“Do you hear that?” Bennings pointed upwards. “Listen!”

Over the sound of the wind still making the pine trees in the area moan and rustle, there was a low, mechanical hum – the sound of engines.

“They’ve found us!” Natalie burst out, unable to hold in her excitement. “We’re saved!”

“They may be looking for us, but that doesn’t mean that they’ve seen us,” Sydney remarked dryly. “We’ve had a day or so of snowfall to hide whatever signs of a crash might be visible from the air…”

“There are a lot of broken trees in the area, doc,” Bennings retorted, his spirits soaring in much the same way Natalie’s had. “All we gotta do is let them know we’re here…”

“And just how do you suggest we do that?” Sydney snapped. “Stand out in the middle of the snow in the debris field waving our arms like lunatics?”

“It’s better than sitting tight in here and maybe not catching their attention,” Natalie snapped back. “Everybody up and out NOW – we need to let them know…”

“We have sick and injured people here,” Sydney reasoned, shaking his head and immediately wishing he hadn’t. His headache, that had been flaring with gut-wrenching nausea and then receding to a dull pounding behind his eyes on and off since the crash, was back with all its fury. “And some of the rest of us aren’t in the best shape either…”

“George and Parker I can understand. But you? Get moving!” Bennings reached down and hauled up on Sydney’s left arm, and the old psychiatrist couldn’t help the cry of pain that burst from his lips as he felt something in his back give way.

“Leave him alone!” Miss Parker burst out, alarmed at the way what little color Sydney’s face had had simply drained away and he sagged in Benning’s hold. “Can’t you see that he’s hurt too?”

Bennings stared. “I…” He’d never seen another person fade quite as quickly as the European gentleman was doing – and he knew that there was no way to fake such a thing. “I didn’t know…”

“Look - if you want to go outside and try to signal the plane, then go ahead and do it! Nobody’s stopping you,” she hissed at the executive as she struggled to sit up, put her feet down properly and reach out to her old friend to help him sit back down next to her and lean if he needed to. “Sydney… God, Syd, are you OK?”

Sydney shook his head weakly. Where his left hand had been tingling and experiencing numbness off an on, now there was no sensation – and no muscle control – of the entire arm. What was more – now there was a stabbing pain between his shoulder blades. He could hardly hold his head up.

Miss Parker had very little energy – her tangle with the flu had made it impossible for her to even consider holding down any food, so she hadn’t eaten since the meal on the plane before the crash. But what little energy she still had lit a fire in her eyes that she turned full-blast on Bennings. “I swear to God, if you’ve hurt him worse than he was before, and we get rescued, I’m gonna make it my business…”

“Parker,” Sydney’s right hand caught at her left. “Let it go – he didn’t know…”

Bennings looked back and forth between the opening to the outside and the man who was evidently injured worse than anybody could have guessed, and then made his move to go outdoors, counting as he walked by the heads of those who evidently preferred to stay inside. Sydney had been so stoic, without complaint helping anybody who’d been hurt all this time; it was hard to think that he’d done so while bearing up under his own injuries. Bennings stopped halfway out to turn and count heads once more. “Wait a minute - where’s the kid?”

Miss Parker’s head swiveled sharply to look first at him, around their somewhat comfortable shelter, and then at Natalie, who threw her good hand up. “I… She was with me just a while ago… I mean…”

Miss Parker sighed. “Go out and see if she’s trying to wave down the plane,” she directed with a note of frustration in her voice. “Can’t you people think for yourselves?”

“Parker…” This time Sydney’s voice was mildly chiding. “Nobody’s exactly thinking clearly right now…”

Bennings didn’t wait, but grabbed Natalie’s hand and dragged her along with him. “You were supposed to keep an eye on her,” he scolded the stewardess crossly.

The two looked all around once they got past their barriers, but there wasn’t a sign of the little girl at all. “Where would she have gotten to?” Natalie wondered aloud.

“Oh God!” Benning’s stomach turned. He’d caught sight of fresh footprints, small ones, in the snow. “I wonder where the hell she thinks she’s going.” He took a couple of strides following the trail left behind leading in the direction of the larger debris field, then turned when he didn’t hear Natalie slogging along behind him. “Come on!”

Natalie only stood there and shook her head. “I don’t… I can’t…” She looked up as the sound of the engine grew nearer and began waving her good arm madly. “We’re down here!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “Down HERE!”

Bennings sighed and began to walk, sticking strictly to the path broken by the little girl. Where was it that he’d found the child again? Could he find that bank of seats again – and would the girl be there? He knew this was quite possibly the worst time for them to separate into smaller groups, but there wasn’t any alternative.

“Emily?” he called across the field of the dead. “Where are you, sweetheart? You need to come back now…”

~~~~~~~~~*

Sam eased the nose of the car down the drive toward the Ranger’s compound where the Search and Rescue units were assembling. Ethan pointed to another dark sedan that had been parked off to the side. “They’re already here,” he said softly.

“We knew we’d catch up to them sooner or later,” Sam told his companion with a cautioning tone. “Whether or not things are going to get real ugly real fast will depend on whether or not they’re on the lookout for us – or anybody else wanting to get in on the Search and Rescue party.”

“So what do we do now?” Ethan cast his gaze now to the men who were standing in a clump near the front porch of what looked like the main building, milling about and talking to each other excitedly. “It looks as if they’ve had news.”

Sam killed the engine and opened his door. “We aren’t going to find out by sitting here where it’s safe,” he commented and climbed out. He’d already picked out the men employed by the Salt Lake City Centre – they stood out like horse turds on hills, as far as he was concerned. Each wore an identical black parka and dark trousers, and galoshes that looked more suited to city use than back country hiking. “Let’s just keep on the other side of the mob from those two,” he caught at Ethan’s arm and pointed.

Ethan nodded and waited for Sam to lead the way. More or less together, the two men joined the group and listened to the chatter for a moment.

“…they sent in choppers to check it out…”

“…no sign of any life…

Sam turned to look at Ethan, who shook his head. “I know she’s alive – I swear it,” he insisted too softly to be heard by anybody else.

“I hope for our sake you’re right,” Sam replied in an equally soft tone. Then he grabbed Ethan’s upper arm. “Wait a minute – looks like we’re going to get an update.”

“Gather round, people – I don’t want to say this but once,” the man in the Sheriff’s coat spoke into a bullhorn, easily getting the attention of all there with just those few words. He waited until the murmuring had died down and all were facing him expectantly. “We just got word back from the choppers – there’s at least one survivor up on that mountain – but the terrain up there on that particular slope is just too forested for the choppers to land close and do an on-site recon. So that means we’re on tap – and we’ll be walking in. The NTSA has been notified – after the emergency rescue effort, we’ll be assisting them in their job.”

There was a murmur and rustle of energy that filtered through the men while the Sheriff held his hand up. “Now, I know some of you have family members who were on that flight, and you want to head straight up the mountain to see whether your loved one is still alive – but we’re not going to have the luxury of taking along sightseers. Considering that preliminary reports were of no survivors at all, it’s probably going to be pretty ugly up there. We’re going to be looking for anyone with first aid and/or medical experience and fairly strong stomachs. All who think they qualify can come up to the porch here and submit your name. The choppers will be back in about ten minutes to transport the rescue teams in as far as they can get them – so we want the teams ready by then. That’s it…”

Sam’s hand landed hard on Ethan’s shoulder. “Do you have any medical experience?”

The young man shook his head. “Not officially. Mr. Raines had me do lots of stuff before I got away, though - I’ve SIMmed and Pretended…”

“Something tells me they aren’t exactly checking resumes on this one,” Sam told him. “I served with a med-evac unit in Desert Storm – you can claim to have dropped out of med school a year ago.”

“What are you going to do if the other sweepers…” Ethan began, his eyes wide.

“Let me worry about them. We know they’re here, and they don’t know we’re here – I’ve been watching them, and they HAVEN’T been acting like they’re on the lookout for anybody at this point. That gives us an advantage.” Sam patted the young man on the shoulder once more and then stepped forward. He mounted the steps to the porch, ignoring the other sweepers and praying that they hadn’t had a picture of him to work from, and walked up to the desk. “I was with a medical unit in Desert Storm,” he announced tersely.

“You’re hired,” the sheriff declared with an open grin and handed Sam papers. “Fill these out quickly. Next?”

“Dropped out of med school last year.”

“You’re hired. Here – fill these out ASAP. Next?”

Both Sam and Ethan picked up one of the spare pens on the sheriff’s desk and moved to where they could brace the papers against the wall to fill them out. By the time the whump-whump of the helicopter blades was starting to fill the sky, both had handed the papers back and were pointed over to a smaller group of men standing and waiting by the helo-pads.

With a grin Sam noted that only one of the other sweepers had managed to get onto the rescue teams – that more than evened the odds for them. He was even more relieved when the smaller group of men was divided into two – and the other sweeper ended up on his team along with Ethan. Sam walked with his group toward the huge helicopter, deliberately not looking at the sweeper so as to call any attention to himself. He climbed into the helicopter slightly ahead of the other sweeper and quickly found his seat. At least now he’d find out whether Ethan’s claim about Miss Parker’s condition was wishful thinking, or genuine.

~~~~~~~~~*

Blake Hendricks glanced up as his office door swung open to allow Jarod entry. “Jarod. Can you make this quick? I have a meeting in just a little over fifteen minutes…”

“I don’t think so,” Jarod replied in a tight voice.

Hendricks’ head jerked up to look at his Chief of Security and suddenly noticed that he hadn’t come to the office alone. Behind him stood a man he’d never seen before. “Who’s this – and what’s this all about?”

“Carl trusted you,” Jarod accused, ignoring Hendricks’ questions entirely, “and you turned around and betrayed that trust…”

“Jarod,” Hendricks’ eyes were wide, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His right hand slipped behind the desk.

Almost before he knew what was happening, the man behind Jarod had a gun out and pointed in his face. “Bring that hand back up on the desk, nice and slow,” he instructed in a no-nonsense tone that told Hendricks that failure to comply could have serious repercussions.

Jarod merely nodded in confirmation when the hand returned to the desktop with a gun clasped in it. “Drop it!” the unnamed man demanded harshly, and Hendricks carefully dropped the gun from two fingers to clatter to the desktop.

“We got you, you son of a bitch,” Jarod hissed, stepping forward to snare the handgun away before Hendricks could change his mind. He handed the weapon to his still unknown companion, who pocketed the weapon and immediately pulled from that same jacket pocket a wallet that he flipped open to show that it contained a badge.

“Detective Franks, Philadelphia Police, and you’re under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder and solicitation to commit murder for hire.”

As Hendricks’ mouth dropped open, Jarod bent forward with eyes narrowed. “And as of ten minutes ago, when I got off the phone with the Foundation Trustees, you’re fired.”

There was a long moment in which Hendricks and Jarod stayed with their gazes locked in silent contest, and then Hendricks gave a quick nod. “Damned do-gooders,” he muttered to himself as Detective Franks came around to behind the desk with his handcuffs at the ready.

Jarod bit his tongue and said nothing as Franks hauled Hendricks up by the back of his shirt and pulled first one arm and then the other behind him to snap on the handcuffs. Hendricks shot Jarod a sharp look. “I suppose you’re going to be taking over for me,” he stated, his words not a question. “You always were Carl’s number three guy.”

“That’s right,” Jarod replied with great satisfaction. “And my first order of business is to get my ass over to Salt Lake City, in case Carl actually managed to survive that plane crash.”

“You aren’t worried that Blair won’t make a move against you while you’re away from the Big Chair?” Hendricks sneered.

“Joseph Blair is being arrested as we speak,” Detective Franks announced, giving Hendricks’ arm a yank to get him moving in the direction of the door. “His charges are quite similar to yours, if it makes you feel any better.”

“Are you going to need me to make any additional statements, Detective?” Jarod asked as the pair moved past him.

“I have your cell phone number if I need to get in contact with you,” Franks replied. “I’m assuming you’ll be out of state for a day or two – but it will take a while to get this guy arraigned. Hopefully by then, you’ll know whether or not your boss man made it – and will be back.”

“I’ll keep you informed as to my itinerary,” Jarod promised. “And thanks for the assist. I think having you here made it so that I didn’t give in to the temptation to tear him apart at the seams.”

Hendricks snorted derisively. “You haven’t got the balls for that,” he announced with certainty. “You’re nothing but morally stuck up mush – just like Carl.”

Jarod’s eyes narrowed again. “My friend, you never knew me,” he replied simply with as neutral a tone as he could manage. He looked over at Franks. “Get him out of here.”

“With pleasure,” Franks replied and commandeered an elbow to steer the man’s steps.

The moment the office was empty of anyone but him, Jarod let go a huge sigh and then moved to behind the desk. He sat down where Hendricks had been only moments before and dialed an extension number. “Sandy?”

“Yeah? Did you nail his sorry ass?”

Jarod gave a dark chuckle. “You could say that. Listen, I need a seat on a flight to Salt Lake City as of yesterday. You up to working your magic for me again?”

“What’s my enticement?”

Jarod’s jaw dropped for a moment. “How does getting the week after the Chairman’s position is settled once and for all as a vacation sound to you?”

Sandy’s laugh was like sunlight on water. “You’ll have your seat before you can get back here to pack your briefcase. Going after Carl?”

“I gotta know,” Jarod explained, unwilling to share that he had more than just the one reason to be heading west. “I gotta be there. Just get me there as quickly as you can.”

“So hang up so I can call the airline already,” she chided him with a snort of mischief.

Jarod laughed aloud at that and hung up on her obediently. His laughter quickly died, however. The time had come when he was free to act on his urges. He had a friend up on that mountainside – no, he had TWO friends and a man he still considered like a father up on that mountainside. He needed to BE there. NOW.

Sam and Ethan would keep any harm from coming to either Parker or Sydney until he could get there – if they were alive. And Carl…

They all HAD to be alive. They just HAD to be…

~~~~~~~~*

“Well?” Lyle asked as Phil came through the frosted glass doors to the Tower office and carefully shut them behind him.

“There’s good news and bad news,” Phil told him after waiting to take his seat in front of the massive desk. He’d never been so glad to see the smooth and youthful face of his boss in his life – and to be able to move out from behind the incredible responsibility that desk represented.

“Give me the good news first,” Lyle demanded. “I’m still celebrating.”

“OK… I have a team of Salt Lake City’s best cleaners on their way to ‘help’ out with the crash,” Phil announced, knowing exactly what his boss wanted of him. “Their orders are to make sure that Miss Parker and Sydney don’t survive the crash.”

“How soon will we know anything?”

Phil shrugged. “The last I heard anything on the news, the search planes were just leaving Salt Lake City to start looking for them again.”

Lyle heaved a silent sigh. Patience, he counseled himself sternly. He’d waited all these years to have the Centre in the palm of his hand, he could wait until there was no longer any threat to his ascendancy from either his twin or the old psychiatrist. “All right,” he said eventually. “What about the rest of it? Angelo?”

“We THINK we know what section of the ventilation system he’s in, but we haven’t actually caught him yet…” Phil looked somewhat uncomfortable.

“For God’s sake, just fill the ducts with sleeping gas and neutralize the son of a bitch so that when you go in after him, he’s dreaming of sugar plums!” Lyle could barely restrain his frustration. That wacko cretin had been leading the Centre on a merry chase for years – it was time to put a stop to it.

“We can’t just fill the ducts with sleeping gas!” Phil gasped. “We’d put the whole complex to sleep in the bargain.”

Lyle frowned. “Ever heard of a gas mask? Ever thought of handing them out to the employees and THEN gassing the ductworks?”

Phil flinched. He hadn’t thought of that – and was a little amazed that Lyle would think of going to such great lengths for yet another lab experiment that had gotten its noodle scrambled so long ago, according to the stories.

“Angelo is the bad news?” Lyle dared to look hopeful.

“You wish,” Phil remarked caustically. “There has been a lot of flack as the result of the car bombing that took out old man Raines. The FBI have been hounding this office looking for you – I’m surprised they didn’t nail you in the parking structure on your way in.”

Lyle just shook his head. “What’s their problem?”

Phil shook his head. “No idea whatsoever. All I know is that this Agent Stein was in here yesterday telling me that if you didn’t show today and make yourself available for interview, I’d be arrested for obstruction of justice.”

Lyle gazed into the eyes of his personal sweeper. “Are they acting like they have anything on me?” he asked, a little nonplussed.

“They’ve got something cooking on a front burner that involves you, I’d wager,” Phil answered honestly.

“Shit.” Lyle spat. This was the last thing he needed. He’d thought he could just check in, rattle a few cages, make an appearance in front of the Triumvirate representative, make sure his lackey had that report Mr. Abé had demanded, and then go home to his ritual meal. He’d delayed THAT about as long as he cared to. He cradled his forehead between his right thumb and forefinger for a long moment of silence. “Is that everything? What about the rest of my dear sister’s team?”

Phil’s face tightened slightly. “They eluded all the sweepers I sent after them, Mr. Lyle.”

“What?!”

“You have to remember, Sam is one of the best of the best of us,” the sweeper said quickly, not liking the look of complete frustration and the beginnings of a genuine anger on his boss’ face. “He knows all the tricks in the book that sweepers use – hell, he probably helped write a good share of them, working for Miss Parker all this time…”

“I don’t need excuses, damn it!” Lyle exploded. “I didn’t ask you to catch Jarod in two days – just a computer nerd and a sweeper, for God’s sake!”

“They’re damned smart people,” Phil retorted, stung. “We didn’t finally locate them on this end until they were boarding a plane heading west. I can’t be held responsible if the men in Salt Lake City let them slip on that end…”

Lyle’s narrowed eyes told a far different story for a brief instant, and then Lyle was up and pacing. “If Sam and Broots know about Parker and Sydney, and made it to Salt Lake City, you can bet your bottom dollar that they’re gonna make a run at trying to be there to help them out – if they survived.” Lyle’s stomach turned. “They could blow the whole thing, if they get in the way of the cleaners we have up there…”

“You want me to recall the cleaners?” Phil asked calmly. His losing his cool would accomplish nothing beneficial at the moment.

“No,” Lyle replied after a moment of thought spent staring out at the magnificent view afforded the Chairman’s office. “What I’d really rather have happen is that the cleaners you sent along had pictures of Sam and Broots as well – and orders to take them out as quietly and permanently as possible too. But I suppose it’s too late for that now.” He massaged his forehead again. “Get busy and get Angelo into a box he can’t climb out of – you can at least get THAT right, now, can’t you?”

Phil bit his tongue. Maybe being in the power elite and at the top end of the Centre food chain had it’s down sides – besides those he’d already experienced sitting behind Mr. Lyle’s desk. “Yes, sir,” he answered as calmly as he could, rose from his seat and walked briskly out of the office.

Lyle sighed and leaned against the tempered glass of the huge window. Was this part of what had made old man Raines into such a blithering idiot, he wondered, the idiocy of others being a just plain nuisance? He belatedly thought of how many times over the past years Mr. Parker and then Mr. Raines after him had had to sit and listen to one report after another about the inability of this person or that to reacquire Jarod – his own reports included. Thinking on it now, he could see where explosions of fury – not to mention repeated applications of t-board grillings – had been considered a reasonable response.

This was NOT the way he’d hoped to spend his first REAL day as Top Dog at the Centre. After all, there was still the small matter of a choice piece of meat sitting in his fridge at home awaiting his careful attention and creative culinary genius.

He pushed away from the window and plopped himself down into the magnificently comfortable chair and reached for the phone. “Sung-Li? Get me Phil Dryer in Accounting and have him bring whatever draft of the report I asked him to write with him. Immediately.” His thumb and forefinger massaged his temples. “And bring in some aspirin and a fresh cup of coffee.”

~~~~~~~~~*

“You wanted to see us, doc?” Detective Bill Lowe inquired as he and his partner pushed through the swinging doors to the Morgue.

“We’ve got an ID on your vic,” the ME announced triumphantly. “Cherry Fu, age 22, U of M student. Forensics team found her wallet and ID tossed in the dumpster with her – no latent prints, however.” The green-garbed man moved around the examination table and pointed. “Cause of death was strangulation – and we have the imprint of two hands at the neck, left hand missing a thumb.”

“So we’re looking for a guy missing a thumb as the killer, right?” Bridges asked, his pen poised over his notebook.

“Killer and rapist,” the ME nodded. “I did a rape kit – your guy wore protection. But from the amount of damage, I’d say he made a point of hurting her pretty badly – probably more than once.”

“What about the little cuts?” Lowe asked, his eyes transfixed by the numerous silent little mouths that gaped all across the still young woman’s bosom and belly.

“That was nothing but torture,” the ME answered in disgust, “although taken together and given time, would have caused weakness from blood loss.” He looked up and gave both detectives a sharp look. “You guys need to nail this bastard, before he does this again!”

“Any signs of hesitation?” Lowe asked suddenly.

The ME shook his head. “Nope, not a one. This guy knew exactly what he was doing.”

“Maybe he’s done it before.” The words slipped from Bridges’ lips before he could call them back.

Lowe merely nodded. “That’s what I’m thinking.” He looked over at the ME and gave another nod. “Thanks, doc.”

“We need to put the particulars of this out on the wires, don’t we?” Bridges commented as he kept pace with his partner.

“I have a funny feeling I’ve read about something similar to this a while back,” Lowe mused aloud. “I can’t remember from where, and I can’t remember how long ago, but there’s just something about this that seems a little too familiar.”

“That’s all we need,” Bridges growled darkly, “a serial killer.”

~~~~~~~~~*

Broots was bored and frustrated.

He’d known he couldn’t go with Sam and Ethan – someone needed to stay behind with Debbie – but that didn’t change the fact that he’d wanted to go very badly. After all, it was Miss Parker up on that mountainside, and if Ethan were right, she was alive and hurt and in growing danger. Sydney was there too – at least she had someone there for her…

Debbie was quiet, watching an old movie on television. He’d tried to sit and watch it with her, but it was one of those sophomoric comedies with very little plot and fairly lousy acting – just the kind of movie that he detested. So he’d wandered over to his laptop and signed into the Centre mainframe, looking for something without known exactly what or why. Amazingly, his access and clearance had not been compromised – and a few minutes of active testing told him that there was no surveillance on his account or keystroke trackers taking down what he did while logged in. He smiled to himself. So much of what the Centre was about was on this mainframe – and the technophobia that both Raines and Lyle had exhibited in the past meant that neither had fully appreciated the depth to which the “brains” of the Centre could be compromised.

"Hey there, Baldy." popped up the Centre’s own version of Instant Messenger. The username was a buddy of his in Computer Technologies – a geek with a username of Rabbit, because of his oversized ears and front teeth.

"Hey there yourself, Rabbit." Broots typed back. "What’s up at the salt mine?"

"Word at the water cooler is that they’re looking for you, man," his friend sent back almost immediately. "What you do, rob the place?"

"Nah - I think Lyle’s just got it in for me on general principles," Broots replied. "Anything interesting come along since I’ve been out with the flu?"

"Just the FBI snooping all over the place," Rabbit answered. "They’re asking a lot of questions and flashing a picture around of the guy they THINK was the one who did in Nosferatu."

Broots smirked briefly – he’d heard Miss Parker call Mr. Raines ‘Nosferatu’ a while back and had mentioned it to one of his coworkers, only to find out about a week later that the nickname had caught on. He’d been lucky – Raines had eventually found out about the nickname and had vowed to personally ‘take care of’ whoever had started it, but Broots’ colleague had kept his mouth shut. "They think Lyle had something to do with that, eh?"

"Could be." There was a pause. "Just got a quick flash from Doug down in the lobby – the feds are back, and in force this time."

"Isn’t Lyle around?"

"He’s been a no-show for the past couple – but showed up this morning still sporting the shiner he got a few days ago – the day you went home sick, as a matter of fact."

"I remember hearing about that one," Broots replied. "I’ll let you get back to what you were doing…"

"I finished coding the patch to the audio-video communications program – I was just sitting here watching the on-line users and playing solitaire."

Broots shook his head. Rabbit’s cubby was located at the far end of the Computer Technologies computer lab, where few ventured most of the time. Rabbit’s skill at coding had kept him in that far, undisturbed corner earning top dollar as an ace programmer despite his tendency to get bored easily and play computer games when trying to think through a particular bug fix. "You know, man, if Lyle’s in charge, he may not appreciate your way of doing things."

"As if Mr. Lyle ever shows up down here in the first place, Baldy," Rabbit replied, and Broots could almost hear the disdain in his voice. "You see more of him than I do, working for the Ice Queen."

Mention of Miss Parker shattered Broots’ smile. "Yeah, well, I gotta go."

"See you when you get back, man."

Broots closed out the IM program entirely, so that he could browse the mainframe without being disturbed again. At least now he knew what he was looking for – talking with Rabbit had crystallized his thinking: he needed to see anything new, created within the last twenty-four hours, that mentioned his name, Sam’s Sydney’s or Miss Parker’s. Staying three steps ahead of the Centre would take diligence and patience – and was the one sure way in which he could help Miss Parker from the anonymous and relative safety of a motel room.

~~~~~~~~~*

Bennings tripped on something that the snow had obscured with feet that were starting to get numb. Small wonder Sydney had been less than anxious to go outside – twelve inches of snow tended to get inside shoes and freeze toes far too quickly. He wouldn’t be able to be out here for long looking for the lost girl without risking frostbite.

The trail took a turn around a tall pine tree that had lost many of its lower branches to the destructive power of the falling plane, and he gave a deep sigh of relief and a shudder. Emily had indeed remembered where her mother was still strapped into her seat. The little girl had climbed into the seat with the corpse and was trying to brush the deep snow from the frozen head and shoulders and lap.

Bennings walked up to the paired seats and called down gently, “Emily…”

“If they’re coming to rescue us, I have to wake up Mommy,” she explained without looking away from her self-assigned task. “Mommy…” She pushed at the shoulder of the corpse, and then pushed harder. “Mommy, wake up!”

“Sweetie,” Bennings bent down to her, much the way he had when he’d originally found her, “your Mommy’s gone. She’s in heaven now.”

“No!” the child insisted and pushed harder on the corpse. “Mommy! Wake up! It’s time to go now!” Her voice had a touch of panic in it now. “Come on, Mommy…”

“Emily,” the executive had never felt quite so helpless, “it’s too cold for you to be out here for long. Don’t you think that if your Mommy was OK, she’d want you inside, where it’s warm?”

“But…” Tearful blue eyes peered up into his imploringly. “But I’m OK… Why…”

Bennings shook his head sadly. The absolute last thing he wanted to do was destroy a child’s hopes – but it was a question of survival. “Your Mommy’s all stiff and cold, isn’t she?”

Emily looked back at the still form of her mother. The face she loved so much was a strange shade of grey-blue. She reached out a tentative finger and touched her mother’s cheek – and found it indeed hard and cold. She looked back up into the understanding face of the tall man with the loud voice. “She’s dead?”

“Yes.” There was no way to soften the blow – not here, and not now. “She can’t take care of you anymore. You need to come with me now.”

A single tear began to make its way down a pale cheek. “It’s my fault…”

“No it isn’t!” Bennings said sharply and pulled the little girl from the seat to stand in front of him. “None of this is your fault. Bad things happen sometimes – even to people we love.” He grasped her firmly under the arms and lifted her. “When the people come to rescue us, they will take us somewhere safe and warm first – and then later on, when we’re taken care of, they’ll be back for your mommy and all the others.”

Emily wrapped her arms around Bennings’ neck tightly and laid her head on his shoulder, finally shivering with the cold of little feet too poorly protected against the snow and too long out in the cold as well as the shock of finally realizing her loss. “What am I going to do now?” she whimpered. “Daddy doesn’t want us – that’s why we were going back home…”

“We’ll worry about that later, after the rescuers get us off this mountain,” Bennings assured her, beginning to backtrack his steps. “Listen.” He stopped walking, and the two of them together listened as a new, rhythmical thumping could be heard in the distance. “They’ll be here soon. Let’s go get warm, shall we?”

Emily nodded slowly and sniffled, then sniffled again.

The walk back to the first class cabin was slow and careful – Bennings didn’t want to trip or fall over some piece of hidden debris that he’d just managed to avoid on the trek out. By the time he got to the clearing near the protected end of the cabin, he could see that Natalie’s footsteps lead back into the warmth of the cabin too. He twisted and turned as he moved past the leaning sheets of metal.

“You stay with Natalie now,” he directed as he handed the girl back to the stewardess, who had her shoes and socks off and nearly had her feet in the hearth. Natalie wrapped the blanket back around Emily’s shoulders and began removing her shoes. Bennings moved forward until he could look down at Miss Parker sitting next to and supporting Sydney, who was leaning into her left shoulder. Neither of them had moved an inch from the position they’d been in when he’d left. “How is he?”

Grey eyes flashed. “He’s not saying much anymore,” she replied in a worried tone and then shivered. “He can’t move his left arm anymore.”

Bennings ran his hand down his face. “God, I’m sorry,” he said, knowing the words to be totally inadequate. “I didn’t mean…”

“None of us knew – even I didn’t know how badly he was hurt besides his head,” Miss Parker said tersely and then shivered again. “Listen - can you put that log on the fire? It’s getting cold in here again.”

Bennings frowned at her a little, even as he bent to grab up another log to add to the glowing pile in the center of the hearth. “Not really,” he stated and turned to Natalie. “Are you cold?” When she shook her head, and even George from his spot on the floor shook his head, he turned back to her. “It must be from your injuries.”

That thought had occurred to her – she just didn’t want to think through the implications. “Are you going to go outside and signal the plane?” she inquired with a sharp glare.

He shook his head. “I forgot about the snow – which is plenty deep out there now. I don’t need to be tempting frostbite at this late stage of the game. When the rescuers get here, they’ll find us whether or not I stand out there and direct traffic.” He ran his fingers through his more than ample shock of sandy hair. “I just hate to sit here like a lump on a log…”

Miss Parker shivered again, noting that she was starting to get sharp, shooting pains in her injured shoulder now that were making it difficult to concentrate on conversation. “Yeah,” she agreed as she closed her eyes miserably and shivered yet again. “They’ll find us.”

And not a moment too soon, as far as she was concerned.

~~~~~~~~~*

“Hey Erin!” Veronica tapped her workmate on the shoulder as she stood at the espresso machine. “There’s a couple of guys over there are looking for you – they say they’re cops.”

“Looking for me?” Erin frowned, then pointed at what she was doing. “You got this?”

“Yeah – you go ahead.” Veronica watched as Erin grabbed a hand towel and dried her hands before approaching the two men.

“I’m Erin Patterson,” she announced as she drew near. “They said you’re looking for me?”

The taller man pulled a badge from his jacket pocket. “I’m Detective Stan Bridges, and this is my partner, Bill Lowe.” Lowe had his badge out too. “We’re here to ask you a few questions about Cherry Fu.”

“Did Sue report her missing already?” Erin was shocked – Sue had said she was going to wait until morning…

“Uh…” The two detectives looked at each other. “Not exactly – but we’ve already spoken to her roommate. She said that you saw her a couple of days ago.”

“Yeah…” Erin eyed the two men carefully. “What’s going on here?”

The older detective looked at her sympathetically. “Cherry Fu was murdered sometime yesterday. As you are one of the last few people to see her alive, we thought we’d see if you had any information as to what her plans were…” He took in her reaction. “Miss…”

Erin reeled at the idea that Cherry wasn’t just out on a lark avoiding her, but dead on a slab in the morgue. She blinked for a moment, then remembered that it had been Sue that had told her about the man Cherry had been getting ready to go see. “Have you spoken to her roommate yet?”

The detectives consulted their notebooks. “Sue Choi?” Lowe confirmed and then nodded. “She gave us some information - said he was a businessman from out of state, described him as tall, dark haired, blue eyed, missing a left thumb and sporting a black eye.”

Erin felt her stomach twist. Sue hadn’t mentioned THAT to her. It couldn’t be Lyle, could it? How many out of state businessmen with missing left thumbs and a black eye could one reasonably expect to uncover in Baltimore on a given day. “How did she…”

“Raped and strangled,” Bridges replied, watching the young woman’s face carefully. “Sue also mentioned that she thought you acted like you knew this guy.”

“I…” Erin was feeling downright queasy. Lyle had been late to THEIR date – had that been because he’d been busy killing Cherry and lost track of time? And then, last night, she’d…

“Miss? You OK?” Lowe put out a hand when Erin swayed slightly.

“God – it can’t be…” she moaned.

“Do you know this guy?” Lowe asked with more determination.

“I…” Erin was trapped. Her suspicions were just too great to ignore – and the implications if they proved true was just too much to want to consider at the moment. Not at work, not with other people around. “He said his name was Mr. Lyle – although he used it as much as a given name as anything else. He works in Delaware, I think.” She gazed into the detective’s eyes desperately. “Don’t tell him that I was the one who gave you his name – please. If this is just a monstrous coincidence, I’d still like to be able to see him…”

“You went out with this guy?” Bridges gaped. Less than an hour on the computer scanning databases of unsolved crimes had netted no less than three other women who had met much the same fate as Cherry Fu.

Erin nodded miserably. “Last night.”

Both men were writing in their notebooks. “Any idea where we can find this Mr. Lyle?”

She shook her head. “He comes in here fairly often – that’s where I met him…” It was then that a thought hit her, and it took her from feeling merely sickened to downright nauseated. It had been in here, right in front of her, that Lyle might have seen Cherry. She’d come in to compare research notes very quickly not long after he’d been there, just a few days ago.

Lowe had a business card out and handed it to her. “Listen - if you see or hear from this guy again, I want you to call me. My home phone number is written on the back. I don’t care what time it is – if you see him again, call!”

Erin nodded numbly. She gazed past the detectives into the coffee deli shop. “I gotta get back to work,” she muttered and left them without even so much as a goodbye.

It couldn’t be true, she kept telling herself – but in her heart she knew it was. She’d slept with the man who only hours earlier had raped and then killed Cherry. She’d made it only halfway back to the espresso machine when she had to turn and make a mad dash for the women’s restroom before she lost every last bite of her lunch.

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