Page 26

Finn paced the operations center, pain throbbing in his side with each step. The radio crackled with static, mocking his attempts to reach Sheila. Outside, snow pressed against the windows in thick drifts.

"You're going to wear a hole in the floor," Star said from where she sat cross-legged, surrounded by old files and maps she'd pulled from a dusty cabinet.

"Can't help it," Finn muttered, then caught himself as he recognized the worry in Star's voice beneath her teasing tone.

He lowered himself carefully into the chair beside her, his protective instincts kicking in despite his own fears.

"Hey, you know Sheila. She's the toughest person either of us knows. "

"Yeah." Star tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, a gesture that reminded Finn so much of Sheila it made his chest ache. "But she's not invincible. No matter how much she pretends to be."

"That's why she has us," Finn said softly, reaching over to squeeze Star's shoulder. "Her very own backup team, even if sometimes there's nothing for the backup to do but sit and wait."

"I'm not sitting and waiting, actually."

Finn raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You find something?"

"Actually, yeah." Star's face brightened with pride as she held up a yellowed document, unconsciously leaning closer to Finn as she shared her discovery. "There used to be a research facility up here in the seventies."

He frowned, surprised by this. "What are you talking about?"

"Apparently, it was a weather monitoring station or something. Look at this." She spread out a topographical map, pointing to a spot marked with a faded X. "It's not far from the tower, maybe two miles east."

Finn lowered himself carefully into a chair beside her. "What happened to it?"

"Shut down in '82. Budget cuts, looks like." Star shuffled through more papers. "They just closed it up and left everything. The building's still there—or what's left of it anyway."

Finn studied the map with growing interest. The facility's location was remote, accessible only by old service roads that probably hadn't been maintained in decades.

That was probably why neither Michael nor Diana had thought to mention the facility.

Either they'd never known about it, or they'd forgotten.

"Mark Davidson," he said suddenly. "He grew up around here, so he'd probably know about the station. Local kids always know about abandoned buildings in their area." Finn stood, ignoring the pain in his side. "If he's running from someone, that's exactly where he'd go. It's shelter, it's hidden..."

He clapped Star on the shoulder. "Good job, kid."

She grinned and shrugged modestly. "I've always had an eye for details."

Finn grabbed the radio again, fighting another wave of frustration when only static answered. Sheila was out there somewhere, possibly walking into danger, and now that he had information that could help her, he had no way of getting the information to her.

"The landlines are down too," Star said, watching him. "Too bad there isn't some kind of backup system."

Finn straightened suddenly, wincing at the pain in his side.

"Wait. There is." He moved to the window, staring through the snow toward a small maintenance shed barely visible in the storm.

"Every ski resort has an emergency communication system—separate power, separate radio frequency.

I noticed it during the facility inspection last month. "

"Do you know how it works?" Star asked, curiosity momentarily displacing her worry.

Finn nodded, his eyes taking on a distant look.

"Before I joined the force, I worked search and rescue in Wyoming.

Three years of winter operations in the Tetons.

You learn fast when lives depend on backup communications—especially after that storm in '19 knocked out everything except the emergency system.

" His voice softened. "Lost two good people that season because we couldn't get the backup radio working fast enough.

After that, I made sure to learn every emergency system inside and out. "

"So why aren't we using it?"

"Because it's out there." He gestured at the white wall of snow. "And it's not just flipping a switch. The system needs to be powered up manually, calibrated. Takes about twenty minutes if you know what you're doing."

"So let's go do it."

Finn shook his head. "I can barely walk. And you don't know the equipment."

"Then teach me." Star stood. "How hard can it be?"

"I get that you're trying to help, but it's not that simple. The generator needs to be primed. The frequency modulators adjusted. One wrong setting, and we'll just be broadcasting static." He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "And that's assuming we can even get out there in this storm."

"We can use the guide rope," Star said. "The one they string between buildings during whiteouts. And you can talk me through the technical stuff."

"It's too dangerous."

"More dangerous than Sheila wandering around in this whiteout, not knowing where to go?"

Finn stared at her. She had a point, but the thought of risking Star's safety...

"I know you're worried about me," she said more softly. "But I'm worried about her . She needs us, Finn, and that's not usually the case. We can't let her down."

He studied her face—the stubborn set of her jaw, the determination in her eyes. So much like Sheila, even though they weren't biologically related.

"Okay," he said finally. "But we do this smart. We take emergency supplies, extra flashlights. And if anything feels wrong, we turn back immediately."

Star nodded solemnly. "Deal. What do we need?"

As they gathered supplies, Finn outlined the plan. They would follow the guide rope to the maintenance shed. He would talk Star through the generator startup while he handled the radio calibration. If everything went perfectly, they might be able to reach Sheila in fifteen minutes.

If everything went perfectly.

"Ready?" he asked, zipping up his coat.

Star pulled on her gloves and nodded.

Together, they stepped into the storm, the wind immediately tearing at their clothes. The guide rope was a lifeline in the whiteout, their only connection to safety. As they moved forward step by step, Finn could only hope they weren't already too late.

Sheila was out there somewhere in this blank white world. And he was finally doing something to help her.

He just prayed it would be enough.