LITMIR.BIZ

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face, Chantel. Good thing God gave you that.

      The phone chirped and Chantel grabbed it.

      “Hello?”

      “I can’t find you. Are you sure you turned right and not left at the second stop sign?’

      It was Dillon Broderick. He was still coming.

      She said a silent prayer of thanks and tried to retrace in her mind the route she’d taken. When she hadn’t been able to find the street her sister had written down, she’d taken several turns, always expecting the cabin to appear around the next corner. Now it was hard to remember exactly what she’d done.

      “I turned right,” she insisted with a sigh of defeat. She was tired, so tired she could barely force herself to stay awake. After six months she still wasn’t completely recovered, she realized. “I don’t know why you can’t find me.”

      He didn’t say anything for a moment, and Chantel pictured his face, with its strong jaw, chiseled cheekbones and light eyes, which had been filled with anger about the accident. Would he get frustrated and decide not to continue searching? Her stomach clenched at the thought.

      “Did you call the police?” he asked.

      “Yes, they said they’d send a car.”

      “And you gave them the same directions you gave me?”

      Chantel felt another pang of despair. “You’re saying the police won’t be able to find me either, right?”

      He cleared his throat. “Let’s not jump to any conclusions. They certainly know the area better than I do and might have some idea where to look. I’ll go back the way I came and try another route from the freeway.”

      Chantel knew that courtesy demanded she tell him to return to his original route and not to trouble himself further. The police were coming—eventually. But the snow piling ever higher on the hood of her car would soon block out everything else. And she already felt so alone.

      “Dillon?”

      “Yeah?”

      She wanted to ask him to keep talking to her, not to hang up, but her more practical side admonished her against running up his car-phone bill, to say nothing of her own. She wasn’t in any real trouble, not with the police on their way. She didn’t need anyone to hold her hand. “Nothing. Thanks for trying.”

      “That sounds like you think I’m giving up. I can’t let anything happen to you. How do I know your insurance will take care of my truck?”

      He was teasing her. Chantel heard it in his voice and smiled. Fleetingly, she wondered about his wife and kids—the ones he’d said weren’t worried about him.

      “Where were you headed before you came back for me?” she asked.

      “Tahoe. I’m going skiing for a week. What about you?”

      “Same here. Just for the weekend, though.”

      “So you know how to ski?”

      She got the impression he was just being nice to her, trying to calm her down, but she didn’t care, not as long as his voice hummed in her ear. “Yeah. My dad used to take us when we were kids.”

      “You ever been to Squaw Valley?”

      “Not yet. I grew up in Utah and used to go to Snowbird or Alta.”

      “That’s some great snow there. My buddies and I took a trip to Utah when we were in college.”

      “I’ll bet college was fun.” Chantel fought the chattering of her teeth, not wanting to let him know how terribly cold she was.

      “You didn’t go to university?”

      “No.”

      “Hey, you got your headlights on?”

      “You mean headlight, don’t you?”

      He laughed. “Yeah. Otherwise, with this snow piling up, I won’t be able to tell you from any other car sitting by the side of the road.”

      “It’s on.”

      “Good. What about the heater? It’s pretty cold outside.”

      “No heater. Not enough gas.” This time, the chill that ran through her echoed in her voice. “And it is cold.”

      “How much gas have you got?”

      “Just enough to make it to Tahoe once you pull me out of here.”

      “Listen, this is what I want you to do. Dig through your luggage and put on all the layers of clothing you can. I don’t want to find an ice cube when I get there, understand?”

      “I’ve already done that.”

      “What about gloves and boots?”

      Chantel curled her toes and frowned when she could no longer feel them move in her wet tennis shoes. “No such luck. I was going to buy all that once I reached Tahoe.”

      “Damn. This just keeps getting better, doesn’t it?”

      Pinching the bridge of her nose, Chantel swallowed back a sigh. “I guess I wasn’t very prepared.”

      “I can’t believe you had chains.”

      “I did only because I bought them shortly after I got the car and stuffed them in the trunk.”

      He chuckled. “Too bad. Otherwise you’d have been forced to turn back.”

      “I couldn’t turn back,” she said, thinking of her promise to Stacy.

      “Why not?”

      “There’s something I have to do in Tahoe.”

      “What’s that?”

      Penance.

      DILLON SQUINTED as he tried to see beyond the pale arc of his headlights. White. Everything was white—and stationary. He called Chantel again and told her to honk her horn, then rolled down his window, hoping he’d hear something, but the wind carried no sound other than its own vehemence.

      What now? Dropping his head into his hands, he rubbed his eyes. He’d been searching for two hours. He would have given up long ago, except that the police hadn’t found Chantel, either, and he could tell from the sound of her voice that her initial uneasiness was turning to panic.

      He called her cell phone again. “I’m going to return to the freeway and start over.”

      “No!” She sounded resolute. “You’re crazy to keep looking for me, Dillon. I never should have called you. I thought it would take you a few minutes to come and pull me out, nothing more. I never expected anything like this.”

      “I know, but you can’t be far away. If I could just spot you, we could both be on our way to our respective vacations—”

      “Or you could get stuck, too. The police called to say they can’t look for me anymore, not until morning. The storm’s too bad.”

      “What? Why not?” She could freeze to death before morning!

      “They don’t want to risk anyone’s life, and I don’t want you to risk yours.”

      What about her life? Dillon wondered.

      She took an audible breath. “You’re going to have to head back, before the roads get any worse.”

      Dillon maneuvered around a parked car that looked like a small snow hill. His tires spun, then finally propelled him a little farther down a road that was quickly becoming impassable. The slick ice and heavy snow were making him nervous, but he’d canvassed the area so completely, he could only believe he’d find her in the next few minutes.

      “You can’t be far,” he muttered.

      “It doesn’t matter.

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