Page 38 of K-9 in Pursuit

Bunny rattled off a number and Chloe jotted it on the schedule next to her name, then filled out an appointment card. “We’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Ms. Allerton.” She handed the card to the woman. One pink-taloned hand accepted it. Then she turned and strolled out, the hem of the fur billowing behind her.

No one spoke for a long moment. Nadia sidled up to Chloe. “Now there’s a woman who expects to be noticed,” she said softly.

“Except you can’t see underneath the wig and the makeup and the clothes to whoever really is there,” Chloe said.

“Maybe that’s the idea. We all have our disguises. It’s a way to hide in plain sight.”

Nadia returned to her client while Chloe blocked off the rest of tomorrow afternoon for Bunny Allerton. What was this new client hiding? She thought back to what Brian had said about Sharee being insecure. She had hidden that insecurity behind a brash image. Chloe hadn’t seen that.

But what about Chloe herself? She had assumed the role of a striving young business owner. But had that been a kind of disguise, too—a plausible way to keep from getting too close to other people? To keep from getting hurt?

ALL PATROLLERS AND dogs report to Ransom Ridge backcountry gate immediately. Inbound avalanche.

Wednesday morning, Brian was patrolling an almost-deserted expert run in heavy snow when the call came over the radio. He keyed his mike. “I’m on my way to headquarters to pick up Daisy and a beacon,” he said.

“Ten-four,” Connor responded.

Brian flew down the run, grateful he didn’t have to dodge a crowd. He slowed only slightly as he neared the bottom of Lift Four, and skied right up to the door of headquarters. Before he could kick off his skis the door opened and Lily emerged, her Belgian Malinois, Shelby, at her heels. “Do you know if anyone was caught in the slide?” she asked Brian as he moved past her.

“I don’t know.”

Daisy waited at the door of her kennel, eager to be released. He opened the door, then grabbed an avalanche beacon from the cubby behind Connor’s desk, checked that it was fully charged and strapped it to his chest.

He hurried out again, collected his skis, and jogged around to the back of the building, as Lily pulled away on one of the snowmobiles and Chase Sargeant fired up another. “You and Daisy can ride with me,” Chase called.

Brian boosted Daisy onto the seat, then climbed on behind her. The snowmobile labored momentarily under the load, then roared up the mountain, following the rooster tail of snow flung up by Lily’s machine.

Ransom Ridge was a remote, rocky uplift on the eastern edge of the resort. A single gate—merely a gap in the fencing with a sign warning of hazardous, non-lift-served terrain ahead—offered access to a trio of steep chutes that held snow most of the season.

Looking down from the gate now, Brian couldn’t see anything to cause alarm.

“The slide is about a third of the way down the chutes,” Connor said from behind Brian.

Everyone turned toward their captain, even the dogs sitting at attention. “We’ve got a report of at least two snowboarders caught,” Connor said. “A third boarder escaped and called it in.”

“What happened?” Chase asked. “We mitigated over here yesterday.”

“There’s a lot of loose rock under the snow,” Connor said. “This warming trend we’ve had could have caused some settling and shifting, and then we got all this heavy new snow. The boarder who called this in said his two friends were about two-thirds of the way down the middle chute when everything above them let loose.”

“Where is this friend now?” patroller Raz Rasmussen asked. Snow collected on the ends of her red curls and the tip of her nose, but her expression remained anything but comical.

“He sustained a blow to the head from falling rock and was taken to the hospital,” Connor said. He pointed down the steep slope. “I want the dogs down there on the double to search. Those of you without dogs form a probe line and move down the chute.”

Connor led the way into the chute. They were able to ski the first hundred yards, then encountered a field of icy boulders and slabs of compacted snow that led them to abandon their skis and proceed on foot.

“Daisy, go find!” Brian commanded, and the golden took off, scampering over the rough terrain, ears alert and nose to the ground.

“Help! Help!”

Everyone froze and tried to zero in on the cry for help. Anders’s black Labrador retriever, Darth, gave a yelp and bounded down the slope, half sliding in his haste. By the time Connor, Brian and their dogs joined Anders and Darth, they were already digging around a man half buried in the snow. By some miracle, most of his head had escaped burial.

Connor knelt beside the man’s head. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Paul. Paul Leonard.” The man was pale and looked terrified, but his voice held steady.

“Your friend Dray got free and called ski patrol about the slide,” Connor said. “Where was your other friend when the slide released?”

“Dray is okay?”