Chapter Nine
“I’ll be right there.” Connor headed for the lift. On the chair, he radioed Anders and asked him to meet him at the top of the run.
Calico Hill was a black run that featured a series of roller-coaster hills and expansive views of the distant valley. Connor collected a sled from the ski patrol shack near the top of the lift and traversed a catwalk to the beginning of the run. He spotted the crowd gathered as he came over the first rise. Someone had placed a pair of crossed skis above the injured skier to warn others to steer clear.
He had just moved in to assess the injured man when Anders joined him. Anders made the crowd move farther away while Connor knelt beside the man, who was on his back in the snow, writhing in pain. “I’m Connor with ski patrol. What’s your name?”
“It’s Brady.” Connor looked up at a tall, thin man who spoke. He was dressed in a silver-and-red skin suit, and with his red stocking cap he reminded Connor of a pipe-cleaner figure.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Connor asked.
“I think he must have caught an edge. One minute he was skiing fine, then he just went over.” He made a somersaulting gesture with his hands.
“My leg,” Brady groaned. He was clutching his right leg above the knee.
“Let me see,” Connor said. He laid one hand on Brady’s chest. “Just take a deep breath and try to relax.”
“Don’t touch it!” Brady said. “It really hurts.”
“I’ve got to get a look at it before we move you,” Connor said. He looked up at pipe-cleaner man. “Help your friend stay calm.”
The friend knelt at Brady’s head. “I wish I had caught you on video,” he said. “You were flying down that hill. It was really spectacular.”
Brady closed his eyes and groaned, but he didn’t try to fight Connor and Anders as they cut away his ski pants to reveal the swollen knee beneath. “Classic,” Anders said.
Connor nodded. The orthopedics docs would have to confirm, but he had seen enough ACL tears in his time to recognize one. “Let’s get a splint on it and get this guy transported.” He radioed for Lily to bring a splint while Anders called for an ambulance to meet them at the bottom of the run.
Twenty minutes later, he was skiing down the run, Brady bundled securely in the sled. Negotiating the steep run with the heavy sled required brute strength. By the time they reached the bottom of the run, Connor was sweating and breathing hard.
“I’ll run this back up to the patrol shack,” Anders said, taking the empty sled.
“Thanks.” Connor unzipped his jacket and took a long drink of water. His radio buzzed and he answered. “Donaldson.”
“I’m over here on Maid Marion with a situation.” Nina’s voice was low, as if she was trying not to be overheard.
“What kind of situation?” Connor asked.
“I’ve got a nine-year-old girl with an injured arm. She was injured in a collision with a snowboarder who looks to be about thirteen. The snowboarder is crying. Both fathers are here, and they’re shouting at each other. We’re drawing quite a crowd.”
“I’ll be right over.” He zipped up his jacket and headed for the beginner’s area. On the way, he radioed for all available patrollers to report to the scene.
Maid Marion was a green run in an area dubbed Sherwood Forest which catered to families, with a treed area that featuredcartoon cutouts and a ski-through play area. Connor heard shouting before he found the accident site. At least a dozen skiers encircled two men, who faced off, each with bloody noses. Nina stood between them, glaring at each man in turn. As Connor maneuvered his way through the spectators, she said, “You two ought to be ashamed of yourselves. What kind of example are you setting for your children?”
One of them muttered an obscenity, and the other man responded in kind. They lunged toward each other. Connor grabbed the nearest man by the collar, while Brian stepped up to take hold of the second man. Connor got in his captive’s face. “Sit. Now!”
“He attacked my kid.”
“I said sit! My job is to look after these children, not two grown men who should know better.”
Both men sat, though they were still shouting at each other. Connor ignored them and turned to the children. The boy was sitting beside the girl, tears streaking his face. “I didn’t mean to hit her,” he said, as soon as Connor approached. “I wasn’t going that fast, I promise. I didn’t see her.”
“It’s okay.” The girl, four feet tall with brown pigtails, was pale but calm, cradling her left arm. “I shouldn’t have been standing where I was.” She looked up at Connor. “It was just an accident.”
“Her dad said I could go to jail,” the boy said, and his lip trembled.
Connor knelt in front of the girl. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Stella Chandler.”
