Page 32 of K-9 Prime Target

“Yes, I want to see.”

“Pull your chair over here.” He made room for her and opened a file on his computer while she settled in. Both dogs were sharing a dog bed, relaxed but watching them. “You have a lot of admirers,” he said. “For instance, there’s this cutie.”

He pulled up a photo of a tiny girl, perhaps three years old, who stared with her mouth slightly open, small fingers engulfed by the hand of an adult half out of the frame. “She’s in a couple of shots the first day we filmed,” Liam said.

“I don’t think we have to worry she’s writing those notes,” Nina said. “Anyone else suspicious?”

“I’m a little concerned about this guy. He’s in at least four shots over two days.” He pulled up a shot of a man in gray pants, a black jacket and a gray helmet, his face clearly visible in this photo as he stood alongside a ski run.

“That’s Derek from the gyro truck,” Nina said.

“And he’s definitely staring at you,” Liam said.

She hugged her arms across her chest. “I can’t believe Derek would want to hurt me.” But she had thought that about Nicholson at first, too, hadn’t she? “Is there anyone else suspicious?”

“There’s one more guy who drew my attention.” He clicked to another file. “These images are pretty grainy. You’re not going to see much, but look at them all before you pass judgment.”

“All right.”

He clicked on the first shot. She couldn’t make out the person’s face, or tell much beyond the fact that he was standing alone and wore black ski pants and a black jacket and helmet. “You couldn’t get more plain than that,” she said.

“Maybe that’s the idea.” He selected a second image and opened it. “This one was taken about an hour later, on a different run. Same guy, I think.”

She squinted at the fuzzy image. “Maybe.”

“There’s a decal on the side of his helmet,” Liam said. “I was able to zoom in on it in another shot and it’s advertising Mt. Hood Meadows.”

“That’s in Oregon,” she said. “If it is Nicholson, what was he doing in Oregon?”

“Maybe he bought the helmet used.”

She nodded. “He probably bought all his gear used. Maybe at a store right here in town.”

He opened another picture. This one was much clearer. The same man was standing by himself, his head turned to the side. In addition to the helmet and goggles, most of his face was covered by a black fleece neck gaiter pulled up to just under his nose. “You can’t see any of his features,” Nina said. “But it’s the same man, I think.”

“Check the sticker on the helmet. It’s Mt. Hood Meadows.”

“I’ve never noticed that one before,” she said. “At least not as the only sticker on the helmet. Some people collect them from every resort they’ve skied at. Is he staring at me?”

“He is,” Liam said. “This was taken yesterday morning. The last shot is from the video we took with the ski school kids. I was upset about the dad who was so focused on you, but when I reviewed the footage, this man was in the background, across the slope.” He pulled up the image. Like the first, it was less clear, the sticker on the helmet only a white blur. But the man was by himself, turned toward Nina and the children.

She sat back. “The height seems right,” she said. “And the general build. I wish we could see his face better.”

“We’ve got the sticker on the helmet. That’s a lot easier for other people to spot.”

“Ski patrol can stop him. Especially if they see him watching me, or anyone else. Believe it or not, we’re on the lookout for people who do that—guys who harass women, or ones who spend too much time hanging around the ski school kids. You have to watch for stuff like that these days.” She sighed. “But we can’t hold him.”

“But they could call resort security, right? And maybe the sheriff?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you still have that deputy’s business card?” he asked her.

“Sure.” She retrieved her pack and fished out the card.

“I’m going to send these files to him and explain we believe this man could be your stalker.”

“I doubt the sheriff’s department will do anything about him,” she said.