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  Shivering convulsively, she bent down and gathered up the armload of pine boughs she’d collected and raced through the wind and snow to the side of the house. For the entire fifteen minutes that she’d been outside, he’d remained at the windows, watching her like an expressionless stone statue. The alleged need for “props” for the imaginary snowman scene enabled her to vanish from view for a few minutes at a time without rousing his suspicions, exactly as she’d hoped it would, but she was afraid to be gone too long. So far, she’d made three short trips of increasing duration, returning each time with pine boughs after trying to hotwire the Blazer. She was counting on the hope that he’d soon decide she was actually idiotic enough to spend her time building a snowman in freezing weather, and he’d grow bored with sentry duty.

  Raising her arms, Julie pulled the knitted ski cap she’d taken from the closet down over her frozen ears, then she began to roll the bottom ball of the snowman’s body, while she reviewed her remaining alternatives for escape: To try to escape on foot would be suicidal insanity in this weather, and she knew it. Even if she didn’t get lost trying to go cross-country down the mountain, she’d likely freeze to death long before she reached the main road. If by some chance, she did make it, she’d surely die of exposure before a motorist came along. On the way here, they hadn’t passed another car for the last two hours. The possibility of finding out where he’d hidden the keys to the Blazer seemed equally remote, and she couldn’t start the car without them.

  “There has to be a way to get out of here!” Julie said aloud as she pushed and shoved the ball of snow closer to the pile of pine boughs. There was a padlocked garage at the back of the house, which Zachary Benedict had told her was used for storage and thus couldn’t accommodate the Blazer. Maybe he was lying. Maybe he didn’t know for certain. One of the keys in her pocket looked like it was meant to fit a padlock, and the only padlock she’d seen anywhere was on the side door of that garage. The possibility that the homeowner had left a car in there did little to elevate her spirits right now. Assuming she could find the car’s keys and get it started, the Blazer was blocking the garage door.

  That left her with only one likely option: Even without seeing the interior of the garage, she had a hunch what she was going to find inside of it:

  Skis.

  There were ski boots in the bedroom closet, but no skis in the house, which meant they were probably in the garage.

  She’d never skied in her life.

  She was prepared to try. Besides, it didn’t look very hard whenever she saw people skiing on television and in the movies. How hard could it possibly be? Children could ski. Surely she could, too.

  And so could Zachary Benedict, she remembered with a thrill of raw fear. She’d seen him skiing in one of his movies, a mystery set in Switzerland. He’d looked as if he were an expert skier in that film, but probably a stuntman had done the hard stuff.

  Grunting as she rolled the heavy ball through the snow, making it fatter and fatter, Julie finally maneuvered it into position ten minutes later—no mean feat, given that she could scarcely bend her knees in her tight jeans. Finished with the first one-third of the snowman, she quickly scattered the pine boughs around it in a half circle as if she had some plan in mind, then she stopped and pretended to contemplate her handiwork. From the corner of her eye, she stole a sidelong glance at the windows, and saw that he was still there, immobile as a stone sentry.

  It was time, she decided with a nervous tremor, for a foray into that locked garage.

  Her gloved hands clumsy from suspense and cold, Julie tried unsuccessfully to fit the first key she’d found into the bottom of the heavy padlock. Holding her breath, she slid the second key into it, and the lock separated into two parts in her hand. Glancing over her shoulder at the back door of the house, she made certain he hadn’t suddenly decided to come outdoors, then she stepped over the snowdrift blocking her way and went into the garage, closing the door behind her.

  Inside, it was dark as pitch, but after stumbling over a shovel and bumping into an unknown object with enormous tires, she finally found a light switch on the wall and flipped it on. A bank of large overhead spotlights exploded with light. Momentarily blinded, Julie blinked and then glanced around the crowded area, her heart beginning to hammer with anticipation and foreboding. Skis. There were several pairs of skis and ski poles secured in racks on the far wall. On her left was an enormous tractor equipped with a huge contraption for blowing snow. Julie tried to envision herself sitting in the cab of the tractor, plowing her way along the treacherous road that wound down the mountain, then she discarded the possibility. Even if she were foolhardy enough to try to push the Blazer out of the way and drive the tractor down the mountain, the machine would make enough noise to alert the man in the house. Moreover, it would move so slowly that he’d be able drag her out of it without breaking into a run.

  The other half of the two-car garage was filled with tractor equipment, snow tires, boxes, and some other equipment that was covered with a large black tarpaulin.

  Skis. She was going to have to try to ski her way down the mountain; if she didn’t die of exposure, she’d probably die of a broken neck. Equally as depressing, she’d have to wait until tomorrow or the day after to try it, because the wind was picking up outside and the snow was beginning to fall as if it were a real blizzard. More out of curiosity than hope, Julie lifted the corner of the tarpaulin and peered underneath it, then she threw it aside with a cry of joyous disbelief.

  Beneath the tarp were two shiny, dark blue snowmobiles with helmets perched on the seats.

  Fingers trembling, she tried the second key in the nearest snowmobile’s ignition. It slid in and turned. It fit! It worked! Elation and anticipation soared through her as she raced out of the garage and carefully closed the side door behind her. The weather that had seemed so forbidding a few minutes ago was now only a minor annoyance. In a half hour or less—as soon as she could change into that snowmobile suit in her closet and sneak out of the house—she’d be on her way to freedom. She’d never used a snowmobile before, but there was no doubt in her mind that she could manage somehow, and much better than she could have handled those skis and poles. Intent on keeping up the ploy that was working so well for her, Julie paused long enough to grab some more pine branches, then she dashed to the site of the snowman and dumped the branches there, as if she’d been gathering them all this time. Zachary Benedict was still standing at the windows, watching her, and Julie forced herself to pause and look about her as if searching the yard for more “props” to use for her snowman, while she gave a last few seconds’ thought to the details of her forthcoming bolt for freedom. All she truly had to do was change clothes and put on dry gloves and take the key to the other snowmobile so he couldn’t follow her when he realized how she’d escaped.

  She was ready to go. Neither snow nor wind nor an escaped convict with a gun could foil her now. She was as good as on her way.

  From within the house, Zack watched her clamp her hat down over her ears and trudge off out of sight to look for whatever it was she needed to create whatever unidentifiable “scene” she was making out there. The anger he’d felt earlier was gone now, greatly alleviated by the news that Sandini’s condition hadn’t worsened and, to a lesser extent, by the unwilling amusement he felt as he watched Julie wrestle with that enormous ball of snow, pushing and shoving at it, even though she could scarcely bend over in those tight jeans she was wearing. His lips quirked in a half-smile as he recalled watching her solve the problem: When the snowball was large enough, she’d stopped pushing it with her hands and arms, and instead, she’d turned around, braced her back against the snowy boulder, and shoved it using her feet and legs. Zack had been sorely tempted to go outside and help her, an offer that he knew she’d angrily reject and would have simultaneously deprived him of the pleasure of watching her from his vantage point. Until that moment, he had never imagined there could be such pleasure in simply watching a woman b