‘I’m glad we were due to meet today,’ he said, pulling his neck warmer down so his voice wasn’t muffled. The day was mostly clear but a chilly four below zero. Ryder’s lips were already stinging. ‘Flowers is in Khancoban.’

Sterling stilled for an instant then wrangled her snowboard onto the footrest. ‘Right now?’

Ryder nodded. ‘As we speak.’

‘For the plane?’

‘Yes. Did you hear it come in?’

‘No, the sirens woke me up though. I thought it was a road accident until I saw a post on the Khancoban Community page saying it was a plane. Why are Homicide involved?’

They were high on the chairlift now, with no chance of being overheard. Even so, Ryder looked straight ahead, disguising their conversation to anyone who might be watching.

‘A tractor was left on the runway and the pilot was killed. If it was intentional there’ll be an investigation. So don’t worry if you see us around town.’

‘Okay.’

‘How’re things otherwise?’

‘The same. I have nothing new to report.’ Sterling curled her mitten-covered hands around the safety bar. ‘If someone’s dealing drugs in the pub, it’s not happening on my shift. Maybe it’s time I put the word out that I’m looking to score a hit.’

Ryder took a deep breath. He could sympathise with her frustration; he’d been undercover himself several times and it was tough and lonely work.

‘Listen to me, Sterling, it’s your first assignment and it’s normal to be frustrated, but it can be dangerous to try and make things happen. Buying drugs and having them in your possession creates a whole new set of problems. If you buy marijuana, what are you going to do if they insist you smoke it with them, or if they want you to take some other drug?’

When Sterling didn’t answer, he went on.

‘Disposing of the drugs becomes a problem too.’

Sterling nodded. ‘I hadn’t thought that far ahead.’

‘That’s why we have these meetings. You’ve been undercover for eight weeks. I know that feels like a long time when nothing’s happening, but don’t lose sight of the fact that it’s been six months since Scruffy Freidman’s body went floating down the Thredbo River. That day, the drug squad lost whatever information they thought they’d get from him and the trail went cold on my investigation here. So don’t feel pressured to make things happen.’

Just then, the chairlift came to a sudden stop.

‘Someone’s probably fallen over on the unloading ramp,’ Sterling said.

‘That’s good,’ said Ryder, as the chair swung gently, ‘maybe we’ll get an extra minute.’

‘Someone found out Freidman turned, Sarge.’

‘No doubt.’