He looked over at Molly. He could see that she was humming to herself along with Emma's playing. She looked as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.

He bought the piano. The saleswoman said, "It's a pity she can't have a regular piano. She's quite talented. How long has she been playing?"

Molly answered. "Since she was just three. We're vacationing here and forgot to bring her portable piano. We'll make do nicely with this one."

"Amazing," the saleswoman said. "Just amazing. You've got a lovely, talented little girl."

Ramsey nodded. "Yes, she is amazing."

He felt Emma's hand slip into his. He hugged her against his leg, which was feeling nearly back to normal again. He was down to about four aspirin a day. He wondered if Emma remembered her nightmare. He wanted to ask her about it but thought better of it. No, they needed to talk to a professional. He realized he could call and get a reference.

He said low to Molly when he opened the car door, "Do you think Emma's doing okay?"

"I don't know. I haven't asked her. After last night, I'm more afraid than before."

"I could probably find out the name of a local shrink, one who deals only with children. What do you think?"

She chewed on that so hard he could practically see her thinking. Finally, she shook her head. "We don't dare take a chance. I think that for the time being we should just keep her close and let her know she's safe."

But she knew Emma wasn't safe from those terrifying dreams. Molly forced a frown because she wanted to cry.

He nodded, still uncertain. He looked into the backseat of the Toyota. Emma was holding the big box with her piano inside really close. Her eyes were closed. What was she thinking? Or was she just playing music in her mind? He prayed it was music there and nothing else, at least for the time being.

He noticed the Honda Civic a half mile from the shopping center. There weren't many cars on 89, the only road to Lake Tahoe from Truckee. It was another seven miles, give or take a mile, to Alpine Meadows Road, their turnoff. He didn't say anything, just kept checking every couple of minutes in the rearview mirror.

Finally, when he was certain they were being followed, he said quietly, "Molly, look back and see if you can get the license plate number on the Civic two cars behind us. It's fairly new and gray. Be as discreet as you can. We don't want them to notice us looking."

She didn't even change expression, but he saw the panic in her eyes, followed by a hard coldness, the look she'd given him when she'd burst into the cabin that first morning.

She looked back at Emma. She was staring out the window, her piano box still hugged to her chest. She didn't appear to have overheard them.

They were nearly to their turnoff when she could finally make out the license. "It's F A R B three-three-three. That's too easy. Are you sure they're following us? It's a ridiculous plate."

"No. But I'm not about to take any chances. You got your gun?"

"Oh yes. What do you want to do?"

"Let's turn and see what they do. It's two guys, right?"

"As best I can make out. They're being really careful to hang back. I can't tell yet if it's the same two guys. My cell phone is at home getting recharged."

"That's all right. We'll call in the number as soon as we get home." If we go home hung silently in the air between them.

Emma said, "Ramsey, I can make out an A and an R in the license. I remember those letters really well. They're in our names. I need another reading lesson."

He looked at Molly, who just said, "That's great, Em. I got the A and the R, too. F and B are tougher letters. We'll make up words this evening so you can learn them."

"We shouldn't have gone out for my piano. That's how they got us. It's all my fault." Her small face was pale.

Ramsey said clearly, "Nothing is your fault. Don't say that again or I'll have to keep you away from hot dogs for a week. Don't be afraid, Emma. We'll take care of you."

"Listen to me, Emma," Molly said, turning in the front seat to face her daughter. "If anyone tries to get you again,

I'll shoot them, even if it's the president. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mama."

"Make sure your seat belt's tight."

"Yes, Ramsey."

They turned right onto Alpine Meadows Road. The River Ranch Motel was sprawled out on the left-hand corner, a landmark for some time, a ski shop of nearly equal age on the right. It looked closed down. There was still some spring skiing, but not enough to lure more than half a dozen cars into the parking lot of the River Ranch Motel. He prayed the car wouldn't turn right after them.