“Do you have any idea who is doing this?” she asked.
He lifted his head. “I can’t think it could be anyone who works for me,” he said. “Most of them have been with me for years. But maybe one of them said something to a friend or relative who’s not as trustworthy.”
“What about Preston Smith?” she asked. “He’s a new employee, isn’t he?”
Denny sat up straight again. “Mike told me Preston came by the house that night and upset you. But I don’t think Preston would do anything like this. He has an impeccable résumé and is excellent at his job. He passed the background check and received his security clearance with no problems at all. And he’s reported for work every day since Jackson went missing and doesn’t act any differently.”
“Maybe he’s part of a group of people. I mean, if we’re talking foreign governments and spies, maybe they recruited a bunch of different people to work for them.” Wasn’t that how it worked in movies? She reached out and touched the back of his hand. “Maybe you should contact the FBI.”
He sighed. “You’re right. I… I just can’t think with Jackson gone. I don’t care about anything else.”
“Had Jackson had much experience out-of-doors?” she asked, remembering the questions Scott had asked her. “Besides skiing at the resort, I mean.”
“I’d taken him fishing a few times. Hiking in the summer. Why do you ask?”
“I was thinking. If Jackson was kidnapped, he would be the type to try to get away, don’t you think? I mean, he’d try to figure out a plan that would let him get away.”
“Probably. But he couldn’t have counted on an avalanche.”
“What if he did?” She leaned toward him, hands on her knees. “What if he set that avalanche on purpose?”
“How would he do that?”
“If he had read much at all about avalanches, he could have been familiar with the kinds of conditions that make them more likely—steep, exposed slopes, especially if they’re south-facing. Windblown slopes or cornices. He would have known that skiing across such terrain could trigger a slide.”
He looked dismayed. “Are you saying Jackson caused his own death?”
“No! No!”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I don’t want to give you false hope. And I may be completely wrong. But the place where we found Jackson’s backpack—that was on the edge of the snowfield. And there was no sign of Jackson.”
“Adam said the backpack was probably torn from his body.”
“Maybe. But the straps on the backpack weren’t ripped. It looked to me more like someone took it off and set it down and it was caught up in the avalanche.”
“What are you saying?”
She sat up straighter and took a deep breath. “I’m wondering if Jackson got away. Maybe he fled his kidnapper. He shed the backpack so that he could travel faster, and as a distraction. The kidnapper would see the backpack and stop to investigate. But what if in pursuing Jackson, the kidnapper triggered the avalanche? He was caught in the slide, but Jackson was far enough ahead to get away.”
“Do you really think that’s what happened?”
“I don’t know. Maybe everyone else is right and Jackson was killed in the avalanche. But I think it’s possible.”
“Adam Derocher said we might not find his body until spring.”
“In the meantime, what’s the harm in looking for him outside the avalanche?” she asked.
Denny’s gaze remain fixed on her. “The sheriff says he doesn’t have the resources.”
“I want your permission to look for Jackson—me and Shelby.” At the sound of her name, the dog’s ears pricked.
“You don’t need my permission for that.”
“I don’t want to do it without your knowledge,” she said.
“Do you need money? Supplies?”
