Chapter Three
Stacy led the way from the office. Connor took a deep breath and headed after her. He followed her to the elevator, even though he almost always took the stairs. As soon as the elevator doors closed, he turned on her. “I don’t appreciate being lied to.”
“I didn’t lie to you. But it would have been foolish, even dangerous, for me to reveal who I was before I was certain you weren’t involved with a terrorist group.”
“These protestors are a terrorist group?”
“Not all of them. Not most of them, even. But we believe there are people involved who have terrorist leanings. We’ve seen this with similar groups all over the United States and Canada.”
He put a hand to his forehead. “Do you mean at other ski resorts?”
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. “We’ll talk on the way to your office, but keep your voice down.”
As they exited the elevator, he fell into step beside her, shortening his stride to match hers. “I don’t understand any of this,” he said.
“First, let me fill you in on what we know so far,” she said.
“The group of people I’m interested in—the ones we’ve been tracking for two years—go by several different names.
The Freedom Fighters, the Society to Save America, the Sons of the Revolution—half a dozen others.
The names don’t matter. There are key figures at the top of the group and a lot of little cells, whose members don’t know each other.
Their usual mode of operation is to find a group that’s protesting some issue, join the group, get into leadership positions, then advocate violence.
The issues involved don’t really matter to them.
They’ve learned how to harness people’s passions to wreak havoc. ”
“Why?” he asked.
“Their stated goal is to remake society by first breaking it down. They talk about it like a cancer—it starts small, then spreads outward. They aim to disrupt businesses, pit community members against each other and leave as much damage as possible in their wake.”
“And you haven’t caught up with these people yet?”
“We’ve identified some but not all of them. We’ve had the best result infiltrating small operations like this one. We take out as many of their cells as possible in hopes of eventually finding the people at the top.”
“Did you really think I was a part of them?” The idea made him sick to his stomach.
“The organization works by recruiting locals. Someone like you, who works for the resort and has access to keys to a munitions magazine, would be a real asset.”
“I would never do something like that.”
“You might be surprised at the people who get sucked into things like this.”
“So you decided to, what—seduce me?”
She stopped and put a hand on his arm. “As enjoyable as that might have been, I’m a professional. That’s not how the FBI does things.”
Was it her hand on his arm, or the sexy way her voice dropped on the word enjoyable that sent a current of heat through him? He swallowed and stepped back. “You think there are people here in this town who are part of this group?”
“I believe so.” She started walking again, and he fell into step beside her. “We have intelligence that a couple of people we’ve been tracking have been spotted here in town.”
“You keep saying ‘we.’ Who else is here with you?”
A frown briefly darkened her expression, then her face became passive once more. “I’m the only agent on-site, though of course I’m communicating with my office.”
“Have you seen these people—these terrorists—here in town? Who are they?”
“They go by a lot of names. And no, I haven’t seen them, but we have intelligence that they’re here.
I’m on the lookout for them. It’s one reason I was at the Trail’s End last night.
I’m also hoping to meet locals who are involved with the protests.
The sooner I can locate the people who took those explosives, the more quickly we can stop them. ”
Her voice snapped as she bit off the words, and her eyes sparked. Connor didn’t want to be impressed by her, but he was. But Anders’s words came back to him. “Am I a suspect?” he asked.
Again, she turned that piercing gaze on him. She had earth-brown eyes fringed with long, dark lashes. Eyes he thought probably didn’t miss much. “Where were you when the explosives were stolen?” she asked.
“When were they stolen?” he asked. “All I can verify is that they were there December 29 and were gone early on the first. But I didn’t take them.”
She nodded. “Doug speaks highly of you, and the whole charade of cutting a hole in a building, taking the explosives and then reporting the theft yourself seems overly elaborate to me. Generally, people who are good enough at this kind of terrorism to have gotten away with it for a while keep things as simple as possible.”
Some of the tension went out of his shoulders. “If I’m not a suspect, what do you need me for?” he asked.
“I’m not sure yet—beyond what your boss just said. I need you to show me around the resort and introduce me to people. I need someone to tell me about the people we meet, especially if they might be involved in the protests.”
“I don’t know anyone involved in the protests.”
“You probably do and don’t realize it yet.”
He stopped. “I can show you around the resort, but I have a job to do. We’re already shorthanded. If I step away, I could be endangering both the other patrollers and our guests.”
“I won’t keep you from your work,” she said. “I can shadow you. What do you have to do this morning?”
“I need to inventory the munitions and determine exactly what’s missing from the magazine.”
“That’s a great place for me to start, too. I can help you.”
“How are you going to help me?”
“If you do an inventory, that means you’re counting, right?” She hooked her arm in his. Her hair brushed his cheek, and he caught the scent of flowers. “I can count,” she said. “I don’t even have to use my fingers and toes.”
Connor eased out of Stacy’s grip. “I have to stop off at the ski patrol office first,” he said. He walked faster, but she kept up, not about to let him run away from her.
She understood he was upset at what he considered her subterfuge at the bar last night, but truly she’d had no idea she would be working with him today.
Maybe she had continued their conversation longer than strictly necessary, but he had been an appealing guy, and she hadn’t seen any harm in dancing and flirting a little before she went back to her hotel room, alone.
He unlocked a door near the base area lifts marked Ski Patrol, and she followed him inside.
The room was dimly lit and crowded with skis, toboggans, rolls of orange snow fence, a stack of orange traffic cones, a row of metal lockers and, in the corner behind a scarred wooden desk, a large inflatable palm tree.
A dog barked from the back of the room, and she followed the sound to a row of kennels. Each was occupied by a dog, some asleep, others watching her with alert brown eyes.
The door opened again behind them, and a tall woman entered. She wore the patrollers’ uniform of black pants, red jacket and red helmet, a blond ponytail hanging to her mid-back. She stopped short when she saw Stacy. “Oh hello.”
“What do you need, Nina?” Connor looked up from where he was bent over one of the kennels.
“Oh hey, Connor. I just came to get Sky to give her a little exercise, maybe run through a few drills while I’m not too busy.” She moved past Stacy to the first kennel, where a red-coated golden retriever stood and was wagging her tail.
“Yeah, I’m taking Farley out, too.” Connor opened the kennel in the middle of the row, and a curly-haired dog shot into the room. Stacy recognized the dog from the photo Connor had shown her last night.
“Settle,” Connor said firmly.
The dog sat, though its whole body continued to vibrate, tail sweeping the floor. The blonde rubbed the dog’s ears, then turned to release the golden retriever. The two dogs greeted each other with wagging tails and kisses.
The blonde, smiling, turned back to Stacy. “I’m Nina,” she said, and offered her hand.
“Stacy.” They shook hands. The blonde was several inches taller and, frankly, gorgeous. She had the kind of high cheekbones and full lips some people paid thousands of dollars to replicate.
“Stacy is—” Connor began.
“I’m visiting in town, and Connor agreed to show me around.” Stacy flashed a warm smile at him. “We’re old friends.”
Nina looked from one to the other. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.” She snapped a leash onto her dog’s harness. “Sky and I will get out of your way.”
“If anyone needs me, just radio,” Connor said. “I’ll be over at the magazine.”
“Will do.” Nina waved, then left.
Stacy turned to Connor. “I should have mentioned before—I’m here undercover.”
His eyes narrowed. “But you really are an FBI agent?”
“Yes.”
“You never showed me any identification.”
She hesitated, then unzipped her jacket, folded down the top of her leggings and slipped out her identification folder and passed it to him.
He studied it a moment, then passed it back. “Why undercover?” he asked.
“I’m hoping to get close to the protestors who are advocating violence and eventually learn the names of the leaders who have moved in from the national group we’re tracking. People need to believe I’m just a regular person who believes the same things they believe.”
The dog at his feet let out a low whine.
“All right, Farley,” Connor said. “We’re almost ready to go.”
“Farley.” Stacy knelt and beckoned the dog.
He hurried toward her, his whole body wiggling.
She buried her fingers in his soft fur and rubbed his ears.
“You’re even more adorable than your picture,” she said.
She looked up at Connor, who was still scowling at her.
“It’s so great you get to bring your dog to work. ”
“He’s an employee, too. Well, an unpaid one. He’s a trained avalanche rescue dog. All of the dogs are.”