Title: Winter Fun, Capitolo Quattro

Author: Kerry

Disclaimer: nope, not mine at all. The end.

A/N: happy new year, everyone!

Chapter Four: Silence

Killington Mountain, Vermont

The hills of Killington, Vermont are quiet at night. Peaceful, even. When all the skiers and boarders have departed for the day, a heaviness falls throughout the valley. Lights dim; the mechanical murmur of the chairlifts at last fades away. A few ambitious parents drag their children out for sledding, determined that not even the youngest of the family miss out on the winter fun. Most, however, simply watch the scene unfold from inside their soundproof condo windows, curled up in front of the fire as they thaw from the day's expedition.

By five o'clock, there is a very scarce population on the slopes. It consists mainly of snow-cat drivers and ski-mobile riders, and every now and then a beginner skier who just can't seem to get down the trail. Time passes, eventually leaving only the snow-cats: their headlights cut through the sleeping valley like a knife in the dark. If a driver is hurt somehow, he will have to wait until morning for someone to come find him. The mountain has gone to sleep at last; nothing can disturb it, and he can yell all he pleases, but no one will hear.

And last Tuesday at 5:17 in the afternoon, when Mandy Turner was attacked on the famous 20-mile-long Juggernaut Too, no one was around to hear her screams. No one was around to hear the gunshot that ended her life, and no one was around to hear the scraping of skis on ice as her murderer sped away in the black night.


"A couple of kids found her," the on-sight police officer reported as he led the way through the mess of branches and fallen leaves. "A bit of a shock for them, naturally. We brought them down to the ski-patrol hut at the base if you would like to speak to them. A group of girls – sisters – following one of those technically illegal paths through the woods." He paused in speech and in pace, pulling back a last branch to reveal Amanda Turner's final resting place. Glancing back at the detectives – a thin, scrawny man with deadened brown eyes and a pallid face, accompanied by a darker-looking man who loomed tall beneath threatening eyebrows and black eyes – he spoke, detachedly: "Here she is."

Detective Travis Decovy entered the niche formed by the overhanging evergreens first, but showed no emotion for the sprawled-out young body. His partner, the smaller Detective Peter Falver, let out a small gasp but quickly covered his mouth. It was a scene difficult to be unaffected by. Mandy lay on her back, eyes open and staring at the empty sky. However, it was if she had been dead for weeks – months – not merely days. The officer was quick to explain.

"We think she was covered in some sort of acid before burial." He had followed them into the grove, surveying what remained of the body. "It was a good theory: the murderer must have calculated that by the time the snow melted in April, Mandy Turner would be nothing but ash and dirt."

"But he didn't factor in this thaw we've been stuck with," Decovy finished, eyes flashing. Ramlin nodded.

"And lucky for us it came," he added, glancing at his watch. "I actually got a call for another hit – she's all yours, guys." Falver gave a small half-wave at his retreating back before crouching down closer to the body.

"It looks like it was just the one shot to the head that did her in. No other distinguishable contusions, markings…"

"Any traces of having put up a fight?"

"Not that I can tell," Falver stood again. "I don't think there's much we can do here. Just let the ME do his job, you know?" Decovy remained silent, brooding for a moment as he gazed at their surroundings.

"Not a single tree branch is broken," he said thoughtfully. "And the way Mandy is lying – on her back, looking up. She was looking at the killer; whoever it was shot her from the front. But she trusted him up until the last second."

"It was someone she knew." Decovy turned to face his partner of four years, his gaze intent.

"Someone she was vacationing with." Falver nodded and slipped off his crime-scene gloves before signaling to the medical examiner that they were done. It was as good a place as any to start.


Amherst, Massachusetts

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"The afternoon the rest of us were leaving; Sunday, that is."

"The rest of us…" Danny nodded in response to Bobby's hanging question.

"We were scheduled to drive back to Amherst on Sunday afternoon. Some of our friends had finals on Monday, so we had decided to throw our annual holiday party on Tuesday – go home Wednesday." There was a definite tremor to her voice. Paul laid a comforting hand on her arm as she continued determinedly. "When we were heading down to the parking lot – Paul was driving back – she caught sight of someone and went to speak to him or her."

"You couldn't tell who it was?" Alex questioned, notebook in hand and pen scribbling away.

"Not at all – you know how ski clothes are, and she was in full get-up: helmet, snowsuit, gloves."

"No goggles?"

"She had them on her helmet, but wasn't wearing them. She turned away before I could get a close enough look." As she spoke, Alex shifted in her seat: they were running on an hour of questioning the kids. She and Bobby sat across from the pale red-headed, red-eyed Danny Marks and Mandy's boyfriend Paul Jamison, who would best be classified as the 'tall, dark, and handsome' type. The dorm room had at first seemed too small for Bobby to fit in; now, with the detectives on extracted desk-chairs and the students on Danny's bed as well as with the high-tide of emotions, Alex felt as though she was suffocating.

"You keep referring to the person as a 'she'" Bobby commented when Danny had finished. "Is there a reason why you lean more towards that gender?"

"Well, like I said before, I couldn't tell for sure. However, she – it – was wearing a pink ski suit. I guess I just assumed. Like – like I assumed that she was safe." Danny quickly glanced down: tears that had been threatening to spill out the entire afternoon had given their last warning. Alex leaned forward, taking one of Danny's hands in her own. At the contact, Danny slowly pulled her gaze up.

"None of this is your fault, Danny. You can't let yourself believe that it is; Mandy wouldn't want it that way."

"Mandy," Paul spoke dully, alerting them to his almost-forgotten presence, "Mandy wouldn't have wanted to be dead."

"Well, what's your story, Mr. Jamison?" Bobby broke in harshly, seeming to take offense at the young man's easy dismissal of Danny's feelings. "Danny, was Paul at the car when you got there that afternoon?"

"Are you asking for my alibi?" Paul said aggressively before Danny had a chance to reply. "No, I wasn't there, alright? I was upstairs in my room." Alex gave an empty half-laugh as she tapped her pen on the notepad impatiently.

"We're going to need a little better than that, Paul."

"Fine. I had taken a pretty bad fall, and decided to go back to the room. I took some painkillers for my knee, then fell asleep." At the skeptical looks on the detectives' faces, he added defiantly: "Just ask the ski patrol if you don't believe me."

"Believe me," Bobby replied, closing his ever-thickening black folder. "We will." He stood, Eames following suit. "I think we're done here."

"Give us a call should anything come up." Alex took one last sweeping look around the dorm: it practically screamed of normality. Typical teenage posters hung on the walls (Aragorn from Lord of the Rings, Orlando Bloom, some band Alex hadn't heard of); a half-empty box of cookies sat atop the refrigerator in the corner. Their desks were littered with paper; each was bestowed with a laptop. Danny had obviously done her best to quickly tidy up before the detectives had arrived: the two beds on one side of the room (tucked up against opposite corners) were neatly made. Both had fairly plain coverlets, Mandy's with a homemade quilt folded at the end. Danny traced her gaze and rose, crossing the four feet to Mandy's bed. With a gentle hand, she traced over the material, smiling sadly.

"Mandy has had this since she was seven," she said. "Her father gave it to her, some sort of family heirloom. She never goes anywhere for a length of time without it." Alex nodded sympathetically.

"We'll be in touch, Danny." They made eye contact for a moment before Bobby opened the door and ushered Alex out. As the door closed behind them, the two paused for a moment, communicating in a way only they could.

"The boyfriend," Bobby finally voiced.

"He seemed a little overly-"

"Defensive."

"Exactly," Alex finished, drumming her fingers on her cell phone as she checked her messages. "And was it just me, or did you get the sense there was something going on between Danny and Paul?"

"He did seem to be awfully close to her," Bobby agreed, looking down at her. "But nothing positively condemning. Shall we go?"

They had nearly reached the car when a shaky voice held them back. Glimpsing back, they saw Danny Marks jogging after them, hastily having thrown an afghan over her tank top clad shoulders. Her carrot-colored hair blew about in the wind; combined with her smeared mascara, it presented a very dramatic scene.

"Detective Eames?" Alex waved Bobby off to the car, handing him the keys. Without protest, he left: some evidence was best collected woman to woman.

"What is it, Danny?"

"Well," she began, hesitating.

"Whatever you say will not be repeated to Paul, don't worry," Alex assured; Danny glanced up at her, eyes wide and trusting.

"It's just – well, last weekend, when we were up in Vermont, I heard two guys fighting in the hotel hallway. I had been getting ice….the two guys, they sounded like Paul and Jem. Mandy was definitely mentioned."

"Jem?"

"Oh," Danny replied, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "her ex-boyfriend. I'm not sure if it means anything, but I thought I should tell you."

"That's great, Danny. You made the right decision; thanks for trusting us." The girl gave a timid smile; underneath it Alex could see the person who Mandy had once known. However, the moment soon passed, and the trace of the vivacious young woman disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared.

"Well…I should get back. Paul thinks I'm using the restroom."

"Of course. We'll keep in touch." Danny began the walk up to her dorm: this time it was Alex who called Danny back, looking contemplative. "Danny, wait – this may seem personal; if so, I apologize. But did Paul ever, well, show interest in someone besides Mandy?"

"I suppose you mean me," Danny sighed at Alex's assent. "To be honest…that night, at the bar the night before everything fell apart, Paul got completely wasted. He came over to me and started saying all these things; I don't know where Mandy was at the time."

"What kind of things did he say?" Alex asked, gently.

"Stuff like…'You're so beautiful' and 'it's always been you who I really wanted.'" Tears had reformed in her eyes. "I- I told him he was crazy; he was my best friends boyfriend! I pushed him away and went to find Mandy…I never worked up the nerve to tell her, though." Sniffling, she added: "I don't think he remembers any of it; he hasn't brought it up since."

"Thank you again, Danny." Alex pulled a pad of tissues from her pocket, holding it out to her. She gladly accepted. "You've been extremely helpful."

When Alex returned to the car, she found Bobby deep in conversation with someone who looked as if he was a priest; at least, he had the white collar of one. Approaching, she introduced herself, holding out her hand to shake.

"Detective Eames."

"Aglison. A pleasure to meet you," he replied. "I was just telling Bobby here" - Alex raised an eyebrow curiously at her partner - "how sorry I am for Miss. Turner. We're praying for her."

"We heard there was some conflict between you and Mandy?" Bobby questioned casually.

"Oh, nothing too unusual. It happens when you choose to preach at a liberal arts college like this. In fact, I often enjoy the debate." Something about the way he spoke struck Alex as artificial; looking sideways at Bobby, she knew he felt the same way.

"Well, that's good. We had just heard something about she and her father not getting along…" Bobby let his sentence hang.

"Nothing I knew about." The priest checked his watch. "If you'll excuse me, I must be getting to the lecture hall. Christmas Eve tomorrow, you know; it's a busy time of year for us."

"Of course," Bobby riposted. As Father Aglison's figure departed, Alex headed over to the drivers door, waiting for Bobby to unlock the car.

"Well? You coming?"

"Nah." He remained unmoving by the back. "Why don't we walk for a bit? The thought of getting in there for another two hours is hardly appealing." Alex hid a chuckle: with his long legs and tall build, he must have found the trip even more painful than she had.

"Sure." They chose a relatively open path cutting through the heart of campus: everything was nonetheless still, most of the college students having returned home for the holidays. "It's beautiful up here."

"Did Danny have anything useful to say?"

"Just more evidence pointing to the boyfriend. Apparently, he had a fight with Mandy's ex, Jem. Jem, however, is probably not around to question. Also, in a drunken state this Saturday, Paul told Danny that it was she he wanted to be with."

"Excellent – a love triangle."

"Mmm.'

"It seems too easy."

"I know." Ten minutes later, they had reached the opposite end of the school, and stood overlooking a collection of sports fields: soccer, field hockey, baseball, and a whole array of tennis courts. Alex smiled fondly as memories washed over her. Catching sight of the faraway look on Alex's face, Bobby asked:

"Did you play sports in college?" She grinned up at him, a playful twinkle in her eyes.

"Well, no, but I was a cheerleader, and there was this super-hot football jock…" Unable to disguise it any longer, she broke out laughing: Bobby soon joined when he realized she was just joking. "The look on your face was priceless, Goren!" He chuckled.

"Just for the record-"

"No, I was never a cheerleader. Although, I did give said football jock a black eye in gym softball."

"Interesting prom queen you must've been."

"You bet." They stood for a few more moments in companionable silence, watching a few students start up a game of rugby. It felt almost surreal: the ongoing empty fields combined with the silence of the woods was a scene much too serene for detectives of the New York City Major Case Squad.

"Hey Eames?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry about the way Christmas is turning out."

"Hey, it's hardly your fault. We're in this together, in case you've forgotten." She smiled, raising a hand to turn his head to face her own. Brown eyes met brown eyes: one set deep and soulful, one lively and energetic. "You just owe me some eggnog."

"Done." And he returned her smile.


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