Mountain Ice (David Dean Mysteries)

It was mid-afternoon when the pair had just finished skiing "See Forever" from the summit, but Ryland was anxious to return to his son.

"It's funny," he said. "You wouldn't think skiing the bunny slope with a kid is any fun but I got a hell of a kick out of it. I just wish it could happen more often."

Dean nodded in agreement and the two skied back down to "The Meadows" to join the others. They spotted Fred and the boy from the top of the slope. Fred held a large white handkerchief to his face.

"Are you blowing your nose or waving a white flag?" Dean called as he neared the boy and old man.

"Just wiping my eyes. They water up in the cold." Then he added, "-when you ski as fast as I do." But Dean could see in spite of Fred's humor, something was wrong. Both he and the boy had their skis off. As Dean looked closer at Donnie, he could see he was crying.

"What's the trouble?" Dean asked as Ryland skied up to his son and tried to console him. Donnie clung to him like a frightened toddler.

"I think we've had a day of it," was all Fred would answer.

Dean hurried to return his skis while the others took the gondola back to the parking lot. By the time he caught up with them, Donnie had recovered somewhat, but gone was the enthusiasm demonstrated earlier and he continued to clutch his father, as close as the seat belt would allow.

"He saw someone who scared the dickens out of him," Fred muttered as the group drove from the lot. "I was picking myself up from a minor miscue and Donnie had skied ahead of me to base. Some guy came up to him-not a skier, but whoever he was, it frightened the boy. Donnie got his skies tangled up, trying to move away. By the time I skied down, the guy was nowhere to be seen."

The first person Dean thought of was Donnie's stepfather, Jerome Shipton. But it was Ryland who asked his son if that was who frightened him. Donnie wouldn't respond, turning away from his father toward the window. Ryland didn't press him and the boy fell asleep before they had turned down the canyon toward the town of Placerville. The rest of the one hour trip to Ouray was driven in silence.