Chapter Twelve
Friday morning, Lily and Shelby slogged through the snow-choked forest between the avalanche site and Pandora.
They had been out here for hours and made little progress.
At six thirty that morning she had met Denny at a side door of his home.
Like a spy passing on top secret documents, he had handed over the satellite phone and a fresh set of clothing for Jackson.
“Let me know the minute you find anything,” he said.
“I will,” she said, as she stowed the items in her backpack. “But I may not find anything.”
He nodded. “I didn’t tell anyone what you’re doing.”
“No sense embarrassing us both if this turns out to be for nothing.” She slipped the backpack onto her shoulders.
“It’s not that.” He glanced around. They were alone, standing in the light from a single fixture over this side door, darkness surrounding them.
Their breath hung in clouds between them, and biting cold seeped beneath her coat collar.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about our conversation last night—about who could be behind this,” he said.
“I’ll admit I made a mistake, not taking this threat seriously.
I think someone on my team has to be involved in this, and I’m going to ask the FBI to take a closer look at Preston Smith. ”
“That’s a good idea,” she said. “The FBI is bound to have resources the local cops don’t.”
“But this kidnapping,” he said. “It’s so personal. So close to home. It makes me wonder if someone in my own household might be involved.”
Her heart jumped. “Do you really think so? Why would anyone who knows Jackson put him in danger?”
“I don’t know. But what you said—about someone knowing Jackson was going to be at the ski resort that day—it got me thinking. Maybe the kidnapper was guessing—but what if someone here told them about our plans?” He shook his head. “I just don’t want to take a chance.”
“Yeah. I guess that’s smart.” She shifted her feet, trying to fight off the cold. “I’ll let you know what I find, either way.” She turned away.
“Lily?”
She paused to look back. “Yes?”
“Be careful.”
She liked to think she was always careful.
That was one reason it had taken most of the day to get even this far in her search.
She had parked her car a little after seven, tucking it into the trees down the road from the area that had been cleared for parking.
First, she had to skirt the avalanche area itself.
At that early hour, no one was around, though the evidence of the previous day’s work was scattered across the snowfield.
Long avalanche probes stuck up from the ground like the stems of dandelions whose heads had been scattered by heedless children.
In places the snow had begun to melt, exposing the jagged chunks of trees and dirt-spotted boulders.
She and Shelby stopped at the place where they had found Jackson’s pack.
Shelby sniffed around, but alerted on nothing.
The dog wasn’t trained to search for anything other than people buried in snow, but Lily decided it wouldn’t hurt to try her out.
She pointed toward the woods and gave the command, “Go find.”
Shelby tilted her head in a questioning look, then put her nose to the ground and moved into the trees.
Five yards in, the trees were so thick it was difficult to maneuver.
Thick white aspen trunks stuck up like pickets, and the fallen remains of older trees were hidden beneath the snow, dangerous traps for a skier.
Lily finally took off her skis and her pack.
She strapped the skis to her pack, then shimmied sideways through the tree trunks.
Was this why Jackson had removed his pack?
It would certainly have made fleeing through the woods faster.
She tried calling for him. “Jackson! It’s me, Lily!” But the trees and snow swallowed up her words. Jackson would have to be standing very close for him to hear her.
Shelby climbed over yet another fallen tree and came to stand beside her, tongue lolling.
Scott’s words, berating her for wearing the dog out, came back to her.
She slipped off the pack and took out a bottle of water and a foldable bowl.
“I know this is tough,” she told the dog.
“You’re doing great.” She checked the dog’s paws for any cuts or signs of frostbite, but all looked well.
She set down the bowl, and Shelby drank.
Lily took a few swallows of water from the bottle, then stowed it and the bowl.
She checked the GPS on her phone. They were traveling in the right direction to reach Pandora, but was this the way Jackson had come?
He might have tried to head back toward the ski resort.
Or he might be wandering lost in the woods.
Or he might be dead. If he hadn’t been killed in the avalanche, would he have frozen to death overnight? He didn’t have his pack with him, which meant no extra clothing, food or water. His dad said he had spent a little time in the outdoors, but would he know how to seek shelter or start a fire?
The thought of finding Jackson dead made her wish she wasn’t out here alone. Over the years it had been drilled into her how risky it could be to ski or hike or climb solo. But what choice had she had? No one else believed Jackson had survived the avalanche.
She checked her phone. Ordinarily about this time she would be skiing the runs at the resort, on the lookout for anyone in trouble. She might take Shelby out for a run and visit some ski school classes, or even help ferry an injured skier to the clinic at the base of the runs.
Had Scott been angry that she had traded shifts with Nina without checking with him first?
Maybe angry was too strong a word, but he had probably been annoyed.
He always wanted everything to be perfect and orderly under his command.
Too bad he was overseeing ordinary people and not robots. People were messy a lot of the time.
Shelby pawed at Lily’s leg, bringing her out of her reverie. “Come on,” she told the dog. “We have to keep searching.” She couldn’t give up on Jackson yet.
NO ONE ANSWERED Scott’s knock on Lily’s apartment door shortly after four thirty Friday afternoon. He had tried texting, then calling, but she wasn’t answering. Was she that upset with him? He pounded on the door again, harder this time.
The door of the apartment next to Lily’s opened. A scowling man leaned out. “She’s not home,” he said.
Scott stepped back and sized up the man. Mid-forties, bags under his eyes, in need of a shave. “Do you know where she went?” he asked.
“She and her dog left early this morning. I was heading out to for my shift driving a county plow just as she was coming out. She works ski patrol.”
“Right. But she wasn’t at work today. I’m her boss.”
“Huh.” Bushy eyebrows drew together in a sharp vee. “She had her skis and pack and the dog and everything, all loaded into her car. I don’t know where she was heading.”
Her car. But she usually took the shuttle to work. “Thanks.” He turned to leave.
“I hope she’s okay,” the man called after him. “She’s a sweet girl. Great dog, too.”
Scott returned to his motorcycle, but stopped beside it to survey the cars in the lot. Lily’s Outback wasn’t there—so where was she?
She had called Nina at six this morning, and said she had “something she had to take care of.” Then she had left here with her skis, gear and dog. She was worried about Jackson. She thought he was still alive, alone in the wilderness.
A cold knot formed in his stomach. She had gone to search for Jackson—he was sure of it. She had gone by herself, not telling anyone where she was headed. It broke every rule of wilderness safety.
But understanding softened the edge of his anger.
Lily had gone out because she cared. He hadn’t let himself believe her conviction that Jackson was still alive, so she hadn’t been able to turn to him for help.
Maybe his dismissal of her concerns had kept her from confiding in anyone else.
She probably felt she had no choice but to conduct a search on her own.
Hunter hopped into the sidecar, and Scott mounted the motorcycle and started it. “We’re not headed home just yet,” Scott said, and patted the dog’s neck. The first thing he had to do was find some transportation that wasn’t a motorcycle. He’d never make it where he needed to go on the bike.
He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, then selected a name. “Hey, Brian, it’s Scott. I need a favor.”
“Sure, Scott.” The easygoing patroller and his golden retriever, Daisy, had similar sunny attitudes, though both were good at their jobs.
“I need to borrow your truck,” Scott said. “Maybe overnight. Something’s come up and the motorcycle isn’t going to cut it traveling any distance in this weather.”
“Sure. You can use my truck. Is everything all right? Anything I can do?”
“Thanks. I really appreciate it. Could I come get it now?”
“Sure.”
Scott ended the call before Brian could ask for more details.
He started the motorcycle and rode the few miles to Brian’s duplex.
He exchanged his bike keys for the truck keys, loaded up Hunter, then headed back to his apartment, where he collected skis, avalanche beacon, and a pack full of food, water and emergency gear.
He had enough supplies to at least get him to Lily and bring her to safety.
All he had to do now was find her.
He drove to the avalanche site. Long shadows stretched over the snowfield, darker pools where people had been digging, lighter shades where the snow was still untouched.
The cleared-out space where rescue vehicles had parked was empty.
He drove slowly past the lot, back onto the road.
She wouldn’t have wanted to leave her car where it would stand out.
So she would have left it nearby, but not in an obvious place.