Page 10 of Mountain Impact

By the time she parked the car in the visitors’ parking area, Drake’s shoulders were up by his ears.

“Are you okay?”

He visibly forced himself to relax. “I don’t like hospitals much.”

“Because of your leg?”

“Because I don’t like them,” he said gruffly. “Stop trying to psychoanalyze me, Doc.”

Isolde stopped to speak with the nurse at the reception, explaining who she was and what she wanted. A couple minutes later, a doctor came out. He was a tall, handsome man in his early forties, with warm brown eyes and a ready smile.

“Dr. Matthieu?” she said, looking up at his nametag.

The doctor nodded, smiling with both his mouth and his eyes. “Yes. And you must be Dr. Durant.”

“Isolde, please,” she said, nodding. Beside her, Drake made some kind of choking sound, but when she looked at him he was completely still. His hand rubbed his right thigh reflexively―he probably didn’t even realize he was doing it.

“Isolde,” the doctor agreed. “And you can call me Robert.” He turned to include Drake in the conversation. “You must be Lieutenant Jacobs. Both of my patients asked about you as soon as they woke up.”

Drake’s scowl deepened, but he pushed his hand out to shake the doctor’s proffered hand.

“So, you’d like to see Messieurs Martin et Nicolas Blanchard?”

“The two patients are related?” she asked, surprised.

“They are brothers,” Dr. Matthieu clarified. “They’ve authorized me to speak to the police about their injuries, so I can tell you anything you need to know. I’ve also already sent everything on to the gendarmerie, as requested.”

“We’re just here to see them, if that’s okay,” Isolde said quickly.

“Of course. Follow me, please.”

They walked into a beige room with three beds. The bed closer to the door was empty―the others held two men. The man closest to the window had his leg rigged up on a pulley system―she couldn’t help noticing how Drake’s expression tightened at the sight of the device.

Shit.

She watched him get control of himself with real effort, shifting his eyes to the other bed, occupied by a man with thick bandages around his head and torso.

Both men looked asleep. Although they were large men, their faces were round and smooth―very similar, in fact, to that of the slightly older man who currently occupied an armchair by the window. He was wearing jeans and a shirt, so he wasn’t a patient here.

An older brother?

As soon as he saw them, he slid out of a chair and walked towards them, a strained expression on his round face.

“My brothers need rest,” he said, confirming Isolde’s assumption.

“Monsieur Blanchard, these are Lieutenant Drake Jacobs, from the Peloton de Gendarmerie de Haute Montagne, and Dr. Durant, a police psychologist,” Dr. Matthieu began.

The man’s mouth dropped open in surprise, making his face even rounder. He immediately reached out and clasped Drake’s hand, pulling hard enough to bring the larger man towards him.

“Monsieur Jacobs, my name is Alain Blanchard. Thank you for coming, thank you. And thank you for saving my brothers.” The man’s eyes filled with tears, and still he didn’t let go of Drake’s hand. “I cannot say it enough.”

Drake’s chiseled face looked cast in stone. He stood still for a moment, then started pulling slowly, trying to extricate his hand from the older man’s grip.

She brought her attention back to Alain Blanchard, who was still talking. “My brothers and I were together that morning. I wasn’t feeling well, so I never got on the cable car. And to think, if it wasn’t for you, I could have lost them both … it doesn’t bear thinking about.”

Drake finally freed his hand and patted the other man gently on the shoulder. “I’m glad they are both okay. They will make a full recovery?” he asked.

“They will. Thanks to you.”