Bram struggled with the man in the grass, trying to pin his shoulders. “Merlin!” he said finally, his hands groping to find his jaw, his neck. “Where’s my wife?” he said, pressing hard, forcing his head back.

  “Who the hell are you?” choked Kenny. Without waiting for an answer, he slammed a knee into Bram’s stomach. Bram doubled over and Kenny slid out from under him. A second later something hard and heavy caught Bram in the stomach again. As he twisted onto his back, he saw that it was one of Kenny’s size-ten wing tips. The blow left him gasping for air. Even so, he managed to grab Kenny’s leg as he tried to stand and flipped him on his back. Bram’s eyes raked around wildly, looking for a weapon. That’s when he saw a stack of logs piled next to the cabin. He scrambled toward them. When he looked around, he saw that Kenny was heading straight for him, a steel crowbar held over his head. Bram had no idea where he’d found it, but as it sliced through the air in front of him, he ducked out of the way. Then he swung a log hard at Kenny’s midsection — and connected.

  Kenny grunted as he hit the grass face first. In a flash, Bram was on top of him. He tried to jam Kenny’s arm behind his back, but die man was surprisingly strong. They rolled around, all arms and legs, slugging and struggling and swearing, until somehow they were both standing again. Bram took a couple of deep breaths to get his bearings, but Kenny had already grabbed for the log. He lunged at Bram so fast, all Bram could do was duck. This time, however, as he shot back up, Kenny connected with a vicious blow. Pain exploded inside Bram’s head. Staggering backward, he fell against a bush, sinking into the branches. He didn’t black out, but a thick fog enveloped him. He struggled not to fade, but the soft blackness at the edges of his mind seemed so inviting. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw that the building was ablaze.

  “No!” he screamed, trying to extricate himself from the grasping branches.

  “Jesus,” snarled Kenny, turning around. “What the hell is your head made of?”

  His head might be hard, but the rest of his body felt like jelly. He tried to get up, but before he made it very far, Kenny was standing over him with the crowbar.

  “Feel a little like a fly trapped in honey, do you?” the lawyer asked. “Don’t worry. You won’t feel a thing in a minute.” He raised the bar with both hands.

  “Drop it!” came a deep voice from behind them.

  Kenny whirled around just as Harry lifted a gun and pointed it directly at his chest. The light was almost gone now, but the spreading fire lent an eerie glow to the scene.

  “Mr. Hongisto,” said Kenny, his expression turning flat. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I’m with him.” He nodded to Bram. “Put it down. Now!”

  Kenny dropped the crowbar in the grass.

  Bram tried once more to get up. This time he made it. Whipping off his tie, he bound Kenny’s hands behind his back, then ordered him to sit down. As he dashed past Harry, he told the older man to keep Kenny covered. “Don’t take your eyes off him, got that? Not until I come back.”

  “Will do.”

  Bursting into the cabin through the already open front door, Bram found the interior thick with smoke. He covered his mouth and nose with his hand, not that it helped much. He could make out the outlines of people seated around the room, all bound and gagged. He rushed to Sophie first, pulling the tape off her mouth.

  She choked on the smoke, coughed deeply, then rasped, “Get a knife from the kitchen to cut us loose. Otherwise it’s going to take forever.”

  Bram realized she was right. But he didn’t have to go to the kitchen. He always carried a tiny pocketknife. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. In a matter of seconds, he had her hands free and then her legs. “Get out of here,” he ordered. “I’ll take care of the rest.” He could tell she didn’t want to leave. “Don’t make me carry you out. There isn’t time! Crawl. There’s more air near the floor. And call 911.” He handed her his cell phone, hoping it hadn’t been broken during the fight.

  Reluctantly she did as he asked.

  After she was safely outside, Bram turned his attention to Constance. She’d already passed out from the smoke, but Arthur, who was sitting next to her, was still conscious. Bram worked quickly to free them both, then helped Arthur drag her out the front door and down the steps, finally laying her on the grass.

  “Where’s Nathan?” shouted Sophie.

  Suddenly from inside the cabin came the sound of cracking and then breaking wood. One of the ceiling joists crashed diagonally across the room as part of the roof collapsed inward.

  Sophie screamed.

  “You can’t go back in there,” shouted Arthur. “He’s my son. Let me do it.” Before anyone could stop him, he rushed back into the burning cabin.

  Bram and Sophie knelt next to Constance, checking her vital signs. She had some burns on her right arm and shoulder. The wounds looked deep and painful. It was probably best that she was unconscious.

  “Did you call 911 ?” asked Bram.

  Sophie coughed. “They’re coming.”

  “Tie smoke’s so thick in there it’s like the middle of the night.” Bram coughed a few more times himself, trying to clear his lungs. “Maybe I should —”

  “No.” Sophie gripped his hand. “You stay put.”

  He could see not only the fear in her eyes but also the resolve.

  An instant later Arthur appeared. He was on his hands and knees, struggling to drag Nathan out of the door by using the belt of his robe. Arthur looked as if he was about to collapse.

  Bram and Sophie rushed to his side.

  The steps were burning now, but they managed to get them both down to the grass without anyone’s clothing catching on fire. Nathan was out cold, but he was breathing. Arthur was coughing so deeply he couldn’t talk. His hands also looked like they were badly burned. But they were all alive.

  Sophie grabbed Bram and held him tight. “You were my only hope. But I didn’t think you’d come. When the fire started outside and we could see it climbing the walls, coming in through the windows…” She stopped and closed her eyes.

  Bram brushed the soot off her cheeks, then crushed her in his arms. She was shivering. “I’ll always come, sweetheart. I knew you needed me. I don’t know how, but I did.”

  “Must be ESP,” she whispered.

  “Good karma.”

  “A true Zen connection.”

  He smiled, kissing her softly. “Or maybe it’s just love.”

  35

  On Sunday morning Sophie and Bram sat in the passenger lounge outside gate 31, waiting for Rudy and John’s plane to land. After a night spent partly at the hospital and then later at the police station, they’d arrived late at the airport, hoping the plane hadn’t arrived early. But when they checked the ARRIVALS and DEPARTURES screens as they came in the doors, they saw that Sight 892 from St. Louis had a flashing DELAYED sign next to it.

  “Now what?” asked Sophie, too exhausted to be worried but worried nonetheless.

  “It’s probably nothing,” Bram assured her. “I got on a plane once in Detroit. We couldn’t leave because the food hadn’t been delivered yet. We must have twiddled our thumbs for an hour before the plane was stocked and ready for takeoff.”

  Sophie wanted to believe the cause of the delay was something that simple, especially after what they’d been through last night. But the way her fortunes had been running, she had a feeling this was more of the same. “We better ask somebody what’s going on.”

  After waiting in line for half an hour to talk to a TWA official, they were informed that Rudy and John’s plane from Washington, D.C., had been late landing in St. Louis and that the connecting flight from St. Louis to Minneapolis/St. Paul International had experienced a mechanical problem just before takeoff. The woman suggested that if they moved to the gate, someone there would keep them updated about the status of the flight.

  “Why can’t they tell us whether or not the plane’s taken off?” asked Sophie, peering into her paper coffee cup as if it contained something suspicious.

  Bram shrugged. “Bureaucrats. They’re everywhere. Under rocks. Hanging from trees.”

  They’d certainly run into their share of bureaucrats last night.

  As soon as the police, the paramedics, and the fire department had arrived at the monastery, Kenny Merlin was taken into custody and everyone else was hustled to the nearest hospital. The medical examiner had been called to deal with Paul’s body but didn’t arrive until after they were gone. While they were waiting to get into the paramedic van, Sophie watched the firefighters hose down the burning cabin until it posed no danger to the other buildings.

  The burns on Arthur’s hands and Constance’s shoulder and arm were serious and required further medical treatment. Nathan’s hair had been singed, not life-threatening, but he’d swallowed so much smoke that the emergency-room doctor suggested he stay in the hospital overnight for observation. Bram and Sophie were released with nothing more than a few bumps and bruises but were told to take it easy for the next few days.

  “I don’t consider this taking it easy,” said Sophie, drumming her fingers on the arm of the chair. She eyed a 747 as it rolled past the windows.

  “It’s only an hour or two by air from here to St. Louis,” said Bram. “Once they finally get airborne, it won’t take long.”

  “I wish that damn ‘delayed’ sign would stop flashing.”

  He glanced up at the screen, then shook his head. Slipping his arm around her shoulders, he squeezed her neck reassuringly. “You’re exhausted.”

  She looked at him sideways, then smirked. “And you look like W.C. Fields.”

  “Thanks.” He touched his swollen nose. “It was a lucky punch.”

  After being released from the hospital, Bram, Sophie, and Harry had all been driven to the police station in downtown St. Paul. Once they were seated in an interrogation room, Sophie told her story, everything from finding George’s body last Sunday night to her final conversation with Nathan at New Fonteney. She also mentioned the evidence she’d discovered along the way. Perhaps it wasn’t her place, but she said she was sure Kenny had been behind everything. The police seemed to agree.

  Before the three of them left to go home, they were informed that Kenny would be arraigned in the morning, charged with two counts of first-degree murder, one count of second-degree murder, four counts of attempted murder, and one count of arson. There were some other charges pending, one having to do with the possession of an illegal firearm, but by the time the entire list had been read, Sophie’s mind had shut down. All she knew was that Kenny would get what was coming to him, and Harry was a free man.

  The only problem that still concerned her was Nathan. It was possible, even likely, that he would be charged as an accessory after the fact to George’s murder.

  “Do you think Nathan will end up in prison?” asked Sophie, sitting up straight and finishing the last of her cold coffee.

  Bram didn’t say anything for almost a minute. Finally he bent his head and replied, “I am a hopelessly flawed human being.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because, even after everything that’s happened, I’m still jealous of Nathan Buckridge.”

  “Sweetheart —”

  He held up his hand. “I should have told you this before we left the hotel, but I didn’t. I talked to A1 Lundquist this morning.”

  “And?”

  “Seems Nathan has already hired himself a lawyer. She’s negotiating to get all the charges against him dropped.”

  Sophie didn’t understand. “Is that possible?”

  “It’s probably some sort of plea-bargain arrangement. In return for his testimony against Kenny, he’ll be given full immunity. Or, at least, that’s what they’re asking for. Al thought he’d get it, which means he won’t do any time. Nathan will be able to open his cooking school forty miles from the hotel and be a thorn in my side for the rest of my life.”

  “Honey, it’s not going to be like that.”

  “He was your first love, Soph. That’s something I can never be. I came along after Norman Abnormal. As I’ve said many times before, anyone would look good next to him.” He sighed, then sat back in his chair. “The thing is, last night, when I wanted to go back into the cabin to help Arthur drag Nathan out, you said no. You wouldn’t let me. It felt like you’d chosen me over him. That really meant something to me. But this morning that same niggling sense of doubt’s still there.”

  She gazed up into his gentle green eyes. How could she tell him she was the deeply flawed human being? He’d picked up on her ambivalence and to tell him it hadn’t been there would be to play with his sense of reality. She wouldn’t do that. None of what she’d done had been fair. And yet he was right. If a choice had to be made, she had chosen him over Nathan last night, and she always would. “Sweetheart, listen to me. You may not have been my first love, but you’re my last. That’s what counts. You’ve got to know how much I love you.”

  Over the loudspeaker a woman’s voice announced, “We have just been informed that flight 892 from St. Louis to Minneapolis/St. Paul has been diverted to O’Hare International in Chicago. We have no further information, but as updates become available, we’ll pass them on to you.”

  Bram and Sophie were on their feet in a flash and heading toward the desk. So were forty other people.

  “Can’t you give us a reason?” demanded Bram.

  A chorus of voices chimed in behind him.

  “All I can tell you is that the plane experienced a mechanical problem shortly after takeoff,” said the TWA official. “The pilot felt it was best to divert to a closer airport.”

  “What kind of mechanical problem?” asked a skinny, bespectacled young man standing next to Sophie.

  “I don’t have the details,” said the woman. “If you’ll all take your seats, I promise I’ll pass on any information I receive.”

  “Like hell she will,” muttered Bram, storming back to his chair.

  Sophie slowly followed, fighting off an intense feeling of anxiety. She’d been sleeping poorly all week and then last night she’d barely had three hours. She needed to keep reminding herself of that fact as a way of explaining why she was reacting so emotionally. Under other circumstances, she would feel the same anxiety, but she wouldn’t be on the verge of coming apart, as she was right now.

  “Are you okay?” asked Bram.

  As she sat down, she could tell he was watching her. “Fine,” she said, afraid to say anything more.

  “Can I get you another cup of coffee?”

  “Sure. Decaf.”

  “Would you rather have a drink?”

  “I’d rather have my son on the ground.”

  “We’ll hear something soon.”

  She watched him walk over to the coffee kiosk.

  Half an hour later they were still waiting. They’d barely spoken. Words seemed to make it worse, as if discussing the situation made all the terrifying possibilities more real.

  Around noon Sophie got up and stood by the windows. Every few minutes a plane would land or take off. It all looked so effortless. Why couldn’t Rudy’s flight be like that? As she turned around to take another look at the ARRIVALS screen, she noticed that the DELAYED sign next to the St. Louis flight had been replaced by a flashing arrived sign. Others had noticed the change, too. Some were pointing. Some had already approached the desk. The same woman’s voice came over the loudspeaker again. “Flight 892 from St. Louis has just landed. Passengers will be deplaning through gate 31 on the red concourse. For those of you waiting for this flight, we thank you for your patience and hope that TWA may serve you again soon.”

  For the first time since she’d entered the airport, Sophie relaxed.

  “What do you suppose happened?” asked Biam, coming up behind her. He cupped his hands around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

  They watched a 737 slowly pull up to the gate. “I don’t know,” said Sophie, crossing her hands over her chest to place them on his, “but we’re about to find out.”

  Everything happened quickly after that. In a matter of minutes people were getting off, walking up the long ramp toward their friends and family. Sophie and Bram waited for their first glimpse of Rudy and John. Finally two familiar heads bobbed up the ramp. In an instant Rudy was in Sophie’s arms. She felt as if she never wanted to let him go.

  Bram hugged John. Then they exchanged partners.

  “God, you’re both so tan,” said Sophie, standing back, unable to take her eyes off her son. “You look wonderfid. Even more handsome than when you left.”

  Rudy, who had a naturally ruddy complexion, blushed an even deeper red. “Come on, Mom. Don’t start.”

  “We thought the flight had been diverted to Chicago,” said Bram as they began their long trek up the concourse to the baggage area.

  “Some light kept coming on in the cabin,” said Rudy, switching his carry-on bag to his other hand. “They told us it meant there was excessive heat in the belly of the plane.”

  “They didn’t tell us that right away,” said John, picking up the story. “The head flight attendant only told us about the warning light. But when the pilot finally explained what was going on, he said we were diverting to Chicago. But then the light went off, so they thought it was just a wiring problem. They told us we were in the clear and would be landing in Minneapolis as planned.”

  Rudy nodded. “About half an hour ago the light came back on again and this time they couldn’t get it to go off. I think they were pretty worried. The flight attendants were buzzing around, but nobody was saying much.”

  Sophie could feel her knees growing weak.

  “You okay, Mom?” asked Rudy, glancing over at her.

  “Fine.” She smiled. She really was fine now that he was home.

  “But we landed okay,” continued John. “I don’t mind telling you, I was holding my breath for the last twenty minutes.”