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head.
    Lying alone in the cold, black enclosure, she waited for the car to start.
    A few minutes later, the engine made a few putting noises. He must have tried to hot-wire it. Bracing herself for the worst, Paige waited for whatever came next.

Chapter Five
    John ran back into the kitchen, skidding when his foot landed on an apple. He kicked it out of the way and continued on into the living room, where momentum temporarily deserted him.
    Paige was gone, stolen away. The cabin was suddenly as empty as John’s head.
    Where were her car keys? He’d driven them back from the Pollocks’ house. He hit his own pockets a half dozen times, his thoughts all jumbled and confused. They’d come home from the Pollocks’ house desperate to get out of the mountains. He’d popped the trunk with the electronic button and then he’d—he’d handed the damn keys to Paige, that’s what he’d done, and she’d opened the cabin door. She must have the keys.
    Or they were in her coat or her purse.
    That purse had been strapped across her body. Her coat was in the bedroom....
    The weird thing on the floor he was staring at finally resolved itself into Anatola Korenev’s bloody, severed digit. John hurried back into the kitchen and found a plastic bag in a drawer. He picked up the finger with the bag and deposited it in the freezer, marking it with an ink pen: police evidence . Maybe someday the prints lifted from that finger would come in handy—who knew?
    He had to find those keys. The coat turned up nothing, and there just wasn’t anyplace else to look. Grabbing the jacket, he rushed out to the car and threw it in the backseat. She’d need it when he found her—if he found her.
    Then he started an outward search of the vehicle.
    As he investigated with his hands all the usual places to hide a key, he considered using the onboard satellite service he’d noticed mounted in the car during their drive to the Pollocks’ house. He was pretty sure if he pushed the right button, the company could start it remotely, but really, would they do that without a password or something? Highly improbable. More likely they’d notify the cops, and boy, he really did not want that.
    Did he have that right, though? Paige’s life was in danger because she’d been kind to him; he should call the cops and think about her safety and not his own. And yet in the back of his fuzzy brain he was certain that Paige’s best chance for survival was John himself. Korenev had gone to great ends to find him, and he must have taken Paige in the hope he could use her. As soon as he figured out he couldn’t, who knew what he’d do?
    A minute later, while running his fingers up under the right rear wheel well, John felt the metallic hide-a-key box and damn near yelled with relief. He wasn’t sure how much of a head start they had; somehow he’d lost track of time again, but he drove as fast as he dared on the snowy road. With so little traffic, the tracks were easy to see, and he took a breath of relief. This would be easier than he’d thought it would be. All he had to do was follow the—
    No, it wasn’t going to be that easy, because a couple of miles down the road, the snow had all but melted on the tarmac and by the time he came to a four-corner crossroad, it was impossible to tell which way Korenev and Paige had gone. There was nothing to indicate one road was better than another except a sign announcing the main highway up ahead. That sounded promising. He went straight.
    Traffic picked up and he began to wonder how this situation would ever be resolved. It seemed there were dozens of gold or tan cars like the Pollocks’ on the road.
    As he drove, he racked his brain for some memory of Korenev or the waterfall. The man had made some pretty nasty statements.... What was going on? Did he and Korenev know one another? Heaven forbid, were they partners? Oh, please, not that.
    One thing was obvious—Korenev was unaware John had lost his memory. Maybe there