Page 8 of Mountain Struggle

Now, four months later, he had to admit hiring Tess had been an excellent decision. In that time Damien had seen the relationship between her and his son bloom. Jamie adored Tess, and she was good for his son—the female role model his son had been missing.

If Damien had to suffer because of it, and live with a constant hard-on, then so be it. He was a grown man—he could deal with it.

He just needed to keep reminding himself that she was too young and completely out of his league—as he’d been doing all day.

“Is everything okay, boss?” Drake asked laconically, drawing Damien back to the busy office.

Damien realized he had heard none of what Drake had been saying the last couple of minutes. The whole day, he’d been distracted—he needed to get his head back in the game.

“Everything’s fine, Drake, but I need to get home for dinner. I promised Jamie we’d make fajitas tonight.”

Drake nodded. His friend didn’t have any kids, but he was an unofficial uncle to Jamie, and understood Damien’s need to be the best father he could.

“I’ll finish the report and email it to you. You can read it tomorrow.”

“I’ll take a look when Jamie’s asleep. Thanks, Drake.”

Damien left the office in a good mood. He drove past the church and took a right, heading out of town—although he and his team made a good living, none of them could afford anything bigger than a studio on their salary, not in central Chamonix. It was the price they paid for living in one of the most coveted ski resorts in the world.

In fact, even though his place was on the outskirts of town—a single-family house with a lovely backyard—it was still not the kind of place he could have afforded. His parents had bought the land fifty years earlier, when Chamonix was still cementing its position as a premier skiing destination, and built the house over the next few years. It was the house Damien had grown up in, and he loved every single square inch.

Three years earlier, when Jamie had arrived in their lives, and Damien had been looking to sell his one-bedroom apartment and move to a bigger place, his father had suggested they exchange homes. They’d met up at the notary to formalize the donation they each made for the other. It’d galled Damien, having to accept a gift that large, but his father had shrugged it away in that stoic way of his, never wanting to speak about it again.

As he drove, Damien started whistling—he was looking forward to spending the evening cooking with his son.

He half-expected Tess and Jamie to greet him from the kitchen as he walked into the house—Jamie was still at that age where he would drop whatever he was doing and run to give Damien a hug when he came home—but the inside of the house was dark.

Damien looked at his watch—six p.m. He looked at his text messages. Tess and Jamie had been doing all kinds of things together, since Jamie was still enjoying his summer holidays, and she never failed to email him in the morning to share their plans for the day with him.

He checked his email. They’d been heading out to Le Lavancher after lunch. Damien smiled. He knew exactly why Jamie loved that place so much, and it had nothing to do with the view—it was all about the homemade cakes he always convinced Tess to buy for him.

Still, they should have been home long before now. He checked the fridge and saw red, green and yellow peppers, chicken, crème fraiche—everything they’d need to make fajitas. He checked his phone again—there were no new messages from Tess.

He ran a hand through his hair, absently noting he needed a haircut.

A sinking feeling grew in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t like Tess to be late or, if she was, not to send him a message. Damien had to remind himself to breathe.

He knew he should take out the food from the fridge and start cooking. Tess and Jamie would be back any minute—Jamie would be hungry, and Damien would laugh about his minor panic attack.

But even as he thought all of this, he was putting on his dark and light blue uniform jacket again and heading back outside. Before he could convince himself not to, he dialed Drake’s number.

“Damien? I thought you’d be elbow deep in salsa and guacamole by now,” his friend said. It sounded like he was out on the street already.

“I need your help, Drake.”

The other man must have heard something in his tone, because his footsteps ceased. Damien knew he had his full attention now. “Anything.”

“Tess and Jamie aren’t home. She told me they were heading out to Le Lavancher. They’ll probably be home any minute but—”

Damien stopped and swallowed. He recognized the sour, metallic taste in his mouth― it was fear.

Drake didn’t let him finish the sentence. “I’m stepping back into the office. Let me make a couple calls. Do you know how they planned to get there?”

Damien looked out towards the covered parking spot where Tess parked the small dark green Citroën she normally drove.

“I don’t know. The car’s not here. I assume she drove, at least as far as Les Tines. Maybe they took the train up the mountain afterwards.”

“I’ll call Les Tines and meet you outside the office. Pick me up in ten minutes.”