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Half an hour later Clinton said, "I have to use the bathroom."
"Go in your pants," Hope replied. She hadn't thought about that complication, but she wasn't going to change her mind and untie either one of them. She gave Price an apologetic look, and he winked at her.
"I'm okay for right now. If the phone service isn't restored by nightfall, though, I’ll probably be begging you for a fruit jar."
She would bring him one too, she thought. She wouldn't mind performing that service for him at all. She glanced at Clinton. No way; she wouldn't touch his with a pair of tongs.
She checked the phone every half hour, watching as the afternoon sun sank behind the mountains. Clinton squirmed, and she had no doubt he was in misery. Price had to be uncomfortable too, but he didn't let it show. He grinned at her every time he caught her eye, though with his bruised face the grin looked more like a grimace.
Just at twilight, whe
n she lifted the receiver, she heard a dial tone. "Bingo!" she said triumphantly, picking up the phone book to look up the number of the sheriff's department.
Price rattled off the number for her, and though she had been almost certain he was telling the truth, in that moment she knew for certain. Light broke across her face, and she gave him a radiant smile as she punched in the number.
"Sheriff's department," a brisk male voice said.
"Hello, this is Hope Bradshaw, at the Crescent Lake Resort. I have two men here. One is Price Tanner and the other's name is Clinton. They both claim to be deputies and that the other is a murderer. Can you tell me which is which?"
"Holy shit!" the voice bellowed. "Damn! Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that. You say you have both Tanner and Clinton?"
"Yes, I do. Which one is your deputy?"
"Tanner is. How do you have them? I mean—"
"I'm holding a gun on them," she said. "What does Tanner look like? What color are his eyes?"
The deputy on the line sounded nonplussed. "His eyes? Ah… the subject is approximately six-two, two hundred pounds, dark hair, blue eyes."
"Thank you," Hope said, thankful that law officers were trained to give succinct descriptions. "Would you like to speak with Deputy Tanner?"
"Yes, ma'am, I would!"
Picking up the phone, she carried it as far as she could, but the cord wasn't long enough to reach. "Just a moment," she said, laying down the receiver.
She dashed to the kitchen and got her paring knife. Running back to Price, she knelt and sawed through the fabric binding his wrists, then turned her attention to his ankles while he rubbed feeling back into his hands. "You need a cordless phone," he said. "Or one with a longer cord."
"I'll take care of that the next time I go shopping," she said as she freed his ankles. The kitchen phone was closer, though that cord wasn't long enough to reach either. He hobbled over to it, his muscles stiff from sitting so long in a strained position.
"This is Tanner. Yeah, everything's under control. I'll give a complete briefing when you get here. Are the roads passable yet? Okay." He hung up and hobbled toward her. "The road is still blocked, but they're going to grab a snowplow. They should be here in a couple of hours."
He hobbled past. Hope blinked. "Price?"
"Can't stop to talk," he said, speeding up his hobbling, heading straight toward the bathroom.
Hope couldn't smother her laugh. Clinton glared at her as she walked past him to hang up the phone in the great room. She still had the paring knife in her hand. She paused and looked at him consideringly, and something must have shown in her face because he blanched.
"Don't," he said as she started toward him, and then he began to yell.
"You cut him," Price said, his tone disbelieving. "You really cut him."
"He had to know I meant business," Hope said. "It was just a teeny cut, nothing to make such a fuss about. Actually, it was an accident; I didn't intend to get that close, but he jumped."
That wasn't all Clinton had done; he had also lost control of his bladder. And then he had begun talking, babbling as fast as he could, yelling for Price, saying anything to keep her from cutting him again. Price had called the sheriff's department and relayed the information, which they hoped was accurate.
It was after midnight. They lay in bed, their arms around each other. She held an ice pack to his cheek; he held another one on her back.
"I meant it, you know," Price said, kissing her forehead, "about loving you. I know everything happened too fast, but… I know what I feel. From the minute I opened my eyes and saw your face, I wanted you." He paused. "So… r
