Avalanche

by Kristine Williams

  Jim nodded, "Better let me take a look." He followed Tom out of the doorway, locking the room behind him. "How many people have a key to this storage shed of yours?"

  "Just me, and a couple other ski patrolmen. And there's a master key at the Ranger's station down the mountain. They have keys to all the rooms and buildings."

  Jim forgot to grab his coat and now held his arms around his chest against the cold of the wind and snow that was still coming down. The walk to the shed was short, but when they arrived, his hands were freezing. That made him think of Blair.

  "You said this rifle was buried?"

  "Yes, mostly." After some fumbling the padlock finally opened and they both went inside. "In the tree line the avalanche slows down, but does more damage with the trees coming down. The snow isn't as thick, so we usually recover any bodies that may have been buried there."

  Jim picked up the rifle that was lying on top of Benchly's body bag.

  "A lot of people head for the trees when they see a slide coming down, thinking they'll be safer. They usually get crushed by falling trees and branches before ever being buried."

  Jim was listening as he examined the weapon. "So, in your opinion, if a man was hiding in the trees when the avalanche started, he'd most likely be killed?"

  Tom shrugged, "I would expect so. Of course, there's always a chance. Your friend survived."

  Jim looked up, "Yes, but he was in the open, on the slope."

  "Sure, and he was buried pretty deep and ran out of air...but he's alive." Tom walked around the table holding Mr. Benchly. "You're thinking the shooter is dead?"

  "I'm thinking we have an unsolved murder." Jim hefted the rifle, "I'm going to need a secure place for this, and a list of each guest registered at the lodge since yesterday morning."

  Tom thought for a moment, "Well, there's a storage closet in the basement of the lodge itself, I think only the front desk has the key. And the list I can get, no problem."

  Jim nodded, "That should be fine."

  "Are you saying, we have a murderer up here with us? I mean, if he didn't die in the slide? Are we in danger?"

  Jim raised his eyebrows, "I would say so, yes."

  "So, what do we do? Do we warn everyone? Question everyone? What?"

  "First of all, 'We' don't do anything. Just get me a secure place for this evidence, and that list. And don't mention this to anyone right now. Whoever is involved, I don't want to tip him--or her--off. And we don't want to start a panic, either."

  Tom nodded, absorbing the information. "Okay, whatever you say."

  "Can you take me to the storage room now?" Jim was waiting for him to grasp the situation and deal with it. He seemed a little shocked, but then who wouldn't be? Murder wasn't part of a mountain rescuer's job. Avalanches killed, they didn't murder.

  "Oh, right. Sure, this way." Tom led the way back through the snow to the rear of the lodge. They entered through the service door and down a short hallway. "Here you go. It's not locked right now, but the front desk has a padlock we can use. I'll just go get that."

  Jim watched Tom leave, then entered the room, pulling the chain for the light. It was a small room, filled mostly with cleaning supplies. He found a counter with some spare room and set the rifle down there, giving it as close an exam as he could in the dim light. There was nothing telling on the rifle that he could see. The serial number had been filed completely down, he expected that. Even with his Sentinel sight he couldn't make out more than three numbers. And without access to the Department database, it would do him no good, anyway. Fingerprints were also next to worthless, until they could get back to the lab. Tom returned then, handing Jim a large padlock and two keys.

  "They said these are the only two keys. Should I keep one, just in case?"

  "No, that's fine. Thank you." Jim took both keys, exited the room and locked the door, checking its security. "I'm going to go check in on my friend. Just let me know if you find anything else out of the ordinary. And tomorrow, I'd like to see the area where this was found."

  "Oh, sure. Okay."

  Jim followed the hall to the stairs, up one flight, back into the main lobby of the lodge. Glancing around, he noticed the same crowd of visitors, still complaining and worrying about the road closures that were making a longer stay out of a simple ski trip. He hurried upstairs for his jacket. It was snowing heavily now, but the wind had died down. As he crossed the road to the aid station, he glanced back up the slope, barely visible in the downpour of large, white flakes. He couldn't discount the possibility of the shooter surviving the slide. But so far, the only person he could swear wasn't in the lodge at the time, and was still unaccounted for, was one of the older man's yes men. Maybe Blair's imagination wasn't running wild, after all.

  Once inside the aid station he shrugged off the snow that was piled on his shoulders and head.

  "Ah, Mr. Ellison. I see it's snowing again?" Dr Stuart was just coming out of Blair's room when he came into the lobby.

  "Again? I wasn't aware that it had stopped."

  She smiled, wrapping the stethoscope around her neck and letting her hands hang from it. "It did for about thirty minutes, I think. It must be really coming down now, you're covered."

  Jim shrugged out of his jacket and let the rest of the snow fall off in the doorway, trying to keep it off the carpet. "How's he doing?"

  "He's doing well. I've just changed the bandaging on his leg, it's looking as well as can be expected. No sign of lung congestion as of yet, but I still want to keep a close eye on him. Other than that, his temperature is up to normal, no signs of permanent damage from the frostbite."

  "That's good news, thanks doc." Jim hung his coat on a peg in the waiting area and walked over to the door, knocking quietly as he opened it. Blair was propped up, blankets wrapped thickly around him. Jim recognized the look of someone heavily medicated as Blair turned to him.

  "Hey, Chief. How you feeling? You can't still be cold...?" Jim walked over to the chair that was still next to the bed where he had spent the past night and placed a hand on his friend's forehead.

  "It's more psychological now, I think." Blair answered, shivering only slightly. "Not like before."

  Jim looked into his eyes for a moment, trying to judge Blair's health for himself. Satisfied with what he saw, he sat down. "How's the leg?"

  Blair laughed a little, "It hurts." he said. "But only when I move."

  "Then don't move, Chief."

  "Simple as that, huh?"

  "Simple as that." Jim replied.

  Blair shifted a little in bed, "You saved my life, again. They told me about how I wasn't breathing when you found me and all."

  "You gave me quite a scare."

  "I know, and I'm sorry." he said, looking down for a moment. "They also said you stayed here all night?"

  Jim nodded. "You don't remember, do you?"

  "Not really." Blair admitted. "Just images...like a nightmare. I remember you, and..." he looked away for a moment, then back to Jim. "I keep seeing Lash when I close my eyes, like he was here."

  "You did mention him when you were delirious." Jim said quietly, noting the slight reflection of fear in his friend's eyes. "That's normal, to flash on something like that after another trauma. Don't worry about it. He's dead, Blair. And you aren't."

  Blair sighed deeply, tugging at the blankets. "You got there just in time, too. I just wanted to say thanks." He looked back up at Jim, "For that, and for staying here with me."

  Jim smiled. There was a lot he could say, and would have liked to say, but he knew Blair embarrassed easily. He was looking like someone's little lost puppy again, lying there with the blankets pulled up to this neck. "You're welcome." He'd been through enough lately. "I'm your Blessed Protector, remember?"

  Blair nodded, accepting that. "At least it was just an avalanche, and not some murdering psycho or something."

  Jim rolled his eyes and sat back, leaning into the chair. "Well, not exactly."

  "What do you mean
?"

  "Our skinny nervous guy, from the lodge. Turns out his name was Richard Benchly. He's dead."

  "Yeah?"

  "Not from the avalanche. He was shot."

  "What?!"

  Jim nodded, rubbing tired eyes for a moment. "We've got a murder on our hands, Chief. High-powered rifle, shot through the head. We think that's what triggered the avalanche."

  "We?"

  "Tom Hanks, one of the ski patrol. He found the body, and the rifle just a few hours ago." Jim smiled inside at the slight note of jealousy he heard in Blair's voice. "He also helped me dig you out."

  "So...what do we do? They said the roads were blocked and the phone lines are down. We're stuck up here with a murderer?"

  "Not exactly. I'm having a hard time imagining someone pulling the trigger, and getting away from that slide. You were halfway down already when it hit and look what happened. The killer couldn't have shot Benchly up on top of the slope, then beat you and the slide down. And if he was in the woods, where the rifle was found, he should be dead but there's no body. He couldn't have known the shot would bring down half the mountainside. And if he had, why didn't he just fire from a better distance, and let the snow kill him." he paused, shaking his head. "Unless he wasn't the only target. You haven't made anyone mad at you lately, have you?" he teased.

  "Just Simon." Blair replied.

  Jim laughed. "Well, if you had been the only other person on the slopes, then maybe Simon would be a suspect. But Mr. Kelly died up there too. And Mrs. Evans could have died."

  Blair raised his eyebrows, questioning the names.

  "They were in front of you, heading down the slope. Mrs. Evans is the young lady from the dining room, looked like she was on her honeymoon?" Blair nodded. "And Mr. Kelly was the older guy, with his wife. They were the two not speaking to each other." Blair nodded again, remembering.

  "What about the mobster, with the girlfriend and those two goons?"

  Jim smiled at Blair's description, then shook his head. "Well, all are accounted for, except one. They were at the window, looking up the mountain with binoculars, and a night vision scope, just before it happened."

  "What? Night vision? Why?"

  "Good question, Chief." Jim replied. "He's my number one suspect right now, but I haven't had a chance to question anyone." Just then he yawned mightily, stretching his arms. "I fell asleep after going over Benchly's room."

  "Did you find anything?"

  "No, as a matter of fact. Absolutely nothing. Like he hadn't even been in there." He pulled out the slip of paper from the closet floor and examined it again. "Just a suitcase under the bed, with absolutely nothing inside. A bathroom with no signs of anyone having been in there, other than a brand new toothbrush, and the hotel toothpaste."

  "Just the way you like it." Blair interjected.

  "Funny, Chief." Jim replied. "And this."

  "What's that?"

  "A receipt, for the ski gear he was wearing. He just bought it the day he went up."

  "I knew he didn't look like he belonged on the slopes." At that it was Blair's turn to yawn. "What now?"

  "Well, right now, I'm going to get some real sleep. I can't think anymore." He stood and stretched. "There's no way out of this pass, so whoever is behind all of this is not going anywhere, at least before morning." He bent backwards, listening to tired joints pop. "Get some sleep. I'll bring you up to date after I check things out tomorrow."

  "Hey Jim...."

  He paused at the door, looking back.

  "Be careful, okay?"

  He smiled, "I will Chief. Get some sleep."

  Part 5

  * * *

  Blair didn't want to sleep. He wanted Jim to stay, but he knew he couldn't ask, not after last night. Jim was exhausted. Dr. Stuart told him that afternoon what his friend had done. From digging him out of the snow, to holding his head through the tremors and delirium. He had been a little embarrassed then. Not so much because Jim's presence had been such a comfort through the ordeal, but that he had needed comforting. He remembered the pain, the cold, and most of all the fear that he felt all night and into the morning. He also remembered Jim being there, talking to him, holding his head. But now, when he closed his eyes, all he saw was Lash. Only this time, instead of being chained to a chair, he was buried under the snow. Lash was on top of him, forcing the air from his lungs, pushing snow down his throat. He couldn't close his eyes for more than a minute without the visions coming back.

  Jim's retreating figure could be seen through the window beside Blair's bed. He watched him walk across the road, then he disappeared into the snow that was falling so fiercely.

  He knew, if he had asked him to, Jim would have stayed. He was just that way. Blair had come to realize what being Jim Ellison's friend meant. At first, he didn't think of him as a friend, not like that. He was too caught up in Jim as a Sentinel, and the implications that presented. But as time passed he began to understand Jim's boundaries. He was a man who took very few people into the inner sanctum and called them a friend. But when he did, when he decided you were worth his time and trouble, he gave one hundred percent. Blair never had a friend of that caliber before, and it took him a while to understand what that meant. To Jim, pulling you out of the hands of a psychotic killer, trusting you enough to just hand you his gun, or to call for backup when he needed it...it was just what you did. Nothing special. Somewhere along the line, he must have decided Blair was worth his time. And for that, Blair was grateful. More so now. Jim could kick him out of his life anytime he wanted, but he never once indicated he would. Even when Blair wanted to go to Borneo. Well, he hadn't really wanted to go. He'd wanted them both, but had to make a choice. A choice that was made easier after Peru. And he knew deep inside it was the right one.

  But he couldn't ask. Jim was just as tired as he was. And had a lot on his mind. Murdered! The skinny nervous guy was murdered. And if the killer was killed, what were they supposed to do? Unless he wasn't killed. Which would mean they had a murderer walking around the ski lodge with them. My money's on the mobster. But a high-powered rifle on a ski slope? Didn't mobsters shoot you in the back of the head in the alley? And who was Benchly that he warranted being murdered? Maybe the avalanche really was the goal?

  It wasn't until the next morning that Blair realized he had actually fallen asleep.

  "Good morning. How are we feeling today?" Dr. Stuart entered, rubbing her arms.

  "Still snowing?" Blair asked, noting the slight dusting of white still in her hair.

  "Yes, I can't believe it. There must be a good two feet since yesterday." She politely rubbed her stethoscope on her lab coat to warm it before placing it on Blair's chest. "If this keeps up, those plows are going to be a long time coming."

  Blair still winced a little at the cold metal. "Is there any way to contact someone down the pass?"

  She shook her head, then placed her finger over her lips to quiet him while she listened. "Deep breath."

  Blair obliged, coughing only slightly as his lungs reached capacity.

  "Again."

  This time he was able to suppress the cough.

  "Okay." She removed the stethoscope. "No congestion, other than some minor irritation due to the exposure. How does the leg feel?"

  He nodded, "Fine. Can I get out of here today?"

  "Out of here to where? You may as well stay put, we can take care of you here and there's really no where to go."

  "I'd like to get back to the lodge. No offense." Blair replied "It's just that hospitals give me the creeps."

  Dr. Stuart smiled. "I understand. Next to visiting the dentist, a stay in the hospital is rated as the next best thing." She paused, setting down the blood pressure cuff she had just removed from his arm. "You've had a traumatic experience, being delirious takes a lot out of a person. You mentioned a name...Lash I believe? Your friend said there was some extreme emotional connection there, but he didn't elaborate."

  Blair simply nodded, not wanting to add t
o the memory.

  "Well, being as sick as you were, it has an effect much like a hallucinogenic drug. You can flash back on the experience for years to come. Being out of this room won't make those flashes stop."

  "Yeah, well, it couldn't hurt."

  She paused, looking into his eyes. "Okay. On one condition."

  "What is it?"

  "You stay off that leg. And you take your medication. The nurse says you faked it last night, she found the pills in the wastebasket this morning."

  Blair smiled sheepishly, "That's two." She glared at him and he backed off. "Okay, okay. I'll be good, I promise."

  "Okay. But I'm only agreeing to this because you'll be right across the road, and I can keep an eye on you. I'll go get a pair of crutches and help you through that snow. Your friend is up on the slope again this morning. I don't understand what he's looking for up there."

  Blair watched her go, realizing then that even she hadn't been told what was happening. Okay, so we're keeping secretes. I can do that.

  Getting back to the lodge on crutches through several inches of freshly fallen snow was tricky. Once inside, Dr. Stuart insisted Blair go up to the room and get into bed. She took him to the service elevator that opened up just a few doors down from the room he and Jim were checked in to. As the doors opened Blair saw a man standing in the hallway, bending over to push several sheets of paper under the door.

  "Tom, what are you doing here?"

  "Hey doc. Mr. Sandburg, I didn't expect to see you back here so soon."

  Blair faintly recalled the man's face as having been with Jim when they were pulling him out of the snow.

  "Your friend, Detective Ellison, asked for these. I was just going to push them under the door. He's up on the slope with Eddie, having another look around."

  Blair reached out for the papers Tom was handing him. "Thanks, I'll be sure he gets these." he replied. "I thought you were up there, with him?" Dr. Stuart had unlocked the door for Blair and now stood aside.

  "Ah, no. My snowmobile ran out of gas and the pumps are frozen. He and Eddie are up by the tree line, looking for more clues."