The woman shrugged resentfully.

The furnace hadn’t been on for more than a few seconds and from the distance the men wouldn’t’ve been able to see anything.

“We don’t have much time.” Brynn glanced at a clock radio, which glowed blue: 8:21. “They might decide to come here. Let’s look fast. Phone, computer, weapons.”

The darkness outside was now almost complete and the frustration intense: maybe their salvation was two feet away, a phone or gun. But it was impossible to tell. They had to search mostly by touch. Michelle was cautious, moving slowly.

“Faster,” Brynn urged.

“They have black widow spiders up here. I found one in my room when I came to visit Steve and Emma last year.”

The least of our worries.

They continued to search frantically for ten minutes, through drawers, closets, baskets of papers and personal junk. Brynn smiled as she found a Nokia, but it was an old one, no battery and a broken antenna. She dumped out all the contents on the rug and felt for a charger.

Nothing.

“Damn,” Brynn muttered, standing stiffly, her face throbbing. “I’ll check upstairs. Keep on looking down here.”

Michelle nodded uncertainly, not happy about being left alone.

Spiders…

Brynn climbed the stairs. Her search of the second floor revealed no weapons or phones or computers. She didn’t bother with the attic. A glance out the window revealed flashlights in the yard around the Feldman house but the men couldn’t be counted on to stay there much longer.

She longed to turn on a light but didn’t dare and continued feeling her way through the bedrooms, concentrating on the largest. She began ripping open drawers and closet doors and finally found some clothing. She stripped off her jacket and the leathery, wet uniform and dressed in the darkest clothing she could find: two pairs of navy blue sweat pants, two men’s T-shirts and a thick sweatshirt. She pulled on dry socks-her heels were already blistering from the waterlogged footgear-but had to put on her Sheriff’s Department Oxfords again; there were no spare shoes. She found a thick black ski parka and pulled it on, and finally began to feel warmer. She wanted to cry, the sensation was so comforting.

In the bathroom she opened the medicine cabinet and felt her way through the bottles until she found a rectangular one. She sniffed the contents to make sure it was rubbing alcohol, then soaked a wad of toilet paper with it and bathed her wounded cheek. She gasped at the pain and her legs buckled. Swabbed the inside of her mouth too, which hurt ten times more. She dropped her head before she fainted. Inhaled deeply. “Okay,” she whispered as the pain dissolved. Then pocketed the alcohol, ran downstairs.

“Any phones or guns, anything?” Michelle asked.

“No.”

“I looked…but it’s so spooky. I couldn’t go into the basement. I was afraid.”

Brynn herself took a fast look down there. She risked the light but since she’d seen no windows she figured it was safe. She found nothing helpful, though, either for communications or defense in what seemed like an endless series of small rooms and passages. Several small doorways led to what would probably be pretty good hiding places.

As Brynn returned to the kitchen Michelle whispered, “I found those.” She nodded at a block of kitchen knives. Chicago Cutlery. Brynn took one, about eight inches long. She tested the factory-honed blade with her thumb.

The deputy looked back at the Feldmans’, saw the flashlight beams still scanning the yard. She had a thought, gazed around the house. “Didn’t we see a pool table somewhere down here?”

Michelle gestured toward the dining room. “Through there, I think.”

As they walked quickly in that direction Brynn said, “The way I drove up, Six Eighty-two, was from the east. After Clausen, I didn’t see anything but some trailers and a few shacks in the distance. Nothing for miles. If I’d kept going west, would I have come to some stores or a gas station? A place with a phone?”

“I don’t know. I never went that way.”

The women entered the recreation room, a spacious place with a bar, pool table and thousands of books on built-in shelves. Beneath the big-screen TV the cable box showed the time: 8:42.

Brynn was now warm again; curious, she reflected, she had no direct memory of the cold. She recalled how terrible she’d felt but couldn’t summon up the sensation, as intense as it had been.

She studied the room, the sports memorabilia, the liquor bottles, the family pictures, the rack of pool cues, the balls aligned in their triangular nest on the table, then began rummaging through drawers at the bottom of the bookshelves.

No weapons, no phones.

“Let’s see if we can find a map.”

They began to scour the shelves and stacks of papers. Brynn was looking through a bookcase when Michelle gave a cry.

Brynn gasped and spun around.

“Look! Somebody’s coming!”

The women dropped to their knees by the window. Brynn could see, several hundred yards away, headlights moving slowly down Lake View Drive toward the county highway.

“Are there any other houses past the Feldmans’?” Brynn asked. She seemed to recall that there were only three residences here.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s a neighbor. Or the police! Maybe a police car came to look for you and we missed them. If we run we can stop them! Let’s go!” Michelle rose and in a frantic, limping rush started for the door.

“Wait,” Brynn said in a harsh whisper.

“But they’ll be gone in a few minutes!” Her voice was angry. “We can’t wait! Don’t be crazy!”

Brynn held up a hand. “Michelle, no. Look.”

The moon was higher now, bright enough for them to make out the car. It was the killers’ Ford.

“Oh, no,” the young woman said through set teeth. “How can they drive it with the flat tires?”

“You shot out two, they put the spare on the front and they’ll let the other one rim. It’s front-wheel drive; they’ll just drag the rear. Look, see the dust.”

“Can they get very far?”

“Miles, yeah, if they don’t go fast.”

The taillights cast a ghostly red aura in the dust kicked up by the dragging wheel. The Ford eased around the snaky road and toward the county highway. The lights were soon obscured by a tangle of jack pine, yew and elegant willow. The car vanished.

Michelle hugged herself. She sighed with relief. “So they’re gone… It’ll be okay, right? We can just wait here. We can put the heat on now, can’t we? Please.”

“Sure,” Brynn said, staring after the car. “Let’s put the heat on.”

LEWIS PILOTED THE limping Ford along Lake View Drive, past the house at Number 2 and then turned and continued along the winding road toward the county highway.

Hart said, “Was a good shot you made with that scattergun, hitting her car all that distance.”

Lewis offered a dismissive sneer but Hart saw that the words hit home; the punk was pleased. “I wanted to take her out. That’s why I was aiming high. Compensated for the wind too. Didn’t want to hit the tires. I didn’t hit ’em, you see?”

“I did.”

“But I led her just right, didn’t I? About four feet. And high. Didn’t think she’d go out of control.”

“Who’d guess that?”

A moment or two passed. Lewis said, “Hey, Hart?”

Looking at the woods around him. “Yeah?”

“Okay, what it is…I shouldn’t’ve said anything. About the keys.”

“Keys?”

“In the house. With the woman cop. I gave it away…you were right. I got excited. My brother always said I do things or say something before I think. I gotta watch that.”

“Who’d’ve thought, a cop?” Hart nodded at him. “Can’t stay on top of everything. But you did some fine shooting.”

The car was filled with the smell of hot rubber and metal from the self-destructing tire.

It was then that Hart glanced back. “Shit!” he whispered.