“You have responsibilities here,” Stacy said. “Plus, you can let us know if there are any new developments at the resort.”
She was trying to let him down gently. But she also spoke the truth. He needed to be at the resort at 5:30 to begin avalanche mitigation, and patrol had a long list of things to do to preparefor the holiday weekend crowds. “Check in with me when you can,” he said.
George pushed back from the table. “Let’s all try to get a few hours’ sleep. We’ll set out at dawn.”
George had declaredit too risky to return to Stacy’s rental, in case Anthony decided to come back there to look for her. Instead, he bedded down on the sofa and said nothing when she disappeared into Connor’s room.
But she lay awake next to Connor, alternately fuming over Damien Anthony’s arrival and reviewing every aspect of the case, trying to see anything she had missed. Connor was restless, too. After a while, she rolled toward him, and he gathered her close.
“Are you ever afraid of getting caught in an avalanche?” she asked.
“Not afraid, necessarily,” he said. “Aware. Every time we’re doing mitigation work, you know there are places where a slide could come down on you any time. It’s an adrenaline rush—keeps you on your toes.”
“It’s like that sometimes with my work, too, when I’m walking into a situation where there could be a person with a gun or a bomb who wouldn’t hesitate to kill me.”
“You accept the risk, but you do the work anyway,” he said.
“Yes.” The work had to be done, and if she was being honest, the risk was part of the attraction—the chance to test the odds over and over again and come out on top, alive. Until the day the odds won. She wasn’t going to think about that. She lay her head on his chest, closed her eyes and slept.
Too soon, the alarm blared, and they all roused and met, bleary-eyed and unspeaking, in the kitchen over coffee. Connorand Farley left first. Stacy and George followed him out, down to a dirty green Jeep with a dented front fender.
“Dad, where did you get this?” Stacy asked as George unlocked the vehicle.
“I rented it from a guy down-valley.” He opened the back of the Jeep and leaned inside. “I’ve got a bunch of supplies we might need back here. We can spend a couple of nights out if we have to.”
“Where is my rental?” she asked.
“I parked it in a storage lot a few miles away,” George said. “Anthony isn’t likely to find it there, but if he does, for all he knows you put it there before you went undercover.”
“You didn’t want to use the SUV because it was too recognizable?”
“I wouldn’t put it past the Bureau to have tracking software on it.” He shut the hatch of the Jeep. “Better to have a vehicle they know nothing about.”
She buckled into the passenger seat and gave her dad directions to Shane Greer’s ranch. The sky had begun to lighten, but the sun was still an hour from showing itself. They drove through quiet streets, passing only a single shuttle bus and a cluster of three people—tourists, judging from their bright parkas and hats—outside a coffee truck.
George cleared his throat. “So you and Connor are an item?”
“Dad.”
“None of my business, I know. But he seems like a good man.”
“You’re giving him your approval?” She couldn’t hide her amusement.
“I’d rather see you with him than involved with another agent.”
“For someone who was with the Bureau for forty years, you certainly have a low opinion of the organization.”
“It can be a good career, with the right people,” he said. “But it’s a hard life. Especially with a family.”
“We had a good life, Dad. I never felt deprived. And you’ve always been there for me when I needed you.”
The silence between them was easier after that. Neither spoke until she pointed out the turnoff to the ranch. “I’m going to drive past and find someplace to stash the Jeep,” he said. “We’ll walk from there.”
The sun was painting the clouds pink by the time they started through the woods toward the ranch house. They hadn’t gone far when Stacy spotted someone in the woods. A man stood before a campfire, next to a tent.
She and her father ducked behind a fat juniper and watched. As the sky lightened, she could make out more tents, a van and one truck camper amid the trees.
Her father tugged at her sleeve and indicated they should retreat. When they were back from the campers a hundred yards, George asked, “Were those campers there when you and Connor visited?”
