But if he did this right, any slide would wear itself out, at theworst, dump snow in the off-site parking area of the Eagle’s Nest, where they stored off-season gear.
He checked the area, just to make sure it was clear—wait. There. A glint of metal at the bottom.
A truck, beige, was parked near the old mine entrance, not far from the parking lot.
The area was closed off during the winter.
“Orlando!”
The dog looked up, picked up his toy. Ran over.
Good dog.Protocol said finish the job, call in suspicious activity, let law enforcement handle it. But by then, whoever parked that truck would be long gone.
And even if it wasn’t what his gut suggested, whoever was down there could be buried if he let the pack go.
He keyed his radio. “Marla, I have a vehicle near the old Sterling Mine. I’m going to ski down—when I report all clear, finish the charge pattern in section four.”
A pause. Marla would know he was breaking protocol. But, “Good copy, Jericho. We’ll pack up the training, get that section sorted.”
She knew better than to ask questions over an open radio channel.
Jericho checked his beacon. The morning sun had crested the ridge now, throwing long shadows across untouched powder.
“Orlando, with me.” He bent and his dog obeyed as he lifted him over his shoulders. Then he pushed off.
They descended in wide traverses, Jericho breaking trail through deep snow, away from the loosened pack. Each turn sent up a rooster tail of powder, the only sound their breathing and the soft shush of skis.
He kept an eye on the truck. No movement, as if...
Maybe they wereinsidethe mine?
And why not? As he skied closer, an idea congealed. What if Summit Construction used the old mine to store the drugs?
He neared the bottom, slowed and skied over to a stand of trees, then let Orlando down. The dog circled him, sniffing the air.
Barked.
“Shh,” Jericho said, and Orlando sat, whined.
Then, suddenly, the dog dropped into a low crouch, the fur along his spine rising. A growl rumbled in his chest.
A man had emerged from the mine, carrying a hefty bucket. He dropped it into the back end of the truck.
Didn’t look like the hunter—and even as he turned back to the mine, Jericho’s gut clenched.
Mars.No wonder Orlando reacted.
Jericho pressed back against a snow-laden pine, his breath fogging in the morning air. The smart play was to wait for Sheriff Deke. But who knew where Mars’s next stop might be...
He lifted his binoculars and spotted Marla’s red jacket at the top. Not yet.
He lifted the radio, kept his voice low. “Marla, get ahold of Sheriff Starr. Tell him I called in, that I need him at Sterling Mine, ASAP.”
Static answered. Aw, she was too far out, in a dead zone.
He needed to get closer to the mine.
“Heel,” he said to Orlando, then pulled off his skis. Immediately he sank into the snow in his heavy boots, but he used the trees to steady himself as he moved down the side of the mountain, into the parking lot.