She followed him as he dropped into the bowl. As usual, the beauty of his effortless turns mesmerized her. In the flat light, she didn’t notice the bump until she hit the edge and went flying. Arms windmilling, she caught her balance just in time to avoid a face-plant. When she reached his side where he waited for her near some trees, she was out of breath and shaking.
“Nice save.” He flashed a smile in the gloom.
Heat crept up her neck. “You saw that?”
“I caught the tail end of your performance when I glanced back to check where you were. I thought I was going to have to hike back up to dig you out.”
“I’m glad I saved you the trouble.”
He squeezed her arm then turned to gaze out across the mountain. Barely visible against the darkening sky, the Olympic Lady chairlift carried a final few skiers toward the top of East Face.
“I wouldn’t have minded.” He glanced down at her and grinned. “This afternoon has been the most fun I’ve had in weeks. Sharing it with you made the day even better.”
When his hand fell away, she adjusted her pole straps. “I’m not exactly in your league.”
“You’re not half bad. Your technique could use a little work, but overall… What the hell?”
Hannah glanced up. “What’s wrong?”
“Two people on the final occupied chair—shit! Did you see that?”
Something dark against the sky plummeted toward the ground then disappeared from view.
She pressed a hand to her lips. “Oh, my God, did someone just fall off that chair?”
“Looked like it. Or the person was pushed. Movement on the chair attracted my attention in the first place. They could have been fighting, or maybe it was kids goofing around.” He turned and shoved off. “Let’s go.”
Heart thumping, Hannah followed as best she could, but Tripp was flying across the snow. When he skied out of sight, she bit her lip and stopped near an outcropping of rocks. “Tripp?”
“I’m down here.”
She sidestepped up to the rocks and peered over the top. Tripp stood a short distance away, hands fisted on his hips.
He waved toward the chairlift moving silently high above them. “The skier would have fallen right down there into those rocks, but I don’t see anything.”
“Maybe he’s buried in the snow. Shouldn’t we call ski patrol?”
“I want to give them an exact location, if I can. Anyway, we’re a hell of a lot closer. I’ll head down to check it out.”
“Tripp! You can’t ski between those rocks.”
He glanced back at her. “Sure, I can.”
“Your shoulder—”
“If the person who fell is still alive, time is critical. You can ski down to the lift shack and tell the attendant to radio for help. That’ll be faster than calling 9-1-1. I’ll meet you down there as soon as I can.”
“Okay, but, be careful.”
Hannah’s legs shook as she sidestepped a few yards to get back onto the run before heading down the mountain, skiing with caution in the fading light. She sure wouldn’t get there any faster if she took a tumble. When she reached the lift shack, the little building was deserted, but a snowboard leaned against one wall. She called out then stood with her fists planted on her hips, waiting for a response. Where the hell had the attendant gone? If his radio was still in the shack, maybe…
When a swoosh sounded above her, heart in her throat, she spun around on her skis. “What the…?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Not the attendant. Tripp.
Relief filled her, and she let out a breath. “Did you find the skier?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. Not a damn thing but a sunken spot in the snow and some track marks that could have been made any time since the last storm.”
Hannah frowned. “Do you think whoever fell off the chair got up and skied away?”
“I don’t see how. That was a hell of a long drop. He would have broken half the bones in his body on those rocks.” Tripp glanced toward the shack. “Where’s the attendant?”
“No one’s here. I was going to go check for a radio when you showed up.”
“Let’s… Hey, where the hell have you been?”
A uniformed man, probably in his early twenties, tromped through the snow out of a nearby stand of trees. An unmistakable odor clung to him.
“What’s the problem? I was…uh…taking a leak.”
“More like smoking a joint,” Tripp muttered. He waited for the man to reach them before speaking again. “We saw someone fall off the last occupied chair.”
The man’s brown eyes widened. “Shit. No way! Did you call for help?”
“Not yet. I went looking for a body but didn’t find anything.”
The kid’s shoulders slumped. “It’s pretty dark. Maybe the last guy dropped his board or something. That could be what you saw.”
“I don’t think so. There were two people on the chair.”
He scratched the scraggly beard decorating his chin. “You sure? The last two chairs I loaded were singles.”
“I noticed the two singles then a good-sized gap before the final chair.” Tripp glanced over at Hannah. “Right?”
She nodded. “I think so. I wasn’t really looking until you yelled.”
“Maybe you were mistaken. If you didn’t find anyone…” The attendant shrugged.
Tripp pressed his lips tight. “I wasn’t seeing things. Did you get a good look at the last skiers?”
“They were both boarders, I think. I was on my phone and not paying much attention. Then I headed into the woods to, uh…pee.”
Tripp snorted. “Terrific.”
“I’ll report what you saw to ski patrol. Where do you think this guy fell?”
Hannah turned away while Tripp gave him specific details. Above them, a hint of movement in the trees caught her attention. A frown drew her brows together. Maybe she’d imagined that flash of blue.
She nudged Tripp’s elbow. “I thought I saw someone in blue up there.”
The lift op glanced up the slope. “Maybe a skier crossing through on Champs Elysees? No one’s up there now. Are you sure?”
Tripp stared toward the trees. “If someone was up there, he must have headed over toward Red Dog. I’m going to haul ass down to the bottom to see if I can catch him. Maybe it’s the person who was on that final chair.”
“Fine, but you’d better stick around to talk to ski patrol after you do. They’ll want a firsthand account.”
He glanced at the attendant and nodded. “Sure. Let’s go, Hannah.”
Hannah quit trying to keep up with Tripp’s breakneck pace after the first twenty seconds. The cold breeze stung her cheeks as she focused on where she was going and breathed a sigh of relief when the steep terrain level out. As she approached the bottom of the hill, she searched for Tripp’s neon-green helmet. He was standing near the gondola, talking to a woman who carried a snowboard. As Hannah skied up, the boarder walked away, headed toward the village.
“Any luck?”
He wiggled his gloved hand back and forth. “Carrie was on the chairlift. I’ve met