This Winter Night. Janice Sims

normal rational self. Otherwise, he would have worn a heavier coat— perhaps rethought this entire trip completely.

      He unlocked the cabin’s front door and took a couple steps inside where he automatically reached for the light switch. He pressed the flat panel but was rewarded with no illumination whatsoever. Then he remembered the alarm and rushed over to the unit but found even the green ready light was out. Power failure. He then made his way to the kitchen where he found a flashlight in the drawer next to the stove. Switching it on, he headed to check the breaker box in the laundry room at the back of the cabin. It was as he suspected—there was no electricity in the cabin. Probably downed power lines due to the blizzard, he thought grimly. He now regretted not having backup generators put in the cabin according to his parents’ objections. They liked the austerity of the place. Said they came to the mountains to get away from the modern world as much as possible. Besides, they frequented the cabin more often in warmer months than in the dead of winter, so they figured they didn’t need a generator.

      Next he checked the cubbyhole in the mudroom where his parents kept logs for the fireplace. Empty. That did it. He would not survive the night in a cabin without electricity in the middle of a snowstorm, not when there wasn’t the remotest prospect of a roaring fire.

      He made his way back through the cabin and out the front door. He suddenly remembered glancing at the fuel gauge in the SUV before he had gotten out earlier and again realized that the tank was nearly empty. He laughed roughly. His dad would have probably gotten a good laugh out of this experience for years. Be prepared for anything, he’d always said. Well, Dad, Colton thought, I wasn’t prepared for you dying. That kind of threw me for a loop.

      He climbed back in the SUV. Luckily, he hadn’t been in the cabin long enough for the snow to freeze on the windshield. The wipers cleared away the accumulation, and he spied the cabin across the pond. Lights shone in its windows. The property belonged to Adam Eckhart. His parents had been reluctant to tell him of the purchase three years ago when his biggest business rival had “coincidentally” moved next door to the Riley family cabin. Colton had simply laughed at the time because he rarely went to the mountains. His parents had frequented the cabin more than anyone else in their family.

      It made him wonder, though, just what kind of psychological games Adam was playing with him. The man clearly had no sense of business fairness. At least twice Eckhart had used underhanded methods to push Colton’s construction company out of the bidding for lucrative contracts.

      One of the city officials whose palms Eckhart had greased had even come to Colton and boldly said things might go his way if his gift were larger than Eckhart’s had been. But the Riley family didn’t conduct business in that manner. So Eckhart had gotten the contract.

      Looking at the Eckhart cabin now, Colton was resigned to the fact that beggars couldn’t be choosers. He would have to go knocking on his enemy’s door tonight, or freeze.

      * * *

      Lauren Gaines-Eckhart luxuriated in the warm, soapy water of the sunken tub. She had pinned up her long, wavy raven’s-wing-colored hair to keep it dry, and put a Ben Harper CD in the sound system in an attempt to banish all thoughts of Adam Eckhart. She peered up at the clock on the wall. They had now been divorced exactly three days, seven hours and thirty-six minutes. She grimaced. Sometimes she was too anal for her own good.

      “Ben, Ben,” she moaned. “Take me away!” But the sound of Ben Harper’s beautiful voice wasn’t working tonight. Like bile, hatred for her ex-husband coursed through her taut body. The more she tried to relax, the more images of doing violence to Adam flashed through her mind.

      She smiled at the thought and sank deeper in the tub as she laid her head on the pillow. Finally she relaxed. As Ben Harper’s sweet tenor soared she closed her eyes. Tomorrow she would think about making her way back to Raleigh for work, family and responsibility, but for tonight, Christmas Eve, she was fine with being cut off from everyone and everything in her life. She’d been in the mountains for two days and had stayed in spite of severe weather warnings that mentioned the likelihood of a blizzard. She felt safe here. As an architect, she’d designed the cabin with backup generators that would provide power for several days, insulated windows and a reinforced roof built to withstand the weight of heavy snowfall. This cabin was safer than some military installations. The daughter of a retired U.S. Army general, she knew a little about the military.

      As an added bonus, her nosy sisters wouldn’t be able to travel up there to commiserate with her about her divorce. She adored all four of them and knew they meant well but they wouldn’t let her wallow and she wanted to wallow, at least for a few days. Then, like everyone expected of her, she would pull herself together and get on with her life.

      She felt her muscles loosen and sighed contentedly. A delicious feeling of peace suffused her body. Then, just as quickly, her muscles tightened once again. Was that the doorbell? She glanced at the clock—9:25 p.m.? Who in their right mind would be out and about during a snowstorm?

      She sat up in the tub and listened. There it was again, this time followed by someone pounding like crazy on her front door.

      Curious, and a little ticked off by the intrusion, she rose. Tall and curvy, her brown body glistened with water droplets. Carefully, she stepped onto the plush bath rug and grabbed a towel to quickly dry off.

      Pulling on her robe and slippers, she hurried into the adjacent bedroom and went straight to the closet. Pushing aside some clothes she revealed a wall safe. She quickly put in the combination, opened it and removed the semiautomatic she kept for self-defense.

      Her father had made sure that all his daughters knew how to safely use a handgun. She loaded it and made sure the safety was engaged. She didn’t want to accidentally shoot anyone. She would fire the weapon only if it became necessary to defend herself—a woman couldn’t be too careful here in the isolated mountains. The nearest police station was miles away. And no one was going to come to her rescue in a blizzard.

      * * *

      Colton pressed his ear to the door as he strained to hear any forthcoming footsteps from within. Could Eckhart have programmed the lights to come on at regular intervals to deter thieves? If so, the cabin could be unoccupied. He tossed that theory aside. The power was out. If the power were out in his family’s cabin, the power would be out in Eckhart’s, as well. Even with backup generators, someone would have to manually start them up, right? At least he hoped so.

      He was about to start pounding on the door again when a feminine voice yelled, “Identify yourself, and quickly!”

      “My name is Colton Riley. My family owns the cabin across the pond...”

      “I know Frank and Veronica Riley,” said the voice impatiently. “Stand back so I can see your face.”

      Colton took a step backward. He was trembling with cold, his arms wrapped around his jacket in an attempt to hold in what little body heat he had left.

      Inside, Lauren squinted as she perused his face. Yes, although they’d never formally met, she recognized Colton Riley’s clean-shaven chiseled features from various charitable events they’d both attended, and from family photographs his mother, Veronica, had shown her over the years. She was clearly proud of her son and had talked about him a lot. Also, it was hard not to recognize the man her ex-husband detested. He’d bought this cabin just to irk Colton Riley. Lauren had wondered about her husband’s sanity then—to buy a cabin just to rub somebody else’s nose in it. The fact that he was so rich that he could move right next door to a sworn enemy and they had no control over it whatsoever. On the other hand, gaining ownership of the cabin in the divorce was a breeze because Adam hadn’t gotten the rise out of Colton Riley he’d expected when he’d bought the property. He’d been summarily ignored. So when Lauren had said she wanted the cabin he hadn’t put up a fight.

      Now his business rival was standing on her doorstep wanting to come inside out of the cold.

      “Okay, you’re Colton Riley. What do you want?” she yelled.

      Sure she recognized him, but who knew, he might moonlight as a serial killer on weekends.