Falling in love…

With her rescuer!

When paramedic Patrick Reeves discovers Dr. Charli Lawson trapped after a landslide, he holds her hand until she’s freed. They will never forget the connection of that night, but Patrick is a single dad with a broken heart, and Charli has already lost everything! She tries to stay away but he slips past her defenses. Could her courageous but scarred rescuer—and his adorable three-year-old—help heal Charli’s lonely heart?

EMILY FORBES is an award-winning author of Medical Romance for Mills & Boon. She has written over twenty-five books and has twice been a finalist in the Australian Romantic Book of the Year Award, which she won in 2013 for her novel Sydney Harbour Hospital: Bella’s Wishlist. You can get in touch with Emily at emilyforbes@internode.on.net, or visit her website at emily-forbesauthor.com.

Also by Emily Forbes

One Night That Changed Her Life

Falling for His Best Friend

Reunited with Her Brooding Surgeon

Tempted and Tamed miniseries

A Doctor by Day…

Tamed by the Renegade

A Mother to Make a Family

The Christmas Swap miniseries

Waking Up to Dr Gorgeous

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Rescued by the Single Dad

Emily Forbes

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08981-4

RESCUED BY THE SINGLE DAD

© 2019 Emily Forbes

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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For Beck.

Thank you for many years of fun, laughter and fabulous friendship.

Wishing you a very happy and very big birthday! I look forward to celebrating this one and many others with you.

Love, Emily

10 March 2019

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

CHARLI SLID OUT from the booth as a waitress delivered pizzas to the table. She had only been in Australia for two days and was still suffering the effects of jet-lag after the long flight east. Her body clock was telling her she’d been up all night and her stomach heaved at the thought of pizza for breakfast, even though it was just a little after ten p.m.

Her sister and her friends looked as though they were preparing to kick on and Charli needed something soft to drink if she was going to last any longer. Amy and her fellow ski instructors seemed to be able to hold their drinks far better than Charli ever could. She’d heard the Australians partied hard and she doubted she’d keep up even if she wasn’t exhausted.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a decent night’s sleep. It felt like years ago. She’d spent the past seven years studying hard and working part time in her hours off. While she’d had plenty of late nights, very few had been because she’d been out having fun. Medical school had been hugely demanding of both her time and effort, and her two years of Foundation Training had been even more exhausting. Sleep had been hard to come by for many years and, most recently, it had been thanks to her lousy ex, but she’d come to Australia to forget about him and she refused to waste any more time thinking about past mistakes. She’d make a trip to the bar and order a round of drinks and then maybe no one would notice if she sneaked away early.

The bar was crowded, the crush of the après-ski crowd several people deep, and Charli could feel herself swaying on her feet as she waited to be served. Her eyes drifted closed, just briefly, but it was long enough to cause her to lose her balance and stumble. She staggered backwards, bumping into the person behind her. Large hands grabbed at her elbows, steadying her.

‘Whoa, are you okay?’

She heard a deep voice in her ear. She turned around and looked up into a pair of very dark eyes.

She blinked as she tried to clear her head. She felt foggy, disoriented and she focussed hard. Her first thought was that this man who had her by the elbows was cute. About her age, several inches taller than her, maybe a smidge over six feet, with messy dark hair to go with his dark eyes.

‘Are you okay?’

She could see his lips moving, she could see his teeth, which were even and white in contrast to the shadow of a beard on his jaw. She heard him speak but the combination of jet-lag and his broad Australian accent meant it took her a few moments to translate his words into something she could make sense of. She nodded. ‘Yes, sorry about that.’

‘Are you sure you should be ordering more drinks?’

‘They’re for my friends.’

He raised one dark eyebrow and she noticed he had a small scar just under his left eye. She must be standing way too close if she could notice that but the crowd around her, coupled with the fact that he was still holding onto her, meant she couldn’t move away. His hands were warm and gentle and she found she didn’t actually want to step away.

‘I promise,’ she said. ‘I’m having a lemonade. I’m just jet-lagged.’

‘In that case, let me order for you. What else can I get you?’

‘A jug of beer—’

‘And a lemonade,’ he added as he dropped his hands and turned towards the bar.

Charli nodded as she pulled her purse from her handbag, wishing he hadn’t let go of her. She still felt a little unsteady but this time she didn’t think it was solely because of the jet-lag. She studied his back as he placed the order. Her eyes took in the breadth of his shoulders and the way his hair curled over the collar of his T-shirt. His shirt fit him snugly, showing off his muscular physique. She lifted her eyes up to his as he turned back from the bar. ‘How much will it be?’ she asked.

‘Twenty bucks should cover it.’

‘Twenty? What colour is that again?’

‘Orange.’

‘I’m still getting used to your money,’ she said as she fished in her purse for the colourful note. ‘It’s pretty.’

‘You’re English?’

She nodded. ‘Just arrived. Hence the jet-lag,’ she said, holding out the note. He reached for the money with his left hand and her fingers tingled as she placed the note in his hand. She noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Maybe her jet-lag wasn’t as bad as she’d thought.

‘Whereabouts are you from?’ he asked her.

‘London. Have you been there?’

‘I have.’

‘Did you like it?’

‘To be completely honest, I prefer it here. Fewer people, better weather.’ He smiled at her, softening his words, but she wasn’t offended. He’d probably be able to say anything that he liked without upsetting people as long as he said it with a smile. His smile was wide, making his eyes crinkle at the corners and his mouth turn up at the edges. It suited him.

‘In case you haven’t noticed,’ she said, ‘you’re in the snow. Snow is snow all around the world.’ Somehow, she managed to continue the conversation even though she was distracted.

‘Yes, but in Australia we choose to go to the snow, we don’t have to put up with it unless we want to, and even in the snow we get our fair share of sunny days. There’s nothing better than wearing a T-shirt and getting a sun tan while you ski.’

‘You ski in a T-shirt?’

Her eyes roamed over him again, taking in the view from the front this time. It was even better than the back. His chest was broad, his stomach flat, his arms were tanned and muscular, lightly covered with dark hair—enough to be masculine, not enough to be off-putting—and his skin was olive. His T-shirt hugged his chest and abdominals and was tucked into a pair of red ski pants that had some official-looking emblem on them, but she couldn’t make out what it said in the dim lighting of the bar.

‘You bet.’ He spoke in the same laid-back, friendly manner that Amy’s friends used. Unhurried, relaxed. She’d have to get used to the Aussie way of speaking.

He paid for their order but made no move to pick up his drinks and leave the bar.

‘Hey, Reeves, a man is not a camel!’

Charli saw him turn his head at the comment. She followed the direction of his gaze and saw a group of men, all wearing the same navy and red uniform, standing around a tall round table. ‘Are they talking to you?’ she asked.

‘Afraid so.’

‘I’d better let you go,’ she said, hoping he’d say he’d stay. ‘Thank you for your help.’

‘It was my pleasure…’ He paused and she knew he was waiting for her name.

‘Charli.’

‘Charli,’ he repeated. She liked the way it sounded when he said it. ‘Maybe I’ll see you around.’

She hoped so, she thought as she took the jug of beer and her lemonade back to the booth, sliding in next to her sister.

‘Who was that?’ Amy asked.

‘I don’t know,’ she said, realising belatedly that she had no idea. She had a name but no idea if it was his first or last.

‘I bet he could take your mind off your troubles for the next few days,’ her sister added.

Charli smiled but shook her head. She’d decided she was a terrible judge of character but even she could tell he had trouble written all over him. He was cute and confident and his smile had made her knees wobble, but she suspected he had that effect on a lot of women and she wasn’t about to let him add her to his list. ‘I’m not looking for someone from ski patrol to take my mind off things.’

‘You should be, he was hot. But he’s not ski patrol, their uniform is red and white, not red and navy.’

‘Do you know what he does?’ She should have got more information, she thought, even as she tried to tell herself she wasn’t interested. The last thing she needed was a rebound fling with a hot stranger. But she couldn’t deny he’d caught her attention.

Amy shook her head before she was dragged back into conversation with one of the other ski instructors, a handsome, blond Canadian. It looked as though Amy might get her own distraction tonight.

Charli scanned the room but she couldn’t see the cute guy or his friends from where she sat, and she wasn’t about to go looking for him. She needed to clear her head, not complicate it, but if she had been looking she suspected he was just the type she would have fallen for. It would be safer if she just took herself back to Amy’s apartment and got a decent night’s sleep. Tomorrow was another day.

She leant over to Amy. ‘I think I might call it a night,’ she said as she picked up her jacket.

‘Really?’

‘I’m tired.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Amy said as she started to stand.

‘No, no, don’t leave on my account.’

But Amy was already up and had tucked her arm through Charli’s elbow. ‘You’ve come all this way to see me, Canadian Dan will understand.’ She smiled and raised an eyebrow. ‘Unless you’re going to find that hot guy and don’t want me cramping your style?’

Charli shook her head. ‘No, I’m going home to bed, alone. I’m tired of being disappointed by men, I’d rather just go to bed with my fantasies than find out that the reality isn’t what I hoped for.’

‘Oh, Charli.’ Amy sighed as she hugged her younger sister close. ‘I know Hugo hurt you but not all men are bastards.’

‘Maybe not, but I’m not game to find out tonight.’

‘Well, let me know if you change your mind. There are plenty of cute guys here who will happily let you try out your fantasies on them.’

Charli laughed. ‘Seriously, I’m fine. I’ll go and tuck myself into bed and I’ll see you in the morning.’ She kissed her sister’s cheek and gently pushed her back into her seat. ‘There’s no need for both of us to have an early night. Stay, have fun.’

She’d meant it when she’d said she wasn’t looking for a man to take her mind off things but, even so, she couldn’t resist one last glance around the bar on her way out.

He was still there.

He was leaning against the wall, surrounded by his mates, but he was watching her. Her heart skittered as his eyes locked onto hers. He straightened up and her step faltered as he put his glass on the table and moved towards her. Somehow she managed to keep walking but her eyes didn’t leave his. He weaved through the crowd, his path at an angle to hers, and she knew he would reach her before she got to the door.

He waited for her and she stopped beside him, her feet deciding her course of action for her.

‘Are you leaving?’ His voice was calm and his dark eyes held her gaze, making her feel as though he could see into the depths of her soul.

She nodded.

‘Will you stay and have a drink with me?’

Should she? She wanted to but she really didn’t trust herself to make good decisions. Even when she wasn’t jet-lagged, she made terrible ones. ‘I don’t even know your name.’ She stalled for time.

‘It’s Patrick. Patrick Reeves.’

He continued to watch her closely and the rest of the crowd faded into insignificance as she hugged the sound of his name to herself. It was a nice name and he had an even nicer face and a fabulous smile. She was tempted, very tempted, but she was also exhausted. ‘I don’t think I’ll be very good company,’ she said, barely able to string two words together, although whether that was the effect of jet-lag or Patrick’s intense gaze she wasn’t sure.

‘May I walk you home, then?’

She hesitated, but only briefly. She knew she’d regret it if she walked out alone. She nodded. Decision made. ‘I’d like that.’

He held her jacket for her, helping her into it. ‘Where are you staying?’ he asked as they left the bar and he shrugged into his insulated jacket.

‘At Snowgum Chalet, with my sister.’ Her boots slipped on the icy path and Patrick reached out to steady her, wrapping an arm around her waist, catching her before she could fall. He lifted her slightly, settling her back on her feet.

‘Thank you.’ He still had his arm around her and her tongue felt too big in her mouth, making her stumble over the words. ‘I seem to have trouble keeping my feet around you.’

* * *

He knew the feeling. She was looking up at him with big blue eyes. His heart missed a beat and he felt like he was falling too. ‘I’ll have to remember to watch out for you on the slopes,’ he said as he took her hand. It was small but fitted perfectly into his grip and he tucked it into his elbow. ‘I have a feeling you could be dangerous.’

‘I’m usually okay on skis,’ she replied, completely missing his meaning, ‘but I am very wobbly today. I’m sure I’ll be all right after a decent sleep. Are you skiing tomorrow?’

He shook his head. ‘Unfortunately not.’

‘Do you work here? I saw your friends were all wearing the same uniform.’

‘Not exactly,’ he said as he changed direction, taking a path to the right that turned past Ironbark Lodge and headed down the hill to Snowgum Chalet. ‘We’re all paramedics, we’ve been doing alpine training exercises here. We’re part of the High Country Special Operations arm.’

‘That sounds exciting. What did you have to do?’

‘Avalanche training, helicopter drops into the back country, abseiling down cliffs, that sort of thing.’

‘Exciting and exhausting.’

He supposed it was both but there was nothing unusual in the hectic pace of his life. Working as a Special Ops paramedic meant his life moved rapidly from one disaster to another and he embraced the pace, especially over the past two years. Being busy meant he didn’t have time to think. Didn’t have time to dwell on things.

‘It’s been challenging,’ he admitted as they reached the front door of her lodge, ‘but it’s exhilarating too.’

It had been busy and he was knackered. He should be going home to bed, not chatting up pretty strangers in the snow, but he’d been powerless to resist her. He could count on one hand the number of women he’d bothered to look at twice since losing his wife two years ago. There had been no shortage of offers, plenty of women seemed to find the idea of a widower romantically attractive, but he had barely given any of them the time of day. Initially he’d been too grief-stricken, then he’d felt as if he was being unfaithful, and lately he’d been too busy. But something about Charli had struck a chord with him; something about her had made him sit up and take notice.

He was getting lonely. Shift work and a three-year-old daughter occupied a lot of his time but there were nights when he was home, alone on the couch while his daughter slept, and he missed adult company. Female company. He wanted a connection, it didn’t need to be permanent, but finding someone attractive was an unusual experience for him and that flutter of anticipation, that curiosity, that tremor of excitement, had been enough to galvanise him into action. When he’d seen her heading for the door he’d known he couldn’t let her leave without talking to her once more. He knew that if he let her walk out of the bar he would never see her again.

Charli let go of his hand as she searched in her bag for the key. She turned to him and for the briefest of moments he thought about what he’d say if she invited him in.

He was leaving tomorrow. At best, they could have one night together. But he didn’t get the impression that outcome was on the cards and he didn’t know if he would accept the invitation if it was forthcoming.

‘Do you think we could have that drink tomorrow night?’ she asked.

He should have been relieved that her words weren’t the ones he’d half hoped to hear. A lack of an invitation meant he didn’t have to wrestle with his conscience, didn’t have to remind himself of all the reasons why he should say goodnight and go home to his own bed. She’d made the decision for him. He should be grateful but he couldn’t help feeling disappointed.

‘I’d love to but I have to go back to Melbourne.’ He was due to leave first thing in the morning but the disappointment left a sour taste in his mouth. Maybe he could postpone his departure for just a few hours? He’d have to make some phone calls, ask for more favours, but it would be worth it. He had to try. ‘Could I take you to brunch instead, or are you planning to be out skiing bright and early?’

‘No, brunch sounds lovely.’ She smiled up at him and made him wonder if it was too soon to kiss her goodnight.

He’d known her less than an hour. He figured it probably was too soon.

‘Great,’ he said as he resisted temptation and waited for her to unlock her door to her ground-floor apartment. He had no reason to delay the farewell any longer. ‘I’ll meet you here at ten.’

* * *

He headed towards his bed, feeling unexpectedly hopeful and positive.

Snow blanketed the ground beneath his boots but the evening sky was clear and dark. There were no clouds and no moon but hundreds of tiny stars studded the darkness, relieving the blackness. He stopped outside the bar and the background hum of the alpine resort village faded as he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling the fresh mountain air. The scent of snow gums, wood smoke and barbeque filled his nose.

He stood still for a moment longer, soaking up the atmosphere.

The lights reflected off the snow as the machine operators traversed the slopes, smoothing out the ski runs ready for tomorrow, but he turned his back on the runs and looked instead past the chalets and buildings of the Wombat Gully Ski Resort and further up the mountain where the stately snow gums lined the ski runs. They stood sentinel, their trunks smooth and ghostly white, lit only by the light coming from the lodges. There was no wind to rustle their leaves, the air was still and so was he.

He knew he was okay. He’d kept things together for two years and had come through the worst of it. He was managing as a single parent. It wasn’t easy, far from it, but it was getting better. He had a routine, he had good support and he and his daughter had formed their own duo. Three had become two but two was okay. They were doing all right. Two was better than one. And he had a career he loved. He knew it could be all-consuming but it had saved him from depression and misery and had given him something else to focus on. Between his work and Ella, he had everything he needed. Not everything he wanted but life was good. He was doing okay.

Opening his eyes, he took in the natural beauty that surrounded him and thought, for the first time in years, that it was good to be alive. No, not thought but believed. There was a difference.

He breathed out and his warm breath condensed into white puffs of steam in the frigid air. He’d put his life on hold since Margie’s unexpected death, concentrating on his daughter and on his career, and his personal life had been largely ignored. Perhaps it was time to look to the future.

Patrick ignored the drone of the snow groomers and the constant thrumming of the snow-making machines and the music drifting into the night from the bar behind him—none of that was anything to do with him—as his thoughts drifted back to Charli. He would meet her for brunch. It felt odd to be organising a date but also exciting. After that he would return to Melbourne but at least he would have taken a step forward. A step towards a future. He and Ella couldn’t remain a pair for ever, he didn’t believe that was healthy. To move forward he had to get back into the dating game. But he wanted to do it on his terms. He wanted to wait until he felt a connection with someone. Charli was a promising start.

‘Hey, Pat, you calling it a night?’

Pat turned, his self-reflection interrupted by Connor Green, one of his colleagues, who was headed his way.

‘Yep.’ He waited to see if Connor had been sent to try to persuade him to return to the bar. He was out of luck if that was his mission. The team was close-knit and Pat had become good friends with his teammates over the years. They’d provided great support to him, but he wanted a clear head for tomorrow.

‘Me too,’ Connor replied.

A sudden gust of wind swirled around Pat as Connor spoke, startling him after the extraordinary stillness of the night. A noise similar to that of a jet engine roared behind them, its sound swallowing the background noise, and the ground shook beneath their feet. Pat looked up but the sky was just as dark as before. He could see nothing untoward but the rumble continued, the ground unsteady, testing their balance. He felt his heart rate accelerate as he turned around, his eyes glued to the mountain, searching for the source of the noise, his gut telling him it wasn’t a plane.

Was it an avalanche? Even though they’d spent hours on avalanche training he’d never heard, or seen, one. They were a rare occurrence in Australia.

His eyes scanned the slopes, glancing over the buildings as he looked towards the tree line. Ironbark Lodge sat highest on the mountain and he could see it silhouetted against the snow, its windows lit up against the night sky. He saw the lights waver and flicker as though candles illuminated the glass instead of electricity. And then the lights disappeared, leaving the lodge in darkness.

Pat looked down the mountain, expecting a complete power outage, but the other buildings remained bright. Movement in the corner of his eye drew his gaze up again.

He blinked.

Ironbark Lodge looked as if it was moving.

He must be more tired than he thought. He shook his head and rubbed one hand across his eyes before opening them again. He must be seeing things.

No. He wasn’t. The lodge was definitely moving.

‘Bloody hell!’ It took him a moment to process what he was looking at and meanwhile Ironbark Lodge continued to move. He watched on in horror and disbelief as the lodge slid down the side of the mountain.

Snowgum Chalet sat directly in its path.

He took off, sprinting along the icy paths, retracing his steps from moments before, running right into the path of the disaster.

CHAPTER TWO

‘AMY?’ CHARLI CALLED from the darkness of the bedroom.

She’d fallen asleep quickly with a smile on her lips as she’d thought about having brunch with Patrick but had been woken abruptly by the wind. ‘Amy, are you there? Can you hear that?’

The wind was loud. So loud it sounded like it was rushing through the apartment. At first, she’d thought the noise was the bathroom fan but as it continued to increase in volume she realised it wasn’t coming from the bathroom but was moving closer. It sounded like it was coming for her. She sat up just as a loud explosion split the air and her heart leapt as the unexpected sound shattered the night.

What was that? A gas cylinder exploding? A car backfiring?

The windows of the apartment rattled as she reached for the bedside lamp. The whole bed was shaking and it took her two attempts to find the switch. A backfiring car wouldn’t shake the bed.

But an avalanche might.

‘Amy?’ she called again, louder this time, as she finally turned on the light.

Was Amy home or was she still in the bar? Charli was about to get out of bed to look for her when the lights went out, engulfing her in darkness.

The noise hadn’t stopped, it had only intensified.

It was incredible. It sounded like a freight train, which was impossible as there was no train on the mountain. Her next thought was perhaps it was one of the snow-grooming machines. Had someone lost control? And then, cutting through the noise, she heard screams.

‘Amy?’

She leapt out of bed, stumbling in the darkness.

The noise was deafening now. Windows shattered and she heard glass hit the floor. Timbers were cracking and metal twisted and screeched, hurting her ears. She could hear bricks falling and over it all the noise of the wind and the screams continued.

Instinctively she threw her hands over her head as she took another step forward before her legs gave way beneath her. She didn’t realise that it wasn’t her legs but the floor that had disappeared from under her, and then there was nothing.

No light. No sound and only very slight vibrations. The wind had stopped as suddenly as it had begun and the room was no longer shaking violently, but she still couldn’t see and, much worse, she still couldn’t hear a sound. Even the screams had been silenced.

‘Amy?’

She coughed as she inhaled a mouthful of dust and it stuck on her tongue.

‘Are you there?’

There was only silence. Had Amy come home? Was she there?

Charli had no idea. It was awfully quiet.

Deathly quiet.

The room had stopped shaking and was now resting quietly in the dark. But the sudden silence wasn’t peaceful or calming, it was frightening. What had happened?

The air was frigid. The temperature had dropped and the floor beneath her legs was cold and damp. The bedroom was carpeted but the carpet was now flooded and icy water swirled around her. She could feel it and it chilled her to the bone, but she had no idea where it had come from.

‘Hello. Is anyone there?’ she yelled, choking on the thick dust that seemed to be hanging in the air.

She tried to stand up but smacked her head on something hard before she could fully straighten her knees. She swore out loud and rubbed her forehead above her left eye. A lump was already forming from the collision. She crouched down and reached up with one hand. She felt concrete under her fingers. Was that the ceiling? Why was it so low?

She squatted on the floor as she tried to figure out what had happened. Had the ceiling collapsed? God, she hoped not. Amy’s apartment was on the ground floor of a four-storey building.

What had happened? It was impossible to tell. The darkness made it impossible to get her bearings, impossible to work out what had happened and what was going on.

She reached out carefully, not knowing what she might find.

There was nothing in front of her so she crawled towards the door, or to where she thought the door was. Her hands were immersed in the freezing cold water and her fingers were going numb. She was dressed only in a T-shirt and knickers, clothes that were warm enough to sleep in while the central heating worked, but it offered no protection in her current situation.

She stretched her hands out and shuffled forward on her knees. There was an overpowering smell of diesel fumes and overflowing toilets. She didn’t want to know what she was crawling through.

Something sharp grazed her calf but she pressed on, hands outstretched in front of her.

It felt like she’d gone no further than a few feet before she ran into a wall. She was sure the door had to be there somewhere. She moved sideways, still calling Amy’s name, as she felt for a gap, her fingers searching for the door frame. She cried out as something pierced her palm, slicing into the flesh beneath her right thumb. The wound throbbed and she could feel blood running down to her elbow. She ignored the warm blood as she felt more frantically for the doorway but there was no gap. Instead she found herself wedged into a corner.

She was confused, disoriented but she continued to inch her way around the room.

She kept her hands outstretched, fearful of hitting her head again in the darkness. She breathed in the putrid, frigid air as she crawled through the darkness.

Her hands met more cold concrete. It was rough under her fingers, the smooth walls obliterated, leaving what felt like a pile of rubble. The ceiling pressed down on her head, making her feel claustrophobic. She fought back a wave of panic. Where was she? Nothing was familiar.

‘Amy? Are you here?’ She was sobbing now, crying salty tears that ran down her cheeks and mingled with the dust that caked her mouth.

She forced herself to keep moving. She couldn’t stay still. She had to find a way out of there before she froze to death.

She moved a few more feet and her fingers made contact with smooth metal. Was that the bed frame? Had she done a full circle? The bed had a high metal bed head. She traced the frame. The poles were bent, the frame leaning in towards the centre of the bed. She reached up and felt the ceiling. Somehow the metal bed head was supporting the ceiling. A concrete ceiling that should be five feet above her head, not several inches.

How had the bed not collapsed completely?

She was lucky she hadn’t been crushed, she thought, before she had a more terrifying realisation. But what about Amy? Where was her sister? What might have happened to her?

‘Amy?’ she whispered. Scared now of what she might not hear. Listening in hope for her sister’s voice.

Still nothing.

The carpet was sodden and sludgy under her knees. Crawling through freezing mud and water in the dark wasn’t getting her anywhere. She needed to see. She needed light. She felt for the bedside table, reaching for her mobile phone that had been resting on top. She desperately needed the flashlight function, but her hand met empty air. There was no table and she could only assume her phone now lay submerged in the vile water that lapped at her thighs.

She moved around the other side of the bed, only to find herself in another dead end. There was no way around this. She was trapped in a windowless, flooded tomb.

How had she ended up here?

What had happened?

Had a snow groomer crashed into their apartment? What had happened to the apartments above?

She had no idea.

All she knew was that she was trapped, buried alive.

She wanted to scream but the air was still so cold and so thick with dust she didn’t want to breathe it in.

Stay calm. Think.

She wanted to be warm.

Crawling back to the bed, she curled into a ball and tucked her injured hand under her armpit in an attempt to stop the bleeding and to warm herself up. She tugged the quilt over her, it was cold but dry and although she still wasn’t warm at least she wasn’t sitting in that filthy water.

She closed her eyes as she tried to figure out what to do. She wanted to get out of there but had no idea how she would achieve that.

Amy would know.

She let her tears flow as she lay in the darkness.

She wanted her sister.

* * *

Pat only had one thought as he ran towards Snowgum Chalet.

Charli.

He had to warn her. Had to get her out.

He skidded to a stop and gulped a lungful of frigid air as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing.

Ironbark Lodge was sliding almost gracefully down the slope, seemingly with no great urgency, keeping pace with the eucalyptus trees that were falling alongside it. It left a dark smear of mud in its wake as it pushed the snow ahead like a gigantic snowplough. The bottom floors of the building were pushed out as it gathered momentum and the upper levels toppled backwards. The accompanying sound was an agonising, horrific cracking of timbers, an explosion of glass, a high-pitched shrieking of twisting metal and devastating human cries, but still the lodge continued to slide down the slope in front of him, heading straight for Snowgum Chalet. And Charli.

There was nothing he could do and he watched helplessly as the disaster unfolded before him until, with a sickening crash, the two lodges collided. Pat took a step forward, hopelessly, helplessly, as Snowgum Chalet collapsed like a deck of cards and the third and fourth stories crushed the floors below and sent a cloud of white concrete dust into the air.

Car alarms were blaring and, over the top of all the noise, the village distress siren wailed. The noise of the disaster brought people out of the buildings. They poured out of the surrounding bars, restaurants and lodges before stopping in their tracks, staring in disbelief at the site that confronted them. A dark muddy scar bisected the snow-covered mountain and an enormous pile of rubble, which moments before had been two buildings, dominated the landscape. They stared, momentarily frozen, at the ruins of the buildings that had, God only knew, how many people inside.

Pat could hear screams and calls for help coming from underneath the rubble. He had no idea how people had survived this disaster but clearly they had. He desperately hoped Charli had been one of them but he couldn’t imagine how. Her apartment was—had been—on the ground floor. Unless she had somehow, miraculously, managed to escape, she was now buried under tonnes of concrete, bricks and steel. He fought back a wave of nausea as the dust cloud settled and he surveyed the scene. Everything had changed in an instant.

A few bystanders had already gathered their wits and were trying to move debris. There wasn’t any discussion or any system to the recovery attempt, people simply started at the area closest to them. They stood in the mud, pulling at bricks and window frames, blocks of concrete and pieces of broken furniture. They looked like scavengers sorting through a rubbish tip. Nothing in front of them resembled a building.

He had to help. He pulled his gloves from the pocket of his jacket and shoved his hands into them as his feet began moving, propelling him towards the devastation. Muddy water continued to flow down the hill, making conditions underfoot slippery and treacherous. He could smell diesel fuel and sewage and gas but he couldn’t stop. Charli’s life might depend on him.

‘Charli! Charli?’

For a split second he thought it was her voice he could hear. He turned around and saw a young woman flying down the path, her blonde hair streaming behind her.

Was it Charli?

She ran past Connor and Pat saw him grab at her. He held onto her, restraining her. Pat knew if he hadn’t caught her she would have kept running.

She beat at his chest with her fists. ‘Let me go. My sister is in there. I have to find her.’

His heart fell like a stone into his stomach, the last vestiges of hope shattered. It wasn’t Charli. It was her sister.

He left Connor to deal with her as he stepped cautiously onto a teetering slab of concrete before thinking better of it when it wobbled under his feet. He didn’t want to upset the balance. Who knew what lay beneath his feet.

He lay on his stomach and inched along the slab, listening to the cries for help and trying to work out where they were coming from. Sound bounced off the hard surfaces and off the mountain, distorting the voices and making it difficult to judge direction.

The darkness wasn’t helping matters either. He couldn’t see clearly, he couldn’t tell if there were gaps in the rubble, any way in or out. He couldn’t see survivors but he could hear them. He needed better light so he could tell where to start. He pulled his phone from his pocket, swiped the screen and pressed the flashlight icon but the light it gave off was pathetic.

‘I need some light over here. Does anyone have a torch?’ The lights of the village had been bright enough to see the buildings topple but they weren’t bright enough now. He needed stronger beams, much stronger. The headlights from a car or a snowplough.

‘Pat, what the hell are you doing? It’s not safe, man.’

He heard Connor’s voice from behind him. He turned his head. He could see dozens of people gathered in the semi-darkness, torches and phones causing multiple circles of light. ‘Pass me a torch.’

‘No. You need to come back. We need to assess the situation. It’s too dangerous.’

‘I can hear people. I need to see if I can reach them.’

‘And what if that slab gives way under you? We could lose you along with anyone trapped under there,’ Connor responded. ‘We need a plan.’

Pat ignored him. He knew Connor wouldn’t risk coming out after him. Two people on this teetering slab would be asking for trouble. Pat could stay out there safe in the knowledge that no one could drag him back. He knew he was taking a risk but what choice did he have? People were trapped. They needed his help.

‘Hello? Can you hear me?’ he called out.

‘Yes.’

‘I’m trapped.’

‘Help us.’ One, two, three different voices called back to him.

But none of them belonged to Charli.

He didn’t want to stop but he couldn’t ignore these cries for assistance. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘My wife. You have to help me. I can’t reach her.’

‘I’m stuck, my leg is caught. There’s water coming in. I can’t move. Help me, please, help me.’

There were only two replies to his question.

‘Who is there? Can you tell me your names?’

‘Simon.’ The voice was faint and Pat strained to listen. Where were the other voices? Where was the husband? His wife?

‘Pat, you need to follow protocol. It’s not safe,’ Connor called out, urging him to rethink his position.

Pat knew he was right. But knowing Connor was right wasn’t enough to get him to pull back. He could argue that this wasn’t a training drill or an official rescue. Not yet. He was effectively just a bystander, a good Samaritan, and his first instinct was to help. He would be careful. If he thought he was in danger, or there was a risk of causing further harm, he’d pull back.

‘Think about Ella,’ Connor called to him. ‘What happens to her if something happens to you?’

Pat hesitated, knowing Connor had won this round. He was being foolish, he wasn’t just risking his own safety, he was risking more than that, he was risking Ella’s life as she knew it. Ella was all he had left and he had to stay safe for her.

Connor hadn’t needed to come after him at all. He had won the battle of wills with a few well-chosen words.

‘Simon?’ Pat called out. ‘I’ll be back, I need to get help.’

‘Don’t leave me here.’

Simon’s voice called back to him, begging him not to go. One voice only. What had happened to the others? Had they lost consciousness? Or worse? Could they hear but not respond? Would Simon notice the silence?

Pat wanted to stay but he knew it was impossible to perform this rescue without equipment and help. ‘I promise I’ll be back.’

But he couldn’t promise he’d be back in time.

He closed his eyes and pictured Ella’s face and knew he had no option. It ripped him in two to leave but he had no choice.

He turned and began to inch his way off the slab. He had moved less than a foot when the ground wobbled and shifted and the concrete under him trembled and vibrated. His heart was in his throat as adrenalin surged through his body and he fought to keep his balance.

‘Reeves,’ Connor yelled at him. ‘Get back here!’

CHAPTER THREE

CHARLI WOKE WITH a start. Something wet dripped from the ceiling, hitting her forehead.

She frowned, perplexed, and lifted her hand to wipe the moisture from her skin. She winced as her fingers brushed across her hairline. There was a large bump over her left eye and her skin felt tacky. And then she remembered where she was and what had happened.

She was freezing and her hand was throbbing. She’d torn a strip of fabric off the bedsheet and wrapped it around the base of her right thumb to stem the bleeding, but she hadn’t been able to see how bad the wound was and her fingers were too cold to be able to give her any sensory feedback but she thought it had stopped bleeding.

The room was still pitch black, giving her no clue as to the time. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. She was thirsty and freezing and worried. She’d never treated anyone with hypothermia but she knew it was a real danger. She was curled in a ball on the bed, nestled into the small gap between the collapsed roof and the crushed bedhead. The quilt covered her but it was doing little to keep her warm.

Moisture continued to drip onto her head. She cupped her hands and let it gather in her palms. She lifted her hands to her face, wrinkling her nose in disappointment and disgust as she smelt the tainted water. It was undrinkable.

She tucked her hands under her armpits in a vain attempt to increase her body heat and lay in the dark, straining her ears to hear signs of life from anywhere around her. Was Amy in the apartment too? Had she fallen asleep and not heard Amy come home? Maybe her sister was there somewhere. Maybe she’d been knocked unconscious?

‘Amy?’ she whispered into the dark. In hope. Just in case, by some miracle, her sister was there.

Was that the sound of someone breathing?

Her heart rate spiked and she waited, listening carefully, before realising it was her own breathing she could hear, loud in the silence.

But then, in the distance, she heard another noise. A voice. People calling out, talking to each other. There were other people here, she wasn’t alone!

‘Hello? Can you hear me? Hello?’

There was no reply, the voices simply continued in the distance. They didn’t stop or change or show any sign that they had heard her. No one replied to her and the words were indistinct. She knew they weren’t close.

Her voice was hoarse, her throat parched and sore. No one was going to hear her. She needed to make more noise. But how?

She sat up slowly, uncurling herself like a fern frond, and hesitantly felt for the floor with her cold, bare feet. Her toes were tiny blocks of ice, she had some sensation in the two biggest toes but nothing in the rest. How many hours had she been trapped here?

She should have stayed in the bar with Patrick. She should have had another lemonade. She couldn’t remember now why it had been so necessary, so important that she get to bed. Maybe just a few more minutes’ conversation would have delayed things enough so that she wouldn’t have been in the apartment. But it was too late for those regrets now, she was in the apartment and she was alone.

She couldn’t lie on the bed and wait to be found. She needed to make it happen. She needed to do something. Anything.

The carpet was sodden but no longer under water. She crawled across the damp, muddy floor as she felt around cautiously in the dark, searching for something she could use to create noise. Her hand throbbed where she had cut her palm but she ignored that. There were more important things to worry about. Her eyes hadn’t become accustomed to the blackness, which she knew meant there was no light coming in. Did that mean there was also no fresh air? Would she suffocate before she was found?

Her thoughts lent urgency to her search. There were people out there, out beyond this tomb she was imprisoned in, and she needed them to find her. She couldn’t contemplate dying in here. Someone would find her. She had to believe that. She wasn’t ready to die. Not yet. She needed to alert people to her existence.

Lost in her thoughts, it took her a moment to realise her fingers had closed around a slender object. A pole of some sort. It was cold to the touch, metal, not wood. It felt like a ski pole but she knew there weren’t any in the room. It could be a piece of the bed, the rail from the wardrobe, part of the bedside lamp. She didn’t know what it was or how it came to be lying on the floor. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that it would make more noise than she was capable of by yelling.

She crawled back to the bed. She could still hear noises from above but the voices were being drowned out by mechanical sounds now. She could feel her anxiety increasing with every passing second. What were they doing with those machines? What if they were bulldozers? What if they pushed more debris down on top of her? Her breaths came in short, rapid bursts as panic set in. She had to make some noise. They had to find her. Her panic gave strength to her cold, lethargic muscles and she hit the pole against the metal frame with as much energy as she could muster.

Her arm tired easily but she forced herself to continue.

One minute, two, she wasn’t sure.

Lactic acid burned in her muscles and she stopped briefly, giving her arms a chance to rest. Her ears were ringing but she listened for noises from above. Something, anything, to let her know she’d been heard.

‘Hello? Can anyone hear me?’ she called, but her voice sounded faint even to her ears.

She heard a whistle, one long blast, that echoed around the mountain.

When it ceased, so had all the noise. Everything was silent.

What did it mean? Was it a warning whistle? Was there danger? Why was it so quiet?

She waited, the pole heavy in her hand. Where was everyone? Where had they gone?

Her heart beat furiously in her chest. She breathed deeply, trying to quell the rising panic that threatened to overwhelm her, but all she got was a lungful of stale, putrid air. The smell was vile and made her feel nauseous.

She let the pole fall from her fingertips.

What was coming her way now? More water? More mud?

Death?

She didn’t know how much more she could take. Her reserves were running low. She was exhausted, thirsty, hungry, sore, filthy and alone. Maybe it was easier just to let go.

She put her head down and cried and the tears gathered in the corner of her mouth. Ignoring the knowledge that her skin was covered in dust and who knew what else, she licked the tears from her lips. They were the only moisture she could get.

What would she do when her tears dried up?

She lay on the damp mattress in the dark and imagined dying alone. Buried here on the wrong side of the world.

* * *

Pat was exhausted. Since the landslide he’d slept for a total of eight out of the past thirty hours. He’d taken his assigned breaks but no more and, like all the search and rescue personnel, he was surviving on coffee and adrenalin.

Sixteen people had been listed as missing. In the past thirty hours, nine bodies had been recovered but not one survivor had been among them.

And Charli was still missing.

He had to believe that was good news. There was still hope. Though he knew that the more time that passed the lower her chances of survival were, he wasn’t going to give up. He’d made a silent promise to Charli that he wouldn’t stop until he found her. It wasn’t in his nature to give in and he refused to, even though hope was fading rapidly. There were still seven people to be found and he wasn’t stopping until they’d all been accounted for.

Close to two thousand people were involved in the search and recovery effort but he’d made certain that he was assigned to the search zone that included the remains of Snowgum Chalet. The noise level on the mountain was high. Concrete drills and bobcats were the background noise to the sound of thousands of voices. At regular intervals a signal whistle blew and everyone downed tools and the mountain fell silent as they all held their collective breath and listened for any sound of survivors.

But the site remained eerily quiet. There was nothing at all to hear.

Even a concrete X-ray machine and thermal imaging equipment had so far failed to detect any trace of survivors.

Perhaps today their luck would turn.

At times he felt as though they were taking one step forward and two back. Between the fatigue and the lack of progress it was getting increasingly difficult to keep morale high. It was falling with every hour that passed but Pat knew that all it would take to lift everyone’s spirits would be to find just one survivor. Just one. But low temperatures and exposure to the elements, combined with potential injuries, meant they didn’t have a lot of time. Hypothermia, blood loss, fractures, organ damage—all of these could be fatal.

He tried to focus on the positives. There had been no further landslides and the skies remained clear. They didn’t need snowfall to hamper their efforts.

He knew the negatives still outweighed the positives but despite the negative outcome of their efforts so far he refused to give in. Someone must have survived.

He swallowed the last mouthful of his breakfast before strapping himself into a harness in preparation for his stint working on the precariously steep slope. The mountain was wet, slippery and treacherous. His movements were slow and deliberate. It was imperative that he didn’t dislodge the earth or other debris beneath him as there was the risk of the rubble giving way and sending him, and others, plunging down the mountainside. The process was like a game of Jenga or pick-up sticks. Moving or even touching the wrong piece could cause other pieces to fall and the result could be disastrous.

* * *

He’d been working for several hours with just a short break when the Sunday morning chapel bells rang out over the mountain. They’d been advised that today’s service would give the volunteers, search-and-rescue crew and people who hadn’t been evacuated from the mountain an opportunity to say a prayer for the dead and the missing, and anyone who wished to could put down tools and attend.

The site gradually went quiet as equipment was abandoned, machines switched off and work ceased as people made their way to the chapel.

‘Did you want to come to the service?’ Connor asked from his position alongside Pat.

Pat shook his head. ‘You know I don’t believe in God.’ He’d given up on his tenuous belief two years ago when his prayers had gone unanswered. ‘I think my time is better spent here, searching, doing something more practical.’ He had a feeling something was about to happen. Something told him it was important to stay on site.

‘Fair enough. But you can’t search alone,’ Connor said as he carefully shifted another piece of concrete. ‘I’ll stay too.’

Pat suspected a number of people were going to the chapel because they thought paying their respects was the right thing to do. He could understand their reasons but, in his mind, their attendance implied that they didn’t expect to find anyone alive. He wasn’t prepared to give up hope. Not yet. It was still possible. Each passing minute made it less likely but that was why it was so important to keep going. Until every missing person was accounted for, he wasn’t going to give up. He nodded briefly, acknowledging Connor’s offer. He wasn’t going to try to talk him out of it. Protocol dictated that they work in pairs. He needed Connor if he wanted to continue.

The bells stopped ringing as the search zone was vacated, leaving Pat and Connor alone in their small section. They worked in silence, their movements methodical as they continued to clear their small area. As Pat pulled at a piece of broken and twisted window frame he heard a metallic ping. He threw the debris over his shoulder, assuming his movements had made the noise, but as the metal flew through the air he heard a second ping.

He looked around the site. There were a few people still working but no one nearby. He knew that sound on the mountain carried long distances and echoed. The sound could have come from anywhere but in the silence that had descended on the site he felt his hopes lift.

‘Did you hear that?’ he asked Connor.

‘Hear what?’

Pat was kneeling on the rubble but went completely still as he listened again.

‘What was it?’ Connor said.

Pat held up a hand. ‘Hang on a minute.’ But there was nothing more.

‘Hello? Can you hear me?’ He called out across the site. He could hear the expectation and excitement in his voice. He waited, still and silent, and his heart skipped a beat as he heard a reply.

‘Can you hear…?’

‘There! That.’ He turned to look at Connor but his friend was shaking his head.

‘It’s just an echo.’

Was it his imagination playing tricks? He was tired, they all were, but he knew it was something important. ‘I don’t think so.’ He called again. ‘Hello?’

‘Please. Help me.’

Pat turned back to Connor. ‘Tell me you heard that?’

Connor’s eyes were wide with surprise as he nodded.

Pat grinned. He could feel his smile splitting his face in two. ‘We’ve got someone!’

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