Love You Dead Read Online Free Page A

I’ve been told how to pronounce it like
     the locals, Nooo Yawk! Each time I think of you I think of a beautiful expression I once read, written by an Indian poet. ‘The path of love is narrow, and there is not room for two
     people on it, so you must become one.’ That’s how I feel about us.
    She signed it with a row of kisses and sent it. Then she carefully filed his email and her reply into a folder titled
Charities Local
, which was buried inside another folder marked
Charities.
Just in case, somehow, Walt had ever found his way into her computer. Not that there had ever been much likelihood, as he wasn’t particularly computer savvy.
    She logged off, closed the lid and sat still for some minutes, gathering her thoughts, getting her story together. Slipping out of the dressing gown she’d worn back from the spa, she
pulled on a sweater and jeans and tied back her hair. She decided against putting on make-up, wanting to look pale and distressed.
    She took the lift down three floors and walked towards the reception desk. As she approached, she saw a young, fair-haired man standing by it, dressed in a blue fleece jacket with the word
Gendarmerie
in white across the back of it.
    The receptionist, to whom she had spoken several times during their short stay, was holding a phone in her hand, and replaced it as she saw Jodie.
    ‘Ah, Mademoiselle Bentley,’ she said, looking uneasy. ‘I was just calling your room.’ She pointed to the police officer. ‘This is Christophe Chmiel from the
Courchevel Gendarmerie – he wishes to have a word with you.’
    ‘What – what about?’ She turned to the policeman, feeling a genuine prickle of anxiety.
    He gave her a concerned smile and spoke in good English. ‘Mademoiselle Bentley, is it possible please I have a private word with you?’
    ‘Yes – yes, of course. Is this about my fiancé, Walt? I’m really worried about him – we got separated skiing this morning, up at the top in the white-out –
and I’ve not seen him all day. Please tell me nothing’s happened to him? I’ve been waiting all afternoon for some news, I’m at my wits’ end.’
    The receptionist spoke to the officer in French. ‘
Voulez-vous utiliser notre bureau?
’
    ‘
Oui, bien, merci
,’ he replied.
    The receptionist led them behind the counter into a small office with two computer screens, several filing cabinets and two swivel chairs. Then she closed the door behind them.
    The police officer gestured to one of the chairs and, looking as weak and anxious as she could, Jodie sat down. ‘Please tell me Walt’s safe, isn’t he?’ she asked.
    He pulled out a small notepad and looked at it, briefly. ‘Mademoiselle Bentley, is your fiancé’s name Walt Klein?’
    ‘Yes, it is.’
    ‘And you last saw him at what time today?’
    She shrugged. ‘About ten o’clock this morning. We took the cable car up to the top of the Saulire. The visibility was terrible but he was keen for us to be up early to get the fresh
powder before it was skied out.’
    He gave her a dubious look. ‘You are both good skiers?’
    ‘Yes – he’s better than I am – he’s an expert – I’m a bit nervous because I don’t know this resort very well yet. But we were told the weather was
improving. We couldn’t see a damned thing at the top, but there were some other skiers who were in the cable car with us. I saw them ski off and thought the best thing would be to follow
them. Walt told me to go first, in case I fell and he could help me. So I set off, trying to keep up with the others, but they shot off ahead of me, going too quickly. I stopped and waited for Walt
but he never appeared. Do you know where he is? I’ve been terrified he’s had an accident. Please tell me he’s all right.’ She began crying.
    Chmiel waited for her to compose herself. ‘We are just trying to establish exactly what has happened,’ he said, then asked, ‘What did you do when your fiancé did not
appear?’
    ‘We’d