Cookie entered the dining room heading for the kitchen. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I need another aspirin and a drink of water.”

“I’m sorry, Cookie. I should have thought of that. Do you need help?” I asked.

“I’m fine. Ignore me.” She wiggled her fingers at us before leaving the room.

“You were talking about barking dogs,” Bram prompted me.

“Right. Once, though, the dogs barked after the ground shook. After the second helicopter left, the ground trembled.”

“You’re going somewhere with all this?”

“Now I come to the what-ifs. What if that ‘earthquake’”—I made quotation marks in the air—“was the slide at the Devil’s Keyhole?”

Bram’s gaze became unfocused and he absently rubbed his chin. “The slide was large, possibly big enough to be felt here. And if it happened after the helicopter flew over that spot, no one would see we were cut off, but if the pilot saw the slide, he could send help. Can we take that chance that help is on the way?” He thought for a moment. “There’s still the issue of the identification of the unknown passenger.”

Now it was my turn to stare off into space. “I can think of several prospects. One is that the person sitting in the copilot’s seat merely took another seat in the copter for the return trip. Or you were wrong—”

“I know what I saw.”

“I’d rather you were wrong. The other possibilities are that the helicopter didn’t make it to Idaho Falls, or whoever got off doesn’t care if they’re identified. He, or she, doesn’t plan on getting out of here alive.”

Bram frowned. “Those are pretty grim thoughts.”

“Four people were attacked. Two of them are dead, and a fifth person is missing. That’s grim.”

We were silent for a few moments. Soft snoring came from the other room.

“We haven’t explored the idea that the passenger could have a good reason for being here,” I said.

“Who could that be? And why wouldn’t he make himself known? And why didn’t anyone see him—or her?”

“Maybe they did,” I said slowly. “Do you have something I could write on?”

“Full sheet, Post-it note, index card? Any particular color?”

“Five-by-seven mint-green index card, unlined.”

Bram pulled up his messenger bag, opened it, and began searching. “I’m not sure I have—”

“Bram, I’m kidding.”

“Oh.” He pulled a piece of blank paper from his bag and handed it to me.

The window nearest the kitchen shattered as a barrage of gunfire erupted.

Adrenaline shot through my body. I dove to the floor.

Bram grabbed the table and flipped it on its side, creating a barrier, then yanked me behind it.

Screams came from the lobby as everyone took cover.