Page 46 of K-9 in Pursuit

“Maybe the sheriff’s investigators will find her and discover who her accomplice is.” She crunched a cracker, then continued. “I’ve been thinking about the idea that Sharee might have gotten involved with a tourist. Someone here short term. If he killed her, we might never find him if someone didn’t see them together or provide a way to connect them.”

“So, Sharee flirted with this man, they agreed to meet, and he killed her before they had sex?” Brian asked.

“The sheriff didn’t say she hadn’t had sex, only that she hadn’t been raped.”

Brian shook his head. “If she’d had sex, they would have tested for DNA. They would have been looking for mine. Finding someone else’s DNA would have cleared me, and that hasn’t happened yet.”

“I’ll talk to the sheriff’s office again, and see what I can find out,” she said. “Have you had a chance to talk to Darrell Cooperman?”

“I haven’t forgotten about him,” Brian said. “Ski racers will be training on the mountain tomorrow. I’m hoping I can get him aside to talk then.”

“Then we both have things to do that might move the case forward.” She stood. “Let me help you with these dishes,” she said.

“No.” He took the bowl she was holding and put it in the sink with his. “You look exhausted. Go to bed. I put out some of my things you can wear.”

She wanted to argue, but he was right—exhaustion dragged at her like an iron weight. “Thanks,” she said, and moved past him to the bedroom. She lay on the bed, the sheets soft and smelling faintly of the soap she associated with him. She intended to rest for only a few minutes before going into the bathroom to shower. Instead, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, and didn’t wake until morning.

“YOU’RE AWFULLY QUIET this morning. Everything okay?”

Brian glanced over to where Nina crouched down, adjusting the harness of her red golden retriever, Sky, while Daisy danced around them. “I’m fine,” he said, and shrugged into his pack. Morning meeting had just broken up, leaving him and Nina alone at headquarters.

“You were sitting there, staring into space,” she said.

He had been thinking about Chloe. Specifically, the kiss they had shared last night. “I didn’t sleep well,” he said. Thoughts of Chloe, and how that kiss might have progressed to more, had kept him tossing and turning. Had she kissed him because she really liked him, or merely because she was stressed and seeking release? He had stopped them before things got out of hand because he didn’t want to increase the risk of law enforcement adding her to their suspect list. But if they learned she had spent the night at his place they would probably assume the two had shared more than a kiss, so had he been foolish not to let the evening play out?

“I’m sorry you’re having to deal with all this,” Nina said. She stood and Sky shook, her harness jingling. “If people really knew you, they’d understand you couldn’t have hurt that girl.”

“Thanks for that.” He followed her and the dogs out of the gloom of the office to brilliant sunshine on pristine snow. Even at this early hour a line had formed at Lift Four. They skied past the waiting visitors and loaded onto the next free chair, the dogs between them. As the chair traveled up the mountain, he tried to focus on scanning the runs below, determined to get his head in the right place for work. He looked for potential hazards or any problem situations but thankfully spotted none. Everyone was skiing safely and enjoying the beautiful day. He should concentrate on doing the same.

Every week ski patrol blocked off one or two runs on Thursdays for ski race practice. The high school team as well as local youth clubs utilized the training ground for slalom and downhill practice, and several times a year they hosted races.

Brian and Daisy said goodbye to Nina and Sky and headed to race practice. He spotted Darrell Cooperman at the top of the run with a group of other high schoolers. The tall, dark-haired young man stood out from the others in his green-and-black skin suit, showcasing broad shoulders and powerful thighs. His custom skis featured his last name emblazoned on the bottom, making him easy to spot as he stood cradling the skis a short distance from the start line.

“Come on, Daisy,” Brian called the dog, who had wandered over to be petted by a trio of teens. The dog trotted over and followed Brian as he skied past the group, then headed to a parallel run that would take him to the bottom of the race course. From there, he waited for Cooperman to come down. He stood a short distance from a group of coaches, who critiqued each skier as they navigated the narrow racecourse.

When it was Cooperman’s turn, the attention of the judges, and many of the spectators as well, sharpened. Conversation ceased as the green-and-black-clad figure burst through the starting gate with the force of a fired arrow. He was a quarter of the way down the course before he angled his body to execute his first turn, as required by the layout of the course. Then he went into a tuck and sailed over the first hill, soaring at least twenty feet before landing with an impact hard enough to be heard at the bottom of the course. The young man momentarily disappeared in a fog of snow, then emerged on the edges of his skis and guided them expertly across the finish line, to a chorus of shouts and whistles.

He braked hard at the bottom and stepped out of his skis, hoisted them and acknowledged his fans, then strode to the coaches, who greeted him with praise. “Great run, Darrell.”

“You shaved three-hundredths of a second off your best time.”

“Good save on that hard landing, but put more bend in your legs next time for more propulsive force on takeoff.”

Darrell listened and nodded, then turned away as the next racer started down the hill.

Brian, Daisy beside him, moved out so that Darrell had to wait for him to cross in front of him. Brian stopped. “Great run,” he said. “I enjoyed watching you.”

“Thanks.” He grinned, which made him look more boyish.

“You ever get tired of racing, ski patrol could use someone with your skills,” Brian said. Not exactly true. Patrollers had to be competent skiers, but most of their training involved outdoor emergency care, learning to transport the injured by various means and even conflict resolution to deal with unruly customers.

“That would be a cool job,” Darrell said. “Skiing all day.” He looked down at Daisy, who wagged her tail and grinned up at him. “And you get to take your dog to work.”

“She’s working, too,” Brian said. “Just the other day she helped rescue a guy in an avalanche.”

“Sweet.”

Brian leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I know you’re busy training and all, but I wanted to ask you. Did you know that girl who was killed—Sharee Anderson?”