Page 32 of Cold and Bitter Snow

This couldn’t be a coincidence. She caught sight of Montgomery and Laurent in one of the offices and decided to talk to them about this.

“Is it urgent, Siena?” Marion interrupted worriedly. “They are speaking to Monsieur le Maire, planning a press conference that’s going to take place this afternoon.”

Siena hesitated, which wasn’t like her. She realized her story would sound far-fetched. Best-case scenario, the two men would likely laugh at her. She needed real, solid proof before speaking with them.

“Never mind. It can wait till tomorrow. Can you please tell them I’m taking the afternoon off? I’m going to go skiing, clear my mind for a bit. They can call me on my mobile if they need anything.”

Marion brightened at that. “Of course! I’ll let them know as soon as the press conference is done.”

On her way to her hotel Siena stopped by the bakery for a viande sechée sandwich. She ate it quickly while getting changed into her ski pants and socks.

As she brushed her teeth, she caught sight of herself in the mirror.

This might be a really stupid idea.

But I’m only going to look. If there’s anything out there, I’ll call Laurent.

Siena looked at her phone. It was 12:45 p.m. There was one person she could call—one person who wouldn’t think she was crazy—but he might still be asleep.

She typed a quick WhatsApp message.

Hi, Conor.

She wasn’t going to get any points for originality.

His reply came a few seconds later.

Hi. Is everything okay?

I took the afternoon off. I’m taking a snowmobile and going up to the slopes.

She pressed send, and started typing again.

I saw something on one of the cameras. I’d like to check up on it.

This time the reply was instantaneous.

Give me ten minutes. I’ll meet you at the bottom of the gondola lift.

Siena let out a relieved sigh, not yet ready to acknowledge to herself just how worried she’d been that he’d say no.

Chapter 11

Conor

Conor hurriedly dressed in his black ski pants. He’d left his uniform ski jacket with the train conductor this morning so he put on his bright yellow Arc'teryx jacket instead. It was a technical ski jacket that had been sitting in his closet for the last three years, mainly because its price tag was half of his monthly salary, making it too much of a conversation piece.

He put on his hiking boots and half-walked half-ran to the gondola lift. He didn’t want to risk Siena going off on her own.

He’d tossed and turned in bed all morning, unable to sleep, thinking about the incidents of the last week—too many to brush them off as simple coincidences. Siena shouldn’t be on the slopes by herself.

Siena was waiting for him impatiently by the gondolas. At this time of day there was no queue to go up. “I spoke with William, he’s up at the Miroir I garage. He’s holding a couple snowmobiles for us.”

Conor nodded. He waited until they were alone inside one of the gondolas before speaking again.

“So where are we going?”

“I looked through all the cameras this morning and I think I saw the back of a snowmobile in one of them—it’s as you said, it was used to drag away something heavy in the middle of the night.”