“Why’d the pilot come back so early?” Selah asked Ortiz.

  “That’s not ours.” Ortiz frowned, switching his gaze from one face to the next. “Did any of you tell the media we’d be out here?”

  They all denied it.

  Sam had a bad feeling about who might be in that helicopter. Adam Steele was a sleuth, after all. He’d be questioning where she’d gone instead of meeting him when he arrived today in Bellingham.

  Frowning skyward, Deputy Ortiz made a slashing gesture across his throat and then angrily gestured to the horizon. After a few more seconds of circling, the helicopter thundered away, moving north toward the ski area.

  The team of four focused again on the body they’d uncovered. She’d been wrong that the young man had a beard. Beneath his chin was a wadded black neck gaiter. Some people called them buffs. He was clean-shaven, and his face was very young. One diamond stud gleamed from his right ear. His eyes were partially open, and his mouth was filled with snow. One boot was missing. The black down jacket and the flannel shirt underneath were torn off his shoulder. His jeans were intact, held on by a web belt with a leather sheath at his side. A large hunting knife with a bright-orange handle was secured in the sheath by a leather strap, still snapped into place.

  Sam stared at the knife. Why did he need a weapon like that? Had he tranquilized the wolverine, or had he slit Feisty’s throat? Was the blood they’d found around the crate from a fatal knife wound?

  The deputy patted down the corpse. “No wallet,” he reported. “But the back pocket of his jeans is torn, so maybe it got ripped out.”

  “Or maybe they left their IDs in the car, and we’ll find it buried somewhere down below,” Wayne murmured, leaning on the handle of his shovel. “Poor kids.”

  Sam clenched her fists. “I hate them both.”

  The other three stopped to stare at her.

  She felt the blood drain from her face. Yeesh, had she said that out loud? “Well, I don’t mean that I actually hate them,” she backpedaled. “I don’t know either one of them. But they’re stupid kids,” Sam explained. “Selfish, mean kids.”

  The deputy raised an eyebrow.

  “The boy was trapping a wolverine,” she told them. “He had no reason to do that. He killed himself, that girl, and an innocent animal.”

  Selah shrugged. “True.”

  Wayne jammed his hands in his pockets and made no comment.

  Sam had no idea what either ranger felt about the whole incident. The stated mission of the US Forest Service was a mishmash of everything from facilitating hunting and logging to wildlife conservation. Its rangers were dedicated to following all the regulations, and wolverines were not a protected species. And, of course, she reminded herself, the earthquake caused the avalanche, and the avalanche caused the death of both humans and wolverine.

  Ortiz busied himself taking photos and then told the group, “We got what we came for. Let’s pack it up, gang.”

  He jammed the remains of the plastic carrier into his pack, while the rangers threaded climbing ropes through the handles on the sides of the body bag and then attached the ropes to the hip belts of their backpacks. If it seemed slightly disrespectful to drag the corpses down the mountain, it was more efficient and practical than carrying them.

  By the time they slip-slid down the mountain to reach the plateau again, Sam was totally drained. Her entire body ached, thrumming so badly she couldn’t identify any pain as coming from any specific place. Her face burned like it had been scoured with sandpaper, likely the sting of salty sweat that she’d worked up during the corpse-hunting process. For the first time in her life, she was grateful to hear the whop-whop of an approaching helicopter.

  As he had earlier, the pilot hovered his craft a couple of feet off the ground instead of actually touching down. The rangers tossed the body bags into the helicopter bay and then stepped onto the skid and jumped in. Deputy Ortiz stood in back of Sam as she climbed in. A sudden pain shot through her ribs, making her pause as a surging black cloud dimmed her vision.

  “Let’s go,” Ortiz ordered.

  She felt the deputy’s hands against her thighs and then Ranger Wayne grabbed the front of her parka and hauled her inside like a sack of potatoes. She landed on one of the body bags. That felt macabre, but she was too tired to move. Deputy Ortiz climbed in, slammed the door behind him, and they lifted off.

  The men donned headsets again, but for the second time, nobody offered her or Selah one. She managed to shift away from the cold body bag, leaned back against the wall, and closed her eyes against the thunder of the rotors overhead.

  She could barely believe that she slept all the way back to the Bellingham airport, waking only when the helicopter rotors changed to a whine as they slowed to a stop.

  Deputy Ortiz leaned over her. “Welcome back.”

  Sam sat up, embarrassed, and wiped a thread of drool from her cheek with the back of her hand. She slid out of the helicopter, her shoulder and ribs still aching, and then accepted her pack, snowshoes, and hiking poles as the rangers handed them out to her.

  “Thanks for taking us up there,” Selah told her.

  Ortiz nodded. “We would never have found that location without your assistance.”

  Sam surveyed the area around the landing pad, half expecting to see Adam Steele lying in wait for her. Happily, he was nowhere in sight. “Are you going to find the parents now?” she asked Ortiz.

  He nodded toward the two body bags that still lay inside the helicopter bay. “We’ve got no ID to start with, but we’ll do our best. I don’t remember any teenagers on the missing list, but there are several dozen college-age kids. It could take a while.”

  There had been twenty-somethings entered in the aerobatic competition, but it hadn’t seemed like that many. “Several dozen?”

  Ortiz ran his fingers through his hair. “They probably aren’t all actually missing. It’s spring break all over the country, after all. Last year, my own daughter made that last for two weeks. She still hasn’t told me where she was or who she was with.”

  He sighed at the memory, then glanced at the body bags. “Maybe these two are older than they appear. I’ve got some arrangements to make and paperwork to do, and then I’ll see what I can find out.” His expression was grim as he gestured to the driver of a sheriff’s department van to drive closer.

  “When you locate the parents, can I come for the notifications?” She didn’t really want to be there when the parents were told about their dead children, but she had to know why two teenagers might want a wolverine.

  Ortiz’s wrinkled brow showed his confusion about her request.

  “I could tell the parents about finding them,” she suggested.

  “Not now.” The deputy shook his head. “We have to ID them first. But even after we do, it’s not a good idea for you to come. I need to find out where the parents thought their kids were, and why these two haven’t been reported missing.”

  “Can you ask why they wanted a wolverine?” she queried.

  “I’ll give the families your name and number if they want to know anything about the circumstances, as long as you promise to inform me if they contact you.”

  “Of course. And you’ll let me know what you find out, right?”

  She wasn’t surprised when his expression let her know that he probably wouldn’t do that. Chase rarely told her anything about any case he was working on. That was law enforcement for you.

  Oh God, Chase. She needed to get to him.

  “We appreciate your help,” Ortiz said. “Now go home and rest.”

  Chapter 33

  As soon as she stepped into the small airport terminal, Adam ambushed her. He was wearing designer jeans and a soft leather jacket that probably cost more than she’d made all last year. “Sammie! You’re darn lucky we got some good footage of your guys at the site. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She was too tired for this. “I said we needed to talk first, Adam.”

  “That’s why I’m here.” He grinned, as handsome as ever. Perfect teeth, primed for the camera. Blond hair, styled in an expensive cut, and startling blue eyes. Not really her type.

  She was more attracted to the dark looks—Hispanic, Native American. To Chase. Just thinking of her lover still lying in the hospital caused a sympathetic twinge in her side. Or maybe that was just her sore ribs after the strenuous day in the mountains. She yawned, painfully stretching the scratched skin on her face.

  “Nice hat,” Adam commented. “Joining the force?”

  She reached up to realize she hadn’t given back the deputy’s ball cap. “Why not?”

  Whisking it off, she stowed it and her knit hat in her pack, then ran her fingers through her sweat-dampened hair. Why hadn’t she even packed a comb today?

  “Yep, major hat hair,” Adam observed. He slashed a hand through the air. “But never mind that; we need to make a plan. We can get Makeup to fix your face if you’re worried about that.”

  She met his gaze with a frown.

  “No?” He fingered his chin, considering, then nodded and aimed a manicured index finger in her direction. “Actually, you’re right. You should look like you clawed your way out of an avalanche. More authentic. We got some decent aerial shots today, but tomorrow we’ll get up close and personal with the wreckage, okay?”

  “No.” The last thing she wanted was to get “up close and personal” with the collapsed hut again.

  Adam leaned close. “Three thousand,” he said in a low voice.

  Sam winced. She could definitely use that money to restore her house and her computer, but this was making her feel like a low-level drug dealer. “Let’s talk this evening. Right now, I need to go to the hospital.”

  A flicker of concern flashed over his face. “Did you get injured today?”

  She scowled at him.

  “I mean, more injured?”

  She pulled a tube of lip balm from her pants pocket and snapped the cap off. After she’d applied the moisturizer to her lips, she told him, “I need to visit some of the avalanche victims.”

  The concern on Adam’s face was replaced by interest. He looped a hand around her arm. “I’ll take you there. I should interview some of them, too.”

  She should have said she was visiting a COVID patient. “You can’t. They’re in the ICU. The staff won’t let you in.”

  He studied her for a moment. “So, FBI man? Lover Boy was on the mountain with you?”

  “Leave it, Adam.” She turned away, sounding like a dog owner reprimanding her poodle. “Lyft is waiting for me.”

  His expression darkened. “Okay then. I’ll pick you up at seven for dinner and that talk. You have to eat.”

  She sighed. “Six thirty. My address is—”

  He laughed. “I know where you live.” He walked her outside the terminal and then pulled open the door of a waiting car that matched the description on her phone.

  The Lyft driver was a young woman. “Wow!” she said after Sam slid into the car and Adam had closed the door. “I know him from somewhere, don’t I?”

  “Adam Steele. Roving reporter. You’ve probably seen him quite a few times on television. Internet, too.”

  “You’re with him? Lucky you!”

  Leaning back in her seat, Sam touched her fingers to her aching forehead, then realized that rubbing it would only hurt more. “Please take me to the hospital. I’m not with him.”

  The young woman smiled at her from the rearview mirror. “Then can I have him?”

  “You have no idea what you’re asking.” Dealing with Adam Steele was like lighting a sparkler on July Fourth. All bright flashes and sizzling fun for a brief time, then reduced to ashes and gone.

  She had to live in this town. She hoped Adam wouldn’t do anything to alienate the locals or damage her future while he was here. She didn’t want to be recognized as an avalanche angel or anyone other than Summer “Sam” Westin. Actually, she’d prefer not to be recognized by anyone except her friends, period.

  * * * * *

  At the hospital, Chase remained inert in his bed. Sam caressed his hand and arm as she told him about excavating the two frozen corpses with the deputy and rangers. Not the type of conversation you’d want to have with a regular civilian, but Chase would normally be interested. But with zero response from him, she soon found it depressing as well as boring to sit with an unconscious man.

  Admitting that to herself, she then added guilt to the disturbing turmoil of her emotions. She loved Chase, so she shouldn’t be feeling depressed or bored at all, should she? Was there something wrong with her? The lyrics of “Stand by Your Man” kept ringing through her head, as if Tammy Wynette were challenging her loyalty. “Sit By Your Man” just didn’t have the same umph to it. After half an hour, she was so exasperated with herself that she caught a Lyft back home and took a shower and a nap.

  In the now-vacant living area, Blake measured spaces and sketched notes and surfed the local websites to determine which pieces of the furniture advertised for sale on Craigslist might work there. Sam was relieved that he had taken the initiative to deal with the house problems. She certainly didn’t have the energy right now.

  * * * * *

  At the restaurant that evening, Adam continued his cheerful monologue, blithely assuming that Sam would be interested in everything he had done recently.

  “The ski patrol told me they have some camera footage of the inside of the collapsed ski hut.” Adam paused in the recital of his day to take a swig of Merlot. “It’s being delivered to my hotel as we speak.”

  Sam considered. “I guess they could have some. I started off wearing a helmet with a GoPro camera on top.”

  “Fantastic.” Adam flashed his trademark smile. “Handheld—or in this case, head-held—video is always more authentic. So we have video of the whole thing.”

  “Hardly.” She took a bite of her salmon and chewed, reliving her crawl through the building. “There was a cave-in, I nearly got crushed, and I had to leave the helmet and camera behind.”

  Adam speared a forkful of his steak. “Damn it!”

  “Thanks for your concern.” She took a swig of sauvignon blanc to wash the memory of wallboard dust and insulation fibers from her throat.

  He raised a shoulder. “I guess we’ll have to fake it, then. Maybe use a crawler robot, see how the camera can get around inside that building. The place looked pretty well pancaked, though.”

  “Yeah, it was fun slithering between pieces of furniture and parts of the roof.”

  He paused with his fork in mid-air, his expression curious. “Was it?”

  She jerked her chin up. “Well, hell no, Adam! It was terrifying. Not to mention painful. I told you I’d just climbed out of my own snow tomb and hiked for miles to get there.”

  “Good.” He focused on his food again. “You worried me there for a minute, saying it was fun. Drama’s always better. Survival stories are always hits with the public.”

  “Not everyone survived, Adam. What I wouldn’t give to live in your world, where every tragedy is just another story.” Her thoughts turned to the two corpses she’d come across in the collapsed hut. The two buried teens on the mountain slope. The wolverine. Involuntarily, she shivered.

  “People died,” she reminded Adam. “Others, like Chase, are fighting for their lives.”

  His expression solemn for a change, he chewed for a minute before answering. “I know. We’ll do little vignettes for each of the dead. I will do a few interviews with the injured. Families and friends always appreciate those things, and it shows that we care.” After taking another sip of wine, he asked, “Any word on identifying those two kids you were digging out this morning?”

  Had that been this morning? No wonder she could barely hold a fork. “The deputy said they had no IDs, and so far, they don’t seem to match the owners of any cars they’ve dug out. But they have a long list of missing people, and they still have a long way to go to uncover everything. And of course, those kids could have been driving a borrowed car.”

  “Yeah,” Adam agreed regretfully. “This may take longer than I expected.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you with such a problematic avalanche and recovery.” She signaled the server for a second glass of wine.

  “No, that’s okay.” He reached for her hand, patted it. “There’s a lot we can do already. I got some great aerial film today—your guys in the snow and the body bags and all. And I’ll set up an interview with one of the major stations.”

  “Interview?” She wrapped her fingers around the new glass of wine that the server placed in front of her.

  “Everyone wants to hear from the Avalanche Angel.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Then you’d better find that poor woman. In the meantime, I’ll put together some facts and figures on wolverines and other threatened wildlife.”

  The blank expression on Adam’s face told her he’d forgotten his promise to include the wolverine. Always light on his feet, he quickly recovered, though. “Sounds good.”

  From the coat folded beside her on the padded bench, her cell phone dinged. She extracted it from a pocket. The text was from Chase’s nurse at the hospital. Mr. Perez’s vitals much improved. We are reducing his sedation. He seems likely to wake up within 24 hours.

  “Yes!” Sam clenched a fist in celebration.

  “Let me guess.” Adam picked up his wine glass. “FBI Guy.”

  “A text from one of his nurses. Chase is better.”

  Their server, a pretty young woman with long dark hair swept back into a neat bun, hovered at the side of the table. “Dessert? Coffee?”

  Sam declined both. What she wanted right now was ibuprofen and a bed and a purring cat. With luck, she’d wake up looking more presentable for Chase tomorrow.

  “Guess not,” Adam told the server.

  When the server returned with the bill, Adam signed it with a flourish, and as soon as he’d lifted the pen, she slid a blank sheet of the restaurant’s stationery onto the tablecloth. “Could I have your signature on this, too, Mr. Steele?”