"That figures. The memorial is hard on her, I think. And of course, losing Nate, and then their baby, that was horrible, too."

I'm not sad, Goldy. Just puzzled.

"Uh," I ventured, "the patrolwoman over there said an avalanche hadn't come down Elk Ridge for thirty years."

Gail shrugged. "You get the right snow conditions, a slope steeper than thirty degrees, a trigger, it could happen anywhere. That's why we set explosives on some peaks. We want to anticipate slides."

"But there wasn't an explosive trigger for the avalanche that killed Nate. Or was there?" Before she could answer, I heard a familiar yell: Mom! followed by Goldy Schulz! just in case there was any doubt what Mom was being summoned.

From the other end of the run, Arch waved at me with both hands. "Hey, Mom!" He and Todd, their snowboards leashed to their ankles, scooted toward me.

Snow clung to Todd's hat, jacket, pants, and mittens. His lowered chin indicated discouragement, pain, and embarrassment. He must have taken an awfully bad fall. At least he hadn't had to be carried off the slope. Speaking of which.

"The other patroller said you were on the team that actually brought out Nate's body," I said to Gail.

Gail flipped her glossy hair back and scowled at the mountain. "There was a report, all public record, if you want to look it up. I read about you in the paper, wanting to do your own investigations."

I shook my head. "I want to know what's bothering Rorry. I just don't want to say something to her that would hurt her feelings - "

Gail's voice softened. "We believe there was a human trigger for the avalanche. So you might not even want to mention the slide to Rorry."

"What?"

She looked away. "It's all public record," she repeated. "There were three sets of tracks at the Elk Ridge trailhead that day. It's a well-marked hiking area in the summertime, but this was winter, with seven inches of new snow. We saw two sets of boot prints going up, one Nate's, one somebody else's. Snow-depth was almost identical, so there's reason to believe Nate went up with somebody. Still, it's not impossible that the other person came up later. It's just unlikely - "

I stopped her. "Why is it unlikely?"

"If you follow someone else, you usually step in their tracks. It makes it easier to walk. Nate's and this other person's tracks were side by side."

"Somebody else was hit by the avalanche that day, but didn't get killed? Or was killed and never found?"

"No," Gail corrected patiently, holding me with her dark eyes. Arch and Todd were twenty feet away. "Somebody went partway up the path with Nate. Then his companion or whoever split off and went up the ridge. Nate descended to the valley. We don't know why he went there. His footprints led into the slide. We didn't find him for five hours. By then, he'd suffocated."