“Wow! Blaine was telling me about how he had to rescue an injured skier. He pulled him on a toboggan for about ten kilometers. Have you ever had to do something like that?” Davin’s voice was infused with admiration.
“I have. Part of our job is helping people who get in trouble in the backcountry.”
“Awesome!” Davin’s eyes couldn’t have been any bluer and his lips and cheeks were so flushed they looked artificially colored.
He was a nice-looking kid, Grant realized. Well, how couldn’t he be, with his strong resemblance to his mot—no, not his mother—his aunt. Grant checked his own thoughts, thinking it was a weird thing to be an aunt when you were an identical twin. Since Amalie had the exact same set of chromosomes as Helen, genetically speaking Amalie could have been Davin’s mother.
Certainly, emotionally speaking, she was. Her expression was tender and indulgent as she reached across the table to toss Davin’s hair.
“You certainly caught on to cross-country skiing quickly,” she said. “How am I ever going to keep up with you?”
“It’s so much fun—I love it.” Davin reached for a slice of garlic toast that the server had just brought to the table. “It must be really sweet up in the mountains. Hey, Grant?”
Grant noticed how quickly Amalie’s smile faded at mention of the backcountry. Two vertical lines formed between her brows as she tucked both hands into her lap.
“You have to be real careful when you venture onto the back slopes,” Grant said. “Especially right now, conditions are a little treacherous. We’ve had a lot of snow this month, and there’s a warming trend on the way.”
“Does that mean you’re going to use the howitzer?” Davin bounced up in his seat.
“Probably.”
“When?”
“That depends on the snow. But I’d say sometime this week we’ll have to close the highway and do a little control work.”
“That is so awesome. Can I watch, Grant?”
“I don’t know.” Generally members of the public were prohibited from the site. A couple of times they’d allowed in cameramen, working on a film. Once, he’d let his parents stand by the gun while he tracked the avalanches in his truck.
“It’s probably too dangerous,” Amalie said quickly, picking up on his reluctance, or maybe voicing her own concerns.
“But I need to watch—for my research project!”
Amalie’s face had gone pale under the pink streaks put there by the sun and wind. “It’s out of the question. Right, Grant?”
“Why? Why is it out of the question?”
Grant felt torn. He could make an exception and permit Davin to observe the shoot. But he suspected Amalie was counting on him to say no. Davin was just so enthusiastic, though. He hated to dampen that.
“It’s not that dangerous by the guns,” he said tentatively.
Amalie shook her head, but Davin was already standing. “Yes! Yes! Please, Aunty, please let me watch.”
“If you wanted,” Grant suggested to her, “you could come with him. It’s really pretty routine stuff, but you’ll have to keep out of the way of the workers.”
“What about you?” Davin asked. “Where will you be?”
“I have to be down the mountain so I can assess how much snow was released and whether we need to aim for any more targets.”
Amalie’s eyes were huge. “You stand in the path of the avalanche?”
“Well, the idea, of course, is to stand a little farther back than that.”
It didn’t always work out that way, though, because avalanches weren’t completely predictable. A few times he’d been in situations where he’d had to scramble out quickly. But he didn’t figure Amalie needed to hear about those right now.
Davin’s attention was refocused on his aunt. Grant had never seen a dog look more pleading.
“Well…I don’t know.”
Grant felt bad for having backed her into a corner. He remained silent, even when Davin tried to press him into the argument on his behalf.
“It’s your aunt’s decision now, Davin.”
“Oh, Davin,” Amalie said. “What have I done, bringing you to this place?”
“So I can go?”
“No.” Amalie looked across the table at Grant. “We can go. If you’re going to be out there, then so am I.” With a shaking hand, she reached for her glass of water. “I can’t say I’m looking forward to it, though.”
“ANOTHER PIECE OF CAKE, Grant?” Denise Carter asked.
“No, thanks. I’m stuffed. That was a great dinner.” He eased down on the living room sofa, uncomfortably aware of the snug fit of the waistband on his pants. He didn’t worry about the weight gain being permanent. The week’s work ahead of him would take care of that problem.
“Yes, well, there’s been no shortage of food around here. Since Ramsey’s—accident, neighbors have been dropping by with baking and casseroles….”
Denise had just put the kids to bed; now she added fresh coffee to his mug. The house was so quiet he could hear the splash of liquid against ceramic. He was exhausted after eight hours of labor in the basement and was wondering how quickly he could excuse himself.
Maybe after this cup of coffee.
“I hope Colin didn’t make a nuisance of himself today.” Denise sat next to him on the sofa, with her own mug of coffee. She crossed her legs toward him, and that was when he noticed that at some point in the day she’d changed into a dress. She was wearing makeup and perfume, too.
“No.” He cleared his throat. “Colin was fine. He’s actually quite a hand with the tools.”
“Well, he used to spend a lot of time building with Ramsay.” Her bottom lip trembled, and she paused. When she spoke again, her voice was firm. “I appreciate your help today, Grant, but I want you to do something else for me.”
The coffee was hot, but Grant took a big gulp. “You know I will if I can.”
“I want you to find out how long Ramsey had been seeing Helen.”
Grant’s spirits sank. “Denise, are you sure you want to know? Don’t you think it would be better—”
“No.” Denise cut him off, pushing her hand up against his chest. “I’ve thought about it and thought about it. I need to learn the whole truth.”
Back to Helen again. The one woman Grant would really rather forget about. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to uncover anything. This affair caught all of us by surprise.”
“Then maybe it was the first time they were together. If that turns out to be the truth, it’ll at least be some comfort to me.”
And what if Helen and Ramsey had been running around for weeks or even longer? How would Denise feel then? Grant knew one thing: if that was the case, he didn’t want to be the one to tell her.
“You might not like what you find out…” Hadn’t he issued the same warning to Amalie? Neither woman, however, appeared willing to take his advice.
“It can’t be worse than what I’ve been imagining….” Denise shrank back against the sofa.
He felt beaten. “Okay, Denise. I’ll ask around a little.”
Her body relaxed. “Thank you, Grant. I can always count on you.”
He was glad she felt that way, but wondered if she had any idea how much time he’d been spending with Amalie lately. He’d meant to bring up her name once or twice this evening just to get Denise adjusted to the idea, but every time he’d chickened out. He was sure she’d be hurt, and he didn’t want to add more troubles to her load. But he wasn’t willing to stop seeing Amalie, either.
“I’m bushed, Denise. Think I’ll head for home.”
At the door she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he hugged her in return. “Take care of yourself. And the kids.”
“I will, Grant. And thanks again.”
Outside, the temperature had gone up a few degrees, despite the setting of the sun. That warm front was coming as scheduled. Grant’s feet crunched in the snow as he walked to his truck. What would Amalie think of his ne
w assignment? he mused. Somehow he suspected she wouldn’t be impressed if she found out.
Funny how his life had become so complicated. Two weeks ago he’d lost his best friend. Now he felt that Denise expected him to fill the void Ramsey’s death had left. To top it all off, he’d fallen in love—with the sister of the woman who’d led Ramsey into betrayal.
And he’d thought controlling avalanches was difficult.
DAVIN WAS READING A BOOK for this week’s novel study, when Amalie decided it was time to search the apartment to see if she could find any further documentation belonging to Helena.
There weren’t many potential hiding places in the small apartment. Amalie was thorough, even checking under the mattress. All she found were bank records from a local branch—the small checking account was almost always perilously close to overdrawn.
There were no personal letters, except a birthday card she’d sent her sister a few years ago; no hidden credit cards or driver’s license. How did anyone get by these days without a credit card? True, Helena had been short of money, but so was Amalie and she had several cards. One for gas, one for her favorite discount department store and her Visa.
And what about Helena’s driver’s license? She must have had one to drive to Revelstoke. Had she destroyed it when she sold her car? That seemed a little drastic.
It was almost, Amalie thought, as though Helena had wanted to make sure no one could trace her to this town.
But that was crazy. It implied that Helena had done something wrong, possibly illegal, that she was on the run.
Amalie wondered about the life Helena had left behind. Surely there were people she cared about who should be informed of her death. In that other world she might have had business that required attending. Perhaps there’d been insurance. A will.
Probably no insurance or will, knowing Helena. Long-range planning had not been her forte. So who would inherit her jewelry? Some of it appeared very expensive.
Likely me, Amalie realized, since Davin wasn’t legally Helena’s son. The thought made her nervous, and she decided to contact a lawyer back in Toronto. Having just recently revised her own will, she had a card in her wallet. She flipped past her identification until she located the number she needed, then made the call from the phone in Helena’s bedroom.
Quickly she apprised the lawyer of the situation and asked if he could try to find out where Helena had lived and whether she had any friends or roommates who should be notified of her death.
When she hung up the phone, she saw Davin standing in the doorway.
“Were you listening?”
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. Were you talking about Helen?”
“Helena,” she corrected automatically. “I’m trying to find out where your mother lived before she came here. Whether she had any friends who should be told about her accident.”
Davin came into the room and stretched out on the bed beside her; he stared up at the ceiling. “When you find out, are we going to go home?”
“I don’t know. I was hoping we could stay until the—the bodies were recovered from the mountain.”
Davin didn’t seem upset by the mention of bodies. “I like it here. I don’t want to leave.”
“You just enjoy being out of school.” She tickled him under the arms and he rolled up like a hedgehog, giggling. She started laughing, too, and soon they were both tumbling over the bed in a mock wrestling match.
“I win,” Davin said when he finally had her hands pinned to her side.
Amalie struggled a little, and was surprised at his strength. She could have freed herself if she’d really tried, but not as easily as just a year ago.
“‘What price, freedom?”’ she said, playing along with him.
“You have to make lasagna for dinner.”
“No! No!” She twisted fruitlessly. “Anything but lasagna.”
Davin giggled again, and his hold loosened. She flipped him over and held his wrists above his head. “Now you have to do what I tell you.”
“Wh-what?” he asked between giggles.
“Finish reading your chapters for the day.”
“Ohhh.”
“Sorry, buddy. It’s time to hit the books again.”
“That’s nasty.” He sat up slowly and was just about to stand, when suddenly he grabbed a pillow and flung it at her.
“Gotcha!” he said, then raced back to his book in the living room.
Smiling, Amalie grabbed the pillow, punched it a few times to fluff it up, then put it back on the bed. As she did so, a photograph from her wallet caught her eye. The picture—Helena’s last school photo before she left home—must have fallen out during the tussle with Davin. It sat half-obscured by the folds of the quilt.
Picking it up, Amalie looked at the photo that could have been of her.
“What were you doing here, Helena? What were you running away from?”
There was, of course, no answer. Amalie wondered if there ever would be.
DAVIN FLOPPED ONTO THE SOFA with the book Grant had lent him about avalanche control in Rogers Pass. He couldn’t understand some of the big words, but still the book was way more interesting than the novel his mom wanted him to read.
Mom.
He wondered what Amalie would say if she found out he sometimes thought of her that way, even though, from as early as he could remember, he’d always called her Aunty, not Mom. Which was weird, since she’d adopted him, and raised him, and was the only parent he’d ever had.
He knew that was because of Helena and because Amalie didn’t want to hurt her feelings. It wasn’t fair. So what if he’d actually come out of Helena’s stomach? That didn’t make her a mother.
Especially when she hadn’t even kept his pictures.
Davin rolled onto his stomach, which was suddenly feeling a little sick. He was reminded of the way he’d always felt when Helena made one of her rare calls home. He’d hated having to talk on the phone to her. Usually his aunt sat beside him, mouthing stuff for him to say.
He was glad they wouldn’t be getting those phone calls anymore. But he didn’t know if that meant he was glad Helena was dead. It might have been interesting to meet her, just once. He wondered what her eyes would look like when she was watching him.
Davin rolled onto his side, trying to get comfortable. He stared at a picture in his book, not wanting to think about Helena anymore. Part of him thought Amalie should forget about her, too.
But then they’d have to go back to Toronto, and Davin wasn’t ready to leave yet.
Gripping his book, he wondered if Amalie would ever let him go skiing in the backcountry. If they could stay until summer, he could try mountain climbing, too.
One day, when he was older, he’d climb to the top of all the mountains he’d been reading about, mountains he was beginning to know by name: Avalanche Mountain, Eagle Peak, Mount Macdonald.
He would be an explorer, just like Major A. B. Rogers, who’d discovered the pass through the Selkirk Mountains. Or a member of the avalanche control team like Grant. Maybe one day he’d actually be in an avalanche himself. He wouldn’t die like Helena, or that man in the story Mrs. Eitelbach had told him about. No, he’d be brave; he’d keep his head; he’d be a real hero.
Davin closed his eyes and dreamed….
CHAPTER NINE
GRANT PLACED THE HEAVY CUBE of snow carefully on the slanted platform, then tapped the bottom firmly. A fracture formed about halfway through the cube, and the top layer of snow slid smoothly to the ground. He measured the force required for the fracture, then called the result to Peder Forsberg.
Usually Grant had test results radioed to him at the head office. Today he’d decided to come out to the observation site at Mount Fidelity himself and take a look around.
They’d already done a snow profile. Having completed the shear test, all that was left was to take a trial blast on slope number one. He nodded to Peder, who lit a long match, then held it to the fuse. When he was sure it
was ignited, Grant tossed the hand-sized bomb down the slope. A few seconds later it blasted, fracturing the snow and sending it tumbling down to the flats below.
“That was a large release—about fifty centimeters,” Peder said.
Grant nodded. “No time to lose. Let’s close the highway now and get busy.” Conditions were prime. Nothing in the world was going to stop an avalanche from occurring. It was his job, however, to control when it happened.
As they drove back to the Rogers Pass office compound, Grant thought about his promise to Denise. He hadn’t done anything about it so far, but knew he’d eventually have to work past his reluctance and try to get her some answers.
It seemed Peder’s thoughts were on a similar wavelength. Staring out the passenger window, he asked, “I wonder when we’ll be able to get up to the Pterodactyl and search for those bodies.”
“We have to worry about the highway corridor first,” Grant cautioned. “I could see stabilizing the area late next week. After that, we might be able to mount a search operation in a couple of days. Assuming we don’t get any more snow,” he added.
Peder nodded.
Grant pushed up his sunglasses and cleared his throat. “I still can’t believe Ramsey went in there.”
Peder nodded. “Bloody suicide, it was. Hope she was worth it.”
Normally, Grant would have let that comment lie. But today he cleared his throat again and asked a question. “Any idea how long he was seeing her?”
Peder’s sideways glance conveyed surprise. “Not too sure. Blaine might know. I heard they had dinner at his restaurant once.”
“Really?” Grant was surprised they would have met someplace so public as Pizza Paradise.
“I guess she had a thing for married men.” Peder stretched out his long legs and pushed his light-brown hair from his forehead. “She sure wouldn’t give me the time of day.”
“What?” Grant swung a glance at the youngest member of his team. “You were interested in her?”
“Who wouldn’t be? I first saw her at the Rock Slide Saloon. God, but she was something.”
“Did you ever go to any of those parties she was so famous for?”
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