Page 3 of On the Line

“Is everything okay?” Even as I ask it, I know how ridiculous the question is. The sheriff’s office doesn’t call because everything’s okay.

“Are you somewhere where you can sit down?”

“I’m in the grocery store right now.” I glance around self-consciously, but the only other person in the produce section is an employee stocking apples along the far wall.

“Do you want to go somewhere more private so we can talk?”

“No!” My voice is shrill even to my own ears. “I want to know why you’re calling from my husband’s phone!”

My words are verging on hysteria. I need to talk to Josh. I’m going to tell him about this new job, and he’s going to be proud of me. We’ll get back to everything being good between us again.

I can hear the concern in his voice when he responds, “Okay, ma’am. Your husband was skiing out of bounds at Sun Valley Resort with a small group of people. We’ve had heavy snowfall over the past five days and the avalanche threat was considerable. Their group triggered a substantial slide earlier this morning.”

An avalanche is a skier’s worst nightmare, especially if you’re skiing in the backcountry. Josh was a ski racer—he’s best on smoothly groomed trails where he can go as fast as he likes. He’s not a backcountry skier. What the hell was he doing out of bounds? And why was he in Sun Valley?

A sob bursts out of me as I consider my husband buried under all that snow, like being trapped in frozen concrete, injured and in pain. “Is he going to be okay?”

On the other end of the line, he pauses, and let’s out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry ma’am. He didn’t make it.”

I sink to my knees still clutching my phone to my ear. “What?” This doesn’t make any sense. Josh is too smart to ski out of bounds when there’s an avalanche threat. Isn’t he?

“Rescue crews got to them as quickly as possible, but they were buried under too much debris. No one survived.”

My body feels frozen in shock and my chest heaves as I try to draw a breath. Everything around me seems to be spinning. I think I’m hyperventilating, but I have no idea how to calm myself down.

“Ma’am?”

“I’m here,” I squeak out, then take a few ragged, gasping breaths.

“I’m going to have someone in my office call local law enforcement and get them to come to you and make sure you get home safely. Please stay on the line with me until they arrive.” He asks the name of the grocery store I’m at and where in the store I’m located, and, while he keeps me on the phone, he answers my questions to the best of his ability given that “the investigation is ongoing.” All he’s able to tell me is what time the avalanche happened, and how long Josh and his fellow skiers were buried before rescue crews were able to dig them out.

There were no survivors. That sobering piece of information is winding itself around my brain. I have so many questions—about why they were in Sun Valley and why they skied out of bounds when there was an avalanche warning—but anyone who could answer them is dead.

I feel like I’m trapped, suffocating, as I sit on the floor shaking uncontrollably. It feels like an hour, but is probably only a few minutes, before two police officers are walking up the aisle to me. The older one helps me up while the younger one takes the phone and speaks to the officer in Sun Valley.

“We’re going to get you home,” he says as he puts his arm around my waist to support me. The wrinkles around his eyes crinkle as he smiles a sad smile. The younger officer says something to him, but while his lips are moving, it sounds like he’s talking underwater. I feel like I might pass out. “It’s going to be okay.”

And in that moment, looking up at the older officer, I’m certain nothing is ever going to be okay again.

CHAPTER2

JAMESON

Boston, MA

Could this day get any worse? I highly fucking doubt it.

“Two days?” I ask the Pre-K teacher as I look down at my Italian leather shoes that are now covered in puke from my four-year-old nephew.

“At least. He can’t come back tomorrow because he has to be symptom-free for twenty-four hours before he can return.” She has the no-nonsense approach of an elderly aunt who’s seen it all and has no time for your issues.

“Great.”

I consider the three remaining meetings I have this afternoon—one of which includes signing an eight-figure endorsement deal with an international athletic wear company for my highest profile hockey player. We’re supposed to be meeting in my office in an hour.

I don’t know what I’m going to do with Graham during those meetings, but at least his mom—my sister, Audrey—will be back in town tonight.

I do feel bad for the little guy. I carry him out of the school because he’s too weak to walk at the pace I need to be moving. I don’t have a choice but to hurry. When we get to my car and I take in the custom leather upholstery with the detailed stitching, I wonder if I can possibly get him home without wrecking the interior of my Maserati.

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