Page 24

They gathered around the map in the resort's operations center, the storm's constant howl a reminder of what waited outside. Michael outlined possible search patterns while Sheila made notes, trying to work out how to cover the most ground with limited people and time.

"We need more bodies," she said, frowning at the map's vast empty spaces. She traced her finger along a service road that wound past several abandoned structures—remnants of the resort's early days when this had been prime real estate for winter tourism.

"Found some volunteers," Tommy called from the doorway. Diana Pierce stood beside him, along with three maintenance workers in heavy winter gear and an off-duty hotel staffer who'd stayed on site during the storm.

"These folks all know different parts of the property," Tommy added.

"I know these slopes better than most," Diana said, adjusting her radio. "And I owe Mark. He was one of my best students once upon a time."

Sheila nodded, turning back to the map. The terrain was complex—a maze of ridges and valleys transformed by deepening snow. Red dots marked known locations: the maintenance shed where they'd found signs of struggle, the fire tower looming above the treeline.

"The tower's the most obvious landmark to go to," Michael said. "You can see it from almost anywhere on this side of the mountain."

Sheila studied the contours of the map. "Mark grew up here, right?" she asked.

Diana nodded. "His family's been skiing these slopes for generations. His father was on ski patrol before suffering an accident that took him out of the game."

She traced potential routes with her finger. The tower was the most prominent feature, but there were other possibilities—maintenance sheds, equipment storage.

Tommy leaned in, studying the map. "What about these old ski patrol huts?"

"They were used for avalanche monitoring before the new system was installed," Michael said. "Most are falling apart, but they'd provide at least a bit of shelter from the wind."

"You know the area," Sheila said to him. "How do you suggest we do this?"

"If we follow the service road," he said, tracing the route with his finger, "we could cover this whole section in about two hours. But the visibility's getting worse by the minute."

Diana shook her head. "The service road's too obvious. If Mark's trying to evade someone, he'll stick to the trees."

"Assuming he's thinking clearly," Tommy added. He'd been pacing behind them, unable to stay still. "Head trauma, hypothermia—either one could have him wandering in circles."

Michael rubbed his face. "In normal conditions, we'd have twenty people minimum for a search this size."

"We don't have twenty people," Sheila said. "And Mark doesn't have time for us to wait for backup."

The wind rattled the windows, making them all glance up. The glass had frosted over, transforming the panes into ghostly sheets of white.

"We need to split up," Tommy said. "Cover more ground."

"And if someone finds the killer?" Michael asked. "He won't go easily."

Nobody spoke for a moment. "That's just a risk we'll have to take," Sheila said quietly.

Diana moved closer to the map. "What about these old patrol huts? They'd provide shelter, and Mark would know about them from his father."

"Most are barely standing," Michael said. "But you're right—he might try for one if he's desperate. We can head there."

The emergency lights flickered, drawing another round of worried glances. If they lost power up here...

"I'll head to the tower," Sheila said finally. "It's visible from almost anywhere on the mountain."

"And I'll go with you," Tommy added hastily. He seemed nervous, uncomfortable. Was he worried about being out there in the storm? Worried about getting lost, perhaps?

The storm's howl seemed to grow louder, pressing against the windows like a living thing.

A few moments passed in which they all stared at the map, nobody speaking.

Sheila sensed they weren't so much studying the map as they were pondering what fate might be in store for them.

How many of them would survive the night?

Who might get lost and not be found again till the following morning, frozen stiff like Bradley Greenwald or Sarah Winters—a victim, in this case, of nature itself?

The wind howled, the building groaned. Sheila knew they had waited too long already.

"Alright," she said, steeling herself for whatever might be next. "Diana, you take Michael and your team west. For all we know, Mark could be on one of those service roads right now, hoping someone's out looking for him. Tommy and I will head up to the tower."

"What about me?" Finn asked from the doorway. He'd appeared silently, still favoring his injured side.

"No." Sheila's voice was firm. "You're still recovering."

"I can handle it," he said, stepping into the room.

"This isn't about what you can handle. If you tear those stitches open up there, you'll just create another rescue situation.

" And if something were to happen to you, she thought, if I were ever to lose you…

how would I live with myself? She couldn't imagine life without Finn—he had become an integral part of who she was.

The very thought of him taking unnecessary risks filled her with dread.

Star spoke up from where she'd been quietly watching. "I'll keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't leave."

"Perfect." Sheila turned to her ward. "You have my full permission to boss him around. If he tries anything heroic, call me immediately."

Finn shook his head, clearly frustrated. Before he could speak, however, Sheila placed a calming hand on his chest. "I can't lose you," she said softly, staring into his eyes. "You mean far too much to me."

He stared back, as if trying to come up with a response. None came. Sheila kissed him on the lips and turned away.

They gathered their gear—extra layers, emergency supplies, powerful flashlights to cut through the thickening snow.

The maintenance workers checked their radios while the hotel staffer distributed extra emergency blankets from the resort's storage.

The wind's howl had deepened to a constant roar, and the temperature was dropping rapidly.

Even inside the operations center, Sheila could feel the cold seeping through the walls.

As the others did final equipment checks, Finn caught her arm. "Watch yourself up there," he said quietly.

She touched his cheek. "I love you, too, Finn. Now sit tight and monitor our comms. We might need someone with a map to give us directions."

Finn nodded and withdrew. Sheila met Star's eyes briefly, and then she turned to the door.

"You ready?" Tommy asked in a low voice.

"Ready or not, it has to be done," she said. She raised her voice. "Stay in radio contact," she told the group. "If anyone finds anything—tracks, equipment, any sign of Mark or our killer—call it in immediately. Don't try to handle it alone."

Then Michael opened the door, and the search teams stepped out into the storm.