found him.' He felt consumed by feelings of panic and dread, and struggled to keep a note of calm in his voice. Frightened confused children would be no asset to him-or to Kate. Minutes later three of them, Jared and two of the youngsters, were in the car. The third had been left behind to keep the dog still and await the arrival of the veterinarian. 'Okay, kids, ' Jared said, 'you said you were sledding near a bridge. The stone bridge over the little stream? ' Both nodded enthusiastically 'Good. I know just where that is.'
The short drive over the narrow, snowy road seemed endless. Finally, Jared parked the Volvo at the top of the hill and then half ran, half slid to the indentation in the snow where the children assured him they had found Roscoe. He had thought to take his parka but had not changed his slacks or loafers, and the trek from the spot into the surrounding woods was both awkward and cold. The snow around him was, save for his own footprints, smooth and unbroken. After a scanning search, he made his way back to the road and started down the hill. At his request, the children followed, one on each side of the road, checking to be sure he had not missed anything. At the stone bridge, he stopped. There was evidence of some sort of collision at the base of the wall. A piece of granite had been sheared off, and a gouge, perhaps two feet long, extended along the wall from that point. He searched the roadway and then looked over the wall.
The snow on one side of the shallow brook seemed disrupted. In the very center of the area, he saw a flash of bright yellow, partially buried in the snow. Ordering the children to remain where they were, he raced down the steep embankment to the water. It was Kate's cap, quite deliberately, it seemed, wedged into the snow. Then, only a few feet from the cap, he saw a swatch of another color. It was blood, almost certainly dried blood smeared across a small stretch of packed snow.
There had been some kind of struggle. The marks around him made that clear Had Kate been dragged off somewhere? He looked for signs of that, but instead noticed footprints paralleling the stream just beyond the bridge. Slipping in and out of the water, he ran to the spot. There were, he was certain, two sets. He looked overhead. The children, following his progress, had crossed the road and were peering down at him from atop the wall. The girl, he knew, lived just past the end of the road, half a mile, perhaps a bit more, away. 'Crystal, ' he called out, 'is your mommy still home?'
'Can you two make it back home to her?'
'Yes.'
'Please do that, then. Tell her Kate is lost and may be hurt. Ask if she can drive out here and help look for her. Okay?'
'Okay.'
'And Crystal, you all did a fine job bringing Roscoe in the way you did.
Hurry on home, now.'
Jared stayed where he was until the crunch of the children's boots had completely vanished. Then he closed his eyes and listened within the silence for a sound, any kind of sign. He heard nothing. Increasingly aware of the cold in his feet and legs, he stepped in the deep tracks, fearing the worst, and expecting, with each stride, to have his fears become reality. A hundred yards from the bridge, the tracks turned sharply to the left and vanished into the stream. 'Kate? ' He called her name once and then again. His voice was instantly swallowed by the forest and the snow. 'Kate, it's me. It's Jared.' There was a heaviness, a fastness, to the place and a silence that was hypnotic. As he trudged along the side of the stream looking for renewed signs, he felt the silence deepen. Then suddenly, he knew. He felt it as surely as he felt the cold.
Kate was somewhere nearby. She was nearby, and she was still. He called to her every few feet, as he ducked under a huge fallen tree and followed the stream bed in a sharp bend to the left. Then he stopped.
There was something different about this place. Far to his right, embedded in the steep slope that he guessed led up to the road, was a drainage pipe. At the base of the pipe were footprints. 'Kate? ' He closed his eyes and almost immediately felt a strange sense of detachment. She was not far, and she was alive. He felt it clearly. It was as if their lives, their energies, were joined by a thin, silken strand of awareness. 'Jared? ' It was a word, but not a word, a sound, but not a sound. His eyes still closed, he exhaled slowly and then listened. 'Jared, help me.' Her voice, it seemed, was more within him than without. He worked his way along the embankment, calling her name.
Then he shouted it several times into the long, empty culvert. Finally, hoping for a better vantage point, he hauled himself up to the road. She was there, face down, a third of the way down the slope on the far side, still clawing, though feebly, at the snow. Jared leapt over the edge, sliding and tumbling down to her. Gently, he turned her onto his lap.
Her hair was matted and frozen, her face spattered with blood. Her warm-up suit, shredded in spots, was stiffened with ice. Her eyes were closed. 'Katey, it's me, ' he said. 'I've got you. You're going to be all right.'
He worked her hair free from where it had frozen to her face. Her breathing was shallow, each expiration accompanied by a soft whimper of pain. 'Honey, can you hear me?'
Her eyes opened and then slowly focused on his face. 'Oh, Jared… please… Roscoe…'
He kissed her. 'He's hurt, but he's okay. Dr. Finnerty's coming to get him. What about you? Have you broken anything?'
Ribs, she managed in a voice that was half groan, half cough. 'Lung… may… be… punctured.'
'Jesus. Kate, I'm going to lift you up. I'll try not to hurt you, but we've got to get up to the road.'
With strength enhanced by the urgency of the moment, he had no trouble lifting her. Negotiating the steep, icy slope, however, was another matter. Footing was treacherous, and every two or three baby steps upward, he was forced to set her down in order to regain purchase.
Inches at a time, they moved ahead. When he finally heaved over the top of the slope onto the roadside, Jared fell to his knees, clutching her to his chest and gasping for air. Helplessly, he sat there, warming her face with his breath and watching the minute but steady rise and fall of her chest. Then through the silence surrounding their breathing, he heard the soft hum of an approaching car. Moments later, a beige station wagon rounded the bend ahead of them. In the front seat were a woman and two very excited children. 'Way to go, Crystal, ' Jared whispered. He put his lips by Kate's ear. Help is here, honey. Just hang in there.
Help is here.'
Her eyes opened momentarily. Her lips tightened in a grim attempt at a smile. Zimmermann did this, ' she said. Jared paced from the small, well-appointed quiet room out to the hall and back. Mary T. Henderson Hospital was reputed to be among the best community hospitals in the state, but it was still a community hospital, only a fraction of the size of the Boston teaching facilities. Nearly three hours had passed since the surgeon, Lee Jordan, had taken Kate into the operating room.
Jordan was, according to the emergency room physician, the finest surgeon on the hospital staff. Jared had to laugh at his total surprise when the distinguished, graytempled man his mind had projected as Lee Jordan turned out, in fact, to be a slender, extremely attractive woman in her mid-forties. Would he ever truly overcome all the years of programming?
Kate's wound was a bad one. The gash, Jordan had explained, required debridement in the operating room, and in all likelihood, an open-chest procedure would be needed to repair the laceration to her Jared had been allowed to see Kate briefly during the wait for the OR team to arrive, but there had been no real chance to discuss any details of William Zimmermann's attempt on her life. An officer from the Essex Police Department had come, taken what little information 7! was available from him, and left with promises of state police involvement as soon as Kate could assist them with a statement. Meanwhile, it was doubtful that Jared's word would be enough to issue an arrest warrant. Jared was studying the small plaque proclaiming that the quiet room was the gift of a couple named Berman when Lee Jordan emerged through the glass doors to the surgical suite. Her face, which had been fresh and alert on her arrival in the emergency ward four hours before, was gray and drawn, and for a moment, he feared the worst. 'Your wife's okay, ' Jordan said as soon as she was close enough to speak without raising her voice. She appraised him. 'Are you?'
'I… yes, I'm okay.' He braced himself against the wall. 'It's just that for a moment there I was frightened that…'
Jordan patted him on the shoulder. 'You married one tough lady, my friend, ' she said. 'There's frostbite on the tips of her toes, ears, and nose, but it looks like she came in from the cold in time to save everything. The tear in her lung wasn't too, too big. I sewed it up and then fixed that gash in her side. She's in for a few pretty achy days, but I hope nothing worse than that. You'll be able to see her in half an hour or so. I've asked the nurses to come and get you.'
