He wanted to pull her close and comfort her. To hold her and tell her he understood her grief. He had lost people he cared about before. He knew that feeling of helplessness, of not being able to do anything to bring them back.
But of course, he couldn’t do that. “I know it’s hard,” he said. “But you can’t beat yourself up like this.”
“You’re not listening!” Her voice rang in the stillness. They were alone on the run now, the shadows from the tall trees alongside the run stretching out to embrace them. “As long as there’s a chance he’s alive, we should look for him,” she said. “That’s our job, isn’t it—to rescue people? Not to leave a child to freeze to death in the woods.” Her voice shook, and her bottom lip trembled.
“Lily…”
She turned and drove one ski pole into the snow and sped away. Shelby barked and raced after her.
Scott let her go. He wouldn’t get through to her now. She would have to come to terms with the situation by herself. She was right. They were supposed to help people.
He hated that he couldn’t do anything to help her.
Chapter Eleven
Icy wind froze the tears that streamed from her eyes as Lily raced, blindly, down the slope. Thankfully, there were no guests left for her to collide with. At the bottom of the run, she stopped and tried to clear her vision. Shelby sat at her feet and looked up, whining, the picture of distress.
“Oh, girl, it’s okay.” Lily sniffed, then bent and hugged the dog. She glanced back to see if Scott had followed her, but the run was empty. Good. She didn’t want to hear any more of his talk of “victims” and “accepting the situation.”
She hurried to headquarters, collected her belongings and headed for the shuttle stop.
But when she got off at her apartment, she didn’t go inside. Instead, she climbed into her car and drove to the Endicott home. The gates at the end of the long driveway were closed, but she pressed the intercom. “This is Lily Alton,” she said. “I really need to see Denny.”
“Lily?” a man’s deep voice asked.
“Is that you, Mike?”
“Denton isn’t seeing anyone right now, Lily,” Mike said.
“Please,” she said. “I need to talk to him about Jackson.”
A long pause. Had Mike gone to consult Denny? She wondered if she should press the intercom button again, but then the gate began to swing open. “Come on up,” Mike said.
Mike was waiting in the doorway as she mounted the steps, Shelby beside her. He didn’t say anything, merely held the dooropen wider, then shut it when they were all inside. “How is Denny?” Lily asked.
“About as wrecked as you would expect,” Mike said. “But he said he wanted to see you.”
She followed him toward the back of the house, to Denny’s home office. Mike knocked, then opened the door and held it for her.
Denny rose from the sofa and came to meet her, taking both her hands in his. “It’s good to see you, Lily,” he said.
She nodded, her throat too tight to speak. Denton Endicott looked beaten and deflated. Deep bags under his bloodshot eyes spoke of sleepless nights, and his shoulders sagged as if bearing the weight of the world. He glanced behind her at Mike. “You can leave us, Mike. Thanks.”
When they were alone, he returned to the sofa. “Come sit with me,” he said.
She sat, and Shelby lay on the floor between them. Denny rubbed the dog’s ears. “Thank you for looking for Jackson,” he said.
“I want to do anything I can to help.”
She waited, thinking he might have questions about what had happened. But he fell silent, his hand stroking the dog’s head, over and over. Shelby sat, eyes closed, clearly enjoying the attention.
After a long while, Lily cleared her throat. “I wanted to talk to you about Jackson,” she said.
He nodded. “You were one of his favorite people,” he said. “He told me all about how you were training Shelby to be an avalanche rescue dog.”
“Jackson is a great kid.” She refused to speak of him in the past tense. “So smart, and interested in so many things.”
“He’s a smart kid,” Denny said. “Quiet, but he’s always thinking.”
