Chapter Four
“Jackson is a good skier, but he knows he’s not supposed to ski out of bounds.
” Denton Endicott was a big, burly man with a football linebacker’s build and a slight paunch.
Incongruously, he also sported a black eye, the bruising faded to a yellowish-green.
Though the pictures Scott had seen of him in the media depicted a powerful, commanding presence, worry for his only child had diminished him, hunching his shoulders and reducing his voice to a hoarse croak.
“He’s never even asked to ski that terrain before,” he continued.
“We’re sending every patroller on duty to search for him right now,” Scott said. “The dogs will search, too.”
“Shelby knows him,” Lily said. “She’ll recognize him right away.”
Scott didn’t hide his annoyance at her interruption. “All the dogs are trained to seek out human scent,” he said. “They’ll key in on Jackson, even if he’s fallen or in an area where he’s hard to see.”
“When did you last see your son, Mr. Endicott?” The questioner was Sheriff Van Howard.
Denton Endicott had called him in immediately after telling the resort about his concerns for his son.
Scott imagined that hadn’t gone over very well with the resort’s top brass.
They would have preferred to keep bad news from the public if at all possible.
Even if Jackson had disobeyed his father and headed off-piste, there was a good chance the patrollers would locate him.
The resort was big, but it wasn’t that big.
“We skied together down May Day right after lunch,” Endicott said. “I had a meeting, so I left Jackson to ski on his own. He’s been skiing since he was three and knows the resort as well as I do. He often skis by himself or with friends.”
“Was he with friends this afternoon?” the sheriff asked.
“No. He told me he was going to go over to the terrain park and play around there for a while.”
The terrain park was located off of Daisy Chain, halfway between Top of the Mark and Lift Four. Daisy Chain was also the closest run to the gates leading to the hike-to, inbound terrain. Those gates closed at 3:00 p.m.
“A lift tech reported a boy who fit Jackson’s description passing through the gate near Daisy Chain a few minutes before three,” Scott said.
“We got there right at three to secure the gate, and the liftie told us about it,” Chase said. Beside him, Raz nodded in agreement.
“You didn’t try to stop him?” Endicott asked.
“It’s not illegal to go through the gate before three o’clock,” Chase said. His normally sallow face was flushed, his light brown eyes troubled.
“Was Jackson by himself?” Lily asked.
“The liftie didn’t see anyone else,” Chase said.
“That gate serves all the terrain in Creek Bowl.” Scott indicated a shaded area on the map on the wall behind him. “I’m going to assign a segment of the bowl to each patroller. We’ll do a thorough sweep of the area. If Jackson is there, we’ll find him.”
WHEN THEY EXITED the patrol office, dusk was already staining the sky purple and casting long shadows across the snow.
With the lifts shut down, they had to snowmobile up the mountain.
Chase clapped Lily on the back. “You and Shelby ride with me,” he said, and headed toward the row of snowmobiles beside the office.
They stowed their skis on the back, then Lily straddled the seat and Shelby balanced in front of her.
While the dog was a pro at riding the lifts or even being transported down the mountain in a sled, she was skittish on the snowmobiles, constantly shifting her weight and trying to find a comfortable position.
Lily grabbed the handle on the back of her harness and held on, steadying her as Chase gunned the machine up the mountain.
At the top, Lily clicked into her skis and joined the others standing at the gate—really just a gap in the ropes marking the boundary between lift-served terrain and inbounds backcountry.
A large sign informed anyone contemplating passing through this gap of the dangers of skiing off-piste.
The patrollers studied the snow, with lines of ski tracks cutting through the powder at the edge of the drop into the big bowl of terrain that swept down toward a forest of trees.
Just beyond those trees was the dividing line between the resort and the national forest from which SkyCrest leased terrain.
Ropes and signs along this line declared Ski Area Boundary.
“We should look in the trees,” Anders said.
“It would be easy to get tangled up in there, or turned around.” He didn’t add that tree skiing presented hazards such as hitting a tree at high speed or falling into the well created when snow collapsed around the tree’s roots, but everyone thought about that.
They wanted to find Jackson alive, but they had to be prepared for the worst.
Next to Anders, Darth danced impatiently, then let out a short, sharp bark.
“Let’s go,” Anders said, and skied through the gate and dropped into the bowl. Darth, still barking, raced after him.
The others followed, skiers and dogs spreading out across the terrain that looked smooth and pristine from above, but in reality was rough in places, icy in others, and full of deep, soft powdery snow in others.
The fading daylight made it difficult to see variations in terrain, and Lily bent her knees more deeply to avoid being thrown off balance.
“Jackson!” she shouted as she reached the edge of the trees.
Shelby darted between the silvered trunks of aspens and bounded over downed trees and boulders.
Lily guided her skis in the narrow alleys between trees, sometimes following the tracks of those who had passed through here earlier in the day, sometimes carving her own route.
“Jackson!” she called, over and over until her voice was hoarse and her throat was sore.
She kept her radio turned up, positioned high on the strap of her pack where she would be sure to hear it, certain that at any moment one of her fellow patrollers would radio that the boy had been found.
Maybe he had fallen and hurt himself, or maybe he had become lost in the trees.
Or maybe he had left this bowl long ago and was back at the family’s chalet, drinking hot chocolate and unaware of the fuss he had caused.
She was wondering if she should put on her headlamp when the radio finally crackled. “Return to base, everybody,” Scott ordered.
Lily keyed her mic. “Have they found Jackson?” she asked.
“Negative, but it’s getting too dark to search. Someone is going to get hurt.”
She wanted to protest, but here in the trees she could hardly see two feet in front of her. More than once she had had to extricate herself from a snow-covered pile of branches. She was shivering from the cold, and Shelby plodded along beside her, tongue hanging out, clearly spent.
But first they had to climb up out of the bowl.
She found the track used by those who braved the area during the day.
Connor and Raz were there, clicking out of their skis.
Chase and Anders, with Darth, were climbing ahead of them.
Lily shouldered her skis and whistled for Shelby.
Bent forward, she began the hike up to the lifts, kicking the toes of her boots into the icy snow, following the rough stairs made by the skiers who had climbed out of the bowl before her.
Scott was waiting at the gate, Hunter stretched out on the snow at his side. As each patroller passed through, they moved to the side and clicked back in their skies, then waited, until everyone was accounted for. “Any word on the boy?” Anders asked.
“Nothing.” Scott looked grim. “The resort is sending up a helicopter first thing in the morning to do an aerial search. This area will remain closed tomorrow. We’re going to have someone at the gate all day to enforce the closure. Everyone go home now. Try to get some sleep. We’re back on at five.”
Lily was so cold she could no longer feel her fingers and toes, and her legs ached. But she still had to ski down to the base. She squatted down. “Are you ready, Shelby?” she asked.
Shelby was always ready. She jumped into Lily’s arms, then scrambled up onto her shoulders.
Lily stood, made sure she and the dog were balanced, and skied down.
The other patrollers with dogs assumed the same posture.
This was one of the first things Shelby had learned in her preparation to be an avalanche dog.
Running long distances on snow was hard on a dog’s joints, especially when they were already tired, either from a search or from patrolling all day.
Sometimes they were taken down the mountain on snowmobiles, or in sleds, but carrying them down was often the most expedient mode of transport.
“Watch your claws,” Lily said, as one of Shelby’s back paws dug into her neck.
She put up a hand to a furry haunch. Shelby was a lot bigger now than when Lily had trained her as a pup, but she didn’t mind.
No matter what kind of day she had had, ending it with her dog literally wrapped around her was comforting.
But even Shelby couldn’t completely console her this evening.
What had happened to Jackson? He was such an appealing combination of smart and naive, daring and timid.
Not being able to find him filled her with dread.
Already the temperature was below freezing, and weather reports called for up to six inches of snow.
A little boy alone out there was in real danger of freezing to death.
She and Shelby had trained for months in order to save lives. She felt so helpless now, not being able to do anything.