“You keep saying ‘we.’ Who else is here with you?”
A frown briefly darkened her expression, then her face became passive once more. “I’m the only agent on-site, though of course I’m communicating with my office.”
“Have you seen these people—these terrorists—here in town? Who are they?”
“They go by a lot of names. And no, I haven’t seen them, but we have intelligence that they’re here. I’m on the lookout for them. It’s one reason I was at the Trail’s End last night. I’m also hoping to meet locals who are involved with the protests. The sooner I can locate the people who took those explosives, the more quickly we can stop them.”
Her voice snapped as she bit off the words, and her eyes sparked. Connor didn’t want to be impressed by her, but he was. But Anders’s words came back to him. “Am I a suspect?” he asked.
Again, she turned that piercing gaze on him. She had earth-brown eyes fringed with long, dark lashes. Eyes he thought probably didn’t miss much. “Where were you when the explosives were stolen?” she asked.
“When were they stolen?” he asked. “All I can verify is that they were there December 29 and were gone early on the first. But I didn’t take them.”
She nodded. “Doug speaks highly of you, and the whole charade of cutting a hole in a building, taking the explosives and then reporting the theft yourself seems overly elaborate to me. Generally, people who are good enough at this kind of terrorism to have gotten away with it for a while keep things as simple as possible.”
Some of the tension went out of his shoulders. “If I’m not a suspect, what do you need me for?” he asked.
“I’m not sure yet—beyond what your boss just said. I need you to show me around the resort and introduce me to people. I needsomeone to tell me about the people we meet, especially if they might be involved in the protests.”
“I don’t know anyone involved in the protests.”
“You probably do and don’t realize it yet.”
He stopped. “I can show you around the resort, but I have a job to do. We’re already shorthanded. If I step away, I could be endangering both the other patrollers and our guests.”
“I won’t keep you from your work,” she said. “I can shadow you. What do you have to do this morning?”
“I need to inventory the munitions and determine exactly what’s missing from the magazine.”
“That’s a great place for me to start, too. I can help you.”
“How are you going to help me?”
“If you do an inventory, that means you’re counting, right?” She hooked her arm in his. Her hair brushed his cheek, and he caught the scent of flowers. “I can count,” she said. “I don’t even have to use my fingers and toes.”
Connor eased outof Stacy’s grip. “I have to stop off at the ski patrol office first,” he said. He walked faster, but she kept up, not about to let him run away from her.
She understood he was upset at what he considered her subterfuge at the bar last night, but truly she’d had no idea she would be working with him today. Maybe she had continued their conversation longer than strictly necessary, but he had been an appealing guy, and she hadn’t seen any harm in dancing and flirting a little before she went back to her hotel room, alone.
He unlocked a door near the base area lifts marked Ski Patrol, and she followed him inside. The room was dimly lit and crowded with skis, toboggans, rolls of orange snow fence, a stack of orange traffic cones, a row of metal lockers and, in the corner behind a scarred wooden desk, a large inflatable palm tree.
A dog barked from the back of the room, and she followed the sound to a row of kennels. Each was occupied by a dog, some asleep, others watching her with alert brown eyes.
The door opened again behind them, and a tall woman entered. She wore the patrollers’ uniform of black pants, red jacket and red helmet, a blond ponytail hanging to her mid-back. She stopped short when she saw Stacy. “Oh hello.”
“What do you need, Nina?” Connor looked up from where he was bent over one of the kennels.
“Oh hey, Connor. I just came to get Sky to give her a little exercise, maybe run through a few drills while I’m not too busy.” She moved past Stacy to the first kennel, where a red-coated golden retriever stood and was wagging her tail.
“Yeah, I’m taking Farley out, too.” Connor opened the kennel in the middle of the row, and a curly-haired dog shot into the room. Stacy recognized the dog from the photo Connor had shown her last night.
“Settle,” Connor said firmly.
The dog sat, though its whole body continued to vibrate, tail sweeping the floor. The blonde rubbed the dog’s ears, then turned to release the golden retriever. The two dogs greeted each other with wagging tails and kisses.
The blonde, smiling, turned back to Stacy. “I’m Nina,” she said, and offered her hand.
“Stacy.” They shook hands. The blonde was several inches taller and, frankly, gorgeous. She had the kind of high cheekbones and full lips some people paid thousands of dollars to replicate.
