Mountain Challenge (Mont Blanc Rescue #9)

Chapter 29

29

Ry

A team of gendarmes descended on the scene first, followed by his teammates. There was no need to convince anyone of the seriousness of the situation, no let’s wait twenty-four hours and see , like you see in books and movies. From the moment they arrived, everybody took the women’s disappearance seriously.

“How are you holding up, Ry?” the colonel asked. As always, the man looked calm and perfectly put together. Ry hadn’t expected to see the colonel, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. The PGHM took care of their own, and one would have to be blind not to realize Ry was close to losing it.

It was a fair question, but not one Ry felt capable of answering without breaking down. He gave what he hoped was a stoic nod.

“You’re sure both women were here?”

Though he’d answered the question multiple times already, Ry stopped himself from lashing out at Vincent. His colleague was only doing his job, and it was important to be thorough. Lack of information was one of the main factors in not finding a victim early on.

The thought of Isla as a victim burned his throat. He wouldn’t think of her as a victim. Whatever it took, he was going to find her and bring her back.

“Isla’s friend is visiting from Brussels. They invited me over for dinner. They were going to cook Belgian food.” They’d all seen the mussels soaking in the sink.

“What time did you arrive?”

“Just before six. There wasn’t much traffic, so I was a few minutes early. I sat outside in my car speaking with my sister, then walked up to the apartment.”

“And you didn’t see anyone leave?”

Ry thought back to those minutes in the car. It’d been raining, so visibility had been limited. And he hadn’t been paying attention. But no. If somebody had left with Isla and Laura—conscious or unconscious—he would have seen.

“And you didn’t you touch anything?” That came from a woman dressed in white, who’d been taking samples.

Ry shook his head. He’d gotten close to the bloodstain, but he hadn’t actually touched it. He hadn’t even closed the fridge until Vincent and his team had had time to take pictures, even though the beeping sound had nearly driven him insane. “I didn’t touch anything,” he confirmed.

“The blood belongs to one person. We’ve put a rush order on it, so we should know more tomorrow.” Vincent paused, as if realizing how inadequate his words were. Tomorrow . Isla didn’t have that long.

Ry’s eyes went to the table, where Isla and Laura’s phones had been when he’d arrived. He hadn’t touched them. Ry had shared Isla’s pin number with Vincent.

“Anything on the phone?” he asked, knowing his voice sounded cracked.

“Nothing, but Alex will keep looking. He’s also working on getting access to her friend’s phone.” Vincent said. His voice gentled. “It’s possible that whatever happened isn’t about Isla at all.”

Ry didn’t know if that was better or worse. He searched through his mind for anything he might have forgotten to share with the team. He didn’t think there was anything. He’d told them everything he knew about Isla and Laura. Everything he knew about the tattoo studio. Her parents. The ex-husband. His hands clenched into fists when he thought about the ex-husband. Was there more to the story than he’d heard? Was Isla scared of him? If so, why hadn’t she said?—

He put up a barrier in his mind and took a deep breath. He was going to pass out if he continued this way. He wouldn’t be any use to anyone—least of all, to Isla and her friend. If Beau saw just how scrambled his mind was, he’d take him off the case. And Ry couldn’t allow that to happen.

As if conjured by Ry’s thoughts, Beau stepped out from the bedroom. Ry had looked inside while he waited for the police. The bed was made, and it didn’t look like it’d been disturbed. His stomach clenched. Thank God for small mercies, though that didn’t mean anything. Again, his mind threatened to drag him into the darkness.

“Isla’s assistant just arrived,” Beau said, his voice calm but firm. “I’m going downstairs to speak with him.”

“I’ll come with you,” Ry said quickly. He needed to do something—couldn’t stay in this crowded living room a second longer.

They walked downstairs into the tattoo studio, where all the lights had been turned on. Alain paced the outside reception area. His normally well-groomed hair stood on end, as if he’d run his fingers through it one too many times. He looked distraught, and then hopeful as he caught sight of Ry.

“Ry. What’s going on? Where’s Isla? Is it true she’s disappeared?”

Ry forced himself to relax his clenched fists. “We have a few questions, Alain. This is Commandant Beau Fontaine.”

“Of course. Anything,” the young man said nervously. There went that hand through his hair again.

“What time did you leave the studio today?”

“Two p.m. I know because I was meeting my girlfriend for lunch. Isla had already left.”

“And what time did you get back?”

“Just before three. I had an appointment at that time.”

Beau stepped closer. “Do you know what Isla had scheduled for the afternoon?”

“Nothing,” Alain said. “She was keeping the afternoons free this week because of her friend’s visit. Laura. Where is she? Is Laura missing too?”

Ry studied him for a beat before replying. The man’s angst seemed sincere enough.

“They’re both missing. I’m going to need access to Isla’s schedule,” he prodded gently.

Alain nodded, quickly logging into the computer. He looked glad to have something to do. “Here it is. You can see she didn’t have any appointments this afternoon. Look. This was my three o’clock appointment. And I locked up at five.”

“We’re going to need the contact details of your three o’clock appointment,” Ry said, moving forward to note down the name before Alain had a chance to refuse.

“I don’t understand. How could this happen?”

Ry clenched his teeth to stop himself from lashing out. He’d never felt like this. So close to losing control. He was usually calmest when under pressure. Like before a competition. It was one of his superpowers. But the tightness in his heart right now … it was like nothing he’d ever felt before. Isla was gone, and there was nothing he could do. No. There’s lots I can do. We’re fucking doing it. We’re going to get her back.

As if sensing how close Ry was to unraveling, Beau stepped in. “Did you see anything unusual when you left, Alain? How did Isla seem to you?”

“No, nothing. She was acting normal. Happy, I guess. She and Laura were going to cook dinner.” The young man’s eyes narrowed. A guarded look appeared on his face. The first one since this interview began. He’s looking suspiciously at me. As if I might have hurt Isla. Ry forced his jaw to unclench. Alain was telling the truth. Because nobody was such a good actor. This man was hurting.

“I would never hurt her, Alain,” Ry said gently.

Alain sputtered for an instant, then relaxed his expression. “I know. I’m sorry. I just … tell me how I can help.”

“Does Isla owe anyone money?” That question came from Vincent, who’d come downstairs without Ry even noticing. That was how far gone he was.

“What? Money? No, of course not. The studio’s doing better every month. I help with the books, so I know.” Alain’s shoulders went way back, as if insulted by Vincent’s question.

“He has to ask, Alain. We have to cover every possible avenue of inquiry,” Ry said very formally. But he knew Isla, knew her more intimately than anyone, and he agreed with Alain. This wasn’t about money. But he knew Vincent had to check into it. He’d have his hands on those books and on all of Isla’s accounts by the end of the night.

“I’m sorry,” Alain said, his anger deflating. “The first few months were hard, I know, even though Isla always paid my salary. But now we have a steady client base, and it’s going well. The holidays also help. People get lots of tattoos during the holidays.” Ry was only half-listening by now, but he didn’t want to interrupt. “We have a special catalogue of seasonal tattoos. And even some weather-related ones. Isla brings them out when appropriate. Just this morning, she brought out our rain catalogue. It’s full of raindrops, little umbrellas, and—” Alain’s voice cut off.

“What?” Ry asked, looking up. “What were you going to say?”

Alain’s hand traced that by now familiar route through his hair. “It’s silly. But there was a car outside, with the lights on, when I went out for lunch. It caught my attention because there was nobody in the car. It was raining, and I thought of how disappointed the owner was going to be when they got back if the battery died.”

Ry straightened his spine. He forced his voice to come out slow and steady. “What did the car look like?”

Alain shrugged. “I don’t know. It was raining, and I was running to lunch. But gray. It was gray.”

“What kind?” Beau interjected.

Alain looked dazed and unsure. “I don’t know anything about cars.”

“Was it an SUV, a sedan, a?—“

“A sedan. Old, I think. Or at least, that’s the impression I got. I’m not sure. I’m sorry.”

A gray sedan. Okay. That was something Alex would be able to work with. Ry forced himself to keep a tight rein on his hope. Because this could turn out to be nothing. Just someone who’d left the lights of their car on. Right outside Isla’s studio. Around the time she disappeared.

Beau looked up from his phone, and when he spoke again, there was an urgency to his tone that hadn’t been there before. “We have to go. Thank you, Alain.”

“Wait. That’s it?” Alain stuttered. “What do I do?”

“Go home. Wait. We will call you when we hear something.”

When . Not if . Ry was grateful for that.

“What’s going on, Beau?”

“We have to go back to the office.” Beau paused, his expression softening. “We haven’t found them yet, Ry. But Alex has some news for us.”

I t was ten p.m. by the time they got back to the office. When Beau had offered to drive Ry’s car, Ry had accepted gladly. He was no stranger to adrenaline, but this mixture of fear and adrenaline was new. He felt drunk, almost. Like he shouldn’t be behind the wheel of a car.

As they stepped out of the elevator, Ry expected to be met by a dark, quiet office, the way it usually was during night-shifts. But tonight, the lights were on and there were as many people at their desks as if it had been nine in the morning. His whole team was there, as well as people from other teams.

Several colleagues stopped what they were doing to look at him and Beau, then quickly went back to their tasks.

Ry’s throat worked double-time as he swallowed. “Everybody’s here.”

“Of course everybody’s here,” Beau said. “We’re going to find them, Ry.”

He knew how much it cost Beau to make such a promise. He was the one who’d taught Ry never to make promises during a rescue that he couldn’t keep—because, despite their best efforts, things could go south, and when that happened, a broken promise only made things worse.

“Come on, Alex is already in the meeting room.”

Ry followed Beau inside, followed closely by the rest of the team. Alex was sitting at the head of the conference table, two laptops and two cell phones in front of him. Tristan took a seat across from Beau and Ry, while Lorenz leaned against the side of the low cabinets lining the back wall. Hugo was the last to walk inside. He dropped a steaming mug in front of Ry.

“Drink,” he said, sitting down next to Tristan.

Ry thanked him but left the drink on the table. He didn’t think he’d be able to swallow anything.

“The phones were a dead end,” Alex began. He spoke quickly, before Ry had a chance to get his hopes up. “I managed to get into Laura’s phone and went through messages from the last two weeks. Vincent’s team is going further back now, looking at both Isla and Laura’s phones. But I don’t think we’re going to find anything there.”

“We need to go back to the beginning and look at everything we know,” Beau said. He left the obvious unsaid—that there was a team of gendarmes at Isla’s apartment, people who’d been tasked with this case. The six of them in this room had taken a different career path. Their expertise lay in search and rescue. Not missing person investigations. And yet, Ry had the feeling that they were the ones who knew Isla best—the ones who’d have the best chance of finding the women. So he couldn’t stop his friends. He was so fucking grateful, he wanted to weep.

“Thank you,” Ry said simply, staring at his team. He got hard stares in return, which he’d expected. Because his friends didn’t want to be thanked. They wanted Isla and Laura back. Just like he did.

Beau looked straight at Ry. “Anything we find out, we will share with Vincent’s team. To do otherwise would be a disservice to Isla and Laura.”

Ry nodded, letting his boss know he understood, and Beau went on, quickly getting them all up to speed on the interview with Alain, summing it up with, “I think he was telling the truth.” He turned questioningly to Ry.

“I agree,” Ry said. He knew people could lie, but the young man’s anguish had seemed real enough to him. And Isla respected and trusted Alain.

“Vincent and his team will look into Alain’s background further, but I don’t think that’s the right avenue of investigation.”

“What about the incident weeks ago, with the tires?” Lorenz asked. His normally lazy expression was gone. Tonight, something fierce shone in his eyes.

Ry looked up quickly. He’d forgotten about the tires. “It was a teenage boy. Isla met with him last week, so he could apologize in person.”

Beau made a note on the board. “We’ll look into it. As well as both women’s bank accounts. How are you doing with those, Alex?”

“We’ve put out a formal request to get them,” Alex said carefully. “But I already have … some access to Isla’s personal account. I’ll look into that as soon as we’re done here.”

Ry wasn’t about to question how his friend had gotten said access. “Isla doesn’t have any money troubles. I would know about it if she did. You need to look at her ex-husband.”

Beau didn’t bat an eyelid. “You know we have to look at every possibility, Ry.”

Shit . His boss was right, as usual.

“We’re also looking for the car,” Tristan said. “We should know something early tomorrow morning.”

Ry focused on the board, where the list of items had grown as long as his arm. All things that had to be checked out. Taken individually, the items on the board made sense. But as he watched, the list blurred before his eyes. He wasn't thinking properly. He wasn't thinking at all. He wasn't feeling, either. Or rather, he was feeling too much. He’d been feeling too much all evening, ever since he walked into that empty apartment, and now it was as if he didn't have any feelings left. Just this fear—this awful, all-consuming fear. Fear of what Isla and her friend were going through—fear that the longer they went without knowing anything, the further away Isla could be.

He felt something wet on his cheeks. That explained the blurriness . He wiped the tears away angrily. He didn't have time for tears. He didn't have time for fear, he didn't have time for any of this.

“There’s nothing else we can do tonight,” Beau said. “We’ll continue tomorrow.”

Ry was tempted to refuse. But what good would it do to keep his teammates awake? He looked up to see Beau exchange a meaningful glance with Hugo, who immediately got up and walked around the table to him. It didn’t take a genius to know what the look meant. “Let’s go home, Ry. I’ll drive.”