Chapter
Four
There’s been an accident.
I stared at the hotel manager standing in front of me.
“An accident?” I replied, automatically.
The older ski patrol officer standing behind her spoke up. “There was an avalanche this morning on the upper slopes. Your husband was caught in the slide. We had teams on the scene immediately, but—” He paused, and in that pause, the entire world collapsed. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Carideo. He didn’t survive.”
The note was still crumpled in my fist.Be back by 9.
“No.” The word came out flat, certain. “No, you’re wrong. He just went for one run. One quick run on the resort slopes. It’s safe. He promised me it was safe.”
“Ma’am, I know this is?—”
“You have the wrong person.” My voice was rising now, hysteria creeping in at the edges. “You made a mistake. Marco is an experienced skier. He wouldn’t—he knows how to?—”
“Mrs. Carideo.” Jennifer’s voice was gentle but insistent. “We’re certain. He had his resort pass, his ID. I’m so very sorry, but there’s no mistake.”
My legs went out from under me. The older ski patrol officer caught me before I hit the floor, his hands steadying me.
“We need to sit down,” he said.
Next thing I knew, I was sitting in the hard polished wooden chair with armrests that felt cool under my palms. Outside the window, skiers carved down the slopes in their bright jackets. A woman in pink threw her head back, laughing. The world kept going as if nothing had happened.
“Mrs. Carideo?”
Jennifer Mills was talking, her mouth forming words I could hear but couldn’t process. She sat across from me, hands folded. The two ski patrol officers flanked her.
“...very quick... wouldn’t have suffered...”
The words floated past me. I focused on the water glass sitting on the table, half-full. The light hit it and created a small rainbow on the wood. I stared at that rainbow, at its tiny perfect spectrum.
The older ski patrol officer had a loose thread hanging from his jacket pocket. Red, the same shade as the jacket, but it caught the light differently. I wanted to reach across and snip it off. That loose thread felt wrong somehow. An imperfection that needed fixing.
“Mrs. Carideo? Theresa?” Jennifer leaned forward. “I know this is a terrible shock. Is there anyone we can call for you? Family?”
Family. The word cracked something inside me.
I had kids. Four children who had gone to sleep last night with a father and woke up today without one. Austin, who was so serious at eight years old. Rome, who moved through life like a whirlwind. Paris, who demanded the world arrange itself to her specifications. And Aspen, my baby, barely two years old, who would grow up with no memory of the father who adored her.
“My brother,” I managed, the words scraping my throat raw, like I’d swallowed glass. “Michael Gracen. He’s... he’s at the house watching the children.”
“Let’s call him,” Jennifer said, picking up the phone. “What’s your number?”
I told her. Jennifer dialed the number and turned on the speaker. The rings dragged on like torture. Maybe if Michael didn’t answer, none of this would be real.
“Hey, Tess. Are you guys already leaving for the airport?” His voice—cheerful and alive—cut through the last of my shock.
A sound escaped me. Raw and animal-like. Definitely not human. I covered my mouth with my hand, unable to form words.
Jennifer took over, her voice shifting to professional gentleness. “Mr. Gracen, this is Jennifer Mills. I’m the manager at the Ritz-Carlton in Aspen, and I’m with your sister. There’s been an accident involving her husband.”
I couldn’t hear Michael’s response. The room tilted. The white walls were too bright, the air too thin. My lungs wouldn’t fill properly. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision.
“Mrs. Carideo?” The older officer was at my side, his hand on my shoulder. “You need to breathe. Slow and deep. That’s it.”
