The woman took her sweet time looking up from her computer screen. “I’m sorry. Who are you looking for?”
“There was an avalanche,” Lila nearly shouted. “They brought her here.”
Recognition dawned. “Oh my, yes. I heard about that.” She pointed down a corridor. “The emergency department is down there. Turn left at the end of the hallway.”
“Thanks,” Charlie Grace said, then broke into a sprint, making her way in that direction. Reva and Lila followed close behind.
The emergency waiting room was already packed. Word of the accident had moved faster than a train and dozens of familiar faces from Thunder Mountain had already gathered, murmuring in clusters or sitting tensely in chairs. The town had turned out for Capri—Nicola Cavendish sat with Sweetpea in her lap, whispering in hushed tones to her husband, Wooster. Typically, dogs were not allowed in the hospital, but Wooster’s bank had provided the money needed for an expansion of the pediatrics wing and concessions were made.
Pastor Pete stood with Annie near the coffee station; their heads bowed in prayer. Albie Barton, the town reporter, paced the room, notebook in hand and a pencil behind his ear.
Oma Griffith sat in one of the stiff, gray vinyl chairs between Betty Dunning and Dorothy Vaughn, clutching their hands. The older women looked pale; their eyes swollen as though they’d been crying. Bodhi was slumped against the wall by the vending machines, his usually carefree expression replaced with one of raw guilt.
Charlie Grace scanned the room, spotting Jake pacing near the wall mounted with a television.
Reva saw him as well and made a beeline in that direction. “Any news?”
Nicola Cavendish turned sharply from where she sat, her phone in her hand. Without waiting for Jake to respond, she stood and offered a report. “She’s stable. They’ve taken her for scans to check the extent of her injuries.” Her voice was steady, but her red-rimmed eyes betrayed her emotions.
Charlie Grace’s ex-husband arrived, his hair disheveled and his shirt buttoned wrong. “What happened?” Gibbs’ voice was tight, almost accusing, as he looked at Bodhi.
Bodhi’s head snapped up, his eyes glistening. “Jake found her on the north slope, next to the scarp face of the mountain.” His voice cracked. “I warned her not to take that route.”
Charlie Grace nodded, swallowing hard. “Where is she now?”
“Like Nicola said, they took her to imaging,” Annie answered. “The nurse said they’d update us as soon as they know anything.”
Nicola quickly added, “I hope she has no head injuries. I heard the helmet was ripped right off her head in the force of the snow.”
“Capri Jacob is tougher than anyone I know,” Pastor Pete said quietly, his calm voice interrupting the tension. “And God has got this.”
Reva nodded, wiping her eyes. “She’ll pull through. She has to.”
Hours passed with agonizing slowness. Charlie Grace alternated between standing, pacing, and leaning against the wall, arms crossed. A nurse appeared every so often, calling names, but none of the updates were for Capri.
“She’ll be okay,” Lila said, her tone more hopeful than certain.
Jake didn’t respond. Instead, he stared at the doors leading to where they had wheeled Capri earlier, looking helpless.
The waiting room remained a hive of activity. People came and went, their concern for Capri evident in the whispered conversations and worried glances. Nicola approached, offering Reva a cup of coffee, while Pastor Pete gathered a small group to pray.
The television mounted on the wall blared softly, drawing the attention of everyone seated. A local news reporter stood bundled in a thick down jacket, her breath visible in the frigid air as she spoke into the microphone. Behind her, the Tetons loomed, their peaks blanketed with snow.
“This is Kelly Morgan reporting live from the base of the Devil’s Staircase in the Teton Range, where an avalanche earlier today triggered a dramatic rescue effort,” she began, her voice steady despite the obvious chill in the air.
“Authorities were alerted around noon after spectators gathered to watch a snowmobile race on the north slope witnessed the snow give way, triggering a massive avalanche that barreled down into the steep chutes below. Several racers were caught in the slide, tragically buried beneath tons of snow.”
The camera cut to footage of rescue workers in bright orange jackets, some probing the snow with poles, others shouting commands over the howling wind.
“Search and rescue teams responded immediately, deploying helicopters, ground crews, and avalanche dogs to comb the area. Despite their heroic efforts, only one racer was found alive—a local resident and business owner. She was pulled from the snow suffering from hypothermia and multiple injuries.
“Tragically, other racers caught in the avalanche did not survive. Officials have not yet released their names, pending notification of their families. This devastating event underscores the dangerous conditions in the backcountry.”
The screen transitioned to a wide shot of the snow-covered slope, the sunlight glinting off the pristine yet treacherous surface.
“The area, known as Devil’s Staircase, is infamous for its extreme terrain and unpredictable conditions. Despite precautions taken prior to the race, including blasts to bring down unstable snow, experts say recent heavy winter snowfall, combined with rising temperatures and weak spring snowpack, created the ideal conditions for an avalanche.”
The reporter’s expression turned serious as she addressed the camera directly. “Officials are urging residents and visitors to avoid backcountry areas like this until conditions stabilize. The danger level remains high, and with more snow in the forecast, the risk of additional slides is significant.”
