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what he might find, Scott inched toward the opening and dared a peek down at the ground, which was every inch of fifty feet below.
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    B ACK IN THE CHALET , Sherry worked one phone while Larry worked the other.
    â€œI understand that the airport is closed,” she said to somebody named Angela at the airport in Salt Lake City. “You’ve already told me that. What I want to know is, whether a plane has landed there.”
    â€œNo, ma’am, there have been no landings,” Angela said. “No takeoffs, either. That’s what happens when you close an airport.”
    Sherry wanted to smack her. “Are there other airports, then? Municipal fields where someone might land a small private plane?”
    â€œDozens of them, but they’re all closed, too. Is someone overdue? Is that why you’re so distraught?”
    Interesting question, Sherry thought. “Can you hang on just one second?” She covered the mouthpiece and turned to Larry. “What have you found out?”
    Larry hung up his receiver. “Not a thing. Apparently, the airfield here is unmanned. People can take off and land as they please. There’s no radio communication, nothing.”
    Sherry sighed. “So, what do I tell these people? Is he missing, or isn’t he?”
    â€œIt gets worse. I haven’t even been able to find anybody to verify that this Cody guy’s plane is missing. Maybe he keeps it someplace else.”
    Anger was beginning to trump Sherry’s fear. “So, for all we know, Scotty’s really at somebody’s room, getting laid or drinking beer.” She turned back to Angela. “Listen, thanks for your help,” she said, and then she hung up. She headed toward the wet bar that separated the enormous living room from the enormous kitchen. “You want a drink?”
    â€œSherry, you have to do something, here,” Larry said, moving to block her passage. “You can’t just assume that he’s out getting his rocks off, if in fact he’s out there lost in a snowstorm.”
    She faked left, then moved right to get around him. It was time to switch to scotch. “I’ve been thinking about this,” she said. “Scott is lazy and he’s full of attitude, but he’s not stupid. He wouldn’t take off in a little airplane in this weather.”
    â€œFor Metallica? Who are you kidding?”
    Sherry poured three fingers and downed half of it on the first gulp. “I just don’t want to press the panic button.”
    Larry saw something in her expression that caused him to scowl. Suddenly, he sensed that they weren’t talking only about Scott anymore. “Say what’s on your mind, Sher.”
    Sherry inhaled loudly and let it go as a sigh. How could she put this and not seem harsh? “If Sherry Carrigan O’Toole goes shouting from the rooftops that her son is missing, and then he turns up drunk somewhere, the tabloids will eat it up. I’ll look like a fool.”
    Larry looked at her like she was crazy. “The tabloids? Jesus, Sherry, you’ve never been in a tabloid. You’re an author, for chris-sakes, not a movie star.”
    â€œI’m a television personality, too.”
    Larry threw his hands in the air. “I don’t believe we’re talking about this. He’s your son. Want to see yourself get torn apart by the press? Let the word leak out that you knew there was a chance he went missing but refused to say anything. They’ll hang you in effigy, and I’ll carry the rope!”
    Sherry clasped the sides of her head with her open palms. She hated stress, and she hated making decisions quickly. “You know who’s going to have a field day with this, don’t you? Brandon. God, I can hear him now.”
    â€œSherry!”
    Larry couldn’t possibly see the world through her eyes. This whole thing was Brandon’s fault to begin with. If he hadn’t made the