"Best of Friends"
Story By: Radek Smektala
Written by: Peregrene and Lyricist
Directed by: CoronetBlue
Producer(s): Lea Ames and Sue Larson
Location Manager: Peregrene
Post Production: Radek Smektala, Anita, Phil Turner, R.A., Bobbynear, and Brixius
Creator: Roy Huggins
PROLOGUE
ARAPAHO NATIONAL FOREST, COLORADO, A CABIN - EVENING
It is snowing deeply when Richard Kimble stumbles from the forest onto a back road. At the far end of the road sits a lone cabin, the soft glow from its windows spilling into the night. The hood of Kimble's down jacket is pulled tightly around his face. His entire body is coated with white. Standing inertly, like an abominable snowman, he blinks through snow-encrusted lashes, uncertain whether the light ahead is real or imagined.
The camera moves jerkily with Kimble as he staggers through the drifts toward the cabin. The porch steps are all but obscured and he slips, grabbing the cedar railing with one arm to right himself. Laboriously, he reaches the front door and leans heavily against it. After a moment, collecting himself, Kimble raises his fist and pounds weakly. Then he waits, listening for a sound other than his own ragged breathing.
He is about to knock again when suddenly the door is flung open. Losing his balance, Kimble keels forward into the cabin. "I...I've lost my way..." he gasps falteringly. Then, succumbing to exhaustion, he passes out stone cold on the floor.
A young man with wild hair stands gazing down at the fugitive in rapt surprise.
GERARD'S ROOM AT LARIMER LODGE - SAME EVENING
Slowly, stoically, Gerard removes his shoulder holster and lays it on the nightstand. He takes off his tie, tossing it onto a chair, then sinks back in the bed. Rubbing his temple with one hand, he gives a low sigh, almost a groan. Then he rests, eyes closed.
flashback - ROUTE 14, ENTERING RUSTIC - THAT AFTERNOON
With Cameron Pass closed to traffic, Gerard in his rental car returns to the tiny town of Rustic. The windshield wipers labor to clear his field of vision as the snow continues falling heavily. Ahead of him, drifts obscure the entrance and exit to the one gas station, forcing the Captain to turn into the small parking lot of the general store.
He steps out of the car, slipping on the fresh snow, and slams the door. Looking up, he reads the name of the establishment, 'Two Jacks'.
inside two jacks general store - MINUTES LATER
Two Jacks is an old-time country store with big-beamed pine construction and racks of Rocky Mountain souvenirs for sale.
Gerard is sitting at the lunch counter near the entrance with a bowl of hot chili and several packets of crackers. He pulls out his cell phone and punches in the office number. At the far end of the counter, several locals carry on their own conversation.
"Art! It's me. What the heck is going on there? Where's my backup?" Gerard asks. He glances toward the locals and swivels so that he faces away from them. "Slow down, Art, I'm having trouble hearing you." He switches the phone to his left ear and digs into his chili. "Uh huh, Walston went ballistic...how ballistic?" Gerard chews thoughtfully. "Look, tell him I've got Kimble cornered, but I'm not getting much help from local law enforcement. I need Eve and Eddie here-pronto!" He takes a sip of coffee. "They flew out this morning?...Got the last flight before the weather closed Denver International?" He checks his watch. "Then they should have arrived already. It's past 4:00, mountain time."
Still on the phone, Gerard jumps up hopefully and paces over to the windows. He attempts to see out in both directions. "Damned snow is coming down thicker than a blanket," he mutters.
Returning to his seat, he gives a cursory glance to the woman with light brown hair behind the counter. She wears an apron over a flannel shirt and jeans. "More coffee?" she asks helpfully.
"No, thanks," Gerard tells her with a dismissive gesture. He resumes his conversation with Art. "Calm yourself, Zimmerman. Let's keep things in perspective-you were due for retirement in a couple months anyway." He opens a package of crackers with his teeth as he listens. "Yes, I realize I put you in that position, but... Uh huh. Well then, think of your severance pay as an early bonus."
The door behind him jingles. "I didn't catch that," Gerard says, covering his other ear. "Walston did WHAT?"
A man with military bearing and a briefcase enters, followed by Eve Hilliard and Eddie Miles.
Gerard turns, looking up. "Never mind," he says, "they're here." He quickly pockets his cell phone and stands.
The man extends a gloved hand. "Captain Roman Chandler," he greets Gerard self-confidently, "I'm assuming command of the Chicago Fugitive Task Force."
Gerard's jaw drops.
Behind the new captain, Eve and Eddie shrug apologetically.
"Philip Gerard," Gerard replies, accepting Chandler's hand. "I was just on the phone with the Department," he adds, hoping for further clarification.
"Right-then you've been briefed," Chandler assumes mistakenly. He steps over to the counter and notices the remains of Gerard's meal. "My crew hasn't eaten yet. Is the chili good?"
"It's hot," Gerard answers, not moving.
Chandler sits down, removing his overcoat. "Chili to go around and a pot of coffee," he orders with a charming smile for the woman in the apron.
"Coming right up. And welcome to Two Jacks," she replies with warm hospitality. "I'm Jackie, half-owner with my husband Jack."
"A Mom and Pop establishment," Chandler observes approvingly, taking off his gloves. "It's good to know there are still a few of those around."
"You got it! We're famous for the best cinnamon rolls in the state," she says proudly. "Donated a box of 'em to the avalanche victims this morning. Is that why you're here-for the victims?"
"You don't know?" Chandler throws Gerard an accusing frown. He snaps opens his briefcase and hands Jackie a "Wanted" flyer with Kimble's picture in black and white. "Post this where your customers can see it. Here...take some more. Spread the word."
"I sure will," Jackie agrees, studying the flyers. She turns and thumbtacks one to the wooden post beside the cash register.
"In the next twenty-four hours every resident between Rustic and Gould will know why we're here," the new Captain vows, loosening his tie.
Gerard pulls Eve aside. "Would you mind filling me in, Hilliard?" he demands tensely under his breath.
"Sorry, Captain-I mean Lieutenant," she whispers back. "Walston recruited Chandler from Internal Affairs. He assumed duty this morning."
"Yeah, and Walston canned Art. Was all for giving you the boot, too," Miles contributes with a grin. "Chandler talked him out of it. It's thanks to him you got your backup." He takes Eve's jacket and hangs it with his own on a rack by the door.
Eve cocks an eyebrow at her ex-boss. "At least you're still on the Team and working the Kimble case," she reminds him.
"Sit down," the Captain urges them, a cup of coffee in one hand. "I thought we'd map out a game plan while we eat."
Gerard's expression darkens, but he returns to his seat.
"What's needed is an information campaign. Agents Hilliard and Miles, I'll rely on you to get the rest of these flyers distributed. We'll also want to run some PSAs. I've already set up an interview with the local radio station for this evening, and I've been promised support from Highway Patrol." Chandler glances affably at Gerard. "Feel free to add your input, Lieutenant."
Gerard nods, but remains silent.
"Sooner or later, our fugitive will literally have to come in out of the cold," Chandler goes on. "If we do our job right, he'll find himself up against an informed populace. No one-and I mean NO ONE-in his right mind will help him. That's what he'll be counting on, of course. But, he'll be wrong. Dead wrong."
"Sounds great," Eddie enthuses. Eve nudges him with her elbow, indicating Gerard's discomfort.
"Oh, by the way, Lieutenant, I have us bivouacked at Larimer Lodge for the duration. It's about 20 minutes from here. Excellent accommodations, I'm told."
The former Captain stares into his empty bowl without a word.
end of flashback- GERARD'S ROOM
Gerard's cell phone rings, startling him from his thoughts. He pulls it out and checks the number of the caller. "Damn-Alex!" he swears, remembering his daughter in Chicago. He sits upright, swinging to the edge of the bed, and takes the call.
"Hello, sweetheart, I'm sorry, I haven't been able to phone all day," he apologizes wearily. "...You're at Maya's house?...Yes, that's okay, as long as you're back by eleven...Uh huh, I'm still in Colorado. Big snowstorm causing delays. I hope to have things wrapped up soon, though. Have you done your homework yet?"
He looks up, hearing a knock at the door. "Bad timing, honey, I've got company. I'll have to say goodnight now. Call you tomorrow," Gerard promises, crossing to the door. "...Alex?... Alex?" He stops, realizing his daughter has hung up on him. "Man, this has been one hell of a day," Gerard gripes to himself as he pockets the phone. He opens the door.
"The PSA comes on in five," Eve announces, tapping her wristwatch.
Eddie barges in behind her and turns on the bedside radio, tuning to the local station. Then he plops down on the bed. Gerard stares at him and Miles shoots the Lieutenant a cocky grin, clearly enjoying the fact that Gerard is no longer his boss, but merely a co-worker. "You don't want to miss Chandler's big speech, do you?" he asks.
Eve sits in the one armchair, while Gerard pours himself a drink from the courtesy bar.
"Next time I'll bring us a six-pack," Eddie offers.
"You do that," Gerard mutters without reciprocating. "I've never seen such over-priced drinks in my life."
Eddie's face falls.
"Have some peanuts," the Lieutenant relents. He throws two small packages to Miles, who tosses one to Eve.
Eddie is opening his when suddenly he reaches over to the radio and turns up the volume. "Shhh! He's on!"
They hear Chandler's voice, speaking in modulated tones. "Dr. Richard Kimble...a well-bred, normal-seeming man. But underneath that courteous exterior lies the heart of a cold-blooded killer. Dr. Kimble preys on the trust and good will of citizens like yourselves. Even now, he could be knocking at your door...not with a gun, but with a smile-a smile of deceptive innocence. He'll politely ask for your assistance. And out of common decency, you'll feel compelled to oblige him. Instead, we ask that you lock your doors and call 911 immediately. This man is a dangerous, escaped felon, wanted for crimes in multiple states. I'm sure we can count on the honest people of Colorado to do their part in assisting law enforcement to bring this killer to justice."
The DJ comes on. "Thank you very much for that information, Captain Chandler. Once again, folks, Kimble was last sighted along Route 14 west of Cameron Pass. Keep your doors and windows locked. Drivers, don't give a lift to anyone you don't know..."
Eddie flicks off the radio and whistles appreciatively. "I think we've got ourselves a captain!"
Eve hides a smirk, then for Gerard's sake, pretends to glare at Eddie.
"No offense meant, Lieutenant," Miles adds, popping a peanut into his mouth.
"I'm turning in," Gerard states abruptly. He opens the door and stands by it, hands on hips, waiting pointedly for them to leave.
Eve hesitates in the doorway.
"If there's anything else, I'll discuss it in the morning. I've got a migraine building," Gerard explains.
"Need some aspirin?" she queries archly.
Gerard glowers.
"Just asking," Eve says with a broad smile, and scoots into the hall as Gerard firmly shuts the door.
OUTSIDE THE CABIN - NEXT MORNING, WEDNESDAY
The snow is still coming down, cloaking the tall pines and wreathing the log cabin and its outbuilding. A thin trail of smoke rises from the chimney.
THE LIVING AREA
Kimble awakes, disoriented, and finds himself on a couch beneath a heavy blanket. He rises gingerly, nursing aching muscles, and takes in his surroundings. There are signs of only one, rather untidy, occupant-who is nowhere to be seen. Kimble notices that his boots and jacket are drying beside a wood stove in the kitchen area. Wrapping a blanket around himself, he pads in his stocking feet to the kitchen window and rubs a pane of glass, peering out.
The snow has not abated, effectively keeping Gerard out and sealing Kimble in. The fugitive turns and begins to search for his duffle bag.
"Lookin' for something?" The voice is soft, the s's slurred. Kimble turns and beholds the young man of the night before, standing in the doorway to a bedroom in a pair of red long johns.
"I...uh...did I have a bag with me last night?" Kimble asks, unable to remember clearly.
"You lose your gear?" his host inquires sympathetically.
"My gear?"
"Backpack. You were skiing, right?"
"...Right," Kimble replies hesitantly.
The young man shakes his head. "You must have dropped it on the slopes." He bends and opens the stove, stirring the dying ashes with a poker. "You drink green tea?"
"Yeah, that'd be fine," Kimble answers, running a hand through his uncombed hair.
"Good. I never touch coffee-the caffeine sends me over the edge." He adds wood to the stove and puts a kettle on to boil while Kimble folds the blanket on the couch.
"I'll be right back, gotta take a leak," the young man explains suddenly, heading for a door beyond Kimble. He pauses. "If you were wonderin' where the bathroom is, I don't have a proper one yet. Been using a composting toilet-they're environmentally sound." He opens the door. "Through here, when you need it," he indicates, stepping down into an attached shed. "It's not heated, though," he adds cheerfully, closing the door behind him.
While he waits, Kimble walks over to the fieldstone fireplace and warms himself. Noticing a haphazard collection of books on the mantelpiece, he picks one at random, thumbing through it. He replaces it and selects another-a tall, illustrated volume on landscape painting. Inside the front flap he reads the inscription, 'To Gary, from the Andersons'. Kimble returns the book as his host comes out of the shed.
"Hoowee! Ice water-it's brutal!" the young man exclaims, vigorously drying his face with a towel. He laughs and tosses the towel to Kimble. "One of these days I'll put in electricity...plumbing, the works. One of these days." He goes to the kitchen area and takes out a skillet. "While you're washin' up, I'll toast us some granola."
Kimble stares at him from the doorway of the shed.
"Believe me, it tastes out of this world hot-you'll love it!" the young man enthuses, opening a large bag. "Oh, and I'm Jay. Jay Grindle."
"Sam Douglas," Kimble replies. "And thanks...Jay." He steps into the shed.
LARIMER LODGE, THE DINING ROOM - SAME TIME
Chandler is at the dining table having breakfast while working on his laptop.
Eddie and Eve straggle in. Eve stifles a yawn. "It must be true what they say about high altitudes. I can hardly keep myself awake." She picks up a plate and helps herself to the breakfast buffet.
"Really?" Chandler asks. "I couldn't sleep." He sips a cup of black coffee, then checks his watch. "Where's the Lieutenant?"
"He's coming down with a cold," Eddie informs the Captain as he heaps his plate with griddle cakes and country sausage.
"You may have noticed I like to save time and work while I eat," Chandler remarks, his food barely touched. "I've got the geological survey up on my laptop and I thought we could begin this morning by familiarizing ourselves with the terrain."
Eddie rolls his eyes at Eve. "I was hoping to get in some skiing while we're here," he comments under his breath. In fortification for the task ahead, Miles smothers his food with maple syrup, then follows Eve to the Captain's table.
"Given that Kimble was on foot, and given the prevailing weather conditions, we can assume he hasn't covered much ground since yesterday. That puts him relatively near the highway," Chandler surmises, studying the screen.
"If he's still alive," Eddie interjects.
The others stare at him.
"Well, he could have frozen to death overnight, couldn't he?" Miles suggests.
"Not our Kimble," Eve states. "His good fortune is uncanny."
"That so?" Chandler counters. "Luck can always run out." He glances up as a stony-faced Gerard enters the dining room. "Good morning, Lieutenant."
"Morning," Gerard replies, stifling a cough. He goes straight to the coffee urn and pours himself a cup. A queasy expression comes over his face as he looks at the appetizing spread laid out on the buffet table.
"Now these maps detail every road, trail and building in the area. We'll be going over them inch by inch," Chandler continues.
Lt. Gerard chooses two glasses of orange juice and finds a seat. He produces a packet of cold medication from his pocket and swallows a tablet with the first glass.
They all turn as a state trooper walks in, hat in hands.
Chandler rises courteously, "Officer-Captain Chandler, I've been expecting you."
"Kimbrough. How do." He motions for the Captain to sit. "Stopped by to let you folks know we're just waitin' on the snowstorm to begin clearin' the avalanche debris from Route 14." The trooper's hands rotate his hat brim as he speaks. "Meanwhile, our patrols are watchin' either side of the Pass for your fugitive. If he surfaces, we'll be there to pick him up." He nods, confident this should resolve the matter.
"Thank you, Kimbrough," Chandler responds, less convinced.
"And I'll be available when and if you decide to conduct a search."
"Just you?," Chandler questions.
Kimbrough nods again.
"What about a chopper?"
"No problem," the trooper replies readily, "soon as the skies clear."
"I'd appreciate it," Chandler responds. His attention returns to his laptop.
"When do you expect the snow to let up?" Eddie asks the trooper hopefully.
"Well," he drawls, "we're in for some weather. It'll be on again off again the next few days. Won't clear till the weekend."
Disappointment shows on Eddie's face.
Gerard grimaces and opens a small bottle, swallowing two extra-strength aspirin with his second juice.
Kimbrough passes his hat from one hand to the other. "If I can be of further assistance..."
"Thanks for your help, Kimbrough," Chandler acknowledges, glancing up from the screen. "I'll be in touch."
The trooper gratefully returns his hat to his head and exits.
"So-what's the call, Captain?" Eve asks, leaning forward on her elbows. "Are we going to sit around the rest of the week waiting for a break in the weather? For some dutiful citizen to phone 911? Or do we cut our losses and head home?"
"No, indeed, Agent Hilliard, we hold the fort," Chandler answers with calm resolve. "Remember, Kimble is just as trapped by this storm as we are, but we have the edge. It's simply a matter of figuring out where he's sheltering."
"If I know Kimble," Gerard breaks in hoarsely, "he'll have found an abandoned ranger's hut or shack. My bet is you won't smoke him out till Spring."
"We'll see about that," Chandler responds, his dislike for the ex-Captain becoming evident. Returning to the map, he continues. "Now, Colorado State Forest runs along the northern side of Route 14 and Arapaho National Forest parallels the south..."
THE CABIN, KITCHEN AREA
Kimble and Jay Grindle are sitting, finishing breakfast.
"What'd I say? Good, huh?" the young man asks softly, fishing for a compliment.
"Not bad...for granola," Kimble concedes.
"Sorry about the powdered milk. See, I don't get into town a lot, so I buy in bulk. Everything's out of a box or a bag. I'm thinkin' about putting in a little garden this spring," he adds reflectively. "Last winter I tried keepin' meat frozen under the ice down by the stream, but some animals got after it. I'm a vegetarian now."
Kimble clears the table. "How long have you been living up here, Jay?"
"This is my second year. I'm a landscape painter. I came to the mountains to paint. I have a studio in the loft-plenty of natural light."
Observing the snow piling higher outside the window, Jay faces Kimble.
"Name's Sam, right? You aren't in a hurry to get somewheres, are you, Sam?" he asks, slurring his s's.
"No-no hurry," Kimble replies.
"Good, because there isn't any chance of that, of your leaving," Grindle goes on. He rises and puts the dirty dishes into a pan to soak. "The snowplow hardly ever gets up this way. We'll probably be snowed-in till the next thaw." He glances anxiously at Kimble.
Kimble, imagining Gerard forced to return to Chicago, masks his relief.
"Don't worry, you're not any trouble for me," Jay claims. "I've got sufficient cordwood and supplies for both of us. And you won't have to sleep on that broken-down couch, either. Here, look," he summons Kimble, "I have a spare bedroom you can use." Jay opens a door on the other side of the kitchen. The small room is fairly trashed, but underneath the mess Kimble sees a bunk bed and a chest of drawers.
Grindle beams genially. "So, what d'ya think?"
"Anything would be fine," Kimble accepts gratefully. He eyes the clutter. "Just tell me how I can be of use about the place."
Jay laughs delightedly. "Hey, don't feel you have to work-I'm happy for the company! There hasn't been anybody up here since..." He stops, lost in memory.
"Since?" Kimble prompts.
"My girlfriend. We broke up," the young man adds ruefully. "But you'd understand, Sam. You and I-we're kindred souls."
"How's that?" Kimble asks, doubtfully.
"Don't you know?" Jay grins mysteriously at his new housemate. "We have a lot in common. You'll see...you'll see."
LARIMER LODGE, COMMON ROOM - THAT AFTERNOON
Lt. Gerard stands by the window with his back to the massive stone fireplace and watches the soft falling of the snow. Behind him Chandler and Eddie are at work creating a list of sites from the survey map that might be sheltering Kimble. Eve leaves them to join Gerard.
She gazes at the white world beyond for a moment. "You've hardly said two words all day, Lieutenant."
"Chandler hasn't exactly booked us into an Econo Lodge," the ex-Captain comments sourly. "As far as I can see, all we're doing here is running up the bill."
"My understanding is that Walston gave the Captain carte blanche to close the Kimble case," Eve says.
Gerard sniffs. "And what makes him so special?" he asks, tilting his head toward Chandler.
"Rumor has it he lobbied for the job. That's all I know," Hilliard relates.
"Hmmph." Gerard blows his nose loudly, then uses a nasal spray.
"I'd love to find out what makes him tick, though," Eve adds, speaking more to herself than to Gerard.
IN THE HALLWAY - THAT EVENING
Miles sees Hilliard approaching down the corridor and pops out of his room. "I brought a deck of cards. Want to play poker?"
"Another time, Eddie, I've got a date with the Captain."
Eddie's eyes widen. "Seriously?"
Eve waves the folder she is carrying. "Work, Eddie, work."
"Uh-oh. Count me out!" Eddie ducks back into his room.
Hilliard stops at a door further down the hall. Smoothing her hair first, she knocks.
CHANDLER'S SUITE
Chandler is at a desk in the suite's sitting room, typing on his laptop. He is still dressed for work and has not yet taken off his shoulder holster. "Come in," he calls.
Eve enters, glancing at the antique furniture and Victorian glass bedroom door.
"Pull up a chair," the Captain invites cordially. "I'm just making an entry in my diary. Helps me focus at the end of the day." Completing his entry, Chandler turns the machine off and sits back in his chair, giving Eve a warm smile. "Now then, what can I do for you?"
Eve takes a deep breath. "Captain, I'd like you to read this report." She hands him her folder. "It's about a man called Ben Charnquist. I think you may find it interesting."
THE CABIN, KIMBLE'S ROOM
Kimble has cleaned up his new quarters and is now unzipping a sleeping bag on the bed. Atop the chest of drawers an oil lamp casts flickering shadows that chase each other across the walls.
Jay appears in the doorway wearing a grungy bathrobe and holding a stack of clothing. "I feel bad about your lost gear, Sam. I'm a pack rat myself-never throw anything away. You're welcome to these, if you want," he offers helpfully, setting the clothes down on the bed.
"Thanks," Kimble replies, marveling once more at the kindness of strangers.
"You're taller than me, but they're oversized, so they'll probably fit."
"I'm sure they will."
"Well, unless you need anything else, I'm goin' to hit the sack." Grindle starts to leave, then recalls, "And be sure to keep your door open, so you get the heat from the wood stove... Oh, and don't forget to blow the lantern out before you go to sleep. I did that once and started a
"I started a small fire!"
Jay: "I started a small fire!"
small fire! Hah hah," he laughs at his own folly. "This place is entirely constructed of cedar and pine. It would go up like blazes!"
"I'll be careful," Kimble promises.
"'Night, then."
"Good night, Jay."
Grindle walks off but returns again, lounging in the doorway. "I...just wanted to say...that it's really good havin' you here, Sam." He strokes the door frame. "I'm glad you came."
Kimble smiles. "I am, too."
Grinning like a happy puppy, Jay heads back to his room.
Bemused by his young host, Kimble begins to undress for bed.
LARIMER LODGE, CHANDLER'S ROOM
Chandler is skimming the contents of the Charnquist file. He finishes and hands it back to Hilliard. "The Assistant Commissioner briefed me on that particular red herring of Kimble's."
"I don't believe it is a red herring," Eve argues. "There's very solid evidence..."
Chandler interrupts her. "Save it. Unlike the Lieutenant, I have no doubt there IS a one-armed man involved, Agent Hilliard..."
"Eve, please," she interjects.
"Eve," he corrects. "But that has no bearing on apprehending Kimble. Nor should it. Charnquist is not on our list of fugitives. It's Richard I'm after." There is a change in tone as Chandler says this. He stares into the middle distance. Suddenly he stands and begins to pace the room. "What I find unacceptable is that your team has found Kimble-how many times now?-and failed to take him into custody! That speaks volumes about poor teamwork, shoddy technique and lack of discipline."
He stops in front of Eve. "In my personal experience, whenever troop morale is low, the commander is to blame." His expression challenges her to defend her former boss.
"You won't get any arguments from me there, Captain," she concedes easily.
Chandler is momentarily taken aback. "I feel the remedy is a clear chain of command and a reward system for work well done. Jerry Walston agrees with me," he adds significantly.
Hilliard nods, warming to the Captain's good looks and masculinity.
Chandler sits down beside her in a confiding manner. "Eve, when it comes to a man as cunning as Richard Kimble, we have no alternative but to act with extreme prejudice. Put simply-I'm going to bring him in dead or alive." He bends forward, studying Eve's face. "Are you with me?"
Hilliard gazes into Chandler's hazel-green eyes, the Charnquist file forgotten in her lap. "Yes, Captain," she finds herself answering.
"Roman," he suggests ingratiatingly.
"Roman."
"Good! Was there anything else?"
"No, nothing," Eve replies, standing.
"Then we'll convene at breakfast." All business again, Chandler shows her to the door.
IN THE HALLWAY
Coming out of Chandler's suite, Eve nearly bumps into Miles, who has been eavesdropping outside the door. "Good grief, Eddie! What are you doing here in the hall?"
Miles demands pointblank, "Are you attracted to him?"
"Who?" Eve responds, continuing down the corridor.
"You know who-Chandler, that's who!" Miles says, pursuing her.
"Don't tell me you're jealous," Eve teases over her shoulder.
Embarrassed now, Miles prevaricates. "Well...I've seen women giving him the eye. Must be a matter of taste, 'cause I sure don't find him good looking. I mean, if his face were any narrower it would fit in a toaster!"
"Eddie," Eve laughs, stopping outside Mile's room, "you ARE jealous!"
"All right, all right," Eddie admits. "A little. But I'm curious to know what you think about our new Captain."
Eve unconsciously fans herself with the file folder. "I think," she says, choosing her words carefully, "Chandler is the best thing that could have happened as far as the Kimble case is concerned. Gerard has been stonewalling us for months now. With Chandler at the helm, we're bound to get somewhere. I can feel it."
"So...does this mean you're not going skiing with me?"
"Oh, Eddie-really!" Eve unlocks the door to her own room, leaving Miles disgruntled at the thought of spending the night alone.
THE CABIN, KITCHEN AREA - NEXT MORNING, THURSDAY
Jay is in the kitchen making the same breakfast of granola and green tea when Kimble emerges from his washing up in the shed.
"Man, that water is COLD!" Kimble exclaims.
"Wakes you up, don't it!" Jay grins. "Look, if you want a bath, I can heat a few buckets and fill the galvanized tub in there."
"Maybe later," Kimble says, not relishing bathing in the frigid temperature of the shed. He sits down at the table and stares at the heaping bowl of granola placed in front of him. "You know, Jay, I'd be happy to make breakfast next time."
"Sure, okay. I've got some buckwheat pancake mix I haven't tried yet. Might be good with honey." He notices the circles under Kimble's eyes. "Did you sleep all right?"
"Actually...no. Strange dreams," Kimble relates. "Woke up feeling like my head was in a vise."
"Wow...jeez, maybe it's the altitude," Jay commiserates.
"That's okay, it's gone now." Kimble drinks his tea and looks out the window at the snow, which has not let up. "I guess you don't see a newspaper very often," he mentions in an exploratory fashion.
"No," Jay chuckles. No doorstep delivery. No radio either."
"Why's that?"
Grindle's eyes darken. "Messages. You know? Too many messages on the radio. Like they're tryin' to get into your mind...tell you what to think, what to do."
Kimble is impressed by his friend's perceptiveness. "You're smart to recognize that, Jay," he observes. "Few listeners do. The media isn't overly concerned with responsible journalism. In my experience, they'll pander to whatever people want to hear. If it sells, they'll use it." He pauses, remembering the media circus surrounding his own arrest and trial. "I've seen lives destroyed because the truth didn't matter anymore."
"Yeah," Grindle agrees somberly. "It's like they're out to get you."
The two men sit eating in silence for a long moment, absorbed by their respective thoughts.
"Hey, why don't you come up and see my studio?" Jay suggests. "Leave the dishes. I don't always wash 'em anyway," he admits.
Kimble's expression indicates he is not surprised. He follows Jay to the foot of the ladder leading to the loft.
"I only let my best friends see where I work," Jay reveals, gazing at Kimble trustingly. "I can call you 'best friend', can't I, Sam?"
"I guess so-sure," Kimble replies generously.
"C'mon, then!" Jay climbs eagerly to the top.
THE LOFT
Grindle emerges from the ladder into the loft, which is a large open room extending from one end of the cabin to the other. It is much brighter up here. Rows of windows on either end supply good illumination and heat is provided by the chimney in the center.
"This is my kingdom," Jay explains, as Kimble appears after him.
On one side, the space under the eaves has been walled in and painted a bright blue to serve as a gallery, displaying Jay's landscapes. More canvases are stored in racks and on easels. Artist supplies are in evidence everywhere, along with spattered paint.
Kimble takes it all in. "You've really been painting up here!"
"No joke," Jay agrees. "So, tell me what you think."
Kimble walks among the canvases, admiring. "I see a lot of talent." He stops to study the larger landscapes. "I'm not an art expert, Jay, but I'd say these are good enough to be in a real gallery somewhere."
"I'm planning an exhibit," Jay shares. "Just waiting until I've got enough to show."
"Have you sold any yet?" Kimble enquires.
"Yeah, I did pretty good at art fairs in Boulder. Everybody likes mountain scenery."
"Is that what you prefer?" Kimble questions, detecting an undercurrent in Grindle's voice.
Jay looks down at his hands. "I used to paint my girlfriend. That's actually what I liked best."
Kimble glances around, but sees no portraits. "Do you have any of her?" he asks kindly. "I'd like to see one."
Jay brightens. "Really?" He hesitates, then darts to a row of covered canvases under the eaves. After a moment, he selects one. "Here's the first painting I did of her." He brings it out and uncovers it. "This," Jay confides, as if it were a great secret, "this is Holly."
Kimble finds himself staring at a vibrant young woman, posing against a forest background on a summer's day. The larger-than-life portrait could easily have been of his dead wife, Helen.
Jay's eyes shine with anticipation as he waits for Kimble's reaction.
Kimble holds the canvas at arm's length, overcome with emotion. "It's wonderful," he says at last.
"Thanks," Jay replies, moved. "I hoped you'd like it." Inspired, he takes down one of his landscapes from the gallery and hangs Holly's portrait in it's place. Gazing at the canvas proudly he adds, "I loved her, I truly loved her."
"What happened?" Kimble questions gently.
"It's a long story," Jay sighs, setting the canvas down.
"I'm listening," Kimble prompts. The snow accumulating on the roof overhead creates an unnatural silence around them.
Grindle runs his hands nervously through his hair, raising it on end. "Oh, man. I haven't talked to anyone about this." His voice is so soft it is barely audible.
"Maybe you should."
Restlessly Jay walks back and forth, then squats in a corner, rocking on his heels. He stares at the floor. "When I was livin' in Boulder," he begins, "I hung out at a Wild West Saloon. Holly was a barmaid there."
Kimble finds a seat nearby on an overturned crate.
"If you've ever been to one, you know the waitresses wear these old-timey outfits-corsets with ribbons. Well, Holly's kept ridin' up in back and she kept tryin' to pull it down. It was real cute...she was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. So I asked her if I could paint her. After that she did some modeling for me. And then...she moved in." Grindle takes a deep breath. "I thought we were goin' to be together forever."
Kimble nods understandingly.
Jay rubs a spot of paint from his jeans. "It was hell when she died," he laments in a broken voice, "I mean hell."
"I thought you two split up," Kimble remarks.
Jay gives him a shuttered look. "Yeah, we did. But, uh, she was in an accident. Her car went off the mountain. There's a dangerous stretch of road before you get here. Maybe you've heard of it-Cameron Pass."
The name causes Kimble to blanche. "Yeah, I'm familiar with the Pass," he owns. "And I'm sorry, Jay. Do you have any folks nearby?"
"Folks? ...Right," Jay drawls softly. "I grew up in the foster care system. I've had a lot of 'folks'." All at once his features become contorted and bitter. Then, as quickly as a summer squall, they clear. "Painting is my therapy. It's how I exorcise my demons."
"Perhaps I ought to take it up," Kimble jokes, thinking of his own demons.
Jay seizes upon the notion. "Wow-brilliant idea! I could get you started," he says impulsively. "Have you ever done any drawing?"
"I was kidding, Jay. I did some anatomical sketches in college, that's all."
"That's excellent! Then you're halfway there!" Jay springs to his feet. "Hey! We got plenty of time on our hands-how about I prime you a canvas right now?"
Kimble shakes his head. "Nah...I have no talent in that direction," he protests.
"Sure you do!" Jay responds confidently. "Your creative juices are right under the surface, screaming to be let out. Have more faith in yourself." On a roll, he rushes about clearing a work area for Kimble. "It doesn't matter if you make a mess, either," he asserts, laying down a drop cloth. "I won't mind."
"Maybe some other time..." Kimble equivocates.
"Come on-it's not like you have anything better to do. You're basically stuck here and can't go anywhere, can you, Doctor?"
Kimble freezes. "What did you call me?" he asks stiffly.
Jay spins around. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that."
Kimble grabs him by the arm. "No! You KNOW."
"Sure, sure, you're...Sam. Sam Douglas. I just forgot for a moment," Grindle says defensively.
"The truth, Jay," Kimble orders, shaking him. "I want the truth!"
"Okay, I'm sorry," Grindle confesses, crestfallen. "I do know who you are, Doctor Kimble. But I wasn't deceiving you. Honest! I was only waiting for you to trust me enough to tell me yourself," he pleads abjectly.
Satisfied that he has heard the truth, Kimble releases the young man.
Jay rubs his sore arms. "I would never turn you in, Dr. Kimble. You're my best friend, remember?"
Kimble arches a skeptical eyebrow.
"Really! I'd do anything for you. Don't you believe me?" Distraught, Grindle grabs a knife from his work table and stabs his left hand. Blood wells up from the puncture and begins to drip onto the drop cloth. "See? Blood brothers! I'll make a pact-a sworn pact never to betray you." He holds the knife out to Kimble. "And you-you'll never betray me, will you, Doctor?" His eyes gleam with intensity.
Shaken by Jay's behavior, Kimble takes the knife from him. "Jay, this isn't necessary. I believe you."
Desperate to earn Kimble's complete trust, Jay grabs the fugitive's left hand with his bloody one and shakes it firmly. "There," he swears passionately, "I give you my oath."
"You know I wouldn't hurt you, Jay," Kimble replies solemnly, putting down the knife.
Sheepishly, Jay nods. "Sometimes I overreact."
"Now, if you have some hydrogen peroxide, I'd like to clean and bandage that wound," Kimble tells him.
They go over to the ladder. "I bet you can really handle a knife, Doctor. Maybe I'll get to see you operate someday, huh?"
"Maybe." Kimble pauses on his way down. "And Jay, please call me Sam. Just in case."
"Oh yeah, good idea," Jay agrees, breaking into a smile.
THE LIVING AREA - AFTER LUNCH
Jay is scooping ashes from the fireplace, his left hand loosely bandaged in gauze. Kimble is in the kitchen, drying the last of the lunch dishes.
"When I get this done, I'll prep that canvas for you," Jay promises.
Kimble meanders into the living area. A guidebook to the Rockies is lying on an end table and he picks it up, making himself comfortable on the couch.
"You know, I saw a program on Dr. Richard Kimble once-I think it was 'America's Most Wanted'," Jay states conversationally. "That was back when I had a TV. I realized then that we shared something unique."
"Oh? What's that?" Kimble asks.
"Holly," Jay answers, as if it were self-evident.
"You mean...her resemblance to my wife, to Helen," Kimble clarifies.
"Yeah, we both loved the same woman." Jay picks up a poker and prods the dying flames.
Kimble cocks his head, trying to fathom Grindle's remark, then returns to the guidebook. "I didn't realize we were so near the Continental Divide," he muses.
"You can read about the Continental Railway in there, too." He goes to the wood box. "Hey, Sam, would you mind bringin' in some logs from the woodpile? My hand's botherin' me a bit."
"Sure, just point me in the right direction," Kimble says, getting up.
"It's on the back porch. Go through the shed, open the far door and you'll see it," Jay directs.
THE BACK PORCH
Kimble comes out the rear door of the shed onto the back porch, which is well stocked with wood. After two days cooped up inside, his eyes are not prepared for the brilliance of the snowy landscape. He stands still, taking in its pristine beauty. Across the way is a barn. Below it, he can hear the muffled rushing of a stream. He notices his own breath in the frosty air. Suddenly Kimble holds out a hand, realizing it has stopped snowing. Worry returns to his features as he bends and gathers an armful of wood for the fire.
LARIMER LODGE, COMMON ROOM - SAME TIME
Chandler, in his overcoat, strides into the room. "Where's Gerard?" he demands of Hilliard and Miles. "It's stopped snowing. I've requisitioned that helicopter."
The two agents, who have been nestling together near the fire, scramble to their feet. "Uh, Gerard's indisposed, Captain," Eve tells him, adjusting her clothes.
"He's sick as a dog," Eddie comments behind Eve's back.
Displeased, Chandler asks, "He's not coming, then?"
"I think he over-medicated himself, sir," Miles replies.
"Well, it can't be helped now," Chandler responds. "We'll take my car. Can you be ready in fifteen?"
"Certainly," Eve assents, ignoring Eddie and following on Chandler's heels as he leaves the room.
Eddie brings up the rear, looking miffed.
THE CABIN LOFT - THAT AFTERNOON
Kimble, clearly out of his element, is seated on an artist's stool at an easel, staring dubiously at a clean canvas. "Maybe I should start with a smaller canvas."
"Give yourself space," Jay advises as he mixes paints on a palette. "I make my own pigments from local clay. It takes longer, but it gives the paintings texture and a more natural color," he explains.
"What should I paint?" Kimble asks, glancing over his shoulder at the portrait of Holly, which is still hanging on the gallery wall.
"Don't think, man. Paint what you feel. Express all that bottled-up stuff. Pain...rage...it doesn't have to be a masterpiece. I'm not here to judge." Jay hands Kimble a long brush. "Start with a wide, flat brush like this and fill in your background color. You can build from there."
He starts to leave and Kimble turns around. "Where are you going?"
"I've got work to do, Sam. I've got to figure out how to hide you, in case someone comes nosin' around." Grindle stops partway down the ladder. "Better safe than sorry, right?"
"You don't have to do that," Kimble says. "You should give your hand a chance to heal."
"But that's what friends are for, Dr. Kimble," Jay replies, disappearing down the ladder. "To look out for each other!"
Kimble stares after him, then turns and dabs at the palette with his brush.
MONTAGE SEQUENCE:
Police helicopter, lifting into the sky
THE HELICOPTER
The Task Force climbs into the waiting police helicopter and it lifts off into a clear sky.
THE LOFT
Kimble applies blue pigment to his canvas in broad strokes. He gradually works in darker shades, which take on the shape of high mountains. His face as he paints is introspective.
INSIDE THE HELICOPTER
Chandler passes around printouts of the survey maps. Eve and Eddie strain to catch his words of instruction over the roar of the chopper. The helicopter follows Route 14 across the avalanche area. Road crews are busy clearing the debris from the highway. Everyone presses close to the windows as they fly over the site of the disaster and spot the bus, stranded far below.
THE LOFT
Kimble is now deeply absorbed in his painting and oblivious to the passage of time. He works instinctively, adding green and tan to the right side of the canvas, forming a rocky meadow.
THE HELICOPTER
Chandler taps his map and points to the forest canopy beneath them where Kimble was last seen. After a while, a campground comes into view. The Task Force studies it intently as the pilot circles. Chandler gestures for the pilot to make a wider sweep.
THE LOFT
Kimble's brush is creating clouds in a rosy sky. Among the clouds a face appears, and then the curved body of a woman.
THE HELICOPTER
The chopper is now tracking a creek bed. Soon a cabin and barn are sighted, set in the middle of a clearing. Chandler leans forward, eyes narrowing as he notices a thin trail of smoke rising from the chimney. He marks his map.
END OF MONTAGE
THE LOFT
The female figure in Kimble's painting has become a heralding angel, a hopeful messenger of good news. Kimble is so caught up in this latent expression of his psyche, that he at first fails to hear the rotor blades whirring overhead. Suddenly the sound penetrates. He drops his brush and runs to the window, staring upwards.
"I hear it, Sam!" Jay calls, mounting the ladder. "Are they after you?"
Kimble's mouth sets in a straight line, too tense to answer.
As they watch, the chopper hovers, then moves on and finally is gone.
Kimble breathes again.
Stepping away from the window, Jay checks out Kimble's canvas. "Not bad for a beginner, but maybe you should've painted a helicopter on the way," he jokes, "instead of an avenging angel."
"What makes you think it's an avenging angel, Jay?" Kimble asks slowly.
"Why, the sickle in it's hand and the blood flowing. I had my 'red' period, too."
Kimble gives Jay a penetrating look.
"Do you think they'll be back-or have they given up?" Jay asks, returning to the window.
"Gerard doesn't give up," Kimble responds shortly.
Grindle smacks his head in alarm. "Philip Gerard! Coming HERE?" Scarcely waiting for Kimble's confirmation, Jay begins to work himself into a lather. "Oh man, oh man! Get a grip-I can do this...yes. Yes! I'll get rid of him. You can count on me, Dr. Kimble. I'll handle it so he never finds you! First I've got some snow to shovel and then I'll start cuttin' lumber. I'm going to build you the perfect hidin' place!"
Jay hurries back down the ladder, leaving Kimble mystified.
LARIMER LODGE, HALLWAY - THAT EVENING
Eddie Miles knocks on Gerard's door.
"What is it?" comes the response from the other side.
"Lieutenant, it's me, Eddie. We're back."
Gerard opens the door. He is holding a towel tented over his head. Steam emanates from it. "Be quick, Eddie."
"The Capt'n told me to tell you there's a good chance the Pass will be open tomorrow," Miles reports. "He wants to conduct a house to house. Think you'll be up for it?"
"I wouldn't miss it," Gerard answers acerbically. He glances down the hall to see if anyone else is coming, then closes the door in Eddie's face.
THE CABIN, KIMBLE'S ROOM - LATE THAT EVENING
Kimble is lying in his bunk in the dark, dreaming. He begins to thrash, twisting and turning in his sleeping bag as his dream turns into a nightmare.
KIMBLE'S NIGHTMARE
Kimble finds himself on a high meadow, encompassed by forbidding mountains. He recognizes the landscape and realizes he is in his own painting. A heavy, flapping sound is heard-like a very large bird approaching. Kimble looks up to see an angel descending out of an angry red sky, a sickle in its raised hand. The angel has spotted him and begins to circle rapidly closer. Kimble breaks into a run.
Suddenly, he is in a darkened house, racing from room to room looking for an exit. To his dismay, all the doors are locked. Feeling trapped, Kimble starts to run back the way he came when, miraculously, he sees Chuck Brixius up ahead.
"Chuck!" Kimble cries, reaching for his rescuer.
Brixius smiles. "Best of friends, Dr. Kimble," he says reassuringly.
Then, as Kimble watches in horror, blood begins to seep from Chuck's eyes and pincers emerge from his mouth.
Demonic Chuck
Chuck: "Best of friends, Dr. Kimble"
Kimble spins around and there is Jay Grindle, blocking his exit. A flickering orange light plays over Jay's features.
"Best of friends," Grindle repeats in his soft, sibilant voice.
Out of control
Grindle: Fire, out of control
From somewhere, cackling laughter is heard. Too late, Kimble recognizes the sound for what it is-the crackling of fire, out of control.
KIMBLE'S ROOM
Kimble awakens with a start, panting. He rises up on an elbow and listens. The cabin is still, a soft glow reaching the bedroom from the wood stove.
Aware now he was only dreaming, Kimble lies down and attempts to go back to sleep. After staring unblinking at the ceiling, he rolls over onto his stomach. Still uncomfortable, he curls onto his side, his head resting awkwardly on his hands. Finally he sits upright.
"What is it about this room?" Kimble wonders aloud, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe I just need a pillow."
Rising, he lights the lantern, then searches through the chest of drawers. He finds more blankets in the lower drawer. Among the junk in the top drawer is a Polaroid camera and film, a woman's hairbrush and various female lotions-but no pillow.
THE LIVING AREA
Holding the lantern, Kimble comes into the living area. Noticing that the door to Jay's bedroom is open, Kimble peeks inside. The room is empty. Thinking Jay may have gone to 'take a leak', he crosses to the shed door and taps lightly.
"Jay?" Kimble calls.
There is no response. On a hunch, Kimble looks up to the loft. Setting the lantern down on the mantel first, he climbs the ladder.
At the top Kimble calls softly into the darkness, "Jay?"
Again there is no response. He is about to go back down, when a thin sliver of light catches his eye. It is emanating from under the baseboard of the display wall, directly below Holly's larger-than-life portrait. Kimble stares speculatively at it for a long instant, then quietly descends the ladder.
RUSTIC, TWO JACKS - EARLY NEXT MORNING, FRIDAY
Officer Kimbrough is seated at the lunch counter chatting genially with the owners of Two Jacks. He tucks into a super-sized cinnamon roll, wiping his lips with a napkin as the door behind him jingles.
The Task Force-including Gerard-enters, stamping snow from their feet.
The trooper hails them, his mouth too full to speak.
Chandler comes over to the counter. "Good morning, Kimbrough, Jackie."
Her eyes light up with pleasure at seeing the Captain again.
Chandler reaches a gloved hand across to her partner. "Jack, I presume."
Jack grins. "Good day to you folks. You're just in time to enjoy a fresh batch of our giant cinnamon rolls, hot out of the oven!"
"Sheer heaven!" Kimbrough attests, smacking his lips.
"We won't be stopping," Chandler says briskly. "If you're done, Officer, we need to get started."
The trooper shakes his head. "Hold your horses, Captain. You'll have to wait until I receive confirmation the Pass is clear and safe for traffic. No one's getting through at present."
Eddie seats himself and points to the tray of cinnamon rolls in the display case. "Well, I'd like one!" he hints to Jackie.
"Comin' at ya," she smiles, quickly serving him. "How about the rest of you?"
"They smell fantastic," Eve agrees.
Seeing Hilliard and Gerard taking seats, Chandler acquiesces. "A pot of coffee, then," he tells Jackie, removing his gloves.
"Up again last night, burning the midnight oil, Captain?" Eve asks.
"I prefer it to counting sheep," Chandler replies evenly.
"Two bucks he's an insomniac," Eddie whispers.
INSIDE THE CABIN - SAME TIME
Kimble comes into the kitchen nursing an aching head. There is still no sign of Jay. He pours himself some green tea, then goes out onto the back porch, mug in hand.
THE BACK PORCH
From the porch, Kimble sees that Jay has shoveled a path to the barn. The sound of sawing can be heard coming from the same direction. Kimble sips his tea to warm himself and eyes the barn curiously.
Suddenly Jay appears and angrily motions Kimble to get back inside the cabin. Kimble retreats and Jay scans the premises, hoping they have not been spied upon. His brow furrowed with concern, he returns to his work in the barn.
RUSTIC, TWO JACKS
Chandler drains his coffee cup and rises, checking his watch. "Well, I say we get going. The Pass should be open by the time we get there."
"Would you like something to take with you?" Jackie asks. "Jack can bag a selection of sandwiches from our deli..."
"We're in a hurry," Chandler declines.
"You've got a long day ahead of you and there's nothing else between here and Gould," she continues persuasively.
"If you put it like that..." Eddie assents easily.
"Honestly, Eddie, you are all stomach," Eve chides.
"Might as well, Jackie," Chandler agrees graciously, pulling out his wallet and handing her a fifty. "And some hot coffees."
Seeing that Chandler is footing the bill, Eve changes her mind and taps the display case. "Throw in a couple of those blueberry muffins," she tells Jackie.
While Jackie and her husband bustle about preparing their order, Chandler gives the Task Force their instructions.
"Lieutenant, you and Agent Miles go on to Gould in your car," he addresses Gerard. "Talk to the merchants there. Canvas the town. Distribute "Wanted" flyers. The rest of us will cover the route in between." He turns to the trooper. "Kimbrough, you search along the north side of Route 14. Agent Hilliard and I will take the south, where Kimble was last seen."
Gerard is about to protest when Chandler adds, "Perhaps we'll find something you missed earlier, Lieutenant."
Gerard's skin takes on a purplish tone.
"Here you are," Jackie announces, bringing them their lunches. She has an extra sparkle when she hands Chandler his. "I threw in one of our monster chip cookies for you to sample."
Chandler opens his bag and sniffs.
"Four kinds of chips and nuts-they're not to be missed," assures Kimbrough.
Hunger getting the better of him, the Captain takes a big bite and his cookie breaks into pieces, falling back into the bag.
As Jack and Jackie giggle in amusement, Gerard derides his rival. "And the proverbial cookie crumbles, Captain...I'd take that as an omen."
ROUTE 14 AT CAMERON PASS - LATER
It has resumed snowing when Kimbrough and the Task Force arrive at the Pass. They find the highway still blocked by a road crew clearing away the last of the avalanche.
Chandler gets out of his car and approaches the state trooper's.
Officer Kimbrough rolls down his window. "Like I told you, Captain..." he shrugs. "And it's gonna be the same with those secondary roads you asked about. No tellin' when the snowplow will get to them all."
"Obviously we can't wait that long, Kimbrough," Chandler replies impatiently. "We need to reach Kimble BEFORE he has the opportunity to get away." The Captain rubs his gloved hands together, studying the highway ahead, then gets back into his car. "I'm going to speak to the foreman on that crew myself," he tells Eve decisively.
Chandler motions for the other cars to follow as he inches past the road block.
The driver of the first rig, sitting high in the cab, cuts his engine as Chandler hails him. "We have an emergency situation here!" Chandler shouts. "We're after an escaped fugitive. Can you let us through?"
The driver surveys the snow mass ahead and scratches his bearded cheek. "Give me ten," he shouts back. He radios the change of plans to his crew and starts up his engine.
While the Task Force waits, the road crew begins to clear a lane for them.
"You really are a take charge kind of guy, aren't you?" Hilliard observes to the Captain. He gazes at her obliquely and she responds, "I like that."
THE CABIN - LIVING AREA
Kimble is tracing a route south on a wall-mounted map of the county. He is startled when he hears someone stomping onto the back porch, then relieved to see it is only Jay, who enters, wiping sweat from his face.
"Looks like you've been knocking yourself out," Kimble comments.
"I have," Grindle replies, taking a breather. The bandage on his left hand is blood-stained.
"Why don't you let me help-I've done some carpentry before."
"Maybe later. I gotta make a trip into town-I'm all outta nails."
"Oh?" Kimble's expression changes. "What about 'we're snowed in until the next thaw'?"
"I have an all-terrain truck in the barn. In a pinch, I can get through, but the road's bad and I've gotten stuck before. I'll just have to risk it." Jay goes into his bedroom and returns with his wallet and keys. "Do you need anything from the store?"
Kimble swipes at his dirty hair. "Basic stuff. If I could find my duffle bag, I'd be fine. I know I had it when I left the highway. It must be near by."
"For God's sake, don't go out there lookin' for it," Grindle warns. "Stay inside while I'm gone-I mean it, Sam." He stops at the front door, clearly worried. "Man, I really hate leavin' you alone like this. What if Gerard returns while I'm gone?"
"I'll be careful, Jay."
"How can you stay so cool when he's 'this' close to putting you in jail for killing Holly?"
"Helen," Kimble corrects. "And I didn't kill my wife."
"Of course you did, Dr. Kimble," Jay reprimands mildly, "I saw the murder re-enacted on that program-the one with John Walsh. You and her were havin' an argument. Maybe she didn't want to stay with you anymore and you had to hit her on the head with a poker. You didn't mean to kill her, but it happened. There's no need to pretend with me. I'm not the police-I'm on YOUR side."
Kimble is stunned by this revelation.
"Now do what I said and lie low," Jay instructs. "I'll try to make it into Gould and be back as soon as possible." He hurries out the door and down the front steps.
In another moment, Kimble hears the truck rev up. He goes to the window, watching it buck and grind over the high drifts until it is out of sight.
THAT AFTERNOON
Ill at ease, Kimble continually checks the windows, listening for a return of the helicopter.
He tries to read, but his nerves are on edge.
When he sees the sun come out, Kimble makes up his mind and throws on his jacket and boots.
OUTSIDE THE CABIN, THE BACK ROAD
Kimble comes down the front steps, following Jay's path to the road.
Keeping to the newly-made tire tracks, he retraces his original route. As he walks, Kimble nervously checks his surroundings for any sound or movement. Reaching a stretch of pines which seems familiar, he hesitates, then enters the woods.
"Think, Richard," Kimble speaks angrily to himself. "Where did you last have it?"
Scouting for familiar landmarks, Kimble pushes deeper and deeper into the forest.
GOULD, A HARDWARE STORE - SAME TIME
Jay is at the back of a small hardware store shopping. He picks up several boxes of nails in different sizes. Moving on, he examines the selection of hinges.
Lt. Gerard and Agent Miles enter, unnoticed by Jay, and stand gazing about the premises.
A young sales clerk comes over to them. "What can we do for you gentlemen today?" he asks hopefully.
Eddie flashes his badge while Gerard pulls out a photo of Kimble. "We'd like to know if you've seen this man recently," Gerard replies.
The sales clerk studies the picture. "No, I'm sure I haven't. But I only work here part-time. You should really talk to the owner. He's not in right now."
Grindle becomes aware of their conversation and peers slowly over his shoulder. His eyes round with shock as he realizes he is seeing Philip Gerard in the flesh.
"Do you expect him back anytime this afternoon?" Gerard inquires.
"Yes, at 5:00, when we close."
Grindle quickly ducks into the next aisle, where he can hear, but not be seen.
"Mind if we post one of these flyers in your window?" Eddie asks.
"Sure, go right ahead," the clerk answers. "Will you be wanting some adhesive tape for that? Or a stapler, maybe? Some thumbtacks?" he continues, hoping to make a sale.
"Yeah, thanks," Eddie agrees, positioning the flyer beside an ad for plywood paneling.
Keeping his back to them, Jay sidles closer, all ears.
"So, who is he? An escaped convict or something?" the clerk asks curiously.
"Yes, and very dangerous," Gerard says sharply. "If you should see him, call 911 right away."
"I will, sir," the clerk replies, duly impressed. "May I ring that up for you?"
While he waits for their purchase, Gerard takes a long, steely-eyed glance around the store.
Jay quickly crouches behind a pyramid display of paint and primer, the boxes of nails clutched white-knuckled to his chest.
"We'll return at 5:00," Gerard tells the clerk as he takes the shopping bag.
"Where to next, Lieutenant?" Eddie asks, his roving eye checking out a shapely model on a home improvement magazine.
Jays clamped fingers unintentionally crush the cardboard nail boxes. He is oblivious to the pain as the nails spill out.
"I want to get on with the house to house-starting with those right here in town," Gerard says, heading for the entrance.
Too late, Jay realizes he is losing his grip on the nails. He grabs at them unsuccessfully and they clatter noisily to the floor. Bending in haste to pick them up, he knocks over several cans of paint, causing the entire display to topple with a massive crash.
The sales clerk comes rushing over in dismay. "May I help you, sir?" he asks, noticing Jay's bandaged hand.
Jay looks toward the door, his relief intense when he sees that Gerard and Eddie have just left.
OUTSIDE THE CABIN - LATER
Grindle's truck tears up the drive to the barn. He parks and takes out the shopping bags in a mad hurry, running with them to the cabin.
INSIDE
"Sam! Sam!" Jay calls in a state of high agitation. He sets the bags down on the kitchen counter and raps on Kimble's door. "Sam, open up, it's me."
When there is no answer, Jay opens the door and sees at once that Kimble is not there. He crosses to the ladder, scampering up to the loft and calling, "Dr. Kimble? Are you there? I've got to talk to you!"
Puzzled by his friend's absence, Jay starts down the ladder, then notices that Kimble's jacket is gone from its hook by the stove.
"Damnation!" he swears, jumping off the ladder. A wild light dances in his eyes. Returning to the kitchen, Grindle reaches into a shopping bag and pulls out a smaller pharmacy bag, ripping it open.
"Why, WHY Sam?" Jay mourns as he removes a bottle and reads the label-sleeping pills. "You should've listened. I didn't want to do this." Unscrewing the lid, he shakes half a dozen out onto the counter. Then, taking a mallet from the drawer, Grindle begins to pound the pills into a fine powder with practiced ease.
ROUTE 14 LEAVING GOULD, INSIDE GERARD'S CAR - 6:00 PM
Gerard and Eddie drive back to the Lodge in silence.
"Well, that was a total bust," Eddie says at last.
"Not entirely. We now know Kimble never made it as far as Gould," Gerard replies, at the wheel. "He's holed up somewhere in between." The Lieutenant peers into the darkness and sniffs, as if he might somehow smell Kimble's presence.
They drive on, and then Eddie points. "Vehicle ahead, on the right."
Gerard slows as he sees a parked forest ranger SUV with its lights on.
"That's the campground we saw on the way in," Eddie observes.
Gerard turns into the campground, just as man in a forestry uniform appears, walking towards his vehicle.
"Let's have a little talk with the ranger, shall we?" Gerard suggests. He pulls his car abreast and rolls down the window. "Police. Can you help us? We're looking for this man." He holds up the photo of Kimble.
The ranger shines his flashlight on it. "Nope. Afraid I can't." He then shines his light on the sign posted by the entrance, which reads, CLOSED FOR THE WINTER. "We're closed for the season," he spells out for them.
Gerard persists. "Any sign of illegal camping here recently? A break-in, maybe, or a campfire..."
"Nope," the ranger repeats laconically.
Gerard is sure of himself and forges on. "How about any new, man-made trails?"
"Nope," the ranger replies again. "Just animal tracks. Sometimes we get a skier who's lost his way." He reaches into his SUV and brings out Kimble's duffle bag. "Found this on the back road this afternoon."
Gerard's eyes gleam as he reaches for it. "Mind if I take a look?"
THE CABIN, KITCHEN AREA - SAME TIME
Kimble has returned from his search and is seated with Jay at the kitchen table, having supper.
"Never do that again, Dr. Kimble. NEVER. You scared the crap outta me," Jay says crossly.
"I'm sorry, Jay. I just had a bad feeling about that bag of mine getting into the wrong hands."
"Now you've left your footprints all over the property," Jay goes on irritably. "Any jackass would be able to tell there's two people livin' here."
"You're right," Kimble agrees, chastened.
"At least it's started snowin' again. That'll cover 'em...a little." Sullenly, Jay pushes his scrambled eggs around on his plate.
"The eggs are good," Kimble remarks as a peace offering.
Jay perks at the compliment. "Yeah, it's a luxury havin' fresh food. I stocked up on bagels and yogurt, too." He notices Kimble hasn't touched his hot drink. "Hey-drink that, I made it with real milk."
Kimble takes a sip and does a double take. "What IS this?"
"Hot carob-it's good for you."
Kimble has another sip. "I guess it takes some getting used to. So... what's your big news?"
Jay plops a copy of the Rocky Mountain News in front of Kimble. It is opened to an article titled:
CONVICTED FELON AT LARGE
TRI-COUNTY ALERT
Fugitive last seen along Rt. 14 at Cameron Pass
"I bought this in town. And that's not all. Gerard was there. He and another officer were askin' questions. They had a stack of wanted posters and were plastering them all over. Then on my way back I got stopped by Highway Patrol. They even searched my truck! I tell you, Dr. Kimble, everybody's on the lookout for you. The only way you can stay safe is to stay right here, out of sight."
Kimble sets his cocoa down and speaks from long experience. "Jay, you know I'm going to have to leave. It's only a matter of time before Gerard tracks me to this cabin."
"But you can't go!" Grindle protests, pushing away from the table. "You're my one sanity now. Anyway, you're forgettin' about the hidin' place."
"Where is this 'hiding place' you're building?" Kimble asks, trying to force down the rest of his carob drink.
Jay becomes animated. "In the barn. There's a crawl space under the floorboards," he relates, describing it with his hands. "I'm makin' a room for you down there. You won't be able to sit up, but you'll have food, water, a bed, everything! And the beauty is the temperature always stays above freezing."
Kimble is feeling sleepy. "I...I appreciate...what you're doing..."
"Hey, you're welcome. All I care about is keepin' you safe, Dr. Kimble." Jay smiles forgivingly. "Just let me take care of you and we'll be fine. Well, I gotta get back to work. Don't wait up for me." He puts a hand on Kimble's shoulder. "Say, why don't you turn in early? You're lookin' kinda tired."
"I am," Kimble yawns.
"I bet you'll sleep sound tonight," Jay adds knowingly.
"Might at that," Kimble acknowledges. He rises unsteadily.
"Here, let me help you." Jay wraps an arm around his guest and guides him into the bedroom like a small child.
THE BACK ROAD, INSIDE GERARD'S CAR
"This must be the back road Ranger Dude was talking about," Eddie quips as they turn off Route 14.
"Yes, and though the snowplow hasn't been here yet, it's obviously had recent use. I count at least two pairs of fresh tire tracks," Gerard assesses, his hunting instincts coming to the fore.
"Great," Miles responds. "But we're not going any further tonight, without the Captain...are we?"
"I don't give two pennies for Captain Chandler," Gerard answers disdainfully. "This is MY case and he knows it. I'm damned sure that's Kimble's bag we recovered and it won't be long before we have Kimble," he declares.
"But our instructions were to canvas Gould-that's all," Eddie objects.
"Which we did."
"Then I vote we head back to the Lodge. Did you read the dinner menu? Roast lamb with mushroom pilaf and apricot compote. We'll miss everything at this rate, "Eddie says plaintively. "Besides, it's snowing again."
The car sinks into the soft snow as visibility worsens.
"Come on, Lieutenant-you're making me nervous," Miles whines. "What if we get stuck out here? I don't want to pull a Kimble and spend the night in a frozen vehicle."
"Oh, all right, Eddie!" Gerard snaps, provoked. "Look for a spot we can turn around in."
Eddie smiles and starts humming tunelessly to himself.
"But I'll be back-first thing in the morning," Gerard promises. "Count on it."
LARIMER LODGE, FRONT ENTRANCE - SATURDAY MORNING
Captain Chandler is standing at the entrance to the lodge with Officer Kimbrough and Lt. Gerard. He pulls on his gloves as Eve and Eddie join them.
"A snowplow is clearing that back road as we speak," Chandler informs the others. "We've narrowed the possibilities down to an old logging hut about halfway up the road, and a barn or cabin at the end. The latter appeared to be inhabited when we flew over."
"Sheriff says a squatter's livin' there," Kimbrough attests. "The owner is out of the country-only uses the place once in a while for fishin'."
"Are you positive that bag was Kimble's?" Hilliard questions Chandler as they go down the steps.
"I'm convinced of it. Who else would be cutting his own hair and using different colored contact lens?" he replies.
"It's Kimble's," Gerard concurs. "Matches the description I got from his fellow passengers.
"So, we have a hot trail," Eve remarks, stopping by the Captain's car.
Reluctantly, Eddie goes on beyond her to Gerard's rental.
Chandler opens his door. "Your orders are to shoot on sight-is that clear? Kimble is not going to escape on my watch."
Yes, sir!" Eddie exclaims with a grin toward Gerard.
The Task Force and Kimbrough pile into their vehicles and head out.
THE CABIN, LIVING AREA
Kimble, in a pair of Jay's long underwear, emerges from the bedroom, doubled over. Moaning, he makes his way to the shed, his hands clutching various furnishings for support. He descends into the shed and the sound of vomiting is heard, followed by more moaning.
Weakly, Kimble returns to the living area and drops onto the couch, pulling the blanket over himself. His eyelids flutter closed and he breathes shallowly.
Jay comes in the front door and grins when he sees that Kimble is lying down. "You just keep on restin', Dr. Kimble, and leave everything to me," he advises, going to the kitchen. "I'm workin' on soundproofing the hidin' place. Then you can move in."
Kimble groans.
Jay wraps a fresh bandage around his swollen left hand. Then, opening a cupboard, he takes down a bag of carob powder.
"I don't want anything to eat, Jay...I'm not feeling well," Kimble says from the couch.
"I'll make you something hot to drink, then." In another moment Grindle brings a steaming mug over and sets it down on the end table. "Here you are-this will settle your stomach."
Kimble eyes the cocoa warily.
Jay helps him sit up and take a sip. "Get some more rest, Sam," he repeats, "and don't worry yourself. Everything will be fine. You'll see." He gives Kimble a comforting pat on the shoulder, then goes back outside.
Kimble soon falls fast asleep on the couch.
THE BACK ROAD - AN HOUR LATER
Three cars slowly make their way up the back road towards the cabin.
INSIDE THE CABIN
A sixth sense rouses Kimble and he opens his eyes groggily. He tries to stand, but finds that he is overcome with fatigue. Shaking his head to clear it, he pushes himself up from the couch and goes to a window, drawing back the curtain. Faintly, he hears the sound of hammering coming from the barn. Then another sound impresses itself upon his consciousness-engines. He frowns, listening harder.
Suddenly Kimble becomes mentally alert. He opens the front door a crack, paling visibly as he sees the line of cars approaching. Closing the door, he quickly scans the room. Forcing his drugged body to respond, Kimble folds the blanket on the couch and takes his scarcely touched cocoa into the kitchen.
In the bedroom he rolls up his sleeping bag and hurriedly stuffs it in the chest of drawers. Dressing in haste over the long johns, Kimble pockets his few toilette items, then freezes-his wallet is missing. He checks every pocket and searches frantically behind the chest of drawers and under the bunk without success.
From the bedroom window Kimble sees three vehicles pull up and park.
He dashes into the kitchen, pulls on his jacket and grabs his boots. Tugging them on as he hops across to the shed, Kimble stops in his tracks as the sound of voices reaches him. Keeping out of sight, he observes the Task Force and the state trooper making their way to the barn.
IN THE SHED
Kimble steps down into the shed and unlatches the rear door, deliberating internally whether or not to make a break for it.
OUTSIDE THE BARN
Drawn by the sound of Jay's hammering, Chandler leads the team toward the barn. Something makes Gerard turn and glance behind him at the cabin. He eyes the porch doors suspiciously.
IN THE SHED
Kimble shrinks back instinctively. All at once he hears Jay's voice, decibels louder than usual. Venturing a peek, he sees that Jay has emerged from the barn and is vigorously denying having seen the photograph Hilliard is displaying.
Officer Kimbrough begins to walk toward the cabin.
Unable to escape without being seen, Kimble retreats inside.
IN THE LIVING AREA
Realizing he must find his own hiding place, Kimble's worried glance falls on the ladder to the loft.
THE LOFT
Kimble appears head-first up the ladder. The bright light spilling in from the row of end windows eliminates any possibility of hiding there. Discouraged, Kimble starts back down. Then the portrait of Holly catches his attention.
Remembering what he had seen the other night, Kimble goes over to the gallery and runs his fingers along the baseboard directly beneath the painting. It is not flush with the floor. Rapidly his fingers feel the wall on either side. He discovers a thin seam, partially hidden by the larger-than-life portrait.
Kimble's exploration is cut short by the sound of voices nearing the cabin.
THE FRONT PORCH
Grindle bounds up the porch steps with alacrity. "Sorry I can't help you guys," he claims loudly, blocking the front door. "Like I said, I live here alone and I haven't had any visitors."
"This isn't your property, Mr. Grindle," the state trooper reminds him. "You're a squatter and it will be my pleasure to notify the owner. I think we'd better have a look around."
To Jay's consternation, Kimbrough climbs the steps, followed officiously by the Task Force.
"You won't find anything," Jay declares, a nervous sheen glazing his features.
"We'll be the judge of that," Chandler responds. He peers through a window. "The fugitive may have broken in...could be hiding inside." The Captain turns impatiently to Grindle. "Well? Are you going to open the door?"
Panicked, Jay faces his five visitors like a student hoping to be saved by the bell.
THE LOFT
Kimble is trying to open the panel in the gallery wall with his fingertips. It doesn't budge. He goes to the work table and picks up a putty knife. Inserting it into the seam, he pries the panel open.
THE ROOM UNDER THE EAVES
Kimble steps into a narrow room running the length of the eaves. It is illuminated by a low window on either end. He pulls the panel shut by its framework, which on this side of the gallery wall has been left exposed. On the floor near the door he notices a lantern-the source of the light he had seen earlier. A small flame still flickers there, Jay apparently having forgotten to blow it out.
Opposite him, braced against the eaves, are a collection of canvases clearly painted during Jay's 'red period'. Twisted trees lash against the sky in a rain of red hail. Elongated faces howl as birds descend to peck out their eyes. A young man sits bound to a chair, while a father figure raises a huge belt.
DOWNSTAIRS
"You know, it's a federal offense to harbor a fugitive," Gerard is saying as the Task Force brushes past Jay and enters the cabin.
Jay tears at his hair. "Where's your search warrant, man?" Once inside, his eyes rove feverishly, looking for signs of Kimble.
Chandler and Hilliard check both bedrooms while Gerard opens the door to the shed.
"Found a wallet," Eve says, holding it up as she exits Jay's bedroom. "No identification."
"It's mine," Grindle lies. "You don't have the right to go through my things!"
THE ROOM UNDER THE EAVES
A few empty paint cans, turpentine and rags litter one end of the room. Stooping, Kimble moves toward something larger at the other end.
Thumbtacked intermittently on the interior wall supports he sees photos of Holly: Holly coming and going from her apartment, Holly in her Wild West barmaid outfit, Holly relaxing at home, undressing, even bathing. Many appear to have been taken without her awareness.
Holly at the Wild West Jay's collection: Holly and Helen
More disturbing yet, Kimble finds a newspaper photo of Helen and several sketches of his wife.
DOWNSTAIRS
"What's up there?" Chandler asks, pointing to the loft.
"My studio. That's where I paint," Jay replies, visibly stressed. "Nobody goes up there but me."
"Is that so?" Chandler remarks, undeterred. He begins to climb the ladder.
"NO!" Jay shouts.
"I beg your pardon?" Chandler asks coldly.
"I mean, let me go up first." Jay springs past Chandler.
THE ROOM UNDER THE EAVES
Further along the wall, Kimble sees a series of Polaroids taken in the cabin. He recognizes his bedroom and Holly, lying with her hands tied to the bunk. In other photos she appears drugged. Kimble puts a hand to his stomach, making the connection with his own drugged state.
Even so, he is unprepared for the most recent set of Polaroids-shots of Kimble himself, asleep in the same bed.
THE LOFT
Shock registers on Grindle's face as he realizes Kimble is not in the loft. It is replaced almost immediately by a wide grin. "Like I told you, man. Nobody comes up here but me."
Chandler, right behind him, is suspicious of Jay's overly wired behavior.
Hoping to give Kimble time to get away, Grindle makes a sweeping gesture toward his landscapes. "I can show you my paintings, if you like. Landscapes are my specialty."
"That won't be necessary," Gerard says, coming up the ladder.
Jay's eyes suddenly light on the portrait of Holly, still hanging on the gallery wall for all to see. The life drains from his eyes-it is an unforgivable blunder. Moreover, the portrait is now hanging crookedly. Surmising Kimble's whereabouts, Jay becomes unhinged.
One by one, the Task Force enters the loft.
Manically, Jay attempts to distract them from the portrait. He pulls Kimble's canvas off the easel and replaces it with one of his own. "Do you like mountain scenery? Everybody does. They make great souvenirs of the Rockies," he prattles. "Take a look at this one I did of Cameron Pass-painted entirely with natural pigments. I mix them myself right here from..."
"Good God!" Gerard interupts, ignoring Jay. He is staring thunderstruck at the portrait. "It's Helen Kimble!"
"Holy shit!" Eddie echoes at his side.
Chandler blanches. His mouth works. "Helen..."
Eve cries excitedly, "Kimble's here-he's got to be!"
THE ROOM UNDER THE EAVES
Hearing the conversation on the other side of the wall, Kimble fears his hiding place will soon be discovered. He casts about for a better one and heads for the large trunk in front of the low window. Over six feet long, it is hand-constructed of unfinished pine. A pair of entwined hearts is painted on the top. Kimble lifts the lid.
As he beholds the contents, he reels backward, his mind spinning. "Jay! What have you done?" Kimble cries softly.
THE LOFT
Officer Kimbrough puffs up the ladder. "What's goin' on? Have you found your man?"
"We have reason to believe Kimble is on the premises," Chandler replies tersely.
Jay attempts to rush past Kimbrough down the ladder, but the officer firmly detains him. "Now son, if you have anything to do with this fugitive business, you'd better speak your peace."
"You can start by explaining what you are doing with a painting of Helen Kimble," Gerard demands.
"This will be good," Eddie murmurs to Eve.
Jay's eyes shift everywhere but at the portrait. "What do you want from me, Gerard? I'm innocent-I didn't kill her!" he beseeches the Lieutenant.
"I'm not suggesting that, Grindle," Gerard replies in disgust.
"Where is the man who did?" Chandler urges.
"No, no, no-never betray, never betray!" Jay mutters incoherently. As he struggles in Kimbrough's grasp, his left hand begins to bleed profusely.
The trooper relaxes his grip. Instantly Jay twists free and plasters himself against Holly's portrait. "LEAVE US ALONE!" he screams.
Chandler's perplexed expression changes as the penny drops.
"Out of the way!" he orders abruptly, thrusting Jay aside. "Help me," he commands Gerard.
"What the...?" Slower to catch on, Gerard watches Chandler remove the portrait, then examine the wall behind it.
Jay goes into shock as he realizes he has just given Kimble away.
THE ROOM UNDER THE EAVES
Kimble levels himself behind the open trunk as the Task Force kicks in the panel.
They stand for a moment taking in the apparently empty room.
"There's no one here," Eve marvels anticlimactically. She turns to leave, making way for the State Trooper, who pushes Grindle in front of him.
Kimbrough's attention is immediately captured by the wall of photographs.
Chandler joins him. "Why...that's not Helen," he observes, mystified.
The trooper scratches the back of his head. "I'll be gol durned," he swears. "It's Holly Eversoll!"
"Will someone please clue me in?" Gerard demands.
Unobserved, Jay kicks the lantern.
"Holly Eversoll, a little barmaid who went missing down in Boulder over a year ago. Was never found," Kimbrough replies.
"Until now," Eddie gasps, recoiling from the contents of the pine trunk.
The men crowd around, staring in horror at the skeletal remains of a woman with a fractured skull. The bones have been picked clean and lie nestled in a bed of women's clothing.
While they are thus distracted, a pool of kerosene from the tipped lantern seeps into the floorboards and quickly ignites. Tongues of flame lick into the eaves, encompassing Jay's canvases.
Suddenly aware of the fire, they turn to see Grindle, unguarded and grinning. "You're too late! In another minute, there won't be any evidence!" He jumps over the remains of the busted panel and wedges it back into the doorway to block it.
Acrid smoke quickly fills the narrow room as the turpentine-soaked rags catch fire. Eddie removes his jacket and beats down the flames at his feet. The others do likewise, while Kimbrough covers his mouth and nose and takes a flying leap through the blaze after Grindle.
"Open a window!" Gerard shouts.
Chandler tries to shove the resistant coffin out of the way so he can get at the window latch. Suddenly, he finds himself battling another man, as Kimble springs, fighting, from his hiding place.
A look of fury transforms Chandler's face as he recognizes his quarry. "Richard, you murdering S.O.B.! I'll finish you!" The two men engage in fierce hand-to-hand combat. "Shoot! Dammit, shoot!" Chandler orders Gerard and Eddie, unable to draw his own weapon.
Gerard goes for his shoulder holster. Squinting through the smoky gloom, he chances it and fires.
There is a resounding crash as the window splinters and Kimble tumbles backwards out of it.
Chandler grabs onto his legs, but Kimble falls free in a flurry of powder, taking snow from the roof with him. He lands chest-deep in a snow bank as more snow cascades over him.
Gerard, leaning as far out the window as he dares, contemplates jumping.
Chandler swings back into the room. Beyond the inferno, he sees that Eve has cleared the doorway from the other side and is helping Eddie through. "Never mind the fire!" Chandler shouts to them. "Get Kimble!" He turns back to the window. "Where is he? Son of a gun, where is he?"
The two men scan the white landscape. "I've got to get down there!" Gerard cries, pushing Chandler aside.
"Hell!" Chandler exclaims angrily, noticing the window frame. "You didn't hit him!"
Gerard follows his gaze to the bullet embedded in the wood. "Come on!" he shouts, holstering his gun. "This floor's going to give!"
Together, the Captain and Lieutenant find themselves facing a wall of fire. As they watch, trapped, the gallery paneling succumbs to the blaze, taking Jay's incriminating photographs with it. Then, a large section collapses, creating an entry into the loft.
As one, both hunters plunge through the flaming gap.
EPILOGUE
OUTSIDE THE CABIN
The state trooper and Eve escort Grindle in handcuffs to the patrol car.
"Gary Jilden, you are under arrest for the murder of Holly Eversoll," Kimbrough is saying.
Jay's face is impassive as he gets into the back seat.
BEHIND THE BARN
Kimble slips and slides down the slope behind the barn. Gaining momentum faster than he can control it, he pitches forward and begins to roll. Kimble grabs at pine branches to check his progress until he pulls one up by its roots and is dragged to the creek below.
OUTSIDE THE CABIN
Gerard and Chandler emerge, running, from the cabin. Their hair and clothing are singed and they have sustained burns to their hands and faces.
"I thought I was going to have to go in after you!" Eddie exclaims, meeting them on the front porch.
"At least you got Grindle," Gerard observes, catching his breath.
"Eve cuffed him as he tried to leave," Eddie explains. "Then she rescued Kimbrough and me. But there's no sign of Kimble."
Chandler packs snow around his burns to quell the pain. "Tracks," he pants. "We should be looking for tracks leading from the cabin."
They head around to the side of the building and gaze up at the broken window. Flames are billowing from it.
"The whole place is gonna go," Eddie states, enjoying a fire.
Gerard rummages for clues in the snow bank.
"There's nothing, I already checked," Eddie tells him. "And tracks are everywhere. Someone's been busy."
Chandler's eyes narrow on the forest close by. "Spread out into the woods. That's how Kimble got here and that's the direction he'll have to take to reach Route 14."
Gerard gazes in the opposite direction. "Or he could have run to the barn. Plenty of places to hide there."
The men fan out.
THE CREEK
Kimble is following the icy creek, which winds down the mountainside, ever farther from Route 14.
ROUTE 14 NEAR GOULD, CHANDLER'S CAR - TWO HOURS LATER
Chandler's car approaches the road block and stops. Gerard's is right behind. The Captain rolls down his window. "No sign of the fugitive?" he questions the officers on duty.
"No, sir. We're searching every vehicle that comes this way."
"Keep on it," Chandler directs. "Kimble will have to come out of the woods sometime in the next twenty-four hours. He's not inhuman. He'll need food...and warmth."
"We'll be here," the officer promises.
Chandler nods and rolls up his window. He turns to Eve. "We'll go into town and wait." He sighs deeply, lines of fatigue beginning to show around his mouth. "I don't understand how we could have lost him back there."
"Welcome to the club, Captain," Eve remarks as the two cars head toward Gould. "Now you know the kind of man we've been dealing with. Kimble never ceases to amaze me."
Chandler frowns. "It's going to be more difficult than I thought, I'll grant you that," he allows. "But stick with me, Eve. It's my destiny to bring Richard to justice."
Hilliard is surprised to see Chandler's gloved hand on her knee.
Receding in the distance behind them, Highway Patrol maintains its vigil at the road block.
RAILWAY TRACKS - LATE THAT AFTERNOON
Kimble has descended the mountain as far as a pair of railway tracks. A train whistle is heard in the distance. He waits for the slow-moving freight train to come into view, then runs alongside, reaching for the guardrail. After a couple unsuccessful attempts, he manages to swing himself into an empty boxcar at the rear of the train.
LARIMER LODGE, DINING ROOM - DINNER HOUR
Officer Kimbrough has returned to update the Task Force on the arrest of Gary Jilden. He takes a seat at the table, where the others have just started dinner. Chandler and Gerard sport various-sized bandages on their hands and faces.
"Well, it may be too late for Miss Eversoll," the trooper informs them cheerfully, "but we got her killer. Mr. Jilden will be remanded to the state psychiatric facility in Denver."
"I don't get it-Who's Jilden and what happened to Grindle?" Eddie asks.
"It's an anagram," Eve responds astutely. "Jay Grindle-Gary Jilden. Transpose the letters."
"Oh," Eddie says, feeling foolish.
The trooper lays his hat carefully on the table. "Yup, it's a shame Jilden wasn't caught earlier. Turns out he'd been charged with harassin' Miss Eversoll before she disappeared. 'Course, now we know it was a kidnapping. Unfortunately, the authorities in Boulder didn't think to run a check on his background. If they had, they'd have found Jilden was receiving psychiatric treatment for paranoid schizophrenia. Had abandonment issues. Was obsessed with stalkin' Miss Eversoll. Looks like he went off his medication and decided to abduct her." He shakes his head. "Poor girl."
"I still don't understand what Jilden was doing with a photograph of Helen Kimble," Gerard maintains.
The Captain pours himself another cup of coffee. "Schizophrenics have trouble with cognitive reality. Gary may have thought he was seeing Holly when he saw a photo of Helen in the news."
"Then was it a copycat murder?" Eddie asks.
"Without Jilden's confession, we can't know for sure," Officer Kimbrough answers. "But one thing is certain-if you folks hadn't come searchin' for Richard Kimble, we'd never have found the remains of Holly Eversoll. That's one mystery solved today."
DENVER, STATE PSYCHIATRIC FACILITY - ONE MONTH LATER
A nurse brings Jay Grindle/Gary Jilden to the door of the psychiatrist's office. "Go right in," she says. "Dr. Weintraub will see you."
The doctor looks up from his paperwork as Jilden enters. "Have a seat, Gary. So what's the trouble today?"
Jilden sits stiffly in the chair facing the doctor's desk and glances uneasily toward the window. "Do you mind if I close the drapes?"
"If you feel you need to," Weintraub says accommodatingly.
Gary gets up and peers anxiously out the window before quickly drawing the curtain. "He's been watchin' me," he confides, resuming his seat.
"Who's been watching you?"
"Gerard. Lt. Philip Gerard!" Jilden explains in his soft voice.
"And what makes you think that?" the doctor asks, taking notes.
"I saw him last night...in the courtyard outside my room. He was standing in the shadows...watchin'. Watchin' everything I do."
"The Lieutenant is a busy man, Gary. He doesn't have time to visit with patients. Perhaps you were mistaken."
"That's just what he wants you to believe!" Jilden whispers excitedly. "But he's the one you should be lockin' up-not me!"
"Mr. Jilden, this isn't getting us anywhere," Weintraub responds wearily. "Let's start at the beginning, shall we?" He opens a folder and reads from it. "Now then, what day is today?"
"Tuesday," Gary answers obediently.
"Good. And where are we?" the doctor continues, keeping score.
"The Denver Institute for the Criminally Insane."
Weintraub studies Jilden intently as he asks, "Do you know my name?"
"You're Dr. Oscar Wientraub."
The doctor nods. "That's correct. And do you know your own name?"
Jilden stares directly into the camera and without hesitation answers, "I'm Richard Kimble."
THE END