"Oh, that doggone prayer group and their insistence on secrecy," Marla groused. "Yes, she's pregnant, and we're praying for her because she doesn't have any more money now than she did when she and Nate were living in an apartment here in Aspen Meadow."

I asked tentatively, "And the father is . . . ?"

"Hah! Ask Rorry! She definitely has not remarried, I can tell you that. Anyway, I'm convinced she hasn't come back to visit St. Luke's because somebody would tell her she should get married before she has the baby."

"Oh, please!"

"When do you want to get together? We could ski during the week."

"I'll call you. First, though, I'll let you get some sleep. Your fatigue is making you into a cynic." I signed off and reread what I'd written in the computer. Satisfied that I had outlined the questions that had been troubling me, I wrapped the meat, packed up the cookies, and stored the cooled rice. It was nearly midnight. I could sleep for six hours, wake Arch to go see Todd, pack the Rover, and be on the road to Killdeer by seven. I crept upstairs and curled up next to Tom's warm, deliciously fleshy body. I heard a soft rustling sound and peered over his shoulder. A new torrent of flakes pattered against our windows. Lit by the street lamp, the blue spruce outside our window was swathed in snow. By morning, Aspen Meadow would be blanketed, and in one week we would have a white Christmas.

I snuggled closer to Tom. I had very little besides the revolver to put under the tree for him, I resolved to look for another gift in the Killdeer shops. A little shopping trip would cheer me up after I finished with Arthur. Of course, to get to Killdeer, I would first have to shovel out the Rover.

Make that, sleep for five hours.

When my alarm shrilled at five A.M., the darkness in the house seemed impenetrable. Out the window, the spruce had .vanished. How much more snow had fallen? I shivered and checked my new clock. It was one of those digital jobs with a battery that kicks in when the power goes off. Through my early morning daze, I realized that that was precisely what had happened. I shivered, then concluded that with no power, there were no streetlights, no nightlights or - more crucially - no heat. Unless it was an extended outage, the contents of my refrigerator and freezer should be fine. Still, I wondered if we could afford to move to Arizona.

"Don't go," Tom murmured.

"Don't the Rockies train near Phoenix?" I asked. "When does spring training start?"

"What?"

"I'm talking about the baseball team, Tom."

He groaned, turned over, and pulled me in for a gentle hug that melted my body's residual stiffness from the accident. "End of February. You want to worry about sports, the Broncos are playing Kansas City tomorrow."