Stacy drew her gun. “Then let’s see if we can find them.”
Connor put out one hand. “I want to check something first.”
The cold hit him like a slap as he exited the warm truck. Farley piled out after him and ran in a circle. Connor walked out to the lift. The dog quickly caught up with him, while Stacy and Anthony trailed behind. George remained with the truck.
“Are you looking for a bomb?” Stacy asked.
Connor stood under the lift and shone a light into the machinery above. “The fake at Lift Four was in a shoebox, shoved up above one of the chairs,” he said.
“There!” She pointed into the shadows, where a pale shape was stuck.
“That’s it,” Connor said. He moved quickly to an iron ladder that led into the recesses of the machinery.
He was already reaching for the box when she cried, “Wait!”
He froze and looked down at her, her face pale in the glow of her flashlight.
“It might be rigged to explode if anyone touches it,” she said.
“I doubt Shane and his bunch are that sophisticated,” he said.
“But we don’t know. The important thing is, we know it’s here. Leave it and let’s find Shane.”
“She’s right,” Anthony said. “Leave it for the experts to disarm.”
Connor climbed down the ladder. “Come on.”
Anthony and Stacy followed Connor and Farley back to the truck. George climbed out to join them as Connor continued around the building to the small lot where a dozen snowmobiles were parked. Shane’s white pickup sat at the far end, dark and seemingly empty.
“They took two snowmobiles.” Connor indicated two empty spaces in the row of machines, tracks leading toward the slopes.
“How did they get the keys?” Anthony asked.
“You don’t have to have a key to start these things,” Connor said. He lifted the hood of the nearest machine and shone a flashlight inside. “Just disconnect the electric starter.” He yanked a plug loose, lowered the hood again, then walked around to the control panel, grabbed the handle of the pull start and yanked hard. The engine roared to life.
“They’ve got an hour’s head start,” Stacy said and raised the hood of a second machine. “We need to get going.”
She fumbled a little but managed to start the snowmobile and took off after Connor, her father riding behind her. They left Anthony to either follow on his own or await the arrival of the sheriff, provided he could get hold of him.
“I didn’t know you could drive a snowmobile,” her father shouted into her ear as they zoomed up the slope.
“I didn’t, either,” she said. “But it’s not that hard.” She revved the throttle and shot forward. “Where are we going?” she shouted to Connor over the roar of the engines.
“Lift Four!”
They climbed higher on the slopes, past silent lifts like sleeping creatures crouched in the shadows. The mountains glowed silver above them, bathed in moonlight. She glanced to the side and watched, awed, as a fox tiptoed through the snow at the edge of the darkness.
At Lift Four, Connor drove right up under the lift. He shone a light up into the machinery above the chairs and spotlighted a shoebox. The box was black and would have been difficult to spot if Connor hadn’t already known what to look for. “I think they set the charges on the lifts first,” he said. “Before they attempted the more difficult-to-place charges.”
“Where do we head next?” George asked.
“The map I found had X’s on every ridge that overlooks ski runs,” Stacy said.
“Let’s hit the likeliest locations, then,” Connor said.
They had only a short ride before Connor stopped at the base of a cliff and the others pulled in alongside him. Silence wrapped around them like a muffling blanket as they shut off the snowmobile engines. “Look over there,” Connor said and pointed.
At first, she recognized nothing but shadows. Then she realized she was staring at the shape of two snowmobiles, parked in the lee of a snowbank.
