8:30 AM

IT took Craig a long time to work up the courage to look again at the motionless form of Daisy.

The sight of her mangled body, even viewed from a distance, had made him throw up. When there was nothing left in him to come out, he had tried to clean his mouth with handfuls of fresh snow. Then Sophie came to him and put her arms around his waist, and he hugged her, keeping his back to Daisy. They had stood like that until at last the nausea passed and he felt able to turn and see what he had done.

Sophie said, "What are we going to do now?"

Craig swallowed. It was not over yet. Daisy was only one of three thugs—and then there was Uncle Kit. "We'd better take her gun," he said.

Her expression told him she hated that idea. She said, "Do you know how to use it?"

"How hard can it be?"

She looked unhappy, but just said, "Whatever."

Craig hesitated a moment longer; then he took her hand and they walked toward the body.

Daisy was lying face down, her arms beneath her. Although she had tried to kill Craig, he still found it horrible to look at a human being so mangled. The legs were the worst. Her leather trousers had been ripped to shreds. One leg was twisted unnaturally and the other was gashed and bloody. The leather jacket seemed to have protected her arms and body, but her shaved head was covered with blood. Her face was hidden, buried in the snow.

They stopped six feet away. "I can't see the gun," Craig said. "It must be underneath her."

They stepped closer. Sophie said, "I've never seen a dead person."

"I saw Mamma Marta in the funeral parlor."

"I want to see her face." Letting go of Craig's hand, Sophie went down on one knee and reached out to the bloodstained body.

Quick as a snake, Daisy lifted her head, grabbed Sophie's wrist, and brought her right hand out from under her with the gun in it.

Sophie screamed in terror.

Craig felt as if he had been struck by lightning. He shouted: "Christ!" and jumped back.

Daisy jammed the snout of the little gray pistol into the soft skin of Sophie's throat. "Stand still, laddie!" she yelled.

Craig froze.

Daisy wore a cap of blood. One ear was almost completely ripped from her head and hung grotesquely by a narrow strip of skin. But her face was unmarked, and now showed an expression of pure hatred. "For what you've done to me, I should shoot her in the belly and let you watch her bleed to death, screaming in agony."

Craig shook with horror.

"But I need your help," Daisy went on. "If you want to save your little girlfriend's life, just do everything I tell you, instantly. Hesitate, and she dies."

Craig felt she really meant it.

"Get over here," she said.

He had no choice. He stepped closer.

"Kneel down."

Craig knelt beside her.

She turned her hateful eyes on Sophie. "Now, you little whore, I'm going to let go of your arm, but don't you try to move away, or I'll shoot you, and enjoy it." She took her left hand off Sophie's arm, but kept the gun pushed into the flesh of Sophie's neck. Then she put her left arm around Craig's shoulders. "Hold my wrist, lad," she said.

Craig grasped Daisy's wrist as it dangled over his shoulder.

"You, lassie, get under my right arm."

Sophie changed her position slowly, and Daisy put her right arm over Sophie's shoulders, managing all the time to keep the gun pointed at Sophie's head.

"Now, you're going to lift me up and carry me to the house. But do it gently. I think I've got ............