Part 29 (2/2)

After only a few feet of careful going, she entered the woods. A solid line of trees uphill kept the snow from blowing too deep here. She no longer had to struggle in the powdered snow that everyone else seemed to love.

She had never heard such silence. Blissful silence. Not a sound but wind moving through the trees and snow settling on the branches. No one nagging her to do better in school, to work harder, to start saving some money, to ski faster. To keep up. Keep up with her mother the surgeon, her father the professor. With Jason, the prodigy. Jason the Perfect.

The cold winter moon lit up the path in front of her.

Chapter Twenty-eight.

They heard the two-stroke whine of snowmobile engines coming toward them, and moments later two machines broke out of the trees. Adam Tocek was driving the first, large and bulky in the protective suit. Norman was tucked into the seat in front of him, protected by the drivers arms, wearing an orange avalanche-dog vest. They pulled up in a spray of powder, and Tocek lifted his visor. Another member of the ski patrol was driving the second snowmobile, which pulled a first-aid toboggan.

The driver tossed a pair of boots toward Smith. ”Dont know if thesell fit, but we figured youd be better off without your ski boots.”

Smith caught the footwear. ”Glad you could make it, Adam.”

”What you got?”

”Woman on skis. Were pretty sure she went that way.” Smith turned and pointed her pole toward the solid line of snow-wrapped trees. ”Shes involved in the Wyatt-Yarmouth and Williams deaths, you know about that?”

Tocek nodded.

Norman showed everyone his large pink tongue.

”Shes not too good on skis, and she isnt out for a pleasure jaunt.”

”Trying to run?”

”Not thinking, most likely. I spoke to her less than an hour ago and she was drinking heavily and close to a breakdown.”

”Can you operate one of these things?”

”Been driving snow machines a lot longer than patrol cars.” She released the bindings of her skis and stepped clear before planting the skis toes first into the snow. While Gareth supported her by one arm, she changed boots. ”Whats happening down below?” she asked, bending over to tie the laces.

”John Winters is on his way, and the helicopter is on standby. Norman and I were heading to the office when I heard the call.”

”Tracks are visible as far as I followed them. She fell at least once. If were lucky, sh.e.l.l give up and wait for us.”

”As long as that moon stays out, we can find her. Lets go.”

Smith told the woman whod come up with Adam to remain here and direct other searchers if needed. Then she pulled a helmet out of the snowmobiles storage compartment, put it on, swung her leg over the snow machine, and settled into the drivers seat. Gareth clambered on behind her. Smith dropped the visor, and reached for the controls to rev the engine. A low mumble came from the row of mountains ahead of them.

”Snowpacks moving,” Tocek said. ”Over that first ridge. Should be well beyond any ground our target can cover.” His machine edged forward.

They went slowly and lay low to duck under the ropes. Tocek gave the engine a bit more gas, and they headed into the wilderness.

The moon threw the tracks of Wendys skis into deep relief. Tocek tried to keep to one side of the trail, to preserve the track in case they needed to backtrack, but the trees soon closed in leaving them without much room to maneuver. Wendys trail started off wobbly, veering off in all directions, rounding trees, turning back on itself, but it soon settled into a more-or-less straight line.

Smith watched Norman. The long hairs at the ruff of his neck and around his ears stood up under the force of the wind, and his nose was constantly twitching as he sniffed the air.

Adam Tocek had to go slowly, keeping his eyes on the trail. He came to a near stop and gave Norman a push. The dog jumped off the machine, gave himself a shake, and fell into pace to lope beside them. The moonlight was good but the forest was full of fallen branches and snow-covered boulders and deep shadows that could conceal a fallen skier.

Norman came to a sudden stop. He lifted his big head and barked. Just once. Darkness swallowed the lights of the snow machines. Ahead, there were no more trees, no more snow. Nothing but blackness. Smith pulled up beside Adam as he dismounted and got off her own machine. Her legs were heavy and the snow was deep beneath her ill-fitting boots. She could feel Gareth moving beside her.

They joined Adam and Norman at the edge of the cliff. The ski tracks didnt waver, they simply disappeared over the edge. Smith reached for the dogs head and felt Adams glove. He turned his hand over and took hers. They stood together looking down. The side of the mountain had been cut away as smoothly as a knife slices off a piece of cake. It was at least a hundred feet, probably more, to the bottom. The remains of the ancient rock fall showed jagged black edges above the snow.

Far below, a tiny patch of yellow lay across the boulders, broken, twisted.

”Call for a helicopter,” Adam said at last. ”This isnt a rescue anymore, its a recovery.”

Chapter Twenty-nine.

Red lights lit up the deep winter night. A stretcher was guided down the ramp and loaded into the back of the ambulance, and a man climbed in after it. It pulled into the street, sirens warning cars to get out of the way. Two police officers watched. A light snow was falling, but there was no wind and the night was calm.

”That was the hardest thing Ive ever done,” Molly Smith said.

”Yup.”

”Do you get used to it?”

”Never,” John Winters said.

It hadnt taken long for the helicopter rescue team to descend into the crack of the mountain and bring out the body of Wendy Wyatt-Yarmouth. Winters had joined Smith and Tocek at Blue Sky, before going back to town to break the news to Wendys parents. Smith, overwhelmed by what she saw as her failure to protect the young woman, accompanied him.

Mrs. Wyatt-Yarmouth had, at first, simply refused to believe them. She insisted that the police had made a mistake. Winters gently persisted and offered to drive the couple to the hospital, whereupon Patricia had screamed and flown at him, ready to blindly take out all her rage and grief. Winters grabbed her hands, and spoke to her softly, until she was spent. Then hed laid her on the bed and called an ambulance to take the inconsolable woman to the hospital. The entire time her husband stood at the window, looking out at the street lamps in the alley. Smith pressed her back against the wall, and felt useless.

”My wife has made friends with Mrs. Wyatt-Yarmouth,” Winters said, fis.h.i.+ng in his pocket for his cell phone, as the ambulance doors slammed shut. ”Sh.e.l.l want to help, if she can. Can I give you a lift somewhere Molly?”

”No, thanks. I need to walk for a while.”

He watched her walk down the street. At first she moved slowly, her head down, her hands stuffed into her pockets. She kicked at a lump of dirty snow. As she waited at the corner for the light to change, she straightened up, lifted her head and held her face to the falling snow. Then she punched the air with her fist, once, and dug into her pocket for her own cell phone. When the light was green, she ran across the street with a wave to a pa.s.sing pedestrian.

She pulled up a stored number. ”Hey,” she said, ”its me.” Hed given her his number earlier, in case she needed to talk. She didnt need to talk, not about Wendy Wyatt-Yarmouth and grief and sorrow. Enough sadness in the world; time to get back to living. ”I havent celebrated the New Year yet, and Im starving. What time do you get a break? Its late so pretty much everythings closed, but we can probably get a sandwich at the Bishop. Want to meet me? Dinners on me.”

”Id like that, Molly,” Adam Tocek said. ”Give me half an hour.”

Chapter Thirty.

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