Ice by Linda Howard

ribs.
    Maybe Lolly had some other way of climbing down—the old sheets-tied-together rope, for instance. If she was making preparations to escape, then she definitely had something in mind. Maybe the ladder wouldn’t be needed. He sure as hell hoped not, because it was a half-rotten death trap.
    But as he was hauling the ladder from the garage to the house, he looked up at the window again and saw Lolly tugging on the window frame with all her might, trying to wrest it open. She stopped, got another grip, and tried again. From what he could see the window hadn’t budged an inch.
    Swearing again, but this time silently, he revised his plan. He’d have to go up and raise the damn window. No matter how she’d planned to get to the ground, she wasn’t going anywhere unless she could get out the window. He sent up a silent prayer. Maybe the ladder would hold together.
    He had to look up to position the ladder and the icy rain felt directly on his face, in his eyes. A suddengust of wind caught the ladder, almost tearing it from his grip. Getting the ladder propped against the house without making any noise was going to be tricky. Just in case, he mentally ran through the operation: the objective was to get up the ladder without falling and breaking his neck, open the window, get down the ladder without falling and breaking his neck, and position himself beneath the ladder so he could catch Lolly if she fell, so she wouldn’t break
her
neck. Simple enough.
    Oh, yeah: he had to do all that in something like five seconds flat without making any noise and alerting the two meth addicts in the living room.
    No problem, he thought sarcastically. Piece of cake.
    He stood the ladder up, holding it steady with both hands as he let it drop closer and closer to the house, until it settled below the window with a barely audible thunk. It must have sounded louder inside the house, though, because he saw Lolly jump back from the window as if someone had just smacked the glass. Damn it, the ladder ended a good three feet below the window casing, which meant he’d have to climb all the way to the top to have any leverage opening the window.
    There was no point in delaying, so he firmly gripped the outside of the ladder and began climbing, placing his boots on the outside edges of the rungs, where they were nailed to the frame and less likely to crumble under his weight. In just a few seconds he was standing precariously on the top rung,praying like hell, and staring through the glass at Lolly Helton, who stared at him as if she couldn’t decide whether to scream or faint.
    She didn’t do either, thank God. Instead he saw her lips move, framing his name, then she closed her eyes for a brief second before gathering herself.
    When she opened her eyes again, Gabriel held a finger to his lips, signaling her to be quiet. She nodded, an obvious and telling relief washing across her face.
    She’d managed to raise the window a little, after all. He worked his gloved fingers into the gap and tried to lift upward, but there was only the slightest bit of movement. The window hadn’t been painted stuck, and it wasn’t locked, but the old wood had warped to the point where it might as well have been. Tensing his muscles, he tried again, putting everything he had into the effort and hoping that the howl of the wind would cover the noise he made. The ladder wobbled but he ignored the precariousness of his perch and wrenched at the window again. He had to get Lolly out of the house; if he fell, then he fell. He’d deal with that when it happened.
    On the third try, the window popped free and slid upward with a creaking sound. He shoved and wiggled the frame, gaining another few inches of clearance. The window wasn’t all the way up, but maybe this was enough.
    In a quick glance he took in the room behind her; the bed was stripped, and sure enough one end of asheet was knotted around the leg. Then he looked at her, and for the first time saw that one