“I’m here.” Margaret Woodard bustled into the room and everyone moved back a step as she knelt down next to Alan. It seemed to take forever to the anxious group, but at last she turned to look up at them. “Is there a shortwave radio? He’s got to be hospitalized as soon as possible.”

Hal nodded. “There’s one in the next room. Jack showed it to me. I’ll call for help.”

Alan and the nurse slipped the pillow under Jack’s leg. When they straightened it, Jack cried out sharply and sweat broke out on his forehead.

“Hold on, Jack.” Alan’s voice was gentle. “We’ll work as fast as we can.”

They had just finished securing Jack’s leg in its pillow bandage when Hal rushed back into the room. “They’ll be here in less than twenty minutes to airlift Jack out. I told them exactly what you said, Alan, a compound fracture of the left fibula. Let’s go up and check on Ellen. If she’s injured, they can fly her out, too.”

“Go ahead.” Margaret Woodard gestured for Alan to go. “I’ll stay with this one.”

Jayne frowned; Margaret Woodard’s attitude irked her. Jack came to see Betty at least twice a day; yet she referred to Jack as “this one.” The woman was a cold fish, no doubt about it.

There was an uneasy silence as they rode up to the eighth floor. After seeing Jack’s condition, no one wanted to speculate. They all knew Ellen worked with power tools and might well have been using them when the avalanche hit.

Jayne was in the lead as they reached Ellen’s unit and she waited anxiously for Alan to unlock the door with the master key he’d taken from Jack’s office. They stepped in and Jayne called out, “Ellen? Are you here?” Jayne frowned as there was no answer. “Let’s check the workroom first. She told me she had some things to finish before she met me for tennis.”

There was something eerie about walking through someone else’s home without being invited, and Jayne shivered as she pushed open the workroom door. They found even more damage than in Jack’s security office. A heavy workbench had toppled and lifelike pieces of mannequin anatomy were strewn all over the room.

“Ellen? Where are you?” This time they heard a muffled answer.

“I’m under the workbench.” Ellen’s voice was faint. “I think I’m all right, but there’s not much room under here.”

Clayton took charge. “Come on. Everyone over here. Let’s lift it so she can get out.”

“Stop!” Jayne ran forward. “From that end, the weight’ll shift. It’s a classic cantilever and you have to lift along the axis.”

Marc turned in surprise, then he nodded. “You’re right, Jayne. Alan? Come over here. I’ll show you where to lift. Clayton, you take it from the middle and I’ll handle this end. Straight up now, on the count of three. You ladies get ready to help Ellen out.”

In less than a minute, Ellen was freed. Bruised and shaken, she wasn’t seriously hurt. “Is everyone else all right?”

“Except Jack.” As usual, Jayne spoke without thinking and she winced at Ellen’s anguished expression. “Don’t worry, Ellen. Just a broken leg. They’re coming with a helicopter.”

“Thank God!” Ellen drew a sigh of relief, then looked around at the debris and started to giggle. “It looks like a morgue in here. Something about the sight of those heads over there is doing me in.”

They followed Ellen’s gaze and even Hal began to smile. It did look like a morgue. Several mannequin heads had rolled out of their boxes and one was sitting on the stomach of a torso.

“I’m glad you can laugh about it, Ellen.” Jayne put her arm around Ellen’s shoulders. “I would have been scared straight out of my hide.”

“I didn’t have time to be scared when it was happening, but it was awful being trapped. I knew I couldn’t get out by myself and I kept wondering what would happen if . . .” Ellen swallowed hard. “Well, it’s over. No sense thinking about it now. I’m just glad you didn’t panic, Jayne. How did you know about the cantilever business, anyway?”

Jayne shrugged. “I guess Paul must have talked about it. The whole thing looked a little like a bridge he designed.”

“I’d better call Walker and tell him I’m all right. He’s probably at the warehouse by now.”

Alan stopped her as she reached for the phone. “The lines are down, Ellen. We had to use the shortwave to call for the chopper.”

Just then, the sound of helicopter blades whirling became audible and Alan led Ellen toward the door. “Let’s go out and tell them we’re okay. They can call Walker for you.”

Everyone was relieved as they rode down on the elevator, the aftermath of surviving a disaster relatively unscathed. The last one off, Ellen hung behind a little. She reminded herself that they were all alive and nothing was damaged that couldn’t be fixed. She really ought to be thankful. But as she stepped out into the frigid air and watched her neighbors rush through the snow to the helicopter, she couldn’t seem to shake a premonition of trouble ahead.

FIVE

Walker had noticed the sign on the shopping center as he’d driven past. It was ninety-eight degrees. Thanks goodness Ellen had air-conditioned the warehouse! He would have to go back out into the heat when he loaded Ellen’s new van, a forest-green behemoth with VEGAS DOLLS printed on both sides in bright pink lettering, but at least he’d been treated to cool air inside.

As he stepped in, Walker saw the crate of mannequins was propped up against the wall with four of Ellen’s creations inside. The packing slip from the department store in New York claimed that they had arrived in damaged condition. Walker closed the warehouse door and locked it, switching on the bank of overhead lights. Then he pried open the crate to find that all four of the hollow mannequin heads had been broken open. Running his finger around the inside of the skulls, Walker tasted the residue, and nodded.

Walker tossed the damaged mannequins in the trash bin and wheeled it out for the daily pickup. He had just finished loading the supplies that Ellen needed and was about to lock the door and go out to the van to head back up the mountain when the telephone rang.

“Mr. Browning?” The voice on the other end of the line sounded bored. “This is Officer Carillo from the North Las Vegas police department. The residents at Deer Creek Condos asked me to call to tell you that they have adequate supplies and power from their backup generator. No land lines or cell phones, but there’s a shortwave for emergency use and the situation is under control.”

Walker frowned. There was obviously something the officer had forgotten to tell him. “What situation?”

“You haven’t heard?” Officer Carillo cleared his throat. “There was an avalanche up on Mount Charleston at ten fifty-seven. One resident was seriously injured, but the damage to the building is minor.”

Walker felt the sweat break out on his forehead. “Who was hurt?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Browning, but we can’t release the name unless you’re a family member.”

“Come on, officer. I work for Ellen Wingate. Can’t you at least tell me if she’s all right?”

“Wait a moment, sir. I’ll check on that.”

There was a click and Walker was put on hold. It seemed to take the officer a long time to get back to him.

“Mr. Browning? I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t have the authority to release any additional information.”

Walker sighed. The bureaucracy always played by their own rules. “Okay, I’d better head right up there.”

“That wouldn’t be advisable, sir. The snow slid down to the base of the access road. Since it’s not a high priority, the highway department says it’ll take at least a week to clear, and there’s no way you can get through in a conventional vehicle.”

“How about a four-wheel drive?”

“Sorry, sir. The only way is by helicopter.”

“Fine. How about hitching a ride on one of your choppers?”

“Just a moment, sir. I’ll have to check.”