Page 69 of Mountain Impact

He plugged his phone into the car charger. “Relax, we’ll be there soon.”

They were halfway into town when his phone rang. It was an unknown number. Drake put it on speaker.

“Jacobs,” he said.

The phone line made a crackling noise, like there was faulty wiring.

“Hello?”

“Monsieur Jacobs? This is Jean Lepont. I’m the maintenance technician at the Brévent cable car,” said an older voice.

“Monsieur Lepont. How can I help you?”

“I need to talk to you about something that happened the day of the accident.”

Drake slowed down to take a curve. “I’m afraid I’m not directly involved in the investigation. I suggest―”

“One of the gendarmes gave me your number. I know you were there that day. Could you come see me?”

“Now?”

The crackling noise got louder. Drake put the call on hold and turned towards Isolde. “Is it okay if we stop by Brévent on our way back? It’s a fifteen minute detour, more or less. But if you’re tired, I can―”

Isolde nodded. “That’s fine. I’ll stay in the car and think of that warm bath.”

“I can be there in twenty minutes, Monsieur Lepont.”

Drake disconnected the call, wondering what the maintenance technician wanted to share with him. He remembered Hugo telling him the technician was highly experienced, with a proven track record.

He dialed Hugo’s number, but his friend didn’t pick up. By the time Drake parked outside the cable car mountain station, it was six p.m.―still light, though the sun was starting to grow dimmer. Behind the police tape, the building looked completely deserted.

“Wait here,” he told Isolde. He put the keys to his car in her hand. “And lock the car doors behind me.”

“You’re scaring me, Drake. I thought you were just going to speak with the technician?” she asked, her honey eyes round with fear.

“I am,” he said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. But, just in case, don’t unlock the door for anyone who’s not me. If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, you drive off and call Damien, okay?”

She held herself so rigidly, for a moment Drake was tempted to get back in the car and drive her home―then she nodded tersely and closed the car door. Drake heard the lock engage.

He stepped over the police tape designed to keep gawkers from approaching the cable car station until the investigation was through.

Drake pushed at the glass door, which was unlocked, and walked inside. He’d been here dozens of times, but never in the dark. He squinted while his eyes got used to the semi-darkness, looking for the light switch.

“Monsieur Lepont?” he said. His voice resounded loudly in the large, cavernous building.

He finally found the light switch but, when he pressed it, nothing happened.

Drake walked towards the large shadow of the cable car ahead, which took up a fair bit of the space. “Monsieur Lepont?” he repeated.

He tripped over something large lying on the ground. He righted himself quickly and touched the shape with the tip of his trainers. He swallowed hard, fishing for his phone, though he didn’t need the light to know what it was he’d touched.

A body.

The man was lying face-down on the ground. He had long, gray hair, tied back in a ponytail. Drake kneeled beside the body and put his fingers to the man’s neck, even though he already knew he was dead. Rigor mortis hadn’t even begun to set in, though.

He hasn’t been dead long.

Drake’s next thought wasn’t for the poor sap lying dead on the ground.