Far below, through the branches of trees sliding by her, she caught a glimpse of the state road that snaked around the mountain, but it was a straight drop-off from here to there, a nearly vertical descent made even more treacherous by the trees and giant snow-covered boulders that rose up from the mountain. If she took that route, she might make better time for a few seconds down the mountain, but there was no chance she'd ever reach the highway in one piece. Besides, before she could seriously consider going down the face of the mountain, she first had to use the bridge to get across that swollen stream. She tried to remember where the bridge was. It seemed to her that it should be around the next sharp bend in the road, but it was hard to gauge anything when the "road" had been reduced to a narrow path between snow drifts.

It occurred to her that what she probably ought to do was get off the snowmobile and do something to generate some body heat, like running in place or something like that. On the other hand, she was afraid to take the time to do that. If the snow had already filled in her tracks from the garage to the woods by the time he realized she was gone, he'd automatically assume she was using the road and he'd overtake her much sooner and more easily than if he tried to follow her circuitous trail through the woods. Julie had deliberately been avoiding looking over her shoulder because she was afraid to take her eyes off the path and risk losing control of the unfamiliar vehicle again, but now that she realized everything hinged on how fast the snow was filling in her tracks, she couldn't resist. She stole a swift look over her shoulder and choked back a scream. Above and still well behind her, a snowmobile was flying out of the woods and angling down toward the road, its rider crouched low over the front—an ominous specter of doom, swerving around boulders and trees with what appeared to be effortless skill.

Terror and rage overrode everything, even the numbing cold, and sent adrenaline pumping wildly through her veins. Praying he hadn't yet spotted her through the dense trees that lined both sides of the narrow road, she looked around for a place to veer off and try to hide so that he would overshoot her. Up ahead, around the next switchback, she glimpsed a narrow plateau, but the road there was edged with boulders to stop cars from plunging over the side. Somehow, she had to angle between the boulders and slow the snowmobile down before it reached the edge of the plateau, then find a hiding place down there among the trees, whose tops rose above the left side of the road. With no time to think of another plan, Julie aimed the snowmobile for a spot between two shoulder-high boulders, then she clamped down on the brakes as she shot over the edge of the mountain.

The plateau was much narrower than it had seemed, and for terrifying seconds, she was airborne, soaring toward the tops of a thick stand of pine trees, then the nose of the snowmobile dived to earth like an out-of-control rocket, heading straight for a clump of trees and, a few feet beyond them, the creek. Screaming, Julie felt gravity tearing the snowmobile out from under her just as the middle branches of a pine tree rose up in front of her, opening their arms to her. The snowmobile plunged down the embankment, rolling over itself, sliding across the ice that had formed near the bank, and finally coming to a stop on its side, its handlebars hanging over the rushing water, its skis snagged in the branches of a partially submerged aspen.

Dazed with relief and a little disoriented, Julie lay beside the pine that had broken her fall and she watched a snowmobile shoot over the edge of the embankment. In pursuit of her… Forcing her body to react, she rolled over, staggered to her knees, and scrambled under the tree. The skis on his snowmobile were air-bound when they lashed past her hiding place, and Julie crawled further back beneath the branches, but she needn't have bothered, because he never even glanced in her direction. He'd spotted her snowmobile overturned on the ice and beginning to be tugged into the stream's rushing water, and all of his attention was focused on that.

Unable to completely assimilate what was happening or accept her own good fortune, she watched him leap off his snowmobile before it came to a stop and run toward the stream. "JULIE!" he shouted over and over again into the howling wind, and to her utter disbelief, he started walking out across the thin ice. Obviously, he thought she'd fallen through it, and just as obviously, he should have been glad that she was no longer a complication with which he had to contend.

Julie assumed he merely intended to try to recover her snowmobile, and her gaze flew to the snowmobile he'd abandoned. It was now much closer to her than to him; she could get to it long before he could and, unless he could drag her snowmobile to safety, she could still make good her getaway. Keeping her gaze glued to his back, she crawled out from under the tree, straightened, and took a stealthy step away from her hiding place and then another and another, intending to sidle from tree to tree.

"JULIE, ANSWER ME, FOR GOD'S SAKE!" he shouted, stripping off his jacket. The ice around him began to crack and the rear end of her snowmobile rose in the air as the machine tumbled into the creek and vanished. Instead of trying to reach safety, he grabbed ahold of the branches of the fallen aspen and to her utter disbelief, he deliberately lowered himself into the icy water.

His shoulders disappeared and then his head, and Julie darted to the shelter of the next tree. He broke the surface for air, shouting her name again, then he dove beneath the water, and Julie raced to the last tree. Less than three yards away from his snowmobile and absolute freedom, she stopped, her gaze riveted helplessly on the stream where he had disappeared. Her mind shouted that Zachary Benedict was an escaped convict who had compounded his crimes by taking a hostage, and she had to leave now while she had the chance. Her conscience screamed that if she left him now and took his snowmobile, he would freeze to death because he'd tried to save her.

Suddenly his dark head and shoulders broke the surface beside the submerged tree trunk, and a sob of relief rose in her throat as she saw him haul himself up onto the ledge of ice. Dimly amazed by his sheer strength of will and body, Julie watched him brace his hands on the ice, shove himself upright, and stagger over to the jacket he'd flung off. Instead of putting it on, he sank down beside it near a snow-covered boulder next to the stream.

The internal war between Julie's mind and her heart escalated to tumultuous proportions: He hadn't drowned, he was safe for the moment; if she was going to leave him, it had to be now, before he looked up and saw her.

Paralyzed with indecision, she watched him lift the jacket in his hand. The moment of foolish relief she felt at the thought that he was going to put it on became horror as he did something that was the macabre opposite: He flung the jacket aside, reached up, and began slowly unbuttoning his shirt, then he leaned his head against the boulder and closed his eyes. Snow swirled around him, clinging to his wet hair and face and body while it slowly dawned on her that he wasn't even going to try to make it home! He obviously thought she had drowned trying to get away from him, and he had assigned himself the death sentence as his own punishment.