Double Black Diamond

by A. G. Henley

  I followed her onto the walkway. After years of running several days a week and weight-training in the gym, I was in decent shape. But by the time I reached the top of the hill, I gasped for air, my head pounded, and my lungs burned. Veena and friends were barely out of breath.

  “Veena, hold on,” I panted.

  Too late. They’d climbed into their tubes and slid down into one of the grooves, screeching as they went. After a second, I followed them down. They waited for me at the bottom.

  “Fun, right?” Veena asked me, a huge smile on her face, before jumping back on the walkway with Ali and Gage on her heels.

  We slid down the hill again. It should have been a blast, like Veena said, but I couldn’t seem to fully catch my breath, and my brain beat against my skull. After the third run, I stopped at the bottom, wincing and holding my head.

  Seeing me, Veena came back and touched my arm. “You okay, Nic?”

  Dizziness blurred my vision. I collapsed into a low wood chair a few feet away.

  “Ali! Gage!” Veena called as she squatted beside me, concern on her face.

  “Veena . . .” A warning note rang in Ali’s voice. “Ski patrol!” She pointed subtly behind me.

  “Oh, squash.” Veena stood.

  Squash? I glanced back, squinting through the pain jabbing my head. A guy, hands in his pockets, strolled up from the direction of the gondola. He wore a red ski coat with a big white cross on the sleeve and black pants. No ID tag. He stepped close to Veena, setting off alarm bells in my head.

  Who was this? Brown had sent me headshots of most of the school and coaching staff as well as a lot of the full-time resort employees, including the ski patrol, to memorize so I could spot anyone pretending to be an employee. This guy’s face wasn’t familiar.

  Black spots swam around in my peripheral vision, but I moved my hand into my jacket pocket to find the small can of pepper-spray I’d stowed there after getting off my flight. In Colorado, pepper spray was considered a self-defense tool rather than a weapon. I had a few other tricks up my sleeve, too. Now, if I could just hold off from passing out long enough to use them.

  “Hey, Veena. What’s up?” The guy looked about twenty-one, around the same age as the lift operators I’d seen so far, but a lot less furry. His brown hair was cut short and tousled at the top, and his jaw was shaved. He was pretty handsome, actually. He didn’t look like a Hollywood-style bad guy, but I didn’t look like a Hollywood-style bodyguard, either. As I studied him, he eyed me right back.

  “Nothing. Having some fun on our day off,” Veena said. “Please don’t get us in trouble, Connor.”

  A smile tickled his lips. “Is tubing a reportable offense at VMA now?”

  “Probably,” Ali muttered.

  Okay, so they knew him at least. I relaxed a little.

  Connor tilted his head toward me. “Who’s this?”

  I stood to be closer to Veena, but my legs gave out halfway up and I dropped back into the chair. His brown eyes pinched with concern.

  “Nicole. Nic. My new roommate,” Veena said.

  “Brand new? As in you came up to altitude today?” Connor kneeled and touched my forehead with his palm. “Have you drunk any water? Eaten recently?”

  I shook my head, wincing against the pain. Veena gasped and slapped a hand against her mouth, as if she figured something out. Connor pulled his backpack off and rummaged through it. I kept my hand on the spray, but I wasn’t getting dangerous vibes off the guy. Instead, my throat felt stiff, and my mouth pooled with spit, giving me I’m-about-to-vomit vibes instead.

  “We’ll take you down the mountain, get you some help,” he said to me. “In the meantime, drink this.” With a quick twist of the cap, he handed me an orange bottle of Gatorade. My nose wrinkled. I didn’t like Gatorade; it tasted like cough syrup.

  “Drink it, Nic. Please. It’ll help,” Veena said. Ali and Gage nodded. I sipped at it.

  Connor stood and pressed a button on the side of a walkie-talkie hooked on his backpack strap. “I need a snowmobile at the bottom of the tubing hill. Transport to the ED.”

  I choked. “No. I’m fine. I don’t need to go to the hospital.” What would my team say if I ended up in the emergency department on my first day? An avalanche of nausea hit me, and I swallowed hard.

  A minute later, a snowmobile bounced into view, its engine revving. Connor stayed close to me as the other ski patrolman parked and jogged toward us. Behind him, I saw Cooley and another member of his team watching us. I cringed, knowing what they must be thinking.

  Veena clutched the arm of my chair. “I’m so sorry, Nic. This is my fault. I never should have brought you up here on your first day.”

  “What’s . . . wrong with me?”

  “You have alt—”

  But she didn’t get a chance to finish—because I threw up orange Gatorade all over Connor’s boots.

  Four

  “Altitude sickness. Very common.”

  The ED doctor was middle-aged, blond, fit, and had the leathery skin a lot of older people ended up with in the sun-drenched West.

  “People experience altitude sickness when they live at low elevations and come to the mountains. The air is thinner here, which means there’s less oxygen. Dehydration doesn’t help, and neither does strenuous exercise, like running around at 10,000 feet the first day you get here.” Her glance was pointy.

  I laid in my bed, mentally kicking myself. I’d read something about altitude sickness while researching Vail, but of course I didn’t think it would happen to me. A tiny, gray haired nurse bustled in, checking my IV bag. I stared at the needle piercing my skin to give me the fluids. What would Brown say?

  I tried to forget puking on Connor, but the moment was fresh and horrifying in my mind. Ali and Gage’s faces had crumpled with disgust. Veena, at least, had managed to look sorry for me. Connor was professional about it; he only shook his foot a little while he and the other guy helped me to the snowmobile.

  With a look on his face like this wasn’t the first time he’d had to do it for an idiot tourist, the other ski patroller handed me a barf bag out of his pack and gunned us down the hill. Luckily, we didn’t have to go far. The local medical center operated a satellite emergency department at the base of the mountain. It was hopping, too, with a steady stream of sprains, strains, broken bones—and altitude sickness.

  “In a few minutes you can try sucking on some ice chips and see how that goes down.” The nurse gave me a won’t-that-be-wonderful smile.

  Veena poked her head in the room as the doctor turned to me. “Rest and fluids. We’ll get you out of here as soon as the headache is gone and you can hold down some food.”

  Veena hovered by the door as they left. Her miniskirt was back. “How are you feeling?” Completely humiliated? I thought. She looked behind her. “Oh, Connor wanted to check on you. Can he come in?”

  “Um—” I was about to say hell no, when he leaned into the doorway and waved.

  I wanted to roll under my bed and pretend to be a dust bunny, but I smiled back instead. “Sure, come on in.”

  I adjusted the thin hospital blanket over my practically see-through gown and tried not to look at his victimized boot while he leaned against the wall. Veena perched on the edge of a chair next to me.

  “So, you’re feeling better?” she asked.

  “Yeah, a little.” The dizziness was gone, my stomach was settling, and the headache was fading. On the other hand, I felt like a total loser.

  “Nic, I’m so sorry,” she said in a rush. “It wasn’t fair to take you up the mountain the minute you got here. I should have thought about altitude sickness.” Her eyes pled with me to forgive her.

  “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “You’re pretty understanding. I’d kick her butt.” Connor winked at me.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “Sorry, Connor Crowley.” He came over and shook my hand. “I’m on the ski patrol.”

  “And he’
s a sports trainer with the U.S. Ski and Snowboard Team.” Veena bounced a little in her chair. I got the sense she never stayed still for long.

  He shrugged. “I came from Park City a week ago.”

  Park City, Utah was the headquarters for the U.S. Team. If he just arrived, it made sense that we wouldn’t have his picture. I’d have to tell Brown about him.

  “Connor helped Ali after a gnarly fall a few days ago. You picked a good one to hurl on.” Veena poked my arm, grinning.

  “Yeah, um . . . sorry about that.” I meant to apologize to Connor but ended up mumbling at my hospital socks poking out of the blanket at the end of the bed. When I worked up the guts to look at him, he grinned.

  “Altitude sickness sucks,” he said. “It can be serious, but you should be fine if you stay hydrated. Drink lots of water and eat something when you get out of here.”

  “Oh! What kind of food do you like?” Veena asked. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go! There’s a decent Indian place here in Vail. I miss my mom’s cooking when I’m at school, but at least I can get a decent fix once in a while.”

  I laid a protective hand on my stomach. “Something simple. Please. The school dining hall is fine.” It was probably fancy as school cafeterias go, but they had to have some soup or a cheese sandwich. I’d never had Indian food. I’d be happy to try it, but I knew it was spicy, and my gut couldn’t handle that right now.

  Veena shook her head, eyes wide. “The dining hall is never fine. But . . . if that’s what you want, you got it.”

  What I wanted was to have a few minutes to talk to her, like I’d first planned. We had a lot to get straight before I dove into her schedule of classes, friends, and training in the morning—if I wasn’t already fired.

  “Oh Nic, before I forget, Headmaster Muth wants to see you,” she said. “Which is usually an eleven out of ten on the agony scale. Maybe you could ask your doctor for some pain killers to get you through it.”

  Crap, I’d forgotten about him. My watch vibrated with an incoming text. Brown wanted an update on my status. Now. Cooley had taken over as Veena’s official CPO as soon as it was clear I was of no use. He was probably laughing at me out in the hallway right now.

  Connor pushed off the wall. “I’ve got to go. Glad you’re better, Nic. And don’t worry—I’ll be sure Nate makes Veena pay for today with plenty of squats and push-ups tomorrow.”

  She groaned, I laughed, and Connor threw me a little salute as he walked out.

  An hour and about fifteen hundred dollars billed to SSA later, I was dressed and leaving the clinic with Veena, on my way to see Muth.

  “Connor’s pretty hot, don’t you think?” Veena said as we walked outside. “He’s nice, too. Unlike some of the jerks up here.” She fiddled with her braid. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  “Veena . . . listen.” I hesitated, knowing how what I was about to say would sound. “I’d love to be friends if the situation were different. But my job is to keep you safe. To do that, I can’t be distracted. I want to be sure nothing happens to you, and the only way I can do that is to keep our relationship on a professional level.”

  Her pace slowed, and she looked away, at the mountain. “Sure, okay. I understand.”

  What I said was absolutely true and right. But watching the light my client seemed to carry around inside her dim made me feel awful. We walked back to the school in silence. Was this for the best? Or would it be better to let her in a little, so she’d trust me? Xene would say Veena would appreciate my professionalism one day—when it kept her alive.

  Dressed as a maintenance worker, one of Cooley’s team shoveled snow off a sidewalk outside the front door of the school. While I was on duty, Cooley and Kovitch would be stationed in the mechanical room inside, ready for quick responses, while their teams kept an eye on entrances and exits.

  The guy gave me a look and tapped his watch. I nodded. Brown had pinged me twice since that first time. I’d had a second to text him that I was being discharged, but I’d have to escape to the bathroom or a closet or something to call him.

  “Muth’s office is down there, to the right.” Veena waved listlessly down a hallway as we went in. “Good luck.”

  “Veena, when I’m finished, I’d like to talk to you. We have things we need to go over, protocols, what to do in different situations.”

  She dug at a crack in a floor tile with her boot toe and nodded, head down. Ugh, was she going to be a pouty type?

  I sighed. “I’ll meet you in your room in half an hour or so, okay?”

  “Fine.”

  I knew my little speech had been kind of harsh, but I wasn’t here as a high-paid buddy. I was her CPO. Letting her drag me off to hang out with her friends earlier had been a mistake. I had to prove I could be professional if I wanted to keep this job, and now I had extra ground to cover with both my team and the head of school.

  Maybe no one had explained to Veena what a CPO really did. Brown said she knew about the threats, but maybe she still didn’t get it. Who knows what her parents told her or didn’t tell her in an effort to protect her? Which was why I needed to explain my role right away. Brown thought she should know everything—it was her life on the line, and maybe she could even help us identify whoever was behind the threats. Hopefully I could smooth things over with her later.

  I texted Cooley as she walked away, letting him know I needed coverage and where to find Veena, and I video called Brown from an empty stairway to the second floor. His face filled my phone screen.

  I smoothed my wrecked hair. “We’re back at VMA. Meeting with Muth in a few minutes.”

  “Black Diamond?”

  “Heading to her room. I let Ice know, and I’ll meet her there later to establish some ground rules.”

  “You should have done that first.” He leaned closer to the camera; his voice was hard.

  I rolled my shoulders back and stood up straighter. “Yes, sir. I know.”

  “I’m not happy with you, Green.” He swept a thumb across his smooth forehead. “I’m already wondering if I made a mistake.” As if I didn’t catch his meaning, he added, “That’s not good.”

  Sweat prickled across my skin, and my hands and feet went cold. Was I about to get fired? “I just got sick, sir.”

  “Going up on that hill was a lapse of judgment. You knew you were feeling bad. You should have called in backup and sought treatment. By staying with your principal when you were impaired, you put her at risk. You always have to think about what’s safest for her. Do you understand?”

  Unfortunately, I did. I’d thought I was being tough, staying with Veena. But I had to admit, if Connor had been a murderer instead of a medic, I wouldn’t have been able to do a damn thing to protect her.

  “I understand.”

  His expression didn’t loosen, but he nodded. “Check in when you’re with her again.” He paused. “And I hope I don’t really need to say this, but don’t let something like that happen again.”

  I nodded, relief that I wasn’t being sent home almost sending me to the floor. “Chief, did you know there’s a new sports trainer and ski patroller here from the U.S. Ski Team? His name is Connor Crowley.”

  “No. I wasn’t informed about it.” His mouth curled down again.

  “I met him today. Seems legit, but I thought he should be checked out. He said he came from Park City not long ago.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out.” Brown signed off.

  Sweating in my coat and Veena’s snow pants, I peeled them off and leaned against the wall to check a text Mom sent.

  Nicole? Are you there? Are you all right?

  For a second, I imagined telling her how I really felt. Terrible. Still a little sick. And disappointed that I sucked at this already. But I hadn’t told my Mom the truth about how I felt in years. I sent her a reassuring text back, pulled my hair into a tight no-nonsense bun, straightened my shirt, and checked my teeth with my phone camera.

  Time to push the reset button, star
ting with the headmaster of Vail Mountain Academy.

  What kind of name was Muth? It sounded like the second part of vermouth, a kind of alcohol Gram drank in her martinis. I’d tried it once. It smelled like the medicine I used back when I had acne. I slugged some down, spit it out promptly, and shoved it to the back in the fridge. For all I knew, it was still in there now that Gram is gone.

  I shook away the memory of my grandmother. Avoiding thinking about my family was a survival skill at this point. Most of the way down the hall, an inconspicuous door said Head of School. A voice inside answered when I knocked, so I pushed it open.

  Dr. Muth’s office was compact and not all that grand. At least, not as grand as I’d expect from the head of a private ski and snowboard academy. It smelled like fresh soil and for good reason: green plants of all shapes and sizes sat on the desk, cabinets, floors, and windowsills. They hung from the ceiling and crept over bookcases. I might have heard a monkey screech. It was an alpine jungle.

  Other than the greenery, everything in the office was orderly. To the left was a closed door. File cabinets lined the wall to the right with matching containers labeled with things like Staples/Paper Clips and Printer Supplies evenly spaced on top. A wide wood desk held only a computer monitor, telephone, and a ceramic coffee cup with an illustration of an umbrella and towel that said I’d rather be at the beach!

  A man rose from behind the desk. He wore crisp jeans, a sport coat, a burgundy and black scarf, and loafers. His hair was cut short on the sides and carefully gelled into a brown wave on top.

  “May I help you?” His voice was clipped but his expression polite.

  Hmm, he looked younger than the photo Brown had sent me. I strode forward, hand out. “Dr. Muth, I’m Nicole Rossi.”

  The man’s eyes shot toward the side door, and his white smile wavered. I followed his gaze. An older man in slacks and a collared shirt stood in the second door I’d seen, hands in his pockets and his lips thinned.

  “I’m Dr. Daniel Muth.” He gestured to the first man. “This is our dean of students, Mr. Newman.”