Chapter Seven
If anything, Cameron Douglas was more striking in the photographs stashed in Sharee’s closet than in the professional pictures Chloe had found after searching online.
In this shot he wore only swim trunks, and had the flat stomach and muscled biceps of a man who regularly visited the gym.
Again, there was no writing on the back of the picture.
In all, she found six photos—of the woman with the children, the man with the children, and the four together.
This must be Cameron Douglas’s family. Had he given these photos to Sharee?
Why would he do that? She studied them again.
They had been taken from quite far away.
Across the street, maybe. Had Sharee been spying on the man and his family, and made these images for some perverse reason?
Before she could overthink this, she pulled out her phone and dialed her father. “Hey, honey,” her dad said. “I was going to text you later to let you know we got back okay.”
“Thanks, Dad. How was the flight?”
“It was okay. Darinda explained our situation and got us upgraded to first class. The flight attendants were very thoughtful.”
“That’s nice.”
“We’re both pretty tired, so was there something you needed?” her dad asked.
“I have kind of a weird question for you.”
“What’s that, honey?”
“Did Sharee ever have one of those Polaroid cameras? You know, the kind with the special film where the picture develops while you watch?”
“Funny you should remember that. We got her one for Christmas last year. Apparently one of her friends had one and it fascinated Sharee. Christmas morning she used up two packages of film taking pictures of everything. Why do you ask?”
“I, uh, I thought she said something about it and wondered if I was remembering right. You know how the mind throws up such odd things at times like this.”
“I know, honey. I keep thinking Sharee is going to burst into the house, singing one of her silly songs.” His voice broke. “I… I’d better go. I’m really tired.”
She laid aside her phone and picked up the photos once more. The sheriff’s department investigators, if they had seen these, must have mistaken them for old family photos, irrelevant to Sharee’s murder.
Why had Sharee held on to these? Had she taken the photos with the instant camera so they couldn’t be linked to her phone? Why would she have even wanted them?
Tomorrow, she would give these to the sheriff’s department. It was their job to ask questions like this. But that didn’t mean they’d get answers. There was so much she would never know about her sister. So much it was too late to find out.
“DAISY! DARLING DAISY! Oh, look at her. Isn’t she the cutest thing?”
Brian had stepped into ski patrol headquarters Wednesday afternoon for all of two minutes to collect his pack and when he came out, his dog had vanished.
But he only had to follow the excited cries to find her.
Currently, she lay on her back in the snow, while two teen girls rubbed her tummy and scratched her ears and made a fuss over her. Dog and girls looked ecstatic.
One of the girls glanced over her shoulder and saw him and straightened. “Your dog is so friendly,” she said.
“Daisy loves everybody,” he said.
At her name, Daisy rolled over, stood and shook, then trotted to him. “It makes me happy just seeing her,” the second girl said.
Brian recognized her. “Aren’t you Sharee’s friend, Leann?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah.” She shifted her ski poles from one hand to the other.
“I’m sorry you lost your friend,” he said.
“You’re the guy they arrested for killing her, aren’t you?” The second girl—slight and olive-skinned, with big brown eyes and a long dark braid—took a step back and cast a wary look at Leann.
Brian stiffened. So far he had been successful in avoiding any of the thrill seekers and reporters who were on the hunt for “the ski patroller who killed that girl” as he had overheard himself described.
Leann studied him, but she didn’t look afraid, more…
curious. But not too eager. She didn’t whip out her phone to take his picture.
“I didn’t kill Sharee,” he said. “That’s why they had to let me go.
I was as shocked as anyone to hear that happened.
Who would want to kill a sweet girl like Sharee? ”
“I’m not sure she’d like being called sweet,” Leann said. Both girls giggled.
He became aware of several people watching them. One man was scowling. He needed to find a way to keep these girls talking about Sharee, but somewhere more private. “Do you two want to ride up the lift with me?” he asked.
They exchanged a look he couldn’t read. Maybe they were trying to decide if it was safe. “We can cut the line if we ride with you, right?” the girl with the dark braid asked.
“You can.” The line to board the lift stretched almost to where they stood.
Leann planted her poles. “Let’s do it,” she said.
He led the way past the queue of waiting skiers to the patrol entrance. A few minutes later they slid onto a chair, Daisy between Brian and Leann. “Tell me about Sharee,” he said. “I didn’t know her that well.”
“We didn’t really know her well either,” the dark-haired girl said.
“I knew her better than Krista.” Leann pointed to her dark-haired friend. “But we weren’t really, you know, close.” She threaded her gloved fingers through the thick fur of Daisy’s ruff. “She was fun.”
“She was always flirting,” Krista said. “And the guys were always attracted to her. When she turned them down, they looked at us.” She laughed, a brittle, sharp sound.
“I know it’s not nice to speak ill of the dead, but she was a real tease,” Leann said. “She’d pretend to like a guy, then tell him he was only a boy and not her type. I saw her do it more than once.”
“That kind of thing might make someone angry enough to kill her,” Brian said.
Leann looked at him across the top of Daisy’s head. “Do you think so?”
“What do you think?” he asked.
She looked away. “It’s crowded today. Sunny weather always brings out the tourists.”
“Were any girls jealous of Sharee?” Brian asked.
“Pretty much everyone,” Leann said.
“She was really pretty,” Krista said. “And smart. And outgoing. It was easy for her to flirt and talk to anyone.”
“I heard she liked older guys,” he said.
“Like you?” Leann asked. “Yeah, I guess she did.”
“Did she ever date any of them?” he asked.
“Did she ever date you?” Leann countered.
“No.”
“She wanted to. Date you, that is.”
“She didn’t confide in us,” Krista said.
“Why are you so interested?” Leann asked.
“I want to know who killed her. It wasn’t me, so who was it?”
“Maybe it was some serial killer who goes around strangling young women.” Leann shuddered, though he detected no fear in her voice.
“She talked about an older guy back in Richmond,” he said. “Someone she was involved with?”
“Oh, she told you about him, too?” Leann smirked. “She was probably trying to make you jealous. She only ever brought up that guy when she wanted to lure some other man in. Like—‘another older guy likes me, so you should, too.’”
“Any guy in particular she talked to about the Richmond man?” he asked.
Leann waved away the question. “Just guys she’d flirt with in lift lines or in the cafeteria. Tourists. No one in particular.”
“Do you remember any details about any of them? Names, or where they were from?”
“No! I didn’t care, so I didn’t pay attention.”
Right. He tried another approach. “Sharee didn’t tell me much about the Richmond guy, but I got the impression they broke up a long time ago.”
“Her parents broke them up, but she told me they were still in touch.”
“She told me they were going to get back together, but I thought maybe she made that part up,” Krista said.
“Did she ever talk about meeting up with him anywhere around here?” Brian asked.
“No,” Leann said. Krista shook her head.
“Was there anyone she was afraid of?” Brian asked. “Anyone she tried to avoid?”
“You sound like the cops,” Leann said. “They already asked us all this stuff.”
“What did you tell them?”
She blew out a breath, lifting the strands of hair that escaped from beneath her helmet.
“I don’t think Sharee was afraid of anything.
She was always pulling stunts nobody else would dare—she raced Darrell Cooperman down Double Trees in that gnarly terrain up top.
Darrell is the top racer on the high school team, but she beat him. ”
Being beaten in an informal race hardly seemed a motive for murder. They were almost to the top of the lift now, the lift shack visible ahead. “Do either of you have any theories about what happened to her?” he asked.
“They said she was strangled, right?” Krista asked.
“That’s what I heard,” he said.
Leann bit her lip. “You don’t think it was, well, sexual, do you? I mean, some people supposedly like that kind of thing, being choked while they’re doing it.”
“Was she having sex with someone you know about?” he asked.
“No. She never talked about seeing anyone. But it’s not like we saw her away from the slopes. She could have been doing anything after the lifts closed.”
The chair slowed as they reached the top of the lift. Their skis hit snow and they stood. “We have to go,” Leann said, and skied away, Krista behind her, before he could even say goodbye.
He turned the opposite direction from the girls, Daisy trotting ahead.
Had the girls been uncomfortable with his questions because he was a suspect in Sharee’s murder—or because they knew something that could implicate someone they wanted to protect?
Or simply because even in death, Sharee continued to be the center of attention?