nor seen any scars."

Decker looked at him hard, but it was very obvious that Mac wasn't bullshitting him. "Gillman and Lopez didn't tell you?" He was seriously taken aback.

The two SEALs in question were offended. "I didn't tell anyone," Gillman insisted.

"What kind of jerks do you think we are?" Lopez's mouth was tight with outrage.

Izzy, for once, just shook his head as Decker looked from him to Jenk.

"We respect Sophia," Jenk told him.

"Whatever they know about Sophia and her scars-God-none of these men shared it with me," Mac told Deck.

"You asked her to go to New York with you," Decker said as if that was proof of Mac's evildoing.

"Yeah," Mac said. "Dream big's always been my credo. If you want to know the truth, Chief, I asked her out because, yes, I had heard rumors that she was some sort of, I don't know, modern Mata Hari concubine over in some shithole Middle Eastern country and...See, I figured that everyone else had heard these rumors, too, and were completely intimidated by her-both by that and the fact that she's really beautiful. There's something I call out of my league syndrome that I use to my advantage. When women are too beautiful, no one ever asks them out. I thought this would be doubly the case with Sophia, because, you know. The rumors. I figured I had a real shot at dating her. Dating her."

"So she really is that Mata Hari operative everyone's been talking about?" Izzy asked. "Whoa."

"Aw fuck," Decker had breathed. "Gentlemen, I apologize. Please don't hold my brash actions against Sophia. I hope you'll continue to respect her and not spread these...rumors any further."

Rumors. Right.

"I'm not gossiping," Gillman said now. "Because we've all seen those scars. Gossiping would be me telling Silverman or Junior. Or calling WildCard Karmody in California. I would never do that. I'm...freaked is a good word for it. I mean, it's no secret either that I kissed her, at the hunting lodge. It never occurred to me that her silence wasn't an affirmative, that maybe I'd scared her, or...I don't know what. But I didn't even ask. I just frenched her. God, I feel awful. And the stupid part is that I still really like her. She's incredible. But now I don't know what to say to her. I'm all...yeah, freaked out."

"You should tell her," Izzy advised, as they drove through the storm, wipers ineffectively slapping, defroster blasting to keep the windshield from completely freezing. "Definitely tell her, Dan. Life's too short."

Jenk glanced at him in the mirror, wondering what it was that Izzy would tell Tracy if he had the chance.

Izzy caught his eye and shook his head. "Just shut up, Weeble."

"I didn't say anything," Jenk protested.

"Yeah, but I know you, and you were going to."

He was spared having to answer because his phone rang. He tossed it back to Zanella, because he needed both hands on the wheel, and Lopez was wrestling with the map.

"It's Lindsey," Izzy said, before he even opened the phone. "Please tell me that we found her alive and in one piece." There was a pause, then, "Oh, my Jesus God, pull over, pull over, Jenkins-pull over!"

Jenk didn't pull over. He didn't want to risk another trip into the ditch, but he hit the brakes and they skidded to a stop.

Zanella dropped the phone and bolted out of the car.

Gillman picked it up, grimly handing it to Jenk. "I think it was bad news."

As he put the phone to his ear, he could barely see Izzy, just standing there, a few feet from the side of the SUV. The falling snow was that heavy. "Linds."

"Is Zanella okay?" she asked.

"He needed to, um, make a pit stop." Jenk braced himself. "What's the news?"

"The DNA test came back. The body we recovered is that of Connie Smith, from Midland, Michigan."

Thank God. Poor Connie Smith, but thank God.

"Tracy's alive," Jenk told the others.

As Izzy got back into the car, no one commented on either his abrupt departure, or the fact that his face and eyes were red, as if he'd scrubbed himself with a handful of snow to hide whatever emotional reaction he'd had. Gillman just silently handed Iz some Burger King napkins that someone had stuck into the pocket behind the front seat so he could blow his nose.

On the other end of the phone, Lindsey was being cautious. "We don't know that Tracy's alive," she reminded Jenk. "But we can say for sure that the body from the quarry wasn't hers."

"She's still alive," Jenk repeated his optimistic words. "Thanks for the update. FYI, we'll be going dark in just a few minutes. We're approaching the tower. It'll be shut down for the next thirty to forty minutes. We'll call in as soon as it's reset."

"Be safe, Mark" she said, and cut the connection. He tried not to be disappointed that she hadn't said, As long as I'm giving you good news, I just thought I'd say yes to Christmas. She had, after all, called him Mark in public. Small victories, he reminded himself.