Chapter Nine
Sweeping the runs after the lifts closed at four o’clock was one of Nina’s favorite times of day.
The slopes were empty and her body was pleasantly tired.
She took it easy, making long, graceful turns down the mountain, scanning either side for signs of anyone stranded in the trees, or resting, unaware that the resort was closing.
Most days she might see one or two skiers making their way toward the base area.
Some days she was the only person on the run.
She often took Sky with her, letting the dog stretch her legs after hours in the kennel.
Sky was with her today and was the first to notice the young man lying in a clump of fir trees to the side of the run. The dog stood by the man and barked when Nina approached. “Hey, there!” Nina called. The man groaned and stirred, then settled into silent stillness once more.
Nina kicked off her skis and hurried to the man.
A pair of skis lay on the snow a few feet from him.
He wasn’t wearing a helmet, only goggles over a green knit beanie.
But she could see no sign of injury—no limbs at odd angles, and no blood or sign of a head injury.
She shook his shoulder lightly. “Hey,” she called. “Wake up. Are you okay?”
His lids fluttered and he stared at her with bloodshot eyes. “Who’re you?” he slurred.
The reek of alcohol rose like a cloud around him. “Sir, have you been drinking?” she asked, even though the answer to that question seemed obvious.
The man propped himself up on his elbows. “What do you care?” he asked. “Are you some kind of cop?”
“I’m with ski patrol. The resort is closing. You need to get up.”
“Huh?”
“You need to get up. You need to leave the resort. We’re closing.”
He struggled to rise, then fell back on the snow. “Can’t get up.” He closed his eyes, and within seconds he was breathing deeply and evenly. Asleep.
Nina looked around. She wasn’t going to shift this guy by herself.
It was tempting to leave him where he lay, but guests had to be cleared from the runs before patrol could leave.
Besides, she couldn’t let the man freeze to death.
She clicked her radio. “I’ve got a guy passed out on the north side of Renegade, just past tower fifty-four,” she said.
“Passed out?” Connor’s voice came. “Head injury? Heart attack?”
“I’m pretty sure he’s trying to sleep off some drinking under a tree. I can’t budge him.”
“Great. I’ll send a couple of folks over with a toboggan.”
“Bring a snowmobile. This guy’s pretty big. You don’t want to haul him by hand if you can help it.”
She sat back and waited, ignoring the soft snores emanating from her companion in favor of watching the fading light over the trees to the west. Only a few minutes passed before the familiar roar of a snowmobile announced the arrival of Chase and Connor.
Chase, a quick, sharp-featured young man with a wicked sense of humor, made his way to the man’s side.
“He looks pretty peaceful lying there,” he said. “Maybe we should just leave him.”
“Can’t let him freeze to death.” Connor shook the man’s shoulder. “Get up, buddy. You can’t sleep here.”
The man groaned and batted Connor’s hand away. Connor straightened. “We’re going to have to drag him into the sled.”
“I’ll get the feet if you two take the shoulders,” Nina said.
But shifting the man was like trying to drag clothes filled with cement. “Talk about a dead weight,” Chase said.
“It’s like he’s welded to the ground,” Nina said.
“Okay, we’re going to have to drag him onto the run,” Connor said. “He’s not hurt, and in his state he’s not going to feel anything, so Chase, you get one leg and I’ll get the other. Nina, watch his head, make sure he doesn’t hit a rock or anything.”
Five minutes later, they had the man laid out on the ski run. He was still breathing deeply, snoring softly. “Should we be concerned that he’s not waking up?” Chase asked.
“We’ll need to watch him on the way down and make sure he doesn’t start vomiting,” Connor said. “If that happens, we’ll have to turn him on his side, ASAP. I’ll call an ambulance and let them deal with him.”
They managed to drag the man into the toboggan and secure him. Nina agreed to ski behind the snowmobile and watch to make sure the man didn’t take a turn for the worse. They had a peaceful ride down, and the ambulance arrived shortly after.
Nina and Sky hurried to Liam’s hotel room. “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “We had to deal with a passed-out drunk.”
“Passed out where?”
“Under a tree on the side of the run. He wouldn’t move, so we had to transport him down in a sled. We called an ambulance and now he’s their problem.”
“Does that happen very often?”
“We run into people who’ve been partying a little too hard,” she said.
“We pull their pass and send them away in the care of family or friends. But if they get into an accident, they can face criminal charges. There’s kind of a famous case of a guy in Vail, a former ski racer, who was convicted of criminally negligent homicide after he collided with another skier, who died. ”
“I’m glad that wasn’t the case this time,” he said. “Did you see anyone suspicious today?”
She shook her head. “No. And no notes or graffiti. It’s probably too much to hope for that Nicholson has moved on, but I was glad for a break.”
“Do you want to put off looking at my footage, then?” he asked.
She sat up straighter. “You found something?”
“Maybe. I’d like to see what you think.”
“Yes, I want to see.”
“Pull your chair over here.” He made room for her and opened a file on his computer while she settled in. Both dogs were sharing a dog bed, relaxed but watching them. “You have a lot of admirers,” he said. “For instance, there’s this cutie.”
He pulled up a photo of a tiny girl, perhaps three years old, who stared with her mouth slightly open, small fingers engulfed by the hand of an adult half out of the frame. “She’s in a couple of shots the first day we filmed,” Liam said.
“I don’t think we have to worry she’s writing those notes,” Nina said. “Anyone else suspicious?”
“I’m a little concerned about this guy. He’s in at least four shots over two days.” He pulled up a shot of a man in gray pants, a black jacket and a gray helmet, his face clearly visible in this photo as he stood alongside a ski run.
“That’s Derek from the gyro truck,” Nina said.
“And he’s definitely staring at you,” Liam said.
She hugged her arms across her chest. “I can’t believe Derek would want to hurt me.” But she had thought that about Nicholson at first, too, hadn’t she? “Is there anyone else suspicious?”
“There’s one more guy who drew my attention.” He clicked to another file. “These images are pretty grainy. You’re not going to see much, but look at them all before you pass judgment.”
“All right.”
He clicked on the first shot. She couldn’t make out the person’s face, or tell much beyond the fact that he was standing alone and wore black ski pants and a black jacket and helmet. “You couldn’t get more plain than that,” she said.
“Maybe that’s the idea.” He selected a second image and opened it. “This one was taken about an hour later, on a different run. Same guy, I think.”
She squinted at the fuzzy image. “Maybe.”
“There’s a decal on the side of his helmet,” Liam said. “I was able to zoom in on it in another shot and it’s advertising Mt. Hood Meadows.”
“That’s in Oregon,” she said. “If it is Nicholson, what was he doing in Oregon?”
“Maybe he bought the helmet used.”
She nodded. “He probably bought all his gear used. Maybe at a store right here in town.”
He opened another picture. This one was much clearer.
The same man was standing by himself, his head turned to the side.
In addition to the helmet and goggles, most of his face was covered by a black fleece neck gaiter pulled up to just under his nose.
“You can’t see any of his features,” Nina said. “But it’s the same man, I think.”
“Check the sticker on the helmet. It’s Mt. Hood Meadows.”
“I’ve never noticed that one before,” she said. “At least not as the only sticker on the helmet. Some people collect them from every resort they’ve skied at. Is he staring at me?”
“He is,” Liam said. “This was taken yesterday morning. The last shot is from the video we took with the ski school kids. I was upset about the dad who was so focused on you, but when I reviewed the footage, this man was in the background, across the slope.” He pulled up the image.
Like the first, it was less clear, the sticker on the helmet only a white blur.
But the man was by himself, turned toward Nina and the children.
She sat back. “The height seems right,” she said. “And the general build. I wish we could see his face better.”
“We’ve got the sticker on the helmet. That’s a lot easier for other people to spot.”
“Ski patrol can stop him. Especially if they see him watching me, or anyone else. Believe it or not, we’re on the lookout for people who do that—guys who harass women, or ones who spend too much time hanging around the ski school kids.
You have to watch for stuff like that these days. ” She sighed. “But we can’t hold him.”
“But they could call resort security, right? And maybe the sheriff?”
“Maybe.”
“Do you still have that deputy’s business card?” he asked her.
“Sure.” She retrieved her pack and fished out the card.
“I’m going to send these files to him and explain we believe this man could be your stalker.”
“I doubt the sheriff’s department will do anything about him,” she said.
“But if the resort calls the sheriff with a complaint, they can put two and two together,” he said. He began typing. “More importantly, you and I have someone to watch for now. If I see this guy, I’m going to make sure he knows if he doesn’t stay away from you he’s going back to prison.”
“For what?” she asked.
“For violating his parole.”
“Right.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand why no one told me that before. You were the first person to mention it.”