Perfect Partners

as the nose of the big car edged toward the Jeep’s fender.
    He jerked the steering wheel to the left and took his foot off the accelerator. The Jeep immediately started to fall back, slowing rapidly in the thickening snow. Its left front fender struck the rear fender of Copeland’s car.
    The big Chrysler went into a ponderous skid as Copeland lost control of the rear wheels.
    Through the constantly shifting veil of snow Joel and Morgan watched the Chrysler spin halfway around and come to a halt blocking the narow road.
    Joel put the Jeep into reverse. Then, through the thick mist of white, he saw the door of the Chrysler open. Copeland was reaching for something in the back seat.
    “He’s got a gun,” Joel said. He eased his foot down on the accelerator and backed the Jeep up as quickly as he could. All he needed was thirty more feet, he realized. That would put the Jeep out of sight around a bend in the road.
    Fifteen more feet. He could hardly see the roadway at all now. The only consolation was that he knew Copeland’s visibility was just as bad.
    Ten feet. Or was it five? Maybe the road had already started curving and he was in the process of backing the Jeep straight over the cliff into the river. He turned the wheel cautiously.
    “That’s far enough,” Morgan said. “We’re on the blind side of the curve.”
    “Out.” Joel yanked at the clasp of his seat belt. “He’ll find the Jeep in another couple of minutes. All he has to do is keep walking down the road and he’ll blunder straight into it. Head up that slope toward the trees.”
    “Don’t worry. I’m not hanging around here.” Morgan opened the door on his side and got out of the vehicle.
    Joel and Morgan scrambled through the driving snow into the shelter of the trees. The blowing storm was still swirling furiously around them, providing a cloak of invisibility that would dissolve the instant the wind died down.
    From the shelter of a heavily branched fir, Joel tried to watch the road. He could barely make out the shape of the Jeep sitting in the middle of it.
    Then the boiling snow cleared like fog for an instant, and he saw the big figure lumbering around the bend. Copeland had a gun in his left hand. He found his way to the Jeep’s front window and pointed the gun into the interior.
    “
Blackstone
. You son of a bitch. Blackstone, where are you? You want to know why I ran your pa off the road that night? ‘Cause I thought it was you, that’s why. It was supposed to be you, goddamn it.”
    Copeland’s cry of rage was carried on the shrieking wind. It was the enraged howl of a beast deprived of its prey.
    An instant later Joel lost sight of him and the Jeep altogether in a renewed burst of wild wind.
    “If we get any farther away from the Jeep, we’ll run the risk of getting lost out here,” Morgan said quietly. “This could turn into a whiteout at the rate it’s going.”
    “Copeland can’t see us any better than we can see him.” Joel edged back behind the tree. “My guess is he’ll stay near the Jeep until he can see clearly. This may be the only chance we’ll have.”
    “You’re going to try to get to him?”
    “Yeah.” Joel took the revolver out of his jacket pocket. “I’m going down there. Watch for him. You may spot him before I do. If you do, yell.”
    “I don’t like this.”
    “Neither do I,” said Joel. He took his glove off his right hand so that he could get a better grip on the revolver. His fingers immediately began to get cold.
    He started cautiously down the slope, moving through the trees to where he thought the edge of the road should be. Around him the snow continued to eddy and whirl, occasionally clearing just enough to allow him to get his bearings. He thought about how stupid it would be to get lost out here just a few feet from the Jeep.
    The wind lessened for a few seconds, and the veil of snow cleared. Joel saw Victor Copeland at the same instant that Copeland saw him. They were separated by the width of the road.
    “Bastard. I’ll teach you to mess with Victor Copeland. Who the hell do you think you are?” Copeland raised the gun in his fist and fired.
    Joel dived into the thick snow. Copeland’s shot crackled over his head. Joel raised his gun, but the wind picked up speed again, drawing a white curtain between the two men.
    Joel started crawling forward on his belly through the snow. When he got home he was going to be able to testify personally to the effectiveness of