Outside Jackson's room people sat quietly on hall benches, or paced, or stared at the door, or held their breath waiting for his father to come out and say it was all a harmless but stupid prank so they should all go in and give him an earful for scaring them. But the door didn't open.

When the tension got as high as he could stand it the lodge caretaker, Westerby, stepped forward to clear his throat quietly, but loud enough for everyone to stop what they were doing and look at him.

"I've radioed the lodge owners. No one can get here until morning."

"We know that, it's a seven hour drive." Muriel, Todd's mother, glared at him.

Westerby nodded, lips permanently pursed through years of dealing with annoyed customers who didn't understand the true meaning of a "rustic" lodge. "Yes ma'am, I know you know that. I'm just trying to lay things out here, step by step, if you'll bear with me."

"Lay what out?" Molly asked.

"A course of action?" Todd asked.

Westerby nodded.

"Okay, you've alerted – or your boss has – the authorities. Now what?" Todd hoped someone had a plan, he had nothing to contribute.

"We take Jackson down the mountain." Muriel stepped forward, ready to exert her normal "no nonsense" attitude in a crisis. "Molly, help me make up a bed in our van, I think that would be the best vehicle."

"We'll have to wait on that, Ma'am, until we know what kind of shape he's in. Here he's safe and warm, and being cared for. What happens if you hydroplane in the rain on your way down the mountain?" Westerby asked.

"He's right, Mom, we need to make sure Jackson's stable." Todd waited for an objection but none came.

"And we need to find the young lady, or her body." Westerby's voice had dropped.

Muriel glared at him. "Well you're not taking my son or my husband out of this building to look for her."

"Mom!" Todd glanced at Molly but she looked away.

"You are not going out in those woods, in this weather. No, never. I forbid it. And you!" She pointed at Westerby, "you are not sneaking him out behind my back."

"I wasn't planning on it, ma'am. The last thing I need are people who don't know the area wandering around at night, especially one like tonight. Besides, it's supposed to snow by morning."

Molly tugged at Westerby's leather jacket sleeve, "We have to find Mara. She's got to be hurt."

"I think she's beyond help at this point, Miss. From the shape your brother's in and the look of his injuries I have an idea where she might be. I'll get her out of there and bring her back. Todd, come down to my quarters, I've got coms down there so we can keep in touch, cell phones are useless up here."

He was halfway down the hall before Muriel called out to him.

"What am I supposed to do?"

Todd had never seen his mother look quite as helpless as she did now. Westerby turned back, weighing his words, obviously trying to find something that would give direction but no offense.

"You could try and get some sleep, you'll be looking after the young man in shifts I suppose. Or you could make some coffee or tea for the folks with him now – it's going to be a long night – or, if you do that kind of thing, a prayer or two might not hurt. You coming, Todd?"

He strode away, Todd behind him and Molly running after them.

"Molly!" Muriel snatched at her but missed.

"I'll meet you in the kitchen, Muriel."

With them gone Muriel turned to the door to Jackson's room, took a deep breath, lifted her chin like her mother had taught her and reached for the knob.

She wasn't expecting the scene she walked into. Laurel – Jackson's mother – was trying to get him to sip warm water but he refused it. Muriel went to help but had to look away a moment. Jackson's torso was a network of cuts and scrapes and purpling bruises. His hands were wrapped but blood was seeping through the rough bandages she realized were made from a torn bedsheet. Some of the cuts on his chest were held shut by butterfly bandages that wouldn't hold for long. Even she could see the cuts needed stitching.

Easing onto the bed she gently held Jackson's hands still while his Mom worked to get the warm liquid into him.

"Thank you," Laural whispered to her.

Jackson's father, Dan, and her husband, Hugh, were across the room going over the medical kit's supplies. Big letters on the side identified it as "Property of Scotsman's Ridge Lodge" superimposed over a large red cross. Their discussion was too hushed to hear.

"Hold him, please, Muriel," Laurel's plea snapped her back to her task and she muttered soothing words to Jackson as she tried to stop him from moving too much. Still she strained to hear what the men were saying.

At the dresser Dan moved items around from the medical kit, looking each one over carefully. He tried to put his injured son's suffering out of his mind to concentrate on what was in front of him.

Hugh leaned closer to Dan's ear. "I've never seen so much stuff in a first aid kit."

"It's a full-out disaster kit for alpine use. This is meant for trained rescue people. There's everything here from morphine to saline drip. I've got enough sutures here to knit a bedspread, and decent bandages once I use them."

"So a small animal veterinarian shouldn't have any trouble with it, then?"

Despite his concern a slow smile touched his lips. "Not this one." He appreciated Hugh's attempt to ground him. "Except, what have they got for pain beside morphine?"

"I've got some great stuff in my luggage. Muscle relaxants for when my back spasms. And I'm sure Muriel has her sleeping pills with her."

"Dan! That cut on his right side, it's bleeding again?" Laurel's voice had remained calm while cleaning him and trying to warm him but now a sliver of panic caused an unsure waver.

He gave his wife a brave smile. "Don't worry, we've got everything we need. Muriel, could you take Laurel back to our room?"

Laurel shook her head. "I'm not leaving him."

"Honey, you don't want to watch me sew him back together."

Her resolve gave way and Muriel led her from the room.

In the woods Westerby headed south. From the cuts on Jackson and what little he was able to understand from his distressed gibberish he had a good idea where the girl was. Now if he could just get to her body before any of the night animals did.