the car on the way home to find out if he’d gone to the police with the first letter, he’d insisted on coming over. After his initial brush off earlier that morning, he seemed genuinely concerned.
“So, walk me through it one more time,” an older policeman named Henry prodded. He had a kind, fatherly face and a deep voice.
“It hasn’t changed since the last time I told you,” I groaned, crossing my arms. With the initial danger gone, I was growing weary of talking about it.
Bryan patted my elbow and I shot him a look that said, “Thin ice, buddy,” but he didn’t seem to read it.
I rolled my eyes, and rattled off the bullet points with little emotion. “Fine. I finished training with Janet, walked downstairs with her but went into the locker room alone. I dropped my shit, took a shower, found that , made sure no one was lurking around with a big butcher knife, scoped out the place, nothing, went and found Bryan upstairs in the bar.” Found Bryan playing bride-and-groom with that younger, cuter model , I finished in my head.
“And your coach, can we speak with her?”
“I can give you all her contact information,” Josh cut in.
“She’ll be asleep by now, anyway,” I mumbled.
Henry scratched a few notes onto a small pad of paper, completely obscured by his large hands. He looked up and studied me for a moment, not unkindly. “Did anyone else see you tonight? Know where you were?”
“Some of the staff are starting to recognize me. I mean, I was there all day. I had a bit of a run-in with a girl who hates me, if that helps.” Henry’s bushy eyebrows moved a fraction as he gestured for me to continue. “Nicole Drexel, another American skier. Loads of people saw it, and she’s threatened me before.”
“Like this?” he asked.
“Well, not exactly…” I had to admit. “But she has more reason than anyone else.
“We’ll look into it,” he said as he jotted it down. “Anyone else? Right around the time it happened. Anyone see you near the locker room, maybe a person you passed in the hallway?”
I shrugged again, looking at Bryan. “Just him and the bartender.”
“Bartender at the Double Diamond? Do you know her name? Anything about her?” he asked Bryan, tapping the pen to the side of his mouth.
Bryan gave me a sideways glance and picked at his fingernails. “Her name is Paige Simpson. She’s American, here with her cousin…” I gritted my teeth. He knows a hell of a lot more about her than that, he just doesn’t want to say it in front of me.
“Right… okay. Do you know where she lives by any chance?”
I felt Henry and Josh’s eyes dart to me, but I kept mine pinned on Bryan. Well? Do you? You seem to know an awful lot about this little bimbo.
“No, nothing like that,” he shook his head.
“All right then. I’ll try and track her down, see if she’s heard or seen anything as well,” said Henry. The handful of other police gathered back in the kitchen, declaring the house clear and free of crazy stalkers eager to slit my throat. “I think that’ll just about do it. Can you think of anything else you think we should know?”
I stifled a yawn and shook my head, but jumped when I realized I actually had left out an important part. Jamming my hand into my back pocket, I pulled out my phone. “Someone left me a voice message. I completely forgot.”
“Liz, you didn’t think this might…” Bryan started to say.
“I’ll be sure to do better with my next stalker,” I snapped. Putting the phone on speaker, I played the message for the room. The distorted voice somehow sounded more menacing this time around. Perhaps it was the gravity of the situation, playing it for police while they began an investigation.
Henry had me play it twice, taking notes the second time through. “I’m going to need a copy of that.”
“I can get a copy of it to you tomorrow,” Josh stepped in.
“Officer,” I started tentatively, “do you think I should be worried?
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