Page 5

"Diana's in a staff meeting," Michael had told them. "Should be done in fifteen minutes." That had been twenty minutes ago.

Tommy paced near the window, pausing occasionally to watch snowflakes drift past the glass. His earlier eagerness had mellowed into something more contemplative.

"You ski?" she asked, partly to break the silence, partly because she'd noticed how his eyes kept tracking the falling snow.

He turned from the window, looking almost startled by the question. "Used to. My dad taught me when I was little. We'd drive up from Salt Lake every weekend during the season." A shadow crossed his face. "Feels like a lifetime ago now."

"Is he still around?"

Tommy shook his head. "He's alive, sure, but he's out of the picture. Left me as the man of the house at a young age." His hand went to his badge, a gesture she recognized—touching it for reassurance, the way others might finger a lucky charm.

"Is that why you joined?" she asked. "To take care of your family?"

"Partly. And partly to prove I'm not the man he was, I guess. I'd do anything to look after my family, unlike him." His eyes took on a far-away look. Watching him, Sheila sensed there was much more to this young man than met the eye.

"So what brought you here, to Coldwater?" she asked.

He looked directly at her. "You did."

"Me?"

"Your reputation... people say you care about the victims, not just closing cases. You stand for something. That's the kind of person I want to work for."

Sheila felt her face warm. "I try," she said. "Sometimes caring too much makes the job harder, though."

"Like with Deputy Mercer?" Tommy asked, then immediately looked sheepish. "Sorry, that was out of line."

"No, it's okay." Sheila surprised herself by meaning it. "Finn and I... it complicates things sometimes. Having feelings for your partner."

"But worth it?"

"Of course," she said automatically. Inwardly, however, she wasn't so sure.

The closer she got to Finn, the more she had to lose.

As a former kickboxer and an acting sheriff, she'd built a reputation on toughness.

But when it came to the people she loved most—Finn, Star, even her dad—she was vulnerable.

If anyone wanted to hurt her, they could just hurt the people she cared about.

Which made deepening her bonds with those people a frightening prospect.

Tommy nodded, looking thoughtful. He opened his mouth to say something else, but the door to the employee lounge swung open.

A stream of resort staff emerged, their voices echoing in the narrow hallway.

Among them was a woman in her fifties wearing those distinctive red and black geometric ski pants.

"Diana Pierce?" Sheila stood, catching the woman's attention.

Pierce turned, her expression guarded. She had the lean, weathered look of a lifelong athlete, her silver hair pulled back in a tight ponytail that emphasized her sharp features.

"Yes?" Her eyes flicked between Sheila and Tommy, noting their badges. "This is about Bradley Greenwald, isn't it?"

"We'd like to ask you a few questions," Sheila said. "Is there somewhere private we can talk?"

Diana glanced at her watch, then back at them. "The instructor's break room should be empty right now." She gestured for them to follow, but Sheila caught the slight tremor in her hand.

Either Diana Pierce was simply nervous about talking to the police—or she had something to hide.

The instructor's break room was a cramped space that smelled of coffee and wet wool. Ski boots lined one wall, and a rack of brightly colored jackets dominated another. Diana gestured to the small table in the corner, its surface scratched from years of use.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked. "Coffee's fresh."

"We're fine," Sheila said, taking a seat. She noticed how Diana chose the chair facing the door—an instinctive move that suggested awareness, maybe anxiety.

Tommy pulled out his notebook eagerly. "Ms. Pierce, we saw footage of you and Mr. Greenwald having an argument yesterday morning near—"

"What Tommy means," Sheila cut in, giving him a subtle look, "is that we're trying to piece together Bradley Greenwald's last day at the resort. We understand you might have interacted with him?"

Diana's posture stiffened slightly. "Is that what this is about? The person they found?" She wrapped her hands around her own coffee mug. "I heard someone died, but nobody would say who."

Sheila watched her carefully. "You hadn't heard it was Bradley Greenwald?"

"No, I..." Diana's face drained of color. "Bradley? He's the one who..." She set her mug down with shaking hands, coffee sloshing over the rim. "Oh god. I just saw him yesterday. We argued, but I never thought... How did he...?"

"We're still investigating the circumstances," Sheila said carefully. "You mentioned an argument?"

Diana stared at her coffee for a long moment. "It seems so stupid now. He was being reckless, showing off for his social media followers. I told him he was going to get himself killed." She let out a harsh laugh. "I guess I was right."

"How exactly was he being reckless?" Tommy asked, pen poised.

"I'd rather not—" Diana started, then stopped herself.

"No, you need to know. I'm sorry, it just feels wrong, speaking ill of the dead.

" She took a deep breath. "Bradley had this thing about getting the perfect shot.

He'd ski into closed areas, cut off other skiers, anything to get his photo or video. "

"And that's what you argued about?" Sheila asked.

"Not exactly." Diana stood suddenly, moving to the coffee pot. Her hands shook as she poured another cup. "I mean, yes, but... it was more than that. He was putting other people at risk."

"How so?"

Diana turned back to them, leaning against the counter.

"Yesterday morning, he set up his camera on a tripod right in the middle of a black diamond run.

Said he needed the 'perfect angle' for his descent.

But he positioned it where other skiers coming down wouldn't see it until the last second.

Someone could have hit it, or swerved to avoid it and crashed. "

"Did anyone actually get hurt?" Tommy asked.

"No, thank God. But when I confronted him about it..." She shook her head. "He just laughed. Said I was being dramatic. That's when I really lost it."

"Lost it how?" Sheila asked quietly.

Diana's face flushed. "I told him his stupid social media addiction was going to get someone killed. That he didn't deserve his advanced certification if he was going to be so careless with other people's safety."

"Was this the first time you had issues with Bradley?" Sheila asked.

"No, but—" Diana broke off as the door opened. Another instructor stuck his head in.

"Di, your 11:30 is waiting at the bunny slope."

"I'll be right there," Diana said, then turned back to Sheila. "I'm sorry, I have a beginner's class."

"We're not done," Tommy said, standing. "This is a murder investigation—"

"Diana," Sheila cut in, shooting Tommy a warning glance. "I understand you have a class waiting, but this is extremely important. Could you give us just a few more minutes?"

Diana glanced at the door, then back at them. Her fingers worried at the zipper of her jacket. "Three minutes," she said finally. "That's all I can spare."

"Thank you." Sheila leaned forward. "Have you noticed anyone suspicious around the resort lately? Anyone paying particular attention to Bradley?"

"No, nothing like that." Diana shook her head. "Though I try to focus on my students, not other people's business."

"What about Bradley himself?" Sheila asked. "Did his behavior seem different recently? More erratic, maybe? Or more cautious?"

"Actually..." Diana frowned, seeming to remember something.

"He was acting strange yesterday after our argument.

I saw him up by Eagle's Point in the afternoon.

He was just... standing there, staring at something through his camera lens.

When I asked if he was okay, he said someone had been following him. "

Tommy's pen scratched rapidly across his notebook. "Did he say who?"

"No. He brushed it off, said he was being paranoid. But..." She checked her watch and stood. "Look, I really have to go. My students—"

"Of course," Sheila said, also rising. "Thank you for your time. If you think of anything else…" She handed Diana her card.

Diana took the card, then paused with her hand on the handle of the door, frowning. "There is something else. Yesterday, when I saw Bradley at Eagle's Point? He wasn't using his usual camera. He said someone had borrowed his good one."

She met Sheila's eyes. "I thought it was strange because Bradley never let anyone touch his equipment. He was obsessive about his cameras."

Sheila felt a chill that had nothing to do with the mountain air. "Did he say who borrowed it?"

"No. Just that they were a professional, someone who said they were going to take photos of him skiing. Said they promised to capture his perfect form."