“The sheriff said the helicopter would be here first light,” Scott said.
“As long as the snow stops,” Doug said. He moved to stand beside the desk where Scott sat. “What have you got on tap this morning?”
“We’ll hit the usual trouble spots with charges,” Scott said. “That cornice on Baker Ridge builds up in weather like this. We’ll want to make sure to bring it down before we open the runs below it. And we have to hit the slopes above Buttermilk Basin and Tessa’s Trees. We usually mitigate in Creek Bowl, too, but I think we need to hold off on that for now. Especially since the area is closed.”
“Right.” Neither of them mentioned they didn’t want to bury the kid’s body, if it was there.
“Nobody goes into that area without a beacon, though,” Scott said. “There’s not a big slide risk on those slopes, but there’s some.”
“You’ve got six dogs who can find people without beacons,” Doug said.
“They can, but do you want to be the seventh person under the snow if a slide lets loose?”
“You know I just like to give you a hard time,” Doug said.
Scott glared. Though Doug had declared himself in favor of the avalanche dog program at SkyCrest, Scott knew he was getting pressure from people higher up in the organization to cut the expensive, and what they saw as unnecessary, program.
Voices approaching drew his attention. The door to the office opened and patroller Nina Rose walked in, her red golden retriever, Sky, prancing beside her. Nina was SkyCrest’s biggest celebrity, and Scott had worried fans would distract her from her work with ski patrol, but it turned out that the ski patrol uniform—complete with helmet and goggles— rendered her anonymous, which she seemed to prefer.
“Lily called and told me last night about the missing little boy,” Nina said as she patted Hunter, who had come forward to greet her and Sky. She hadn’t worked the day before, but it didn’t surprise Scott that she already knew what was going on. Theirs was a small, close community.
“How is Lily doing?” Doug asked. He directed the question at Scott.
“She’s fine,” Scott said. He had already voiced his objections to Doug when Lily was hired—mainly, that he had had no say in her selection or training. Doug had made it clear that he was obligated to take in any Kingdom Mountain employees who wanted jobs with SkyCrest.
Two other patrollers—David Reagan and Trey Manuel—had also transferred from Kingdom Mountain, but they were different. They didn’t have dogs. Scott had put his job on the line to lobby for formation of the avalanche dog program, and one screwup—say, by a person with a poorly trained dog—could bring the ax down on what Doug still referred to as an experiment. But he didn’t think Lily was going to be that screwup. “She’s working out okay,” he added.
The door opened again, and Lily and Shelby entered. The dog made a beeline for Scott and shoved her nose right between his legs.
“Hey!” he yelled, and pushed her away.
“She likes you,” Nina said, stifling laughter.
Lily’s face was red. “Come here, Shelby,” she said. “Don’t be such a goof.”
“I’d better not catch her doing that to a guest,” Scott said.
Lily turned away, fussing with the straps on her pack, and once again he regretted being so quick to rebuke her. Why did he find it so difficult to relax around her?
One by one, the rest of the team reported for duty—not merely the patrollers who were scheduled to work that day, but all of them. “I figured I could help look for the boy,” Brian Weeks, who with his golden retriever, Daisy, was supposed to be off this week, said. Part-timers Carson Slade and Charli Castro arrived, too.
“We’re waiting for a report from the helicopter that’s doing an aerial search this morning,” Scott told them. “In the meantime, everyone can help with mitigation.”
A murmur of agreement. This was active work that required concentration—just the thing to keep their minds off the missing child. Scott handed out assignments, and they prepared to exit patrol headquarters. Scott left them with his familiar parting words, “Be careful out there.”
THE PATROLLERS SPLITinto teams, each assigned a different area. Lily and Connor were together this morning, their dogs kenneled at headquarters while they hauled backpacks full of explosive charges—essentially grenades—up the mountain via snowmobile to lob onto any slopes that might be holding snow. Other teams would ride up to bomb other slopes, while still others would take to the air in the resort’s helicopter to reach high-angle slopes that would otherwise be inaccessible.
Over the more than fifty years SkyCrest had been in operation, generations of patrollers had learned the tendencies of the snow in every area of the resort. But the constantlychanging weather and terrain required continual reassessment. At Top of the Mark, Connor and Lily dug snow pits to assess the characteristics of the snow. They consulted records and their own memories to determine what kind of charges they should use and where they should target them for the best effect.
They were setting their final charges of the day when a helicopter skimmed overhead, Forest Service green stripes clear on its side. “I hope they find the little guy,” Connor said as he and Lily watched the chopper disappear from view.
“I hope they find him alive,” Lily said.
The lower slopes had to be cleared before the lifts started operating at 9:00 a.m. Higher elevations sometimes delayed opening if more time was needed to clear them, but the goal was to have everything open no later than 10:00 a.m. barring extreme storm conditions.
With so many extra hands, all the runs were open by nine. The patrollers spread out across the resort to post up at various lift shacks around the mountain. From there they would respond to calls for assistance from guests and their fellow employees. Sometimes they needed to set up ropes to keep people out of hazardous areas, or make an appearance to slow down speedy skiers. They gave directions, answered questions, and offered advice to guests, handed out avy dog trading cards and resort maps, and even posed for pictures. Their primary job was ensuring guest safety, but they were also there to be ambassadors for SkyCrest.
Lily reported back to the main patrol office at nine thirty to feed Shelby and take her out for a break. The dogs spent most of their days kenneled, with breaks to socialize and run around, or to run training drills, but their primary purpose was to be ready if needed.
