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The printer below the desk smoothly ejected a page printed with Jesse’s details. She tore it free and handed it to him. He glanced over it quickly. There were few extras on the list. He preferred to pay in cash as he went.
    “All okay?” she asked, and he nodded.
    “No problems.”
    She took the Mastercard he handed her, swiped it and typed in the final figures from his bill. She glanced up and smiled as the terminal whirred softly, then approved the transaction and rolled out a payment slip, passing it to him along with a Snow Eagles pen.
    “Thanks,” he said, and scrawled a signature.
    “My pleasure,” she replied automatically. She passed him his receipt. Paper flying in all directions, he thought, folding it and putting it in his shirt pocket.
    “There’s an early shuttle down to Salt Lake City at eight thirty,” she told him. “Or we can organize a cab for you if you’d prefer?”
    “I’ve got my own car,” he replied. “I’ll load it and maybe take a few last ski runs before I get away.” Now he said it, he thought that he would definitely take on The Wall again in the morning—and keep doing so until he beat it.
    She frowned slightly as she saw something in his eyes—something that had taken him away from their conversation and the here and now.
    “Fine then.” She punched the computer keys again. “There you go. As of now, you are officially a ghost. You no longer exist on the computer. I’ll keep your room keycard activated. Tell them to cancel it when you leave.”
    “I’ll do that. And thanks for your help.”
    “No problem. I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay here at the Canyon… Jesse.”
    He flashed that grin at her again, registering the use of his first name. “Why, thank you, Miss Bowden,” he said and she grinned back at him as he turned and walked to the lift.
    She was still watching him, wishing that she’d noticed him earlier in the week, when Calvin Rockley interrupted her thoughts.
    “Pardon me, miss. Can I pay for these here?”
    The president of Rockair Aviation laid a spread of postcards on the countertop. Almost apologetically, he gestured toward the gift shop across the lobby.
    “There’s no one on duty in the gift shop,” he explained. Tina smiled at him—a professional smile. No more. No less.
    “Surely, Mr. Rockley. Now, how many do you have there?” She fanned out the half-dozen postcards, scanned the bar codes and totaled the bill.
    “That’s six eighty-five with tax, Mr. Rockley. Do you want me to put it on your room?”
    “No. I’ll pay now,” he said and handed her a ten. She made change, put the postcards in a paper bag for him and handed the change and the cards to him. He nodded his thanks and turned away, heading for the escalator. He’d gone six paces when she noticed the Mastercard on the countertop. At first, she thought it might have fallen out of his wallet and she took a breath, about to call him back. Then she saw the name on the card—J. Parker. She reached for the phone, then hesitated. She was off-duty in ten minutes. It might be the friendly thing to deliver the card in person. She smiled slowly, tapping the card on her palm. From what she had seen so far, she liked the idea of getting friendly with Mr. Jesse Parker.

FIVE
    CANYON LODGE
    WASATCH COUNTY

    J esse was in his room, staring morosely at the TV, where a rerun of
Seinfeld
was playing. He should eat, he thought. But the idea of heading down to the dining room and sitting alone at a table, surrounded by diners talking and laughing, didn’t hold a lot of appeal. He picked up the room service menu and scanned it. Room service menus seemed to be the same in every hotel he’d ever stayed in. The meals available were always essentially the same, with a few geographical variations. The descriptions were flamboyant and effusive but they invariably left out a few important facts. The meal would take an excessively long time to come and when it did, the food would be lukewarm at