25. Chapter 25 #2
They were two-thirds of the way down when Charlie’s boot caught on something and she pitched forward.
Lorenz reached out an arm to steady her, caught her just in time, but the damage was already done.
One small stone kicked it off, rolling down the slope, gathering others as it went, a dry cascade that resonated through the valley.
Too loud .
Lorenz’s grip tightened on her arm, pulling her down to a crouched position.
They both listened. Beside him, Charlie’s breaths came in tight, little gasps.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“It’s—“
The door to the hut opened. A man stepped out onto the porch.
Pelletier .
He scanned the slope, eyes narrowing.
Lorenz tightened his hold on Charlie. It was dark enough that he might not be able to see them. If they just stayed still—
“ Je sais que vous êtes là ! ” Pelletier shouted.
I know you’re here.
Charlie’s breath caught. Lorenz felt the sudden tension in her body, recognizing it for what it was: her body locked between fight and flight.
Neither was the correct answer.
We stay still .
He squeezed Charlie’s arm briefly—trying to telegraph calm, control.
Charlie’s boots scraped on the ground. A small sound, but Pelletier locked in on it, his large, barrel-shaped body tilting towards the noise.
In his hand, a revolver glinted in the semi-darkness. Charlie’s hand gripped his arm.
“ Sortez. ”
Lorenz watched the man’s finger tighten on the trigger. Panic filled him—he was about to get Charlie killed.
It was too late to run.
There was only one thing to do.
“Stay down, Charlie. Wait here for Ry,” he said, in a low voice, releasing Charlie’s fingers from his sleeve and rising from cover in one smooth move.
“I’m here,” he said, raising his arms above his head. He kept his movements measured, deliberate. He wanted to inspire curiosity in the man—not trigger the shot.
Pelletier trained the revolver on his chest. His grip, Lorenz noted, was steady.
“ Ah, vous voilà, ” the man said, his lips thinning in a semblance of a smile. “You’re the gendarme from Les Bois,” he continued, switching to English as he recognized Lorenz.
Lorenz stepped a few paces out— away from Charlie —keeping his hands visible, his posture loose.
“And your friends?” the man asked, waving the revolver.
“I came alone,” Lorenz said.
Pelletier’s eyes flicked past Lorenz, scanning the slope as if he could see through the shadows. Lorenz prayed dusk would play against him.
“No,” he finally said. “You’re not. I’m a hunter. I have a good instinct for these things.”
Lorenz forced himself to stay still. “Is your son inside?”
“Maybe.”
Pelletier’s mouth stretched into a slow, deliberate smile.
Lorenz wanted to wipe that smile away with his fist.
The wind picked up again, tugging at Lorenz’s jacket.
“Let me see him,” Lorenz said. “You don’t want this to go any further.”
Pelletier let out a short, ugly laugh. “Too late for that.”
His grip shifted on the revolver, but Lorenz forced himself to stay still.
“Listen to me. Whatever’s going on, we can sit down together and fix it. But I need to see the boy first.”
Pelletier’s eyes flickered, something quick passing through them. Anger—Lorenz had expected that—but also calculation. That was good. Calculation, Lorenz could work with.
“There’s nothing to fix. You don’t know anything about me,” Pelletier said.
“I know you love your son,” Lorenz said, with more confidence than he felt. There was a lot at risk, and he wasn’t a trained hostage negotiator.
But the revolver in Pelletier’s hand didn’t twitch, and Lorenz was still alive.
“You’ve got a way out,” Lorenz went on, his voice just loud enough to make it past the roaring wind. “You’re in control here. Call your son. Let me see him. Then we’ll talk. Just the two of us.”
Pelletier’s jaw tightened. The smile was gone now.
“Just the two of us, you say? How about you get your friends to show their faces?”
“I came alone. There’s no one else,” Lorenz replied.
Silence—and darkness—stretched, broken only by the sound of the wind and the snow. Lorenz had never been more grateful for the dark.
“You’re lying. I can see it in your face.”
“I’m telling you the truth, Monsieur Pelletier,” Lorenz said, raising his palms in a slow, deliberate gesture. No threat. “It’s just me.”
Pelletier adjusted his stance. “You expect me to believe that? I know gendarmes never go anywhere alone. Like the two who took me from my house last night—handcuffed, like a criminal, in front of my son, for all my neighbors to see.”
So that was what triggered him.
“I’m sorry about that,” Lorenz replied evenly. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
“You will be sorry if you don’t call out to your friends right now,” Pelletier said, his voice rising. “ Sortez ! Stop taking me for a fool.”
“There’s nobody here but us,” Lorenz tried again, but Pelletier wasn’t talking to him anymore.
“Show yourselves, or I will shoot your friend!”
“You’re not going to shoot me,” Lorenz said. “Not in front of your son.”
“He’s watching TV,” Pelletier snarled.
Lorenz kept his face impassive, but inside he was smiling. Now they had confirmation. Théo was inside.
“Last chance,” Pelletier boomed. “Or he loses his left knee.”
Lorenz stood his ground, pretty sure the man was bluffing. TV or no TV, that would be a hard thing to explain to a kid. But what he believed wasn’t important. The important thing was what Charlie believed. She had to stay where she was. Hidden.
Stay still, honey.
A tremor ran through Lorenz as he heard the sound behind him.
“Please don’t hurt him.”
Charlie’s voice.
Lorenz’s jaw tightened.
Pelletier’s attention snapped sideways, savage satisfaction cutting across his face.
“Charlie,” Lorenz said, his voice low and controlled—not betraying the panic he was feeling. “Stay down. Don’t come closer.”
Too late. She was already there, a few steps behind him, hands half-raised, her face paler than he’d ever seen her.
“Please,” she said again, in that thin, thin voice. “You don’t need to do this, Monsieur Pelletier.”
Pelletier let out a sharp laugh. “Well. Look at that. Mademoiselle Brooks. You’re impossible to get rid of, it seems. I keep wondering … I keep wondering who could have put those ideas in my wife’s head. In my boy’s head.”
“What ideas?” Charlie asked.
“The idea that I am not a good provider. Un bon mari. Un bon père .”
“That’s not … I never said that.”
Lorenz stepped back and to the right, angling his body just enough to keep himself between Charlie and Pelletier’s weapon.
“I tried to get rid of you,” Pelletier said. “But you wouldn’t back away. You refused to take the hint.”
“You … you messed with my trash? And wrote that message on my driveway?” Charlie asked, her voice tremulous.
The man didn’t deny it.
Lorenz stomped down on his anger. That wasn’t going to help them. He and Charlie had to remain calm, if they were going to figure out their way out of this.
Pelletier’s smile sharpened. “Enough talk. Get inside right now, and I won’t shoot anyone.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial murmur. “You wanted to see my son, didn’t you?”
My son. Always my son.
He hadn’t once said his son’s name.
Behind him, Charlie was already moving forward.
“Wait, Charlie,” he said.
Her eyes glinted fiercely. “No. I’m not waiting. We need to see Théo.”
“Listen to her,” Pelletier said. “Come inside and we’ll have that chat.”
The hut was small. With Charlie and the boy in there, it’d be too many variables in too little space.
But outside, Pelletier still held the advantage.
“Or I’ll shoot,” the man said, driving that advantage home. “There’s always the chance the bullet will go through you and into her. That would be poetic, wouldn’t it?”
From the size of the revolver facing them, Lorenz doubted that would happen, but it wasn’t a chance he was willing to take.
There was a third option.
Lorenz readied himself—
A faint rustle came from inside the hut. The wooden door opened a few inches.
“ Papa ? ”
Something in Lorenz’s chest relaxed marginally. Because now they knew for a fact, the boy was okay. He purposefully kept his expression blank, not letting Pelletier see his relief.
“Théo,” the man growled. “Get away from the door. Do as I told you.”
No further sound came from inside the hut, but a moment later the door closed.
Pelletier’s brows furrowed in irritation. He looked annoyed at the interruption. That, more than anything else, told Lorenz how unstable the situation was.
“Where were we—“ Pelletier said, waving the revolver too much for Lorenz’s comfort. “Ah, yes. You both get inside.”
“You’re in charge, Monsieur Pelletier,” Lorenz began. “You don’t need—“
Pelletier’s voice cut through his words. “I’m in charge. So get inside, or I’ll kill you where you stand.”
“We’ll come inside,” Charlie said, attempting to make her way past Lorenz. “You don’t need the gun.”
Lorenz held onto her arm, bringing her closer against him. “Hold on, Charlie,” he whispered.
This was only going to work if he went first.
Charlie
Charlie shook her head immediately, her fingers tightening against Lorenz’s sleeve.
“No.”
Lorenz leaned in, lowering his voice so Pelletier couldn’t hear. Not that he’d be able to, beyond the sound of the roaring wind.
“If something goes wrong, I need you behind me, Charlie.”
Fear filled her. Because there was no scenario where Lorenz didn’t get hurt. And she couldn’t let that happen. Not now, when they had only just found each other again.
But they couldn’t leave Théo here alone. They had to see that he was okay. They had to get him away from his father.
How long ago did Ry leave?
How far away is help?
“Stay close behind me,” Lorenz said. “Do exactly what I say.”
Charlie nodded reluctantly. This wasn’t her area of expertise. She had to trust Lorenz knew what to do.
Lorenz took a step forward, hands still raised in the air, his movements slow and deliberate, as if they had all the time in the world.
Pelletier shifted back toward the door, and she noticed how careful the big man was to keep as much space as possible between him and Lorenz.