When he came downstairs to what should have been the traditional Black Friday breakfast intended to fuel everyone for the first few hours of mad shopping, Matt Justice was surprised to find his mother and sister packing his cooler with turkey day leftovers, and other dishes his mother had cooked and frozen for him since his last trip home a few months ago.

"What's this? Thought there were no excuses for baling out on one of the most sacred of all Justice family traditions."

The women turned at the same time. Immediately he knew his youngest sister, Suzannah, the family psychic, had had a premonition. His mother stepped forward.

"The news announcer said there's a terrible storm front heading our way. It's supposed to hit before midnight. Suzannah thinks it's going to hit sooner. I just want everyone home safe and sound before that happens."

The early edition of the local TV news was reporting details on another missing pregnant woman. He glanced briefly at the photo of an attractive blonde before turning his attention back.

"Am I going to be in some kind of trouble if I don't head for home now?"

"No, darling." His mother filled the thermos with hot coffee.

Matt returned his gaze to his sister. "Suz?"

"I swear, Matt. Nothing is going to happen to you. But you need to head home now. The storm is going to be far worse than what they've predicted."

"Fine. And when I find out what this is really all about, I'm going to be calling you!"

Suzannah just smiled.

Sometimes Matt really regretted when his sister was right. Damn, if she hadn't called it. The sky had steadily dumped snow and whipped it at a maddening pace for the last two hours. Spotty radio reception, interrupted several times by the national weather service, warned listeners to expect the severe weather to last for the next forty-eight hours.

On days like this, he was glad his new Hummer h-2 was loaded, right down to the heated leather seats. Especially since the temp gauge steadily dropped the higher he climbed in altitude. He loved the vast beauty of big sky country, but there was nothing worse than driving along in complete silence as the Sirius radio reception faded in and out in mountain range.

Reception came back at the end of the weather service announcement, reinforcing the warning and giving out a list of emergency supplies people should have on hand to last through the expected power outages and severe cold. Country music filled the truck as regular programming resumed.

After serving in the military for twelve years, Matt learned to always be prepared for an emergency. But not everyone did. Just like not everyone heeded the weather warnings and hunkered down until it was safe. As sheriff of the small town of Hastings, Montana for the last two years, he'd learned real fast there was always an idiot or two who ignored weather warnings and found themselves stranded--or worse.

As if his thoughts conjured the flashing hazard lights barely visible in the distance, he cursed mildly, slowed, and pulled off the road behind what he could now see in the beam of his headlights was a small red compact car. Officially off duty, he picked up the mic and called in his location and the out-of-state tag number.

Sherry, the most efficient secretary/dispatcher/coffee maker he'd ever met, welcomed him home. "Hang on. I'll check."

When the radio crackled and she relayed the information, he cursed again. "Thanks, Sherry." The car belonged to one Millicent Morton, age ninety-one, from the small town of Brantley, Alabama. What the hell, he wondered as he zipped into his coat, pulled on gloves, and grabbed his flashlight, was a ninety-one year old woman doing stuck in a snow bank in Montana?

Worry curled in his gut as he approached. The damn car looked deserted. He hoped like hell someone had come along and she'd been taken to shelter, or at least had the good sense to stay inside the car.