QUINTRELL RANCH
TUESDAY, BEFORE DAWN
CARLY STRUGGLED OUT OF A NIGHTMARE OF GUTTED RATS AND BLOOD SPURTING IN time to a ringing phone. The phone, at least, was real.
With a groan she sat up, shivering in the chill air, and tried to remember where she was so she would know where the phone was. The only light in the room came from the moon. Her breath hung in the air. Despite her best efforts, the fire in the little adobe hearth had gone out, leaving the room without heat.
And the phone was still ringing.
"Quintrell ranch house," she said, remembering. "Light switch by the door. Telephone in the hall. Incoming calls only. Wouldn't want the maids or guests to take advantage, would we?"
She kicked off the heavy covers and reached the door in two strides. The bare tile floor was icy against her feet. The light switch didn't work.
"Hell," she said, smacking the wall with her fist.
The light flickered on, all forty watts of it.
The phone kept ringing.
She dragged a chair away from the door-no lock, no key, and she was damned if she was going to sleep in an unlocked room after the rat. She yanked the door open and stumbled into the hall. Like everything else, the hall was cold. The phone was even colder.
"Hello?" Carly said automatically.
Silence.
Breathing.
A woman's scream that climbed and climbed, breaking into sobs, pleas, then a shriek driven by unimaginable pain.
Carly was too shocked to move. "Where are you? Who are you? Let me help!"
The scream fragmented into sobs.
Silence.
And a voice whispering, "Get out of Taos or you 11 be the one screaming."
The receiver slid from Carly's numb fingers. Sickness turned in her stomach. She leaned against the wall and tried to slow the terrified beating of her heart.