He reached the spot where Jakes and his team were standing. "So, what light did the coroner shed on all this?"

The sergeant's lips tightened as he turned to Monty. "His preliminary exam revealed no soot particles in the victim's nostrils."

"In other words, he was dead before the fire started."

"We'll need an autopsy to confirm it, but, yeah, it looks that way. He was also the only body on the scene - or anywhere else in the vicinity. Which means things don't look too good for your ex-wife."

"She's alive. What could look better?"

"We don't know she's alive. But even if she is, things look pretty bleak."

"Why?" Monty's question was deliberately vague and provoking. He wasn't getting the full story. And he wanted it.

"You know d.a.m.ned well why," Jakes shot back. "The pile of ashes we're standing on is now officially a crime scene."

"Maybe Pierson was smoking a cigarette, had a ma.s.sive coronary, and croaked, setting the cabin up in flames while Sally was out."

"Yeah, and maybe a frog will jump out of my left nostril. Cut the c.r.a.p, Montgomery."

"If you tell me what else the coroner said, I will."

Jakes blinked, clearly surprised that Monty had seen through him. "Fine. The victim had cranial damage. Someone bashed the front of his head in before burning down the cabin. We're talking about murder and arson. Your ex-wife's missing. So she's either a criminal, a kidnapping victim, or dead."

Monty's jaw tightened. "Your first idea's complete bulls.h.i.t. Sally wouldn't hurt a fly. Your second's a reach, since neither Sally nor anyone in her family has anything worth a d.a.m.n; certainly not enough to cough up ransom money. As for dead - I don't buy it. If the perp was going to kill her, he'd do it here. He'd already knocked off Pierson. One body, two - what's the difference? It's the perfect spot for a murder; virtually deserted. So why would he risk transporting Sally somewhere else, where he might be seen? It's none of the above. Running away is more like it."

"Or dropping out of sight."

"Could be. But not for the reasons you're insinuating. Look, Jakes, let's put aside my personal feelings. What possible motive could Sally have for wanting Pierson dead?"

"Jealousy? Greed? I haven't checked out her history with Pierson. But I will."

"And if she was jealous or greedy and wanted him dead, she'd drive all the way up to Lake Luzerne just to bash in his head and burn down his cabin, letting everyone know they were alone up here so she'd be the prime suspect? That's a pretty far-fetched theory. Try this one instead. Frederick Pierson's a hotshot, the CEO of a major restaurant and food services company. That means he has enemies, lots of them. People he screwed over who want a piece of him. Someone came up here and got it. Sally was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"If that's the case, where is she? Why hasn't she contacted her family?"

Monty's gut twisted. "She's either hurt or hiding. Maybe the perp's after her. Maybe she can identify him."

"Maybe. Maybe not. That's what investigations are for."

"No arguments there." Monty forced himself to back off. He'd gotten as far as he was going to. If he wanted to stay on the inside of this investigation, he'd better keep things between him and the sheriff's office copacetic. "Do what you have to. But I want to be kept up to date."

"That goes both ways."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that if Ms. Montgomery happens to call any of her family members, I want to be told."

"Fair enough."

Jakes yanked out a pad and pen. "I've got your daughter Devon's contact information. I'll need the same for your other kids. Also for any other friends and relatives."

"The kids are no problem." Monty gave Jakes what he needed. "But for ease of purpose, try Devon or me first. I'm bringing Meredith to her sister's place. Lane's flying in tonight, and I'm sure Devon will put him up, too."

"Fine. Friends?"

Monty blew out his breath. "Sally and I have been divorced for fifteen years. The kids would be more current on her friends. I can give you the name and phone number of the nursery school she works for. As for relatives, she's got a sister, Carol. Divorced. Fifty-one. Lives abroad, in Rome. She's bilingual, and works for some Italian exporting company. Also, Sally's parents. They live in Orange County. But go easy on them. They're in their late seventies, and this is their daughter. They don't know a thing about what's happened. I'd appreciate if you'd give me a chance to break the news to them before you drive down there and start asking questions."

Jakes nodded, glancing over at Monty's car. "I'd like to speak to your daughter before you leave."

Monty's protective-father instinct roared to life, and he had to bite back the urge to refuse. But that would be stupid. Jakes's request was a mere formality. He was going to question Meredith with or without Monty's permission. Plus, as Meredith had pointed out a few minutes ago, she was an adult now. Monty couldn't shield her from the world. On top of which, she'd want to help.

"Yeah, okay," he agreed tersely, jerking his head in the direction of the car. "Talk in there. It's warm. Meredith and I will hit the road when you're through."

NONE OF THE Montgomerys got much sleep that night.

Lane's plane landed at JFK around nine. He grabbed a taxi and headed straight for Devon's. Meredith and Monty were already there. It was a bittersweet reunion, and a toss-up as to who was the biggest emotional wreck.

Both Devon's siblings bunked at her place. They urged their father to join them, but somehow Monty wanted to be alone. So he drove the thirty-five minutes to Queens, to the little house where he and Sally had been so happy - and so unhappy - and plopped on the couch, throwing an arm across his eyes. He didn't bother turning on a light or changing his clothes. He just lay there, wide awake, trying to fit together some pieces.

It was a little after 7 A.M. when his cell phone rang. Not his regular cell phone, but his prepaid TracPhone - the "Bat Phone," as the kids called it, because it was as close to a hotline between select callers and Monty as you could get. It was d.a.m.ned near untraceable. Monty had paid cash for it in a drugstore, and was careful to vary the 7-Elevens he went to to buy additional minutes, also paid for in cash. There was virtually no paper trail leading to him. And very few people who had the number.

He jumped up and grabbed the phone, punching it on. "Montgomery."

"Pete - it's me."

Sally.

Her voice was raspy and weak, but it was the most wonderful sound Monty had every heard.

A flood of relief surged through him. "Thank G.o.d. Where are you? Are you okay?"

"I guess so." She coughed. "I'm shaky, dizzy, and exhausted. But I'm alive. I shouldn't be calling you, but I didn't know where else to turn. Is this line still... okay?"

"Yeah. And you sure as h.e.l.l should be calling me. This way your call can't be traced. Besides, no one can do a better job of keeping you safe."

She didn't negate his words. "So you know what happened?"

"That Pierson's dead and the cabin was torched? Yeah, I know."

A shaky sigh. "I'm in a phone booth, using a calling card. It's only got fifteen minutes on it."

"Give me the number." Monty grabbed a sc.r.a.p of paper and a pen. He listened, and scribbled. Judging from the area code, she was somewhere in Vermont. Good. That would make things nice and easy for the plan he had in mind. "Hang up. I'll call you back," he instructed.

He disconnected the call and punched up the number she'd given him.

"Pete?" she asked tentatively when she picked up.

"It's me. Before we get into this, how bad are you hurt and where?"

"My head. It's pounding like a drum. I'm dizzy, and I've got a huge b.u.mp. But my vision's okay, so if I've got a concussion, it's a mild one. Other than that, it's just aches, pains, and some tightness in my chest from the smoke. I'll heal."

"Thanks for the diagnosis. But I'd prefer getting it from a doctor. I'll make arrangements to have you checked out later today. Now tell me what happened."

Slowly, and with obvious physical discomfort, Sally relayed the events of the previous morning. "Once I got out of the cabin, I panicked," she concluded. "I didn't know if the killer was still around, or if he'd seen I was alive. I was terrified he'd come after me. So I took off. I cut across to Glens Falls. More people. More traffic. Less chance of being noticed. I bought a bus ticket at the diner, and took the two thirty Greyhound. I didn't get in till almost eleven."

"Into where?"

"Middlebury. I figured a college campus would be about the best setting I could pick to be invisible in."

"Smart girl. College kids don't notice anything on a Friday night. They're too drunk. And Sat.u.r.day morning at seven - they're dead to the world."

"Exactly. I checked into the Marriott Courtyard. I was lucky they had a vacancy during ski season. I paid cash. I don't remember much of the night; I must have pa.s.sed out. I woke up a little while ago, stopped off to buy this phone card, and came straight here." Her voice broke. "Pete, I'm scared."

"Don't be. I'll fix this."

"Did the police find the killer? Do they know who he is, or why he killed Frederick?"

"No. Not yet."

Sally picked up on the gruff censure in Monty's tone. "Do the police think I did it?"

"They don't know what to think. But they are looking for you - either as the perp or as a witness. I gave them my take on things. No shocker that I was right. But it's not the cops I'm worried about. It's the killer. Like you said, he's still out there. By now, he knows he screwed up and you're alive. Which means you're still a target. There's no way you can come forward, not without putting yourself in danger. Until he's found, we've got to keep you stashed away."

"Stashed away - where?"

Monty leaned forward, gripping the phone more tightly. "Remember the plan you and I talked about years ago when I was working undercover?"

A heartbeat of silence. "You mean about how the kids and I could drop out of sight if your cover was blown?"

"That's the one."

"You still have those contacts?"

"One of them's right in your backyard. I'll get ahold of him. We'll work out a time frame and I'll call you back. Give me a half hour to make the arrangements. I'll call you at the hotel. What room are you in?"

"Three forty-two."

"Okay, go back and take a hot shower. Have you eaten?"

"Uh-uh. Last night I was too out of it, and today I'm down to a few dollars."

"Spend them. Buy coffee and a m.u.f.fin. That'll tide you over. You'll get everything you need, including a hot meal, soon. Okay?"

"Okay." Sally's voice was getting weaker. "Pete?"

"Enough, Sal. You sound like you're going to collapse."

She ignored his reprimand. "The kids - they're all right?"

"They will be now. They're all at Devon's. I'll drive over there as soon as I've got things set. I'll also call your folks. Now haul your a.s.s back to that hotel. I'll be in touch in a little while."

"Thank you, Pete," she managed before hanging up.

SALLY WAS WRAPPED in a bath towel, sipping a cup of hotel-room-brewed coffee when the phone on the nightstand rang.

"Yes?" she answered cautiously.

"It's me." Monty didn't mince words. "Here's the scoop. I called my contact. Rod Garner. He's a good guy and a h.e.l.l of a cop. We go back twenty-five years. He retired from the Seventy-fifth a couple of years before I did, and moved to Williamstown, Ma.s.s. He's got a wife, plus two married kids, and a slew of grandkids in the area. You'll be staying with him and his wife, Molly, for as long as necessary. No one will know where you are. Rod's got ten or fifteen acres, so you don't have to worry about being spotted. Just hang close to the house and you'll be fine."

"Wait," Sally interrupted. "What about his wife? Won't she mind?"

"Mind? She'll be thrilled. Rod's like an old warhorse. Molly's heard his cop stories so many times, they put her to sleep. Besides, you two are a lot alike. She loves the great outdoors. And she's crazy about kids, especially her grandchildren. They're her life. When she finds out you teach nursery school, she'll go nuts. Anyway, she and Rod are the only ones who'll know the truth about why you're there. If the kids visit, Rod will tell them you're an old friend who's going through a rough time and needs a place to sort things out."

"But - "

"No buts. Rod's already on his way to Middlebury. It'll take him a little over two hours to reach you. So get some rest. He'll give you a call when he's fifteen minutes away. At that point, you'll head down to the lobby, turn in your key, and meet him at the back entrance. He drives a blue Ford Explorer. Any questions?"

"What about the police? You said they're looking for me."

"Let 'em look. I'll give Sergeant Jakes a call, tell him I heard from you, and explain what really went down at that cabin. Then I'll tell him you're terrified the killer's after you, and that you hung up without telling me where you were or where you were headed."

"Isn't that aiding and abetting, or obstruction of justice, or something like that?"

"Nope. Just a small twist of the truth. And only about your whereabouts. The rest is fact." Monty gave a wicked chuckle, and Sally could actually visualize that smug I-beat-the-system gleam in his eyes. "That's the great part about being a PI and not a cop. You can bend the rules a little."

"As if you didn't before," she commented drily.

"Point taken. Okay then, I can bend them even more. So, instead of wasting time following protocol and filling out bulls.h.i.t reports, I can investigate on my own and track down the sc.u.mbag who smashed in Frederick Pierson's skull and nearly incinerated you."

Like an unwelcome blast from the past, Sally felt that grinding twist in her gut. "In other words, once you figure out who he is, you're going after him."

"Did you doubt it?"

"No. Are you going to elicit the help of the Warren County sheriff, or is that a stupid question?"

"It's a stupid question. I work better and faster on my own. Now go take it easy. Later, I'll want to ask you some questions about what you might and might not know about Frederick Pierson."

"Speaking of that, there's something you should know right away. It may mean nothing. On the other hand, it bugged me enough to stick in my mind. I a.s.sumed I was overreacting - until Frederick was murdered."

"Go on."

"I overheard an argument between Frederick and his father earlier this week. Frederick wanted to fire someone at his company. Edward was dead set against it. Something about a criminal offense that could jeopardize the company. At least that's what Frederick claimed. Edward obviously didn't agree. He vetoed Frederick's decision to let this person go."

"Interesting." Monty digested Sally's information. "So it could be a crooked employee. Or maybe just a disgruntled one who knew Frederick didn't trust him. As the ball-breaking CEO of the company, I'm sure he had lots of p.i.s.sed-off employees. We'll just have to figure out which of them, if any, would go so far as to kill him."

"I could try to write down the exact words they - "

"Not now," Monty interrupted in that no-nonsense detective voice. "Now is about getting you settled in and checked out by a doctor. Call me when you're safely in Rod's truck."