Page 2 of Mountain Struggle

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain,” she interrupted quietly. Then, in a louder voice, “Jamie and I were thinking of visiting John. He might make us raclette for dinner.”

“Raclette!” cried out a little voice. “Papaw’s going to make raclette for us!”

“Yes! Let me call him and find out if he’s home,” Tess said. She was still holding the phone to her ear, but clearly wasn’t speaking to Damien anymore.

Something swelled in Damien’s chest. Tess had done it again—managed to distract Jamie so the boy wouldn’t realize that Damien had let him down again. A part of him knew this wouldn’t last—soon Jamie would be too old to be so easily tricked. But not today.

“Thank you,” he breathed.

“We’ll be here when you get back,” she said. “Stay safe.”

Damien’s phone pinged with a message from Drake.

Be there in two minutes.

Damien put on his tactical jacket and changed into his boots, making sure the liners of his tactical pants were inside the boots. Even in the middle of summer it got cold up in the mountains.

He sent his father a quick message, letting him know Tess was going to call him. He wrote in English. Though Damien was born and had always lived in France, his American father had always spoken with him in English, and Damien was equally comfortable in both languages. It sometimes seemed to Damien that, forty years after moving to Chamonix, his father still spoke French like he’d only just arrived.

Though he and his father were very different and had grown apart since Damien’s mother’s death, Damien knew he could always count on his father where Jamie was concerned. Most importantly, should something happen to him, he knew John would take good care of Jamie. It was the reason he could do what he did, as a single father—otherwise, the risk would have been too great.

He pressed send on the message and put the phone back in his pocket, his attention now focused on the missing climbers.

#

The mountain hut’s manager shrugged. “Normally we wouldn’t even have noticed they were missing until nighttime, but Mr. Reeds was very particular about lunch being served for them at two p.m. in the upstairs terrace.”

“Do you know why that is?” Damien asked. The Refuge des Cosmiqueswas incredibly popular with mountaineers and skiers, but wasn’t known for providing special service to anyone.

The manager looked at him impatiently. “Yes, of course I know. He’s going to ask Mademoiselle Lefevre to marry him as soon as they’re back from their climb. He’s planned a lovely proposal.”

And no doubt given you a nice tip for your troubles.

“And you’re sure they went to La Rébuffat?”

“Of course I’m sure,” the manager huffed. “The two of them spoke of nothing else last night. The lady’s climbed it several times before.”

Damien looked down at his notes.

“So Mademoiselle Lefevre is a strong climber.”

“Stronger than him, for sure. Poor Mr. Reeds was a wreck last night thinking about it. He said it was his first multi-pitch climb.”

“And they went out alone?”

The manager nodded. “They left at four-thirty this morning.”

A muscle ticked behind Drake’s jaw, and Damien knew his friend was thinking the same thing he was.

Those two shouldn’t have been anywhere near La Rébuffat—at least not on their own.

“Thank you for your help, Monsieur Lagarde.”

“Jacques. Please call me Jacques. Let me know if we can help in any way.”

Damien and Drake turned around and walked to the helicopter, where Lieutenant Kat Barreau, their pilot, waited for them. Beside her stood two lean, strong men, one of them dark-haired, the other one with hair so blond it was almost white.

“Gael,” said Damien, addressing the tan, dark-haired man. “What are you doing here? I thought you were off today.”