Avalanche K-9 Pursuit

Chapter One

“Hey, Brian.”

“Morning, Brian.”

“Brian, my man!”

Ski patroller Brian Weeks acknowledged the greetings as he moved through the Monday morning crowd in the ski plaza, but didn’t stop to talk. He was due to relieve another patroller at the top of Lift Two after lunch and was running late.

“Brian, wait!”

With a spray of snow, a blonde in a form-fitting pink ski suit skidded to a halt beside him. She shoved her goggles on top of her helmet and grinned at him. “Let me ride up the lift with you.”

“Hey, Sharee.” Brian smiled. “I’m kind of in a hurry.” He started to move toward the lift, but she clutched his arm.

“It’s not going to take you any longer if I ride up with you,” she said, and slid past him to the entrance at the head of the line designated for ski patrol and ski instructors.

Brian shrugged, then followed her and took his seat beside her as the chair slid up behind them.

After all, he had to get up the mountain.

He glanced at the woman beside him, who had only recently turned eighteen.

A sweet kid, with a pretty obvious crush on him.

He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but he didn’t want to encourage her, either.

“Are you skiing by yourself today?” he asked as the lift carried them up the mountain.

“I thought I could ski with you.”

“I’m working,” he said. “You can’t ski with me.”

She pursed her lips in a pout. “Then I’ll ski near you.”

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” he asked.

She laughed. “You sound like an old man.”

“I am old, compared to you.” He kept his tone light. Teasing.

“You’re not that old. Anyway, I’m done with school.”

“You graduated?”

“I’m going to get my GED. High school is a waste of time.”

“You should be with friends,” he said.

“You’re my friend.”

“Someone your own age,” he said.

“I’m much more mature than they are.” She waved a hand in the air. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

He looked away. He should tell her once and for all that he wasn’t interested. But for all her bravado, he sensed something fragile in Sharee Anderson. At the slightest rebuff from him, he’d seen her eyes fill with tears.

Instead, at the top of the lift, he skied away as fast as possible. “Have a good day,” he called over his shoulder.

Thankfully, she didn’t follow him to the ski patrol outpost. He stashed his skis, stomped up the steps and pushed open the door.

Patroller Lily Alton, a green-eyed brunette who was always the first to pitch in to help, looked up from where she’d been adding a log to the woodstove that was the shack’s heat source.

“Sorry I’m late,” Brian said, and took off his jacket.

“No problem.” Lily reached for her own jacket. “Is everything okay? You look out of sorts.”

Brian shook his head. “Sharee Anderson insisted on riding up the lift with me. She doesn’t get the message that I’m not interested in her, uh, romantically.”

“She’s another Patroller Brian fan.” Lily laughed at his sour expression. “Face it, Brian. Everyone likes you. I don’t think you could make an enemy if you tried.”

“I don’t want to be Sharee’s enemy. I just want her to turn her attention elsewhere. To someone her own age.”

“I’m sure Sharee is harmless. She’s a kid with a crush.”

“Yeah, well, I wish she’d find someone her own age to crush on.”

“Maybe the answer is for you to find someone your own age to date,” Lily said. “If Sharee knew you were attached, maybe she’d back off.”

“Got a friend you want to introduce me to?” he asked.

Her smile faded. “Sorry. I’ll keep my eyes open for you, though.”

“That’s okay. I’ll find my own dates.”

Lily left and Brian settled behind the desk. He signed the duty log, then checked the previous entry. Lily had apparently sold a T-shirt and responded to one call to help a skier who had twisted her knee. A slow morning.

He shoved the logbook to one side and leaned back, the chair squeaking loudly in protest. Lily’s advice nagged at him.

Sure, he’d like to have a steady girlfriend, but he hadn’t had great luck in that department.

Women liked him well enough—as a friend.

But when it came to long-term romance, they always opted for men with more of an edge.

Not the preacher’s kid from the Midwest.

The door to the patrol shack opened and he stifled a groan as Sharee entered. “Hey, Brian,” she cooed, and dropped into the only other chair in the small space.

“Sharee, you can’t stay here,” he said. “I’m working.”

“I can see you’re really busy.” She looked at the door where she had entered. “Does that door have a lock?”

“Why are you asking about locks?”

“I just wondered if patrollers ever fooled around in here. Might be fun.”

He was pretty sure his face was red. He stood. “You need to leave,” he said.

“The sign on the door says ‘open to the public.’”

“You’re behaving inappropriately.” He winced at the words. He sounded like a schoolteacher. Or a preacher.

“I’m flirting.” She laughed. “Don’t you know the difference?” She stood. “But I’ll leave, if it makes you so upset.”

She did leave, and he sank into his chair again, shaken. The situation hadn’t merely been uncomfortable, it had been dangerous. Alone in this small room, Sharee might have accused him of anything.

A few moments later, the door opened again and he looked up, heart in his throat.

But it was only patrol captain Connor Donaldson, stomping snow from his boots.

He turned to Brian. “I hauled a new rescue sled up to replace the old one,” he said.

“We’ll leave the old one up under the shack until end of season, in case we need a spare.

” He sank into the chair across from the desk.

“I wanted to talk to you about something, anyway.”

Something in Connor’s tone made him wary. “Oh?”

“Have you thought about getting your senior ski patrol certification?” Connor asked.

“You mean, the National Ski Patrol program?”

“Yeah. I thought it would be useful to have somebody else on staff here who’s gone through the training. I think you’d do well at it.”

“Me? Nina and Lars are both better skiers than I am.”

“This isn’t about being a better skier. It’s about making decisions in a crisis and leadership abilities.”

“And you really think that describes me?”

Brian laughed, but Connor’s expression remained serious. “You could do it,” he said. “I’d help.”

“Doesn’t that require a lot more training and stuff?”

“There are two modules you have to complete for certification, and you can work on them one at a time or concurrently. You could do it in two to three years.”

Brian shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s for me.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself,” Connor said. “I’d help you with the training. And we’ve got some money in our budget to offset some of the expense. And when you are done, you’d qualify for a pay increase.”

“That’s really generous of you to offer,” Brian said. “Maybe later.”

“Think about it.” He leaned forward and checked the log. “How’s it going?”

“Do you know Sharee Anderson?”

Connor shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“She’s a blonde, eighteen. Local. Skis here a lot.”

“What about her?”

“She’s got, well, a crush on me, I guess. She keeps following me around. She was here just a minute ago, flirting. It didn’t feel right, being alone with her.”

“You didn’t do anything inappropriate, did you?” Connor asked.

“No! I wouldn’t.” No sense mentioning Sharee’s comment about fooling around with the door locked. “I’ve done my best to discourage her, but she’s not getting the hint.”

“If she corners you again, go outside,” Connor said. “Tell her you need to patrol, or answer a call. Lock the door and leave.”

Brian nodded. Why hadn’t he thought of that? “Thanks. I’ll do that.”

“You might as well get out there and ski a few runs now,” Connor said. “I’ll lock up after you. If I need you, I’ll radio.”

“Did you ever have to deal with anything like this?” Brian asked as he put on his jacket. “A groupie following you around?”

“No,” Connor said. “But I’m not as nice as you are.” He grinned. “We can’t all have that boy-next-door charm.”

Brian growled and headed out the door. His instinct was to slam the door behind him, but of course he didn’t. Polite manners and friendliness were ingrained in his DNA. He was too nice for his own good, apparently.

“HAVE YOU SEEN SHAREE?” Monday afternoon, Chloe Anderson moved among the crowd of teens in the free parking lot off of the main plaza for SkyCrest Ski Resort.

“I saw her just after lunch with one of the ski patrollers,” a young man wearing a Colorado Avalanche jersey said.

“A ski patroller?” Chloe asked. “Was she hurt?”

“Nah. She was riding the lift chair, talking with him and laughing,” a girl in a pink camo jacket said.

Laughing and talking. Sharee never met a person she couldn’t charm. Especially men. She flirted with any male who crossed her path, impervious to Chloe’s warnings that she could end up with the wrong kind of attention.

She left the parking lot and headed up the hill to the plaza, and from there to the base of the lifts. Two more people reported seeing Sharee with a ski patroller. “Which patroller?” Chloe asked.

“The cute blond,” a girl named Jessica said.

“His name is Brian,” a second girl, Charli, said. “He has a really sweet dog named Daisy. She’s an avalanche rescue dog.”

“The dog wasn’t with them when I saw him and Sharee,” Jessica said.

“What were they doing?” Chloe asked. “Sharee and Brian?”

“Oh, Sharee was kind of hanging on his arm.” She grinned. “He didn’t seem to mind.”

He probably wouldn’t, Chloe thought, as she headed for the base area lifts. Sharee was beautiful, and dressed to show off. Men noticed her, and Sharee liked being noticed.

Chloe pushed open the door marked Ski Patrol. Two men, a woman, and three dogs all turned toward her as she stepped inside. “Can I help you?” a redheaded man with a neat goatee asked.

“I’m looking for a patroller named Brian.”