Megs replied. “Copy, Ute Ridge Command.”
The passing seconds weighed on Jesse as he climbed out of his vehicle, strapped on his snowshoes, and took his avalanche beacon out of his backpack. Full of rescue gear that changed with the seasons, the pack stayed in his vehicle at all times.
In the distance, he could hear the thrum of an approaching chopper.
He turned on the beacon’s transceiver, then shouldered his pack and set out up the trail at a run—or as much of a run as he could manage in snowshoes. He’d gone about a hundred yards when the trees gave way to a broad expanse of snow. In the summertime, this was a meadow, but winter revealed what it truly was—the debris field of an avalanche track. Bits of trees and rocks lay jumbled in the snow, torn from the mountainside.
Higher on the slope, he saw two men moving in disorganized circles. They were shouting something—a name.
“Jason!”
Why the hell weren’t they using their damned transceivers?
One of them spotted him and waved his arms.
Jesse waved back to let them know he’d seen them.
The thrum of the chopper’s rotors grew louder as it buzzed overhead, the pilot surveying the scene, looking for a safe place to land.
Jesse worked his way uphill, pushing himself to go faster.
Beep.
He’d gotten a ping.
“Ute Ridge Command, I’ve got a signal. Following it to the source.”
He held up his transceiver, saw that it was directing him to a point about eighty yards uphill—about fifty yards lower on the mountainside than the victim’s two friends had been searching. He moved as quickly as he could, sucking in lungfuls of air, his heart thrumming, his gaze on the display.
Sixty yards. Fifty. Forty-five. Forty.
Thirty yards.
Jesse was winded now, his thighs aching, his lungs straining for breath, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.
Twenty yards.
From somewhere behind him came the sound of slowing rotors. The chopper had landed. The others were here.
Ten.
Jesse slowed, checked the display.
According to the transceiver, the victim should be right … there.
He reached for his mic. “I’ve located the source of the signal.”
“Copy. The rest of the Team is headed your way.”
Down at the base of the slope, Conrad, Ahearn, Taylor, Hawke, and Kenzie were already on their way up the mountainside, a golden ball of fur bounding through the snow ahead of them.
The victim’s friends saw that Jesse had stopped. They must have guessed that he had picked up the signal. They headed straight for him.
Jesse pulled his shovel out of his backpack, extended the telescoping handle, and started to dig, chopping at the hard-packed snow and pushing it downhill.
“Did you find him?” one of the young men shouted.
“Stop!” Jesse held up a hand. “Don’t compact the snow on top of him. Get downhill from me, and start digging.”
They looked guiltily at each other.
“We don’t have shovels.”
You’re fucking kidding me!
Jesse didn’t waste breath telling them they were idiots but kept digging.
From somewhere nearby, he heard a bark.
Charlie, the golden retriever, had picked up the scent and was running his way. In the time it took Jesse to move another shovelful of snow, Charlie was there, digging, his claws as effective as steel.
Jesse helped the dog, moving the snow, digging with him.
Conrad’s booming voice came from behind him. He shouted at the victim’s buddies. “If you’re not going to help, get the hell out of the way!”
Then Conrad was digging, too.
Charlie barked again.
A glimpse of blue.
Now Hawke, Taylor, and Ahearn were there, all of them shifting snow as fast as they could.
A leg.
Movement.
Jesus!
He was alive.
*
Jesse walked into Knockers with Herrera, craving pizza and beer, the sound of bluegrass rising above the hum of voices. They’d held a debriefing at The Cave for the Team members who had participated in the rescue, and now everyone was starving.
Rain, who’d worked at Knockers for as long as Jesse had lived in Scarlet Springs, met them just inside the door, a smile on her face, her long blond hair piled on top of her head. “I heard you brought down an avalanche victim alive today, Moretti. Way to go.”
Jesse couldn’t help but grin, still on a post-rescue high. “I didn’t do it alone.”
Rain was gorgeous in her own way—sexy rose tattoos on her arms, little nose ring, long hair, curves. She pointed. “Megs and the others are already here.”
Ahearn, Conrad, Hawke, Kenzie, Megs, Belcourt, and Sasha were seated around the big table closest to the climbing wall. Megs was filling Sasha in.
“One of his buddies had a transceiver, but it wasn’t working because Mr. Freaking Genius hadn’t changed the batteries.”
Sasha stared at Megs in disbelief. “You’re kidding me.”
“Backcountry skiing one-oh-one—check the batteries in your transceiver.” Hawke dragged a corn chip through salsa. “There’s no cure for stupid.”