Page 88 of Mountain Void

“Sortez.”

Lorenz watched the man’s finger tighten on the trigger. Panic filled him—he was about to get Charlie killed.

It was too late to run.

There was only one thing to do.

“Stay down, Charlie. Wait here for Ry,” he said, in a low voice, releasing Charlie’s fingers from his sleeve and rising from cover in one smooth move.

“I’m here,” he said, raising his arms above his head. He kept his movements measured, deliberate. He wanted to inspire curiosity in the man—not trigger the shot.

Pelletier trained the revolver on his chest. His grip, Lorenz noted, was steady.

“Ah, vous voilà,” the man said, his lips thinning in a semblance of a smile. “You’re the gendarme from Les Bois,” he continued, switching to English as he recognized Lorenz.

Lorenz stepped a few paces out—away from Charlie—keeping his hands visible, his posture loose.

“And your friends?” the man asked, waving the revolver.

“I came alone,” Lorenz said.

Pelletier’s eyes flicked past Lorenz, scanning the slope as if he could see through the shadows. Lorenz prayed dusk would play against him.

“No,” he finally said. “You’re not. I’m a hunter. I have a good instinct for these things.”

Lorenz forced himself to stay still. “Is your son inside?”

“Maybe.”

Pelletier’s mouth stretched into a slow, deliberate smile.

Lorenz wanted to wipe that smile away with his fist.

The wind picked up again, tugging at Lorenz’s jacket.

“Let me see him,” Lorenz said. “You don’t want this to go any further.”

Pelletier let out a short, ugly laugh. “Too late for that.”

His grip shifted on the revolver, but Lorenz forced himself to stay still.

“Listen to me. Whatever’s going on, we can sit down together and fix it. But I need to see the boy first.”

Pelletier’s eyes flickered, something quick passing through them. Anger—Lorenz had expected that—but also calculation. That was good. Calculation, Lorenz could work with.

“There’s nothing to fix. You don’t know anything about me,” Pelletier said.

“I know you love your son,” Lorenz said, with more confidence than he felt. There was a lot at risk, and he wasn’t a trained hostage negotiator.

But the revolver in Pelletier’s hand didn’t twitch, and Lorenz was still alive.

“You’ve got a way out,” Lorenz went on, his voice just loud enough to make it past the roaring wind. “You’re in control here. Call your son. Let me see him. Then we’ll talk. Just the two of us.”

Pelletier’s jaw tightened. The smile was gone now.

“Just the two of us, you say? How about you get your friends to show their faces?”

“I came alone. There’s no one else,” Lorenz replied.