As Amelia hesitated inside the door, the chopper landed in the clearing. There was another exit out of the cabin, she recalled, but this might be the only opportunity for her. The chopper was blowing snow around, it was dark and cold. Be natural for someone to wait for it. And maybe she could hitch a ride on it. The pilot wouldn’t be expecting to be hijacked.

She pulled the hat down, tucking the flaps under the chin to disguise its shape. She pulled on the snow goggles and the gloves, then opened the door and plunged into a night that was a mix of light and dark. The cold bit into her lungs, and she gasped for breath. Had to be close to zero out here. The lining of her nasal passages crisped and her clothing stiffened. A cloud of snow billowed in her face, forcing her to look away, even as she jogged toward the chopper. Before she could get close enough, the chopper’s engine roared as it lifted off again, turning its light up and away, then shutting it off. Guess she was going to have to do this the hard way.

As her view cleared, she saw a single figure remained in the clearing, staggering a couple of times as he turned toward the cabin and her. It wasn’t Grady, but he looked familiar.

“Where’s Grady?” he shouted. “Is he inside?”

Amelia shook her head. The chopper had retreated enough that she could say, while trying to make her voice as deep as possible, “He left.”

The man was bundled up, but his face was bare. Handsome but weak, with something in the eyes that reminded her of Ray. She knew him, but from where?

She started to walk past him, but he grabbed her arm. “Where’s the girl?”

Amelia froze. Couldn’t stop her pulse from doing a jump to light speed.

“Inside.”

“Show me,” he said.

Amelia’s first instinct was to refuse, but she knew any sign of panic now would spell her doom. There were men out there watching. Grady hadn’t taken her into the lookout bunkers, but he’d pointed out the passageways below ground, and she’d seen the bunker’s layout on the map during her tour. Thanks to her photographic brain, she could probably give her own tour now. She wanted to get away from here before Grady came back.

Which did nothing to help her with her current problem. If she could get him inside, she could use her gun again. She nodded and turned back to the door. The guy waited for her to open it. Must think he was important. With her back to him, she got the pistol ready again. Inside, her goggles fogged over as the warm air hit them. She lifted them. Her eyes watered from the change in temperature. She blinked them and found the newcomer wasn’t looking at her. His avid gaze scoured the room. He’d brought with him the smell of something feral. Something slimy and evil.

Where?”

“Upstairs,” Amelia said, glad it wasn’t really so. This was not a guy to be left alone with.

“Show me,” he said again.

With a sigh, Amelia led him toward the stairs, trying to remember to walk like a soldier. His eagerness, his lust, reached past her, the brush with evil sending a chill down her spine. Unlike Grady, this guy wasn’t interested in what was inside her head. They didn’t meet anyone and she couldn’t see anyone in any of the rooms. Maybe they were all down in the bunker?

“How long will Grady be gone?”

Amelia shrugged. She didn’t want to try out her voice in the quiet. It might not hold up to scrutiny.

“How long has he been gone?” he sounded impatient now.

Great. “About an hour,” she said, gruffly and with crossed fingers. She stopped in front of the door she’d only just left, slipping the pistol clear of the pocket on the side away from him. If the guy in the closet made a sound, the situation could go south quickly.

She released the safety, covering the small click with the sound of the key sliding in the lock. It turned easily this time. Odd how steady her hands were now, when danger threatened. She pushed the door open and stood back to let him enter. The room was much as she’d left it. Ray was still under the blanket.

He stopped, a smile curling the edges of his mouth that chilled her blood more surely than the winter air. He moved forward lightly licking his lips in anticipation.

She brought her gun up, her hand steady as a rock.

He pulled the blanket back, growling in frustrated rage as he turned toward her. His hand reached for his back and what she assumed was a weapon, but he stopped when he saw the gun trained on him.

“Get it. Two fingers. Drop it and kick it toward me or I take out your manhood,” Amelia said. She was a quick study on male motivation.

Despite the rage in his eyes, he paled and did as she asked. She kicked it out the door without taking her eyes off him. Now what? How did one back off from a rattlesnake, she wondered.

He must have sensed her uncertainty. He smiled again. She supposed there was charm in it, but it had no effect on her. She’d seen beneath the surface.

“Well, aren’t you the clever girl, Miss Prudence,” he said. “Not just a filing cabinet, after all.”

She knew that voice. A flash of memory produced his face, too. It came accompanied by a stab of pain. She’d felt like this before. Felt this odd mix of interest and unease. She didn’t strain for the name this time and it came to her.

“Leslie.” She didn’t know how or why, but she could feel whatever was holding her memory out of contact begin to crack. It hadn’t burst yet, but it was ready. It bulged, like a dam under siege. She knew two things with perfect clarity. It was going to be bad. And she needed to be away from Leslie when it went. The flood could sweep away her control of the situation.

“I hate to lock you up and run, but I do want to be out of here before Grady comes back. I’m sure you understand,” she said, surprised at how calm she sounded with her insides roiling like a volcano.

He took a half step toward her and she brought the gun up sharply, directly in his face.

“I wouldn’t. You know that I know how to use this.” Did he?

Apparently he did. He stopped. But he was poised to strike. She stepped back, feeling for the door with her free hand.

“Did Grady tell you what we did to your old man?” he said, as if he sensed that upping the pressure might break the situation his way.

Amelia felt the tremor deep inside. She had to get out now.

“I don’t have time—”

“I killed him. He was still alive when you left the hospital, but he’s dead now.” He smiled again, but this time it wasn't pretty or charming. “Your father—”

At the word “father,” the first piece of her memory dam burst free of restraint. Her whole body contracted from the pain that accompanied it.

A gunshot. The recoil in her arm. The pain in her wrist. A cry from Leslie.

Through waves of pain, she saw something red splatter on the log walls. Leslie sank to his knees, a surprised expression on his face.

“I’ll be damned. The mouse has claws—” He fell slowly forward, sprawling face down on the wooden floor. Almost immediately a pool of blood began to form near one shoulder.

Memory pushed harder. She pushed back, but control was tenuous. The opening widened. More memories slipped out. She was in an ambulance, looking down at a gray, aesthetic face. Instead of a siren, she heard chop, chop, chop.

Was it a chopper? No, there was a chopper coming in. Her vision narrowed to a murky tunnel as she turned away from the present and the past.

Must be Grady. She had to get out before her head exploded. She turned and ran from the room with her memories on her heels.