They must have heard him coming, but they would be busy preparing dinner now, perhaps already grilling the steaks that Helen had gone shopping for on Wednesday. Stiff from the drive and looking forward to a drink, Brognola clomped across the wooden porch and gave the knob a twist.

The door was locked.

He frowned, remembering that Helen would require some time to dust away the city's grime and finally relax. When visiting, they rarely locked the cabin door until they went to bed... and then secured it primarily against the possibility of roving bears or overcurious raccoons, instead of human enemies. The urban jungle was behind them for the moment. They were safe.

He found the key among his others, smiling as he anticipated the surprise on Helen's face, Jeff's handshake, Eileen's rush into his arms. Anticipation made him fumble twice before he found the keyhole, but he was already working on his entry line.

"It's pretty sorry when a man's own family locks him out."

The empty living room-kitchen greeted him with ringing silence. Startled by the absence of activity, Brognola raised his voice.

"Hello?"

No answer from the bedrooms, and a little chill of apprehension raised the short hairs at the back of his neck.

Relax, he told himself. They must be here. The car's parked right outside.

He left the champagne and briefcase on the kitchen counter, calling out once more, his voice subdued as he proceeded through the rooms. In Jeff's room a duffel bag rested on the bed. Two matching bags, emblazoned with decals Eileen had picked up on a summer tour of Europe two years earlier, sat on the floor of his daughter's room. In the final bedroom, he recognized one suitcase as his own, the other as his wife's. She had already stowed some clothing in the closet; it was standing open, and he scanned the line of blouses, slacks, the jacket she habitually brought along in case the nights turned cold. Outside, then.