DESCENT
A Stone Mountain Mystery #1
Kristina Stanley
DESCENT
A Stone Mountain Mystery #1
Copyright © 2015 by Kristina Stanley. All Rights Reserved.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. And any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead (or in any other form), business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
www.KristinaStanley.com
FIRST EDITION Kindle eBook
Imajin Books — www.imajinbooks.com
July 25, 2015
ISBN: 978-1-77223-096-3
Cover designed by Ryan Doan — http://www.ryandoan.com
Praise for DESCENT
“In this impressive debut, Kristina Stanley weaves a vivid, chilling tale of jealousy, secrets, and betrayal in a close-knit mountain ski village. Like its likeable young heroine, Kalin Thompson, DESCENT is both tender and tough.” —Barbara Fradkin, award-winning author of the Inspector Green Mysteries
“Murder rocks the competitive ski world in Stanley’s layered tale with enough suspects to keep readers guessing until the last chilling chapter.” —Brenda Chapman, author of the Stonechild and Rouleau Mysteries
“From the first line, you’re strapped into a Stanley novel. Just turn the page, hang on, and enjoy the ride.” —Garry Ryan, award-winning author of the Detective Lane Mysteries
For Mathew: He who is my life.
Acknowledgements
Mathew is the person I need to thank first. His unending belief in me and his support of my writing journey kept me writing.
My friends for life who read, reread, commented and commented again: Liliana Conn, Michael Conn, Adrienne Cristelli, Janice Janczyn, Sue Kreiling, Debi Sarandrea, and Melanie Wagner.
For medical advice, cheers go out to Dr. Rama Behki.
For his mischievous suggestion on how to tamper with a binding, a shout out to boot fitter and Calgary firefighter Billy Stewart.
To George Duncan for his expertise on ski lift operations.
To Tony Trimble for his legal advice.
I would like to thank Humber School for Writers through which I received feedback from Joan Barfoot and Mary Gaitskill, and Garry Ryan for his support and mentorship through Crime Writers of Canada.
And of course, thank you to Cheryl Kaye Tardif and Imajin Books for believing in me.
Somewhere in this book is a hidden “Easter Egg,” a link to 3 FREE Qwickie novellas by 3 bestselling authors. This is a time limited offer, so happy reading and hunting!
CHAPTER ONE
Day One: November 28th
Death swept up the mountain and across the frigid snow, giving no warning, no threatening growl, just spreading tendrils, searching for a victim while Stone Mountain Resort buzzed with energy, unaware of the impending doom.
Kalin Thompson gunned the engine of her snowmobile, forced its skis over a mogul, and sped toward the summit of the Alpine Tracks run. The Holden ski team owned the race course for the next twenty minutes, and when the local team finished, Kalin planned to ski the gates, just for one run, just for the adrenaline rush.
Her sled hit a patch of ice and slid toward a chairlift tower. She gripped the handlebar and leaned left, edging around the structure, brushing the metal side with her ski pants. Damaging equipment five days into being the director of security at the resort would not impress her boss. She regained control and drove toward the summit. Exhilarated by the ride, she skidded to a stop beside Ben Timlin and let out a whoop.
Giving her a wink that could seduce even the coldest of hearts, Ben said, “Enjoying yourself?”
Kalin glanced around and checked that no one was looking in their direction. She leaned over the handlebar, their ski helmets thudded, and she kissed Ben. “I am now.”
At the starting gates, a super-G racer sliced his skis backward and forward, leaning hard on his poles in an aggressive stance, anticipating the signal to launch. Frozen breath exploded from his lungs as he waited for the skier ahead of him to clear the course.
Kalin undid her helmet’s strap and pulled her neck tube over her chin. “How’s the training going?”
“Not great. I’m surprised Coach Jenkinson hasn’t cancelled the session.”
“Why?”
“More than half the racers either slid off the course or fell. One sprained his ankle.”
“Snow injection?”
“Yup, the course is a skating rink.”
Stone Mountain’s one hundred and fifty-six-person chairlift covered five meters per second from the bottom of the Alpine Tracks ski run to the summit, and the lift clanged around the unloading station, dropping skiers and their gear several meters from where Ben and Kalin waited. Kalin counted the last of the team members arriving at the summit. Six skiers still had runs to conquer before she could ski.
Only razor-thin ski suits protected the racers from the elements. Kalin blinked, and her eyelashes frosted together. She pinched her lashes between her index finger and thumb, melting the ice. Was Ben cold too? She laughed at herself for worrying about her boyfriend. His high-tech ski patrol jacket, filled with first aid and safety gear, protected him more than adequately from the sub-zero temperature.
Ben nudged the skis strapped to the back of Kalin’s snowmobile. “You can’t ski today.”
“Is that a dare?”
“The racers are having a hard time. It’s too dangerous.”
Listening to advice about being cautious was not Kalin’s strongest asset, but Ben’s expression told her she couldn’t win this one. Still, if no more racers fell, she’d try to talk him into going.
The signal blasted, and the racer between the gates shot his legs backward, his head and shoulders forward, and burst over the start line. He tucked his curved poles around his sides, bent his knees and rounded the first gate. His elbow whacked the second gate, but he kept his balance. He picked up speed, skirted the third gate, and the timing screen showed he clocked ninety-four kilometers per hour. His edges cut the ice and held firm.
Super-G, a cross between giant slalom and downhill, required a minimum of thirty-five gates and was different from the downhill in that a skier didn’t get a practice run before a race. Each skier had one chance and skied to the extreme.
Rounding the fourth gate, the racer pressed hard against his edges, but instead of power transferring to the snow, one boot released from its binding. The racer flew into the air with speed. He swung his arms forward, not fast enough to break his fall, and his head slammed into the ice packed surface.
Without taking his eyes off the skier, Ben simultaneously turned the key in the snowmobile ignition and spoke into his radio.
The racer’s limp body rag-dolled down the steep descent. He plowed over the fifth gate, flattening the pole to the ground. The orange safety netting lining the side of the run stopped him from sliding into the forest.
Ben drove his snowmobile toward the fallen skier, and Kalin followed on hers.
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Pandemonium erupted. People from every direction ran to the racer.
“Stand back.” Ben pushed through the crowd and squatted. The racer lay face-up with his body twisted in the netting and his neck turned in an unnatural angle.
The skier’s goggles hid his facial features, but with the temperature below zero, Kalin should have been able to see his breath.
Ben made eye contact with her. “You better go tell Reed.”
CHAPTER TWO
Four days earlier… November 24th
Kalin spotted Tom Bennett, the director of security at Stone Mountain Resort, sitting with his wife, Ginny, at a table near the fireplace in the Mountain Chalet Restaurant. She had a few moments before Ben was due to appear and stopped to say hello.
“Any security issues with race training today?”
Ginny answered for Tom. “It’s our anniversary. Thirty-four years, so Tom is taking the night off.”
“Congratulations.” Kalin shook Tom’s hand. Sweat covered his palm, slippery against her skin. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
Tom clenched Kalin’s hand, pulling her forward.
“Ginny—” He released his grip and slumped sideways. Kalin leaned across the table. Her fingers touched the fabric of his sweater, but she missed grabbing his sleeve. His head hit the slate tile with a smack.
Kalin launched around the table and collided with Ginny at Tom’s side. She knelt beside him, checked for a pulse on his neck and found none.
“Get the AED,” Kalin called to the bartender, who stared at her with unblinking eyes.
With her heart rate picking up speed, Kalin pointed toward a set of swinging doors and hoped he couldn’t see her hand shake. “The defibrillator. It’s hanging on the kitchen wall.” She kept her eyes on him until he turned toward the equipment.
A server hovered nearby. Kalin cleared her throat to steady her voice. “Call 911 and then security. Wait, not security. Call ski patrol.”
“How do I find ski patrol?”
Kalin tossed her phone to the server. “Call 911 first. Ben’s is the last number dialed. Call him second. He’s already on his way here.”
Ginny leaned over Tom, her reading glasses swinging from her neck, and shook his shoulders. “Tom. Tom. Answer me.”
Kalin grabbed Ginny’s hands. “He needs CPR. Step back. Okay?” Precious seconds were lost as Ginny got herself under control. Kalin blew two breaths into Tom’s mouth, ignored the sour aroma of recently eaten garlic, and began the count of thirty compressions.
While she pumped his chest, one of the servers gently placed a dishcloth on Tom’s bleeding forehead. After three rounds of compressions, sweat pooled at the bottom of Kalin’s spine. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ginny crouched beside her, rocking to the beat of her chant, “No. No. No.” Tune her out. Just keep pumping.
Kalin let out a breath when Ben pressed his palm between her shoulder blades. She stopped pumping at the end of a compression cycle and shifted sideways, giving him space to access Tom. She braced her hands on the top of her thighs, tucked her chin and took a moment to calm herself. She clenched her fists and shoved herself off the floor. Dirt from the slate tiles covered the knees of her jeans, and she absently wiped them, leaving sweat marks on the denim.
Ben dropped his toque and ski gloves on the tile and kneeled beside Tom. He cut Tom’s cable-knit sweater and the white T-shirt he wore underneath, exposing his torso, and shaved two patches of grey chest hair. He placed electrode pads on Tom’s chest and waited for the AED to analyze his heart rhythm. “It’s recommending a shock.”
Kalin pulled Ginny away from Tom, keeping her arm around Ginny’s shoulder. “Ben knows what he’s doing.”
“I’m clear. You’re clear. Everyone’s clear,” Ben said. After the initial shock didn’t establish a normal rhythm, the AED repeated the shock two times.
Ben turned his attention away from Tom and toward Kalin.
“Keep going. I’ll empty the restaurant.” Kalin resisted a surge of grief and turned to the bartender. “Stay with Ginny.”
The restaurant manager came out of the back office.
After taking in the scene around the room, Kalin approached the manager. “I need you to help me empty the restaurant.”
“But people are still eating.”
The conversation had ceased, and all eyes were turned toward Ben and Tom. One man held his fork midway between the table and his mouth. A woman clutched a napkin to her face.
“No one’s eating anymore. Offer a voucher or a full refund. Whatever it takes to get people out quickly. They’ll understand. Get your staff to help. It’ll keep them busy.”
Kalin returned to Ginny. “Has Tom been sick?”
Ginny wrapped her silk scarf around her shoulders and chest as if trying to hold herself together. “He had a cold that turned into walking pneumonia, but he’s better now.”
“Is he taking any medications?”
Ginny shook her head, and her dewdrop earrings swung from her lobes. “He’s going to be okay, right?”
Ben performed a second round of CPR with the tick-tock of the AED’s metronome timing the compressions, but Tom’s vital signs remained absent.
No one answered Ginny.
Ginny squished Kalin’s hand. “Kalin?”
“I don’t know.”
* * *
The paramedics arrived. One pulled a stretcher, and the other carried a defibrillator.
“How’d you get here so fast?” Kalin asked. Stone Mountain Resort was nestled between two peaks in the Purcell Mountain Range at twelve hundred meters above sea level and was separated by eighteen kilometers of rough highway from the nearest town of Holden, British Columbia.
“We were at the resort on another call.” The paramedic glanced at the staff guiding patrons to the door or closing bills. “We’ll load and go, and treat during transport.”
The paramedics lifted Tom onto the stretcher and wheeled him toward the exit. Ginny hung on to Tom’s ankle and followed them toward the ambulance.
Kalin’s eyes roamed the restaurant until she found the server who had her phone. She called her boss first. Gavin Reed was also Tom’s boss and the president of Stone Mountain Resort. “Tom Bennett collapsed in the restaurant. I think he had a heart attack.” She took a calming breath while Reed spoke, then said, “He’s been taken to the hospital. Ginny is with him.” She finished the conversation and turned her attention back to the people in the room.
With the last of the restaurant’s patrons cleared from the room, the servers, bartender and manager huddled together in front of the fireplace. The flames licked and danced around the wood, emitting a campfire odor. Two of the women cried, and the rest of the group sat in silence.
Ben joined Kalin, tucked her hair behind one ear and rested his palm on the back of her neck. “You okay?”
Kalin allowed herself the luxury of a full-body hug. She snuck her arms underneath his ski jacket, buried her nose in his brown, curly hair and breathed in the scent of his shampoo. Instead of answering, she nodded, and his stubble scratched her cheek.
She removed her knee length tunic-cardigan and folded it over the nearest chair. Using her thumb, she scrolled through the address book in her phone and called the counselor the resort kept on retainer. After she finished the call, she joined the employees.
“This is a lot to take in. The resort’s counselor is on her way. She’ll lead you through a debriefing. If any of you feel like talking, in a group or alone with her, she’ll be here in half an hour.”
“Is he dead?” the bartender asked.
Kalin pressed her lips into a combination of a frown and a smile, an expression she knew made her appear empathetic. “I don’t know. Gavin Reed is going to meet Tom and Ginny at the hospital. He’ll call me when he knows something.”
“He didn’t look good,” one of the servers said.
“No. He didn’t.” Kalin addressed the manager. “Why don’t you take everyone to a conference roo
m and wait there?” The Mountain Chalet Restaurant sat at the base of the ski hill, a five-minute walk from the administration building that housed Kalin’s human resources office, the accounting team and conference rooms. Distancing the employees from the scene would be good for them. Kalin wanted to distance herself too. But not yet.
“Who’s going to clear the tables?” the manager asked.
“Ben and I can do that later. Don’t worry about things here. It’s more important your team gets a debrief session.”
Kalin called the director of lodging and explained the situation. “Who do we use to clean blood and body fluids?”
Instead of giving her the information, he offered to contact the specialized company and get the cleaning done. With that taken care of, she couldn’t put off the next call any longer. She phoned Fred Morgan and told him the news. She heard his intake of breath and stayed silent for a moment. Fred, the manager of security, had reported to Tom for twelve years.
“How many security officers are on duty right now?” she asked.
“Two.”
“They need to be told. Do you want me to meet with them, or do you want to come in?”
“I’ll come in. Thanks for calling ski patrol and not security. The officers are close to Tom. They would’ve had a tough time treating him.”
Alone in the restaurant, Kalin and Ben sat in silence waiting for her boss to call with an update. All that remained of the tragic event were the remnants of Tom’s shirt, latex gloves and tiles stained with blood.
CHAPTER THREE
Descent (A Stone Mountain Mystery Book 1) Page 1