"No…" she gasped. She tried to move, but her limbs wouldn't work and something was wrong with her legs. Her ankles were tied.

Cal's breath rasped in her ears. He was leaning in through the open car door to secure her wrists. She saw the gray lightning bolt that shot through his hair, and struggled to stay conscious. Her wrists were throbbing and the rhinestones on the scarf were cutting into her skin. He had tied the scarf much too tight. Why was he tying her wrists? He had said she was going to commit suicide.

"Don't do this…" she murmured, her words slurred.

He stepped back to survey his work. And then, in a gesture that seemed almost tender, he pushed her hair back into place and straightened her dress. When he was satisfied, he rolled down the car window and shut the door.

Her throat was dry, her tongue felt swollen. She was still dazed from the blow and she had difficulty speaking. "Cal… don't do this."

"It didn't have to happen," he whispered. She heard remorse in his voice, but the wildness was still in his eyes. "I never intended to let it go this far. But I can't have you ruin me."

"I won't… tell. I promise."

"I'm sorry. Truly." He checked the scarf. Her hands had begun to cramp painfully, and they twitched when he touched them. "I'll come back and untie you," he murmured gently. "Afterward."

Afterward. After she was dead. Before anyone discovered her body. They would think she had killed herself. "No," she moaned.

He turned on the ignition and the Chevy's engine sprang to life. Helplessly she watched as he went over to Paige's Mercedes and turned it on, too. The powerful German engine roared. He stood by the car and straightened his tuxedo. For a moment the scene looked to her like a slick magazine ad. Expensive car. Expensive clothes. Expensive, evil man.

She screamed and began to struggle against the knots, trying to slide her wrists along the steering wheel so she could reach the gear shift. But the knots were too tight and her struggles were pushing the sharp prongs of the rhinestones deeper into her flesh. He walked toward the door that led into the house, returned the gloves to the shelf, and then removed his handkerchief from his pocket. Using it to turn the doorknob, he disappeared.

She refused to go silently to her death, and she cried out until her throat was raw. How long did it take to die of carbon monoxide poisoning? Maybe someone would come into this wing of the house. Maybe someone would hear her.

Her wrists wouldn't move. Sobbing, she began to throw herself against the steering wheel, trying to sound the horn. But it was recessed and she couldn't reach it with her body.

Her struggles were forcing her to consume the tainted oxygen at an alarming rate. She cried out as she saw blood beginning to seep through the scarf, and she realized that the rhinestones had cut into her flesh in a dozen places. She tried to hit the gear shift with her legs, but the rope around her ankles made it impossible for her to maneuver.

While she struggled, the automobile engines roared away in a death chorus. As she watched her blood seep in rusty patterns through the scarf, her life had never seemed more precious. She didn't want to die. When the police saw the blood on her wrists, they would know she hadn't committed suicide. And sooner or later someone would find the tape recorder. But bringing Cal to justice no longer seemed to matter.

Mitch's face swam in front of her eyes. As she faced death, she knew that she loved him. She had loved him for years, but since she was married, she had made herself believe it was merely friendship. He was good and kind and strong, everything a man should be. And the fact that he loved her sister didn't diminish her feelings for him at all.

The monster engines continued to spew out their poison. The blood trickled from the wounds in her wrists. How much time had passed? Was she starting to get sleepy? Please God, no. Don't let me get sleepy.

She wanted a baby. She wanted to tell her sister that she loved her. She wanted to bask in the light of Yank's gentle eyes. She wanted to see Mitch again. Even if she couldn't have him, she wanted to watch that wonderful face soften in a smile. Please, God, don't let me die.

And, gradually, a sense of peacefulness came over her. Her head wobbled and her forehead dropped against the top of the steering wheel. She needed to rest. Just for a little while. Just until she felt stronger.

And then she heard her father's voice.

Wake up, sweetheart. Wake up right now.

She saw Joel standing before her, holding out his arms. His face was as young and as golden as a prince's. He was real. He wasn't dead. He didn't hate her.

Her eyelids fluttered. Daddy? Daddy, where are you?

His smile faded and he looked angry with her. Just like the day she had run away with Sam Gamble. So fierce and angry.

Your arms, he shouted. Move your arms!

No. She didn't want to move them. She was too tired. But he kept calling out to her over and over again.

Your arms! Move your arms!

The scarves were too tight. Her wrists were bleeding and she was sleepy. But he looked so angry-she didn't want to make him angry-he looked so angry that she tried once more. Gathering the small amount of strength she had left, she struggled against her bonds. For the last time, she pulled at the knots.

And her wrists began to move in their slippery path of blood. Pain clawed at her as she tried to slide them down along the steering wheel. Everything was spinning. She had to rest. She had to make the pain stop. Just for a moment.

Her fingers bumped against the gear shift, but she could no longer remember why it had been so important to reach it.

Wake up! Joel shouted. Wake up now.

She tried to focus, tried to remember what she had to do. With a rasping breath she tugged on the gear shift and awkwardly maneuvered the car into reverse.

But she had expended the last of her energy, and there was nothing left.

Your feet, he cried. Lift your feet.

He expected too much of her. He had always expected too much. Her feet were heavy. Much too heavy to lift.

Now! Now!

She pushed her clumsy feet against the accelerator.

The oxygen-eating engine roared. Her neck snapped as the car shot backward. It crashed through the garage door and catapulted out onto the driveway.

The slap of fresh, pure oxygen acted like a shot of adrenaline. She sucked the life-giving air into her lungs. Several minutes passed. Strength began to flow back into her body, and with the strength came agonizing shards of pain in her wrists.

She began to sob. Blood was smeared all over the steering wheel, and she couldn't loosen the knots that held her wrists. How much longer before Cal discovered her and finished what he had begun? The faint sounds of the orchestra drifted in through the window. The music sounded more beautiful than anything she had ever heard. Biting her lip against the pain, she worked the car into drive. Then she once again slammed her feet on the accelerator.

The car shot down a small bank and onto the side lawn. With her wrists tied, it was almost impossible to steer, but she wrenched the wheel to the right and rounded the back of the house. On the opposite side of the grounds, she could see a striped party canopy and white paper lanterns swinging from the trees. The car rocked violently as the right wheels rode up on the terraced slope of the hillside. For a moment she thought she was going to flip, and then she gasped as the wheels steadied on even ground.

A low wall of shrubbery loomed ahead. The car careened wildly as she plowed through it. She could see the people more clearly. They were turning toward her. A heavy urn planted with topiary scraped the side of the car. The vehicle shuddered but didn't stop. One of the garden's marble statues appeared on her right. She wrested her arms to the left, just missing it. Men in tuxedos and women in glimmering gowns watched in horror as she raced closer.

She lifted her legs to hit the brake, but her foot caught beneath the peddle. The fountain materialized ahead along with well-dressed party guests who were scattering in alarm. She sobbed as she freed her foot and slammed on the brake.

Stones flew up from the tires. The car fishtailed on the gravel path and skidded into the side of the fountain. Her body jolted as the engine shuddered to a stop.

She heard a woman screaming, the sound of people running, a man's voice, loud and incredulous. "It's Susannah Faulconer!"

Someone was struggling with the door on the passenger side and then crawling over the seat to help her. Hands touched her wrists and tugged at the knots on the scarf. She whimpered with the pain.

More voices.

"She's tied. Why is she tied?"

"I'll call an ambulance."

"She's bleeding."

"Don't move her. You shouldn't move her."

But her arms and legs were free, and she was being taken from the car. Held in someone's arms.

Mitch. Mitch had come to help her.

Her eyelids fluttered. She wanted to thank him. Tell him she loved him. She forced her eyes open and saw a lightning bolt of gray hair.

"Don't try to talk," Cal murmured as he held her against his chest. "Don't try to talk." And then in a louder voice. "I'm going to take her inside. She's in shock."

Susannah tried to cry out, but she was dazed. He was moving more quickly. The paper lanterns flashed by in the trees overhead. A scream rose inside her, but the only sound that passed through her lips was a weak whimper. "Paige…"

A flash of pink appeared at her side, a cloud of blond hair. "I'm here, Suze. I'm here. Don't try to talk. Oh, sweetie, don't try to talk."

"Stop him…" Susannah tried to force out the syllables. Cal's fingers dug more deeply into her ribs. "Don't let him… take me… inside," she gasped.

Paige stroked her head. "Stop who, sweetie? It's all right."

"She's in shock." Cal picked up his pace. He was at the back of the house, stepping onto the patio. "See to the guests. Make certain no one was hurt."

"Stop… him. He tried… to kill…"

"What's she saying, Cal?" Her sister brushed her arm. "Suzie, I can't understand you."

"She's hysterical, Paige."

"What's wrong, honey?" Paige murmured. "We'll take care of you."

Susannah pushed the words out. "He… tried to kill me."

"Don't listen-"

Paige's voice was flat. "Stop for a minute, Cal."

Cal kept moving. "She's been hurt. I have to get her inside. Go see to the guests."

"I said to stop!" Paige threw herself at him, the mother lioness protecting her cub.

Men appeared at her side. Cal let Susannah go, and Paige pulled her down onto a patio chaise. The world gradually steadied.

A crowd was forming around her. Through a breach she saw the buffet tables covered in rose-colored linen. Ice falcons with their wings spread in flight dripped into silver trays. Nicole Theroux, frightened and bewildered, was standing at Cal's side. Cal looked frantic, and people were staring at him. He tried to disperse the crowd, but no one moved. Susannah recognized several of the FBT board members and their wives, many of the same people who had witnessed her disastrous wedding.

Paige held her bleeding wrists and told her to lie down, but there was no time. Susannah turned to Paul Clemens, her father's friend. "Paul…" Her voice was as weak as an old woman's. "In the library. There's a tape recorder…" She told him where she had hidden it. The effort exhausted her.

Cal started toward the back door.

"You stay right here," Paul said sternly.

The men at the gathering were accustomed to taking command, and without a word being spoken, they began to step forward in a silent cadre. Cal looked at them, his face haggard as he tried to comprehend the fact that his world was being ripped apart. Before they could get close to him, he broke away and dashed toward the side of the house.

Several of the men gave chase, but Cal was running with a strength born of desperation, and he eluded them.

Paul had fetched the recorder, and he rewound the small tape. No one in the crowd spoke. Susannah held her sister's hand as the tape began to play.

Later there was a doctor and the police. Paige tucked Susannah into Joel's old bed, murmuring over the white bandages that encircled her wrists. The doctor had given her a sedative, but Susannah struggled to tell Paige something before she fell asleep.

"I saw him."

Paige gently stroked the damp, clean hair back off Susannah's forehead. "Who did you see?"