Micah nodded agreement. This was the hardest part of any lawman's job, going into a situation with almost no idea of what was waiting.

They turned onto Fenster's private road and pa.s.sed beneath a weathered overhead sign that was totally illegible. "Looks like this guy doesn't put out any more effort than he has to," Gage remarked.

"Nope."

Inside, tension was drawing Gage tight, and unanswerable questions kept trying to crowd everything else out of his mind. He couldn't afford to become distracted, and he certainly couldn't give in to his worry about Emma. His hands tightened into fists on his splayed thighs, and he kept his attention firmly fixed on his surroundings.

The Fenster house was invisible from the road, hidden by dips in the land, but as they came around a bend in the rutted track it came into view. Dilapidated, in need of a good sc.r.a.ping and a coat of paint, it looked forlorn, abandoned.

Fresh tire tracks pa.s.sed by the house, heading for the barn several hundred yards behind it.

"That must be where she is," Gage said.

"Maybe. But maybe they put her in the house. Let's check it out."

Gage couldn't argue with that, but this was one time when patience seemed to be escaping him too rapidly for his own good. He wanted to tear the door down and race through the house at full tilt.

"Stay here, man," Micah said as he halted the Blazer right in front of the house. "Watch my back while I go to the door."

Gage opened his mouth to insist that he should go to the door, then realized that was a foolish demand. Micah was the uniformed deputy, and it would look a h.e.l.l of a lot less suspicious for him to walk up to the door.

Gage climbed out of the Blazer and stood waiting while Micah crossed the few yards of snow to the front porch. When he reached the door, Micah lifted his fist and hammered on it in the time-honored way of cops everywhere.

n.o.body inside would be in the least doubt of who was at the door, and it was not a sound that could be ignored.

Micah had to hammer a second time, and by then Gage was uptight enough to gnaw his own bones. His back had begun hurting again, a fiery ache that pulsed like a steady hammer blow, but he hardly noticed it in his anxiety for Emma. Just let him get his hands on her again. Just let her be unharmed. He would never let her out of his sight again. He would protect her from harm for the rest of his days.

Finally, what seemed like aeons later, the door swung slowly open. In the shadowy depths of the house beyond Micah, Gage saw a small, very elderly woman, leaning unsteadily on a walker. She wore a flowered housecoat, and her hair was ratty and dirty looking. She simply looked up at Micah as if she didn't know what to make of him.

"Good afternoon, Miz Fenster," Micah said politely. "I'm Deputy Parish. I'm looking for a young woman who turned up missing this afternoon. You wouldn't happen to have seen anything unusual, would you?"

An endless time pa.s.sed before the old woman's eyes blinked. "Emma Conard," she said, in a voice as dry as ancient parchment. "Don hates her."

Gage tensed and stepped forward. Micah made an almost imperceptible movement, warning him back. "What do you know about Emma Conard, Miz Fenster?" he asked with surprising gentleness. "Can you help us find her?"

"It's those boys he hangs around with," Mrs. Fenster said, her eyes strangely bewildered, almost as if she wasn't sure who Micah was, or of what she was trying to say. "They're evil, all of them, and I've told Donny so many times to tell them to go, but he just tells me to shut up and go back to my room. But they're wicked. Wicked!"

"Emma Conard, Miz Fenster," Micah prompted gently. "What about Miss Emma?"

"I heard them," she said. "I heard them talking about how they were going to ... do those terrible things to her. Like they did to the cows-"

"Do you know where she is?"

"In the barn. They took her to the barn." She looked up at Micah with a kind of sad bafflement. "Why didn't you come out here before? He took the phone out so I couldn't call you... They're wicked ... wicked..."

"How many are there?"

"Donny and four of his friends."

The few hundred yards seemed endless as Micah and Gage ran toward the barn. The growl of the Blazer's engine would have given them away, so after radioing Nate, they grabbed weapons and took off at a dead run. Micah cradled a shotgun in addition to the .45 strapped to his hip. Gage carried a second shotgun and a 9 mm Browning. The fresh vehicle tracks made a packed path that was easier to traverse than the deep snow to either side, but it was also more slippery, which impeded them a little. Gage suspected that not even dry ground could have given him the speed he wanted now. Emma. Oh, G.o.d, please...

A litany of prayers and pleas ran through the background of Gage's thoughts as he forced himself to focus on what they needed to do now. "Donny and four of his friends" meant that if Walt Severn had been correct, there was another one to worry about. One who might not be in the barn. One who might come upon Micah and Gage at an awkward time.

The shadows of the snow dunes had grown longer and bluer. Evening was fast approaching, and Gage welcomed its advent. Less light would be an advantage for him and Micah as they cased the situation.

The side of the barn they approached had no windows and only one small door in its side. Reluctant to chance being noticed if they opened that door even a crack, they split up, heading in opposite directions in search of some means to see inside. Gage came upon a window at one point, but it opened into a tack room that was empty, giving him no clue as to what the men in the barn were up to. It would be a good way to get inside, though, once they had an idea of where their quarry was located.

On the far side of the barn he found the helicopter that must have been used in the cattle rustlings. It was hidden beneath a ramshackle lean-to against the side of the barn.

He slipped around it and encountered Micah. The bigger man was pressed to the side of the building near another door, and the way he was frozen led Gage to hope he could see inside. Hurrying as quickly as he could while still remaining silent, Gage crept up to him.

Micah glanced at him and then stepped back, motioning him to look.

There was a narrow slit between the door and frame, a place left open by a missing strip of insulation. Gage peered inside, and what he saw froze him to his soul. He could see the vague shapes of men moving about, indistinguishable in dim kerosene light, rendered completely shapeless by long robes. When he shifted a little to one side he saw what appeared to be an altar, draped in black, with a ram's head painted in gold on the front of it.

A whispered oath escaped him. No doubt, he thought. There was no doubt that some kind of ritual was about to be performed. Taking into account the pentagram and the ram's head, he would bet it was some kind of satanism. And Emma was in there. Fear squeezed his heart.

Shifting again, he tried to see in the other direction, and that was when his heart stopped utterly. Emma was there, clad only in her thin work clothes, her hands bound above her head by a rope that hung from a high rafter. Her head lolled to one side, as if she was unconscious, and he couldn't for the life of him see whether her feet touched the floor.

Gage pulled away and leaned back against the barn wall, trying desperately to find some of the detachment that was necessary for what was going to have to be done. Without detachment, he couldn't trust his judgment.

"Did you see her?" he whispered to Micah.

Micah gave a brief, wordless nod.

"She could suffocate that way." It might take time, but when you hung by your arms it became nearly impossible to breathe. Gage had had the experience once, when a dealer had gotten suspicious of him. He looked at Micah. "We can't wait."

Micah nodded his agreement. "There's still one unaccounted for."

"He might already be in there. And Emma might already be dead, or close to it. I found the tack room back there. It has a window we ought to be able to climb through."

"Let's go."

Moving in swift, careful silence, they crept around the corner to the end of the barn where the tack room was located. The sun was now a red sphere above the distant mountains, and a fiery twilight colored the world.

The window proved to be unlocked and gave only a little resistance to being raised. The cold weather had dried all the moisture from the wood and loosened the window in its frame. Gage could hardly believe their good fortune.

Micah insisted on going through first. Gage understood-Micah had had a lot more training for this kind of thing-but he didn't like it. Moments later, though, he climbed through and joined Micah by the door of the tack room. Cautiously he tried the k.n.o.b and found the door unlocked. The hinges made only the quietest of creaks as he eased the door open.

Between them and the men were six box stalls, three on either side of a wide pa.s.sageway. The shadows here were deep, concealing, hardly penetrated by the couple of kerosene lanterns Fenster and his friends were using at the other end of the barn.

They were confident, Gage thought, as he and Micah crept down opposite sides of the pa.s.sageway, keeping close to the stalls. They were laughing and talking in normal voices as they prepared to commit their obscenities. One of them even joked about whether it would be as easy to skin a human as it was to skin a cow.

Gage closed his eyes briefly, praying Emma was unconscious and unable to hear this filth. And then, with a monumental effort of will, he returned to the ledge on the abyss where feelings couldn't reach him, the place where the cold wind kept his soul safely frozen. He couldn't afford to let his feelings interfere now.

Undetected, he and Micah reached the end of the line of stalls. As they'd agreed, Gage squatted in the shadows and waited for Micah to step out into the light and reveal himself. The intention was for Micah to ease his way around, away from Emma, drawing the attention of the five men that way, so that Gage could slip around to protect her.

And unfortunately, until somebody threatened him or Micah, they had to do this by the book. Right now Gage would have liked to burn the whole d.a.m.n rule book.

That was when he heard the distant whop-whop of a helicopter. He cast a look at Micah and received an "okay" signal in return. It must be the sheriff's medevac chopper, Gage realized. Micah would certainly recognize the sound of the Huey. And that meant that Nate and his units couldn't be far away. Just a few more minutes.

Emma must be freezing, Gage thought as he looked her way again. It was cold in the barn, though not quite as cold as the outdoors, and her sweater and slacks were little protection. Her feet were touching the floor, he could see now, but he couldn't tell if she was standing or simply hanging by her arms. He half wished she would move, so he could tell if she was alive, and then was glad when she didn't, because he didn't want her to remember any of this. Not any of it.

The attention of the five men suddenly shifted from their various tasks toward a clatter near the makeshift altar, where one of them dumped the contents of a black bag onto a small table. Gage caught a glint of silver, and then one of them- Don Fenster, he thought-lifted a golden dagger.

It was the one from the photograph that had been sent to Emma. Gage recognized it instantly, even though the photograph had been black-and-white. On the pommel was the ruby-probably just gla.s.s-from Emma's dreams.

"I used this on her once before," Fenster said, showing it around as if it were a trophy. "I thought for sure I killed her."

"Drop it!" Micah's voice suddenly cracked through the barn and he stepped around the corner of the stall with his shotgun leveled at the cl.u.s.ter of dark-robed men. Easing around the stall, he edged slowly to the right, drawing their collective gazes from Emma's direction. "You're under arrest for kidnapping. Put your hands where I can see them." Now! Gage thought, and slipped around the corner of his stall, staying low and trying to keep quiet as he crept toward Emma. The Huey's whop-whop was louder now, loud enough to fill the five villains with tension.

"Hold it!" Micah barked.

Gage glanced back to see one of the men suddenly freeze in the process of lowering his arm. He kept moving toward Emma.

"The sheriff will be here in just a minute," Micah said. It won't pay you to try something foolish."

The door just to one side of Gage suddenly burst open, admitting a blast of cold night air and the missing sixth man.

"Don, Lew, there's a whole crowd of police moving in..." His voice trailed off, and he froze as he saw Micah. Gage rolled onto his back and leveled his shotgun at the sixth man.

"Don't try anything," he said.

The man gaped down at him, then stiffened when he looked into the barrel of the shotgun.

But apparently it was the distraction the other five had needed. They all dived in different directions. Micah fired, and Don Fenster hit the floor bleeding. Micah c.o.c.ked and fired again, catching another man and putting him down.

"Hold it!" screamed a frenzied voice. "Hold it or the woman dies!"

Gage's attention strayed past the man he was holding at gunpoint to Emma. One of the robed men was holding her shieldlike before him, a knife at her ribs.

Gage lashed out with his foot, bringing the sixth man to the floor, where he was less of a threat. The man holding Emma jumped nervously.

"Both of you cops get out of here or she dies," the man said desperately. "Now."

"Forget it," Gage said flatly. "It's a stalemate. I'm not going anywhere, and neither is the deputy. We're both armed and ready to shoot, and all you've got is that woman. If you hurt her, there's nothing to keep me from shooting you in the groin, is there?"

The man's pale, frightened face grew even paler, but the knife never moved away from Emma. "You won't touch me while I got her."

"Like I said," Gage drawled, "stalemate. But not for long."

Micah had drawn his .45, and now he pointed it upward and pulled the trigger. The startled man with the knife spun around, exposing his back to Gage. It was all the opening Gage needed. Heedless of his screaming back, he rolled forward onto his feet and threw himself at the man who threatened Emma.

Gage caught him around the knees and knocked him to the floor. The knife went spinning out of the man's hands when he fell. He tried to scramble away, but Gage yanked the Browning from his belt and shoved the cold barrel right in the man's belly. "Don't move."

"That goes for all of you," Micah said, his deep voice as hard as steel. "Not a muscle."

The whop of the Huey's blades was a loud roar now, and Micah keyed his microphone, telling Nate what the situation was. Thirty seconds later the barn was full of armed deputies and a couple of paramedics.

Gage's only thought was for Emma. He grabbed the knife that only moments before had been shoved against her ribs and hacked at the rope that held her arms suspended.

"Emma? Emma, do you hear me?" She was breathing, thank G.o.d, but she was pale, so pale, and as cold as ice. As soon as he got her down, he propped her on his lap and began to rub her icy hands. "Emma, honey, do you hear me? Oh, G.o.d, baby, answer me. Please. Just one little sound..."

A small whimper escaped her, and then she drew a deep, shuddering breath. Slowly, very slowly, her eyes fluttered open. Gage looked down into them, seeking the warmth, the caring, the gentleness-the love-that was Emma. It was gone. All of it.

He looked down into her hazy green eyes and realized with a terrible sense of dread that Emma had gone far away, had withdrawn to some place deep inside. Some place beyond hurt, beyond fear.

He knew that place intimately, had dwelt in it for years now. With a groan, he held her as close as he could get her and made up his mind to give her a reason to come back. Because he sure as h.e.l.l couldn't live without her.

Chapter 14.

The Christmas open house had come and was nearly over. Gage watched Emma as she bade good-night to the last of the visitors, then paused in the open door to listen to one last carol from the choir that had wandered the neighborhood all evening. They stood before her steps in a semicircle and sang "The First Noel" with voices growing cracked from overuse and cold, but beautiful all the same.

Emma, too, was beautiful, Gage thought. She wore a full-skirted green velvet dress that emphasized her femininity and brought her fantastic hair to blazing life.

But ever since the night at the Fenster ranch, she had been withdrawn, hardly speaking to him or anyone else. Something had happened, something that had pulled her out of the present and cast her into some painful abyss of the soul. Gage Dalton recognized someone who was wrestling with demons when he saw her. Someone who had been there, too, couldn't mistake the signs.

After her rescue, Doc Randall had put her in the hospital for a couple of days of rest and recuperation. She had suffered from exposure and hypothermia, but Gage knew the real damage was deeper and less treatable.

He was sure she had remembered the details of the attack ten years ago. Nothing else could explain this withdrawal. She needed the time, he told himself, to deal with all those memories. She needed him to be supportive and silent.

But it had been nearly a week, a week during which he'd battled a few of his own demons, and he didn't know if he could face another day without at least a small smile from Emma. He didn't know if he could face another Christmas alone. And he had vowed he would give her a reason to come back. He'd given her time, he'd given her s.p.a.ce, and now, no matter how it scared him, he would give her love.

"Emma?" She turned from closing the door and looked at him. Just as it had all week, her expression looked blank, as if she was only peripherally aware of him.

Something inside him cracked wide open. He couldn't endure another day with this wraithlike woman moving silently, pointlessly, through the house. He wanted to shake her, wake her, make her look at him once again as if he mattered. He took one step toward her, then caught himself up short.

"d.a.m.n it, Emma," he said, his voice hoa.r.s.e with anguish. "I hate Christmas. You know I hate it, and you know why. You know all about it. Are you going to give me another reason to feel that way?"

She blinked. For the first time in days, he believed she really saw him.

"Emma, what happened is in the past. I realize that finally. I need you to realize it, too. I need ... I need you to make this Christmas joyous for me. I need you to give me-give me-aw, h.e.l.l, Emma, I need you to give me all the Christmases to come."

He saw his words strike home. A long, slow shiver seemed to pa.s.s through her, and she took a step toward him. All of a sudden she didn't look remote. All of a sudden she was very much there. Very much with him.

"I remembered," she said, her voice hardly more than a whisper. A flash of searing agony showed in her eyes. "I remembered being in the car with him ... I remembered what he did."

"I figured you did. G.o.d, baby, I would have spared you that if I could have."

"I know." She gave him a small, forlorn smile. "I'm sorry, Gage. It's just so much, so awful... I can't have children because of that man!" The anguish seemed to rip her chest wide open, and tears began to spill down her cheeks. "It's his fault, and now I know it was him, and I think of all the times I was in the same room and never knew... Oh, Gage-"

At last, at long last, she flew into his arms and let him give her the comfort he had ached all week to offer.