Charlotte Pass

by Lee Christine

  ‘Your poor mother. She would have been blaming herself for taking her eyes off you, and fearing the worst the whole time.’

  ‘She was. We have a few dams on the farm. I avoided them, though, and dossed down beside a creek with my trusty Jemima doll.’ She left out the bit about the impenetrable fog, and the terror she’d experienced at not being able to see.

  The colour had come back into his face, but he was looking at her with so much pain in his eyes that she kept talking. ‘My mother became over-protective after that. She did her best to wrap me in cotton wool.’

  ‘So, you pushed back and became a ski patroller?’

  Vanessa laughed. ‘Something like that.’

  She waited for him to speak, though she got the impression Ryder wasn’t an over-sharer. She could almost feel sorry for his counsellor.

  ‘I’m glad things turned out well for your family,’ he said eventually. ‘You were all very lucky.’ He set his glass down on the table. ‘Now, what did you want to talk to me about?’

  ‘Okay.’ Vanessa took a breath. ‘At lunchtime, Terry asked me to close off access to Mount Stillwell, which I did. While I was up there, I noticed that a tree well was starting to form around the roots of that big snow gum right by the gravesite. I couldn’t get a closer look because of the police tape.’

  Ryder stared at her. ‘What’s a tree well?’

  ‘It’s a void that forms around the lower part of the trunk. Snow falls on the boughs and branches. That stops the snow around the trunk from becoming hard-packed. Of course, snow still collects there, but it’s softer. I think it’s got something to do with the warmer temperature around the roots too. If you took my ski pole and prodded the snow around the roots, it would probably disappear right into the well. They’re dangerous traps for skiers, deadly sometimes, particularly in the back country. I’ve had to dig a few people out in the northern hemisphere.’

  He nodded, the furrow between his brows deepening. ‘Keep going.’

  ‘Well, people tend to fall in head first. When their skis or boards hit the slushy stuff, it stops their momentum. They pitch forward into the well and suffocate.’

  ‘Suffocate?’

  Vanessa nodded. ‘Usually they’re upside down, their skis or board stuck in the snow above them. The more they struggle to get out, the more the snow caves in around them. It’s like being buried head first in sand at the beach.’

  ‘Christ, it sounds bloody awful. Were they okay, these people you had to dig out?’

  ‘Not all of them. Tree wells are the leading cause of death in the snowfields.’

  Ryder paused, considering her words. ‘In that case, why wouldn’t that tree have been roped off? I know it’s your first season here, but surely the people who’ve been here for years would know it’s a hazard?’

  ‘It’s in the ungroomed part of the resort. We can’t rope off every tree.’ But he had a point. People like Bruno, who knew every inch of Charlotte Pass, would know the regular spots where tree wells formed. ‘It hadn’t begun to form the other day when you dug up the skeleton, but it’s been snowing non-stop since then and you can see the beginnings of it.’

  ‘Okay.’ Ryder pushed himself to his feet. ‘Well, thank you for this. It looks like I’ll have to go up there.’

  Vanessa stood in her socked feet. ‘I’d better get back to work, too. If you want to read more about it, search up SIS—snow immersion suffocation—from tree wells.’

  He smiled a little. ‘Why would I do that when you can show me?’

  Vanessa blinked. ‘I’m not an expert. I assumed you’d want to do more research.’

  ‘The wi-fi’s crap. You said it yourself.’ He snatched up his parka from the back of the sofa and shrugged it on. ‘Come on.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘You’ve dug people out of tree wells. You can’t beat firsthand experience.’ He pulled on a pair of leather gloves, his eyes on her face. ‘How do we get up there?’

  ‘Snowmobile. It’s parked around the corner of the inn.’

  ‘Then let’s go.’

  A loud rap on the door pulled them up.

  ‘It’s probably Flowers, or the cleaners,’ he said, taking two quick strides before flinging open the door.

  A few seconds of silence followed.

  Vanessa moved from behind Ryder to see who it was. The elderly man who’d arrived on the oversnow, the one who had witnessed their altercation and watched her follow Ryder inside.

  ‘Lew. What are you doing here?’ Ryder asked, the surprise evident in his voice.

  ‘I’m taking a ski holiday.’

  ‘Like hell you are. I’ve been trying to call you.’

  ‘The reception’s bad.’ There was another silence, then the man spoke again. ‘Well, are you going to let me in? My room’s not ready yet.’

  ‘Where are you staying?’

  ‘Here. A teenager broke his arm. His parents took him home so I got their room.’

  Ryder stood aside so the man could enter. ‘Did you get a short-term contract to work on the case?’

  ‘They offered to keep my bags behind the front desk, but I told them we were friends and you wouldn’t mind me waiting up here.’

  ‘Annie always said you had selective deafness,’ Ryder muttered. ‘Come in, Lew. I could do with your help. Are you here to help solve the case?’

  ‘Someone has to.’ The man called Lew dumped his bag on the floor and looked at Vanessa with interest. ‘All you seem to be doing so far is shouting at the staff.’

  Twelve

  Ryder loosened his fingers on the rear grab handles, enjoying the surge of adrenaline as the snowmobile roared up Mount Stillwell. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the ski runs, but it was the view inches in front of Ryder that held his interest. Vanessa was leaning forward, the medic symbol emblazoned across her back, her upper body constantly in motion. There was a graceful physicality to the way she manoeuvred the snowmobile through the wooded terrain, avoiding the areas of loose deep snow where the machine was at risk of getting stuck.

  The gradient increased as they neared the site and Vanessa slid back on the seat. She wriggled forward, putting an inch or two between them, only to slide back again as they climbed higher. With his spine pressed into the snowmobile’s backrest, Ryder had no room to move. Not that he wanted to. Eventually, she gave up fighting gravity and stayed put, her bottom resting snugly between his thighs.

  Ryder smiled at his good fortune but forced himself to focus on something other than the woman pressed against him. Instead, he inhaled a deep breath of freezing air and thought about Lewicki’s unexpected arrival. Ryder had been relieved to see his friend. Lew’s historical knowledge of the case would be invaluable, though he’d have to be prepared to take a back seat, which would be hard for someone with Lew’s temperament. Flowers had been doing some decent work, and Ryder didn’t want Lew upsetting their fledgling partnership because he was so invested in Celia Delaney’s case.

  Ryder caught sight of the granite boulder through the trees and then the police tape came into view.

  ‘I hope this doesn’t prove to be a waste of time,’ Vanessa said, unclipping her helmet as they climbed off the snowmobile a few minutes later.

  Ryder tried to keep his expression neutral. But—a waste? Never. Riding pillion behind her had been worth every damn second in the freezing cold. His body hummed with nervous anticipation, and it wasn’t because he was about to look at something called a tree well. He managed a casual shrug as they walked towards the tape. ‘It’s always best to check things out.’

  He lifted the tape so she could duck underneath, then followed her into the cordoned-off area. The snow was deeper away from the trails, and despite his calf-length hiking boots, Ryder sank to his knees in the snow.

  ‘Be careful here.’ She moved tentatively towards the base of the ancient gum. Snow weighed down its foliage, the lower boughs resting on the ground. Ryder watched as Vanessa squatted and took hold of one of the smaller
branches. Even before she’d pushed it aside, he could see the circular void that had formed around its trunk.

  ‘Let me hold that.’ He squatted beside her and she let him take the weight of the branch. Pushing it out of the way, he leaned forward and peered down into a wide, deep hole. ‘Jesus. Ski too close to that and you could find yourself buried in a matter of seconds.’

  ‘That’s why you should never ski alone. If you fall into one of these, you have little chance of digging yourself out.’

  Ryder reached into his pocket for his point-and-click camera. Vanessa held the branch again while he took photographs for the file.

  As they straightened up, the branch flew back in place with a shower of snow. Ryder took a couple of steps back and looked up at the crown of the tree. He had no idea how high it would have been in 1964, but even if it had been half the height, the bottom of the tree well would have been much farther down because the snow had been so much deeper back then.

  Vanessa was looking at him wide-eyed, like he might suddenly have an answer, and he wished he did.

  ‘Thank you for showing me this. Unfortunately, it raises more questions than it answers.’ He couldn’t discuss the case with her, but his mind was racing. Could Celia have fallen into the tree well and suffocated? Was that how she’d suffered the deceleration injuries? The area was isolated, even more so back then. No one would have heard her cries for help. Ryder banished the disturbing image from his mind, his gut telling him she hadn’t been on skis. The area was hostile, and she’d been a tentative skier. The fact that no ski fragments had been recovered near the bones added weight to the theory that she had been on foot. Ryder slipped the camera back into his pocket. The more he mulled it over, the more he suspected she had gone down with the chairlift. Could she have survived the fall, only to tumble into the tree well? It was significant that the hazard was only steps from her grave. But it didn’t explain how she had sustained the repeated blows to her head.

  He lifted the tape for Vanessa, certain of one thing: the person who had been leaving posies on Celia’s grave had to be the same person who’d found her body in the spring melt, and who’d made the decision to put her in the ground.

  And that raised the question of why.

  The clink of keys brought Ryder back to the present. He glanced sideways at Vanessa.

  ‘Do you mind if I drive?’ he asked, watching as she put on her helmet and fastened the strap. ‘It’s been a while.’

  She pointed at the snowmobile. ‘You’ve driven one of these before?’

  ‘An older model than that one.’

  ‘Well … since you’re pulling rank, Detective.’ She grinned and lobbed the keys in his direction.

  Ryder shot out a hand and caught them. ‘You’ll need to show me the way.’ Feeling more twenty-eight than thirty-eight, he tossed the keys in the air, snatched them back again and swung his leg over the snowmobile. With luck, she would move up nice and securely behind him, her head close to his as she directed him.

  ‘The newer models work the same way as the older ones,’ she said. ‘The throttle’s still on the right, the brake on the left. It’s a push-button start now. The biggest difference is in the power. Take it easy until you get the feel of it.’

  He slipped the key into the ignition and pressed the start button, enjoying the light pressure of her hands on his shoulders and the brush of her body as she slipped in behind him. With the sun sinking fast, he switched on the headlights. When she gave him the thumbs up, he opened the throttle and headed back the way they’d come.

  Vanessa leaned easily with the machine, her knees brushing his hips as she waved him away from the deeper snow drifts and pointed out places where partially submerged rocks could cause a problem.

  ‘Can we go via the old chairlift?’ he shouted over his shoulder.

  ‘What?’ She wriggled closer up behind him.

  ‘The old chairlift?’

  ‘That way.’ She pointed past his shoulder. ‘Keep to the higher track.’

  When they reached the smoothed-out area being prepared for the tube run, Ryder let the snowmobile idle. Lights were coming on inside the Charlotte Mountain Inn, the jewel in the crown and the centre of village life. In his mind’s eye he pictured the chairlift, the colourful cabs soaring higher than the trees on their way to the Stillwell Restaurant. Then his mind shifted gear and he imagined Celia cowering, hands raised to ward off whatever or whoever was coming towards her. Blood and brain matter, leaking from her fractured skull to congeal in her hair. Her lifeblood, seeping from her tiny, twisted body to form a black stain in the virgin snow.

  A sudden gust of wind sent the top layer of snow swirling around the snowmobile.

  ‘We’d better keep going,’ Ryder said, with a quick glance at Vanessa.

  She nodded, but didn’t say anything. That was one of the things he liked about her: she was comfortable with the silences.

  For Ryder, the trip back was over all too soon.

  He parked the snowmobile in the same spot, away from the busy entrance with its rows of ski racks lined up out front. With a pang of regret he hit the ignition button and waited as the engine petered out. For long seconds neither of them moved, and then he slid forward giving her room to swing her leg over the seat.

  ‘Oh!’

  He swung around, lunging towards her the same instant she grabbed his shoulder. A buckle on her ski boot had snagged on the padded seat and she jolted backwards, the leg on which she was standing beginning to twist at the knee.

  ‘Steady.’ He wrapped an arm around her slim waist, supporting her until she’d righted herself. Then he reached out and gently unhooked the black boot with the orange flame design on the side.

  ‘Oh, my God, thank you.’

  Only when she had both feet firmly planted on the ground did he let her go. ‘That could have been nasty. Are you all right?’

  ‘I am.’ She unclipped her helmet then bent down to rub a hand over her knee. ‘Sorry about that. I could have pulled you off the damn thing.’

  ‘Who knew skidoos could be so dangerous?’

  ‘It was my fault. I undo my buckles when I’m walking around. I should have done them up again.’

  ‘That’s why I never took to skiing. Too much equipment involved. With football, you pull on a jersey and run onto the field.’

  ‘Have you ever tried it?’

  ‘Oh, sure. I went on a couple of school trips, and a group of us came down when we were younger.’ He smiled. ‘I was playing football back then. There was a clause in my contract saying I wasn’t allowed to ski or bungee jump, so I spent the weekend drinking schnapps in the hot tub. The ultimate skiing experience.’

  ‘What code did you play?’ she asked, continuing to massage her knee.

  ‘League. Not for long, though. I retired when I kept dislocating the same shoulder.’

  ‘Ouch,’ she said, straightening up. ‘I don’t blame you for giving it up.’ She went to say something more, then hesitated, as though she’d had second thoughts.

  He held out the keys to the snowmobile. ‘Take these, or you’ll be looking everywhere for them.’

  She took the keys from him, and dropped them inside her helmet. ‘When did you learn to drive a snowmobile?’

  ‘Oh, on a Contiki tour I did with a few mates. I was about nineteen, I think.’

  She smiled. ‘Sounds like fun.’

  They hadn’t moved from the spot where they’d parked. Ryder hoped it wasn’t wishful thinking on his part, but she seemed as reluctant as he was to leave.

  ‘So, is there an end in sight for your day, Detective?’ she asked eventually.

  He sighed. ‘It’s not looking good, especially now that I have a visitor.’

  She nodded. ‘Oh, yes, Mr Lewicki.’

  Ryder smiled. ‘Lew and I go way back.’ He might still be smarting from Lew’s harsh words in Henderson’s office, but it would take more than that to damage their relationship.

  She nodded. ‘So, do you get
time off when you’re working on a case, or are you expected to be on duty twenty-four–seven?’ She held his gaze for a few long seconds then began loosening the fingers of her other glove. ‘Don’t worry. Forget I said—’

  ‘I get time off.’

  She stilled, two pink spots forming on her cheekbones.

  ‘What did you have in mind?’ he asked.

  ‘Coffee, or a drink. In Jindabyne—if our days off coincide.’ She looked down and pushed her gloves inside the helmet on top of the keys, then looked up as though ready to hear his answer.

  He nodded. ‘I’d like that.’

  She smiled, then ever so slowly ran her eyes over him, like he’d finally given her permission to do so.

  ‘It’s not risky for you, is it?’ she asked, as they finally began to make their way towards the corner of the building.

  ‘Only if you’re a felon, or there’s a warrant out for your arrest.’

  ‘Oh, no. I’m clean, Detective.’ She smoothed her hair back from her face, her hazel eyes twinkling, a satisfied smile curving her full lips.

  ‘No problem then,’ said Ryder. He needed to let her know, right now, just how keen he was. ‘So, when’s your next day off?’

  She laughed, and his skin turned to gooseflesh the way it did when he heard the first notes of his favourite song.

  ‘I’ll check my roster, but I’m sure I have one owing.’

  Lewicki wasn’t in the suite.

  Ryder walked into the room that served as his office and stared at the file in the centre of the desk. It looked much as it had when he’d left. He flipped open the file cover and stared at the stack of documents held together by a metal split pin. There were no signs of Lew having gone through it, though Ryder secretly hoped he had. He’d already made up his mind to use Lew regardless of whether he had a short-term contract. Lew’s knowledge of the original investigation was a valuable police resource you couldn’t put a price on.