Receptionist Under Cover Read online

  Finally she was able to talk to someone in charge, a blonde woman with a short, sporty hairdo and a propensity to speak very quickly.

  “How can I help you?”

  Nadine could tell her mind was on approximately a hundred other matters of pressing importance. She passed her a business card. “My name is Nadine Kimble. I’m trying to find a young man, Stephen Stone, on behalf of his family. We understood that he might be applying for a job here.”

  “Him and a thousand other kids. As you can see, November is when we do most of our hiring. Now, if you could come back in three weeks, it would be a lot easier for me to give you a definite answer.”

  “I traveled from New York City. Is there any way you could help me now?”

  “Well, I can check if he’s on payroll. But even if he isn’t that’s no guarantee. As you can see—” she indicated stacks of paper on her desk “—I have a lot of unprocessed paperwork here.”

  Nadine murmured with sympathy. “I couldn’t have come at a worse time, could I? Still, if you would check that payroll, I would be very grateful.”

  The woman nodded curtly, then turned to her computer. Nadine glanced around the room as she waited. Most of the kids in the room seemed to be in their late teens or early twenties. Boys outnumbered girls by a ratio of at least four to one. Listening to them speaking, she caught a number of Australian and New Zealand accents.

  Suddenly it hit her that she’d made a mistake. A big one.

  She’d come all this way without any idea what Stephen Stone looked like. He could be standing in this room with her right now, and she wouldn’t even know it.

  Damn it, what a juvenile error.

  She’d been so keen to impress the partners with what a terrific investigator she could be. She’d been so sure they were wrong when they said she wasn’t ready.

  But they’d been right. She tried to wipe the look of panic from her face as the HR woman looked up from her computer.

  “I’m sorry, but we have no one with a last name of Stone on our payroll. Why don’t you call again in a few weeks, in case his application is still in process?”

  She handed Nadine a card, which she pocketed with a faint thank-you.

  God, she had screwed this up so badly. And Patrick had already spent so much money, flying them up here, renting a car, covering their rooms. Did she dare admit to him what she’d done?

  Nadine trudged over to the Day Lodge. Since it was a Sunday, there were quite a few skiers milling around, having a quick bite to eat before hitting the hills and making the most of the early snow.

  Nadine ordered a hot chocolate, then went to sit at one of the tables by a window. The mountains looked stunning against the backdrop of a perfect blue sky, but her mood only sank lower at the amazing beauty.

  She had no right putting her ambitions ahead of the needs of a client. Patrick O’Neil had come to The Fox & Fisher Detective Agency because he’d heard it was a reputable firm, known for providing quick results. And here she was, wasting his time and money, botching a job that Kate, Lindsay or Nathan would have found easy.

  Nadine sipped her drink until the cup was empty, idly watching the skiers outside, while she beat herself up for her incompetence.

  After fifteen minutes, her mood shifted.

  Well, maybe she’d made a mistake not finding a photograph, but she was here now. She might as well do her best anyway.

  She decided that she would talk to as many people as possible. And the best way to do that, would be to put on a set of skis herself, and get out there.

  Mind made up, Nadine bought herself a day pass—remembering to question the attendant about Stephen—then went to the main rental shop. She joined a queue, filled out the forms that asked for information about her height, weight and level of ski ability. Eventually it was her turn, and a polite young man wearing a warm hoodie over ski pants, helped her pick out boots, poles and skis.

  “Do you happen to know a guy named Stephen Stone?” she asked as she struggled with the fastening on the first ski boot. “He’s eighteen years old. A few weeks ago he and a buddy headed this way looking for a job as a ski instructor.”

  He bent over to help her, easily snapping the clasp closed. “Can’t say that I do,” he said. “How does that feel?”

  She stood up, wiggled her toes, and immediately missed the custom-fitted boots in her winter closet at home. “Fine.”

  “Good. We’ll adjust your bindings, then you’ll be ready to go.” He helped her remove the boot, then took it to a counter where another young man was laying out the skis. “Frank, do you know someone named Stephen Stone?”

  “Maybe he goes by Steve,” Nadine added hopefully.

  The kid named Frank cast his eyes up thoughtfully for a second, then shook his head. “Nope.”

  Ten minutes later, Nadine was no wiser, but outfitted to hit the slopes.

  At every chair and T-bar lift, she asked the attendants about Stephen. When someone from the ski guard happened by, she stopped and asked the same question.

  After three runs up and down the mountain, she felt as if she’d spoken to everyone on the hill. She was also getting hungry.

  She rode the lifts to the top of the mountain again, and went in to Goat’s Eye Gardens—a cute bistro with a marvelous view over the mountain range. She would really enjoy a burger and a Coke about now.

  Thanks to the sunshine and the sweat she’d worked up on the mountain, it was warm enough to eat outside, and she went to the patio to enjoy al fresco dining.

  A couple of kids with badges identifying them as ski instructors happened to be out there, too. At this point, she was resigned to failure, but still, when one of them smiled at her, she smiled back.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m wondering if you’ve heard of someone named Stephen Stone. He was supposed to be heading this way, looking for a job as a ski instructor.”

  “Yeah? You know, that name sounds familiar. Scott?”

  The other instructor lifted his goggles, revealing warm, brown eyes. “That’s the redhead from New York City.” He looked at Nadine. “He had the same accent as you. Sort of. We talked to him at the bar last weekend.”

  Nadine almost choked with excitement. “Is he here? Did he get a job?”

  Scott shook his head. “I don’t think so. All the instructor positions were already filled. I told him he should try Kicking Horse. They don’t start their season as early as we do.”

  WHEN PATRICK SAW ALL the fresh powder on the hills, it almost killed him to close the curtains and start writing. But he did it. His deadline hovered too close for him to goof off now.

  He ordered room service for breakfast and room service for lunch. It was one o’clock when he reached his target for the day, and he closed down his computer with relief.

  The mountains were calling. He only had time for a few runs before his meeting with Nadine, but he couldn’t resist.

  He dressed in his ski pants and jacket, then went out to buy a half-day pass and rent some equipment. When he told the guys behind the counter some of the best places he’d skied, they were impressed.

  “Man, you better check out the back of Goat’s Eye.”

  “Thanks.” Patrick studied a map of the ski hill for a bit, then headed for the quad chair. There wasn’t any line up and he had the four-seater bench to himself on the ride up the mountain.

  Idly he watched the skiers below him, as he wondered about Nadine. Where was she? He’d hoped she would call with news about Stephen, but his cell phone hadn’t rung even once. Meanwhile, as the chair climbed inexorably up the mountain, the views became increasingly impressive.

  Patrick felt his worries—about Stephen, about the deadline—drop away with each foot of elevation gained. Something about being in the mountains always brought him to a place of mental clarity and emotional peace.

  When he finally reached the top, he surveyed the panorama with intense anticipation. One, two, three, he
counted in his head, then zoom—he pushed off and let his body take over. Down the slope, then a turn to the right, then the left, until he hit moguls and began carving his way through them. The sound of his skis on the snow filled his ears, and his body fell into a natural, joyous rhythm.

  There were only a few other brave souls on this side of the mountain, probably because it was so early in the season. He had to avoid a few bare patches, but on the whole the conditions were great.

  There was a steep elevation drop and suddenly he could see that the path ahead split in two around a stand of evergreen trees. He was about to veer to the left, when he noticed a familiar-looking jacket to the right.

  Nadine’s ski jacket was that same shade of green.

  He turned right.

  She had several hundred yards on him, but gradually he gained on her. Her form was tight and controlled, and he wondered where the hell she had learned to ski like that.

  At one point he stopped, just to allow himself time to watch her. He realized he was smiling. There was something so damn light and graceful about her. Her movements, the wide sweeping arcs of her skis, reminded him of seagulls coasting on a summer breeze.

  By now, she’d gained a lot of ground on him and he pushed off, pointing his skis straight down the hill. The speed was a rush, but eventually he cut a short turn to the right, then another in the opposite direction, still keeping back far enough that she didn’t notice him.

  The trail veered again, this time giving them the option to tackle a steep slope of moguls or a pleasant-looking intermediate run.

  Patrick expected Nadine to head for the intermediate run, but she surprised him. She picked off the moguls with amazing skill and he kept a safe distance behind her, getting as much pleasure from her finesse as he did from his own.

  Finally the trail leveled off on an easy descent to the main lodge. Patrick paused to check his watch and was surprised to see it was already quarter to three. He skied up beside her, then raised his goggles. The sunlight radiating off all that white snow was almost blinding.

  “Hey there! Nice skiing!”

  “Patrick.” Though he’d surprised her, she didn’t falter on her skis. “I was just heading in for our meeting.”

  Patrick considered suggesting they take another run first. But now that he was back on level ground, his real-life worries returned, too. He wanted to know if she had any news about his son.

  “Let’s drop off our equipment,” he suggested. “And then we can talk.”

  PATRICK DISPLAYED IMPRESSIVE patience, not asking Nadine what she’d discovered until they were seated in the Lookout Bistro and had ordered drinks and munchies.

  Nadine was feeling better about her assignment, hopeful that she could still get the results Patrick wanted and report back to the others without too much egg on her face.

  Running into those ski instructors on the top of the mountain had been her first lucky break.

  “I’m afraid Stephen isn’t working here,” she said without preamble. “But the good news is that I found some guys who met him in the bar last weekend. They advised him to try Kicking Horse. They said that was the best option for skiing instructor jobs at this point in the season.”

  Patrick rubbed his jaw as he absorbed her news. “I guess it was too much to hope we’d find him the first place we looked.”

  “At least we know he was here. And, something else. The guys mentioned that Stephen had red hair.” It wasn’t as helpful as a photograph. But red hair was unusual enough that it would be noticed. And, hopefully, remembered.

  “Is that right?” Patrick looked down at his hands resting on the scarred wooden table. “When I was a kid, I had red hair, too. It got darker as I grew older.”

  It was a significant point of similarity, Nadine thought. But still not absolute proof that Stephen truly was Patrick’s biological son.

  “Good work, Nadine,” Patrick said. “It feels good to know we’re getting closer.”

  Nadine basked in his praise. She’d been too hard on herself this morning. She was doing fine here. She really was.

  The server arrived with their drinks and food. Nadine was famished.

  “It’s amazing what a great appetite you get after some exercise and fresh air,” she commented as she reached for another sweet-potato fry.

  “I couldn’t agree more. By the way, where did you learn to ski like that? I don’t know anyone who grew up in New York City who skis like you.”

  “Stephen grew up there and he became an instructor,” she pointed out. “As for me, my parents love two sports—tennis and skiing. We spent most of our family vacations doing one or the other.”

  “You have to be a good skier to master the icy slopes of the hills in New England,” Patrick allowed.

  Nadine nodded, not about to tell him that she’d actually honed her skills in the top resorts in the world. Her dad loved Jackson Hole, her Mom preferred Gstaad, Switzerland.

  She finished drinking her cola. “I guess we should pack up and get moving. According to those guys I was talking to, it’s about two hours to Kicking Horse from here. Apparently the terrain gets rough. The highway is only two lanes and the road has a lot of deep bends and twists.”

  Patrick checked his watch. “The sun will be setting in about an hour and a half. We’ll have to do at least part of the drive in the dark. But at least the forecast isn’t calling for more snow tonight.”

  PATRICK OFFERED TO DRIVE AGAIN, which was fine with Nadine. She settled into the passenger seat of the Subaru with the two take-out coffees they’d bought after disembarking from the gondola. After fitting the cups into the holders by the gearshift, she did up her seat belt.

  The trip started out well. The sun was already behind the mountains, but it wasn’t yet dark and the roads had been plowed clean after last night’s storm.

  She was feeling a lot better now than she had this morning. She felt she was making good progress finding Stephen. She even doubted if any of the others could have done any better.

  The skiing had helped improve her mood, too. There was nothing like a day spent in the mountains. She was kind of flattered that Patrick had been so impressed with her skill level. It felt good to see the approval in his eyes when he looked at her.

  Of course, he was an amazing skier, too. She hadn’t had as much opportunity to observe him on the hill, but from what she’d seen, he’d moved as if his skis were a natural extension of his body.

  Right now, he was focused on the road, allowing her plenty of opportunity to study him. She liked that his features were a little rugged and that his hair was such an interesting combination of golden brown and dark red. He had nice eyes, too, eyes that seemed to say more than he ever did.

  He liked to ask questions more than answer them, she’d noticed. But they had a long drive ahead of them. Maybe she could get him talking.

  It would be a good test, she decided. One of an investigator’s most important skills was the ability to extract information from other people.

  She popped the lid on her coffee and took a sip. Then she asked him how his writing had gone.

  “Really well. I just need to stay disciplined about it and I shouldn’t have any trouble meeting my deadline.”

  “Do you ever think you’ll write something besides a travel book?”

  He seemed surprised by the question. “I’ve never thought about it.”

  “Tell me why you love to travel so much.”

  He glanced at her, amused. “You’re full of questions today.”

  “Well, we have a long drive ahead of us. I thought we could chat. Or would you rather listen to the radio?”

  “I don’t think we’ll have very good reception. I don’t mind talking. I think I like traveling because I didn’t get to do much of it as a kid.”

  “Lots of children don’t get to travel much. They don’t all become adventure travel writers.”

  “True enough. I guess I was always a person who was looking for the road less traveled. G
ive me option a, b or c, and I’ll always pick d.”

  She smiled. Yes. She hadn’t known him very long, but she could tell that was an accurate description.

  She asked him about the various places he’d traveled, and Patrick seemed happy to tell her about them. He talked as they drove the forty-five minutes to Lake Louise, then the extra half hour to a small town called Field. According to the GPS, they had about an hour left to reach Golden.

  The light had faded now, and Patrick started using his high beams whenever there was no opposing traffic—which was fairly often.

  Though the car was warm, Nadine shivered. “It’s awfully dark and deserted out here.”

  No sooner had she said that, than she heard the rumble of thunder. “Is that a storm?”

  The rumble grew louder and puffs of snow came flying at the windshield. Patrick glanced at the rearview mirror, then hit the brakes. The car slowed quickly, as a wall of snow suddenly appeared on the highway, just visible within the range of the halogen high beams.

  “It’s an avalanche,” Nadine said quietly, shock making her brain numb.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “THAT WAS AN AVALANCHE, all right.” Patrick jerked the car into Reverse and backed up about twenty feet. Snow, as deep as the car, blocked the road in front of them.

  “We just missed being buried alive.” Nadine shivered as the shock started to wear off.

  “And we’re not hanging around to see if there’s more coming.”

  Tires squealing, Patrick executed a three-point turn, then started back in the direction they’d just come from.

  Nadine sat tensely. Though it was quiet now, in her mind she could still hear the ominous rumbling sound of the avalanche.

  Patrick glanced in the rearview mirror. “I sure hope no one was caught in that. We should report this as soon as possible.”

  Nadine tried her cell phone but wasn’t surprised that the area had no service. “If we’d left the hotel one minute earlier, we would have been—”