Chase grabbed two orange safety cones from the back of the room. “We’ve got an icy patch on Maid Marion I need to mark before some kid hits it and breaks something.”
“Raz is out with a knee injury,” Connor said.
“I heard. I guess that means someone will need to take her shifts.”
Connor sighed. He hadn’t even thought of that. “I guess so.”
“You can put me down for my next day off. I could use the money. I want to take Cerise someplace really nice.”
“She likes your goofiness. Maybe she doesn’t want really nice.”
“Yeah, but she deserves it, you know.” Chase left, slamming the door behind him.
Connor sat back, the remains of his sandwich uneaten. Chase was set on sweeping Cerise off her feet, even if she didn’t need sweeping. Was that what women wanted?
He took out his phone again and studied the text thread with Stacy. He wanted to wait for her. To respect her abilities. But he was growing more and more worried. Maybe she didn’t need a knight in shining armor to rescue her, but would she appreciate the gesture?
Chapter Sixteen
Connor didn’t linger after work ended Thursday. He loaded Farley in his car, checked Stacy’s apartment to verify she still wasn’t home and headed for Shane’s ranch. He parked his truck off the road half a mile from the drive and hiked in, making note of the campers scattered in the woods around the property. At least a dozen people, mostly young, dressed in winter clothing, gathered around a fire pit near the front of the property. He parked his car behind a line of others and got out. Farley hopped out beside him. He had debated leaving the dog at his apartment, then remembered the way Farley had stood beside him as he faced down Agent Anthony and decided to bring him along.
“You need something, buddy?”
He turned to see a man with a waxed cowboy mustache, insulated Carhartt vest and a pistol in a holster on his hip walking toward him.
“I’m looking for Shane,” Connor said.
“Shane’s busy right now,” the man said. “Maybe I can help you.”
“Sure. I work at the ski resort, and Shane asked me if I could help him with some fireworks he has planned. I told him I didn’t think so, but I felt bad about that. I want to do what I can to help him.”
“What do you do at SkyCrest?”
“Ski patrol. You know, avalanche mitigation, stuff like that.”
The man looked him up and down. “Wait here a minute, and I’ll find out if Shane can talk to you.”
“Sure.”
Connor stood in the driveway, hands in his pockets, until the cowboy was out of sight. Then he continued up the driveway, searching for any sign of Stacy or George.
He reached the house and circled around back, hiding behind a pile of firewood with Farley when the back door opened. A man with a bushy red beard came out of the house, carrying a tray. He wore a pistol on his hip and a scowl on his face. On impulse, Connor decided to follow him.
The man walked up a hill behind the house to a small wooden shed with a cupola and egg boxes on the side. Was he going to feed a flock of chickens? He set the tray on a stump and inserted a key into a padlock on the door. The tray looked like it held two plates and a couple bottles of water. Not chicken feed.
The door opened, and the man stepped inside. “Stay back!” he barked. “Wait until I tell you to move.”
Connor inched closer. He wanted to see inside, but the man’s back blocked the door. Connor crouched in the shadows, watching and listening. He thought he heard the murmur of a woman’s voice but couldn’t make out the words.
Farley whined softly, and Connor rubbed the dog’s ears, quieting him. He checked his phone as the minutes ticked by.
Ten minutes passed before the bearded man emerged from the chicken house, tray in hand, and refastened the lock on the door. Then he headed down the hill and back into the house.
Connor crept to the back of the little building to a closed, chicken-size door. Farley snuffled at the wood and whined, tailing wagging.
“Stacy!” Connor hissed. “Are you in there?”
Silence.
