Avalanche (A Stone Mountain Mystery Book 3) Read online

  How could Ben go home and look Kalin in her eyes? Tell her the bad news? “I hear you.”

  “It’s your call.”

  Of all the decisions to make, why was this one his? “We’ll wait until morning. Maybe the weather forecast is wrong.”

  * * *

  Fifty hours after the avalanche, Ben slowed his steps as he neared Kalin’s office. Wednesday morning hadn’t brought better weather. The storm had pounded Stone Mountain overnight and continued through dawn, giving no indication of waning.

  The night before, he’d talked with Kalin for hours, debating whether or not to continue the search. She’d tucked in their bed and slid as far to the opposite side as she could without falling off. Ben suspected she’d faked sleeping just to stop talking about the weather and Roy.

  Making Kalin understand his rationale topped his priority list. Knowing her the way he did, she might use the failed search as an excuse to take the new job. She’d already suggested living part time in White Peaks and part time in Stone Mountain. What if she actually made the move?

  He could see her convincing herself that working there five days a week and spending two days at Stone Mountain would be okay. Five days would extend to six, then seven as she got busy. She’d take her job seriously. She couldn’t stay out of the office here, so what made her think she could there?

  Now he was about to motivate her to take the job at White Peaks. He reached her closed office door. Maybe she was in a meeting with someone, and he could postpone seeing her.

  Ben put his hand on the doorknob but didn’t turn it. Once that happened, their relationship would change forever. The poster taped to the outside of her door contained a message for employees to choose their attitude. Stuff about being present and enjoying the workday. Smiling faces of people working in a ski resort stared at him. He needed to choose his attitude and face the situation.

  “You don’t want to go in there?” Turner asked.

  Ben hadn’t heard his footsteps cross the carpet and tried not to react. His hand stayed on the doorknob. “Not really.”

  “I understand. Do you want me to talk to her?”

  Turner’s offer surprised Ben. He could be harsh, and Ben hadn’t expected compassion from him. “Thanks, but no. I have to do this.”

  “I’ll call Kalin’s mother. Kalin shouldn’t have to inform her.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  Turner nodded and left Ben to talk to Kalin.

  His phone rang. He could’ve ignored the call, but answering would delay telling Kalin. “Timlin.”

  “Have you told her yet?” Oliver asked.

  Ben picked at the tape holding the bottom corner of the poster to the particleboard door. “No. I’m outside her office now.”

  “Turner was just here.”

  “And?”

  Oliver hesitated. “So you haven’t talked to Kalin?”

  Ben figured Oliver had something to say about her, but she was an odd subject for him to talk about. Kalin collected drama like other women collected shoes. Even when she tried to stay away from issues, they found her. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Speak to Kalin, then come see me. We should talk in person.”

  Ben opened Kalin’s office door and didn’t find her. The smell of wet dog reached him, and Chica thumped her tail against the carpet. She lay hidden underneath Kalin’s desk. He crouched and rubbed her belly.

  Pinned to the undersurface of one of the shelves lining the wall above the desk, a picture of Jack smiled at him. He hadn’t known she still kept her first husband’s photo. He’d been hurt when Kalin hadn’t changed her last name to Timlin but understood she needed a link to Jack. How could he be jealous of a dead man? If he could’ve kicked himself, he would’ve.

  He needed to find Kalin, then Jessica.

  * * *

  Jessica stepped out of the women’s washroom and found Turner blocking her exit. She had the urge to check her fly but stopped herself in time by wiping her hands on her jeans. Had he followed her? What kind of man corners a woman outside the bathroom?

  The sleeves of Turner’s white dress shirt were rolled above his elbows, and his muscular forearms bulged under the pressure of his clenched fists. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Her snide answer was, “Peeing,” but she refrained. “I’m headed to my office.”

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. The polygraph is an important part of the investigation. Why did you persuade your team not to take it? You’re the manager. I need you to lead by example.”

  The toilet in the men’s room flushed.

  Her direct boss hadn’t gotten involved or even spoken to her since the theft. A finance guy who liked to deal with numbers more than people. His mild manner often drew him away from conflict, and she suspected he was distancing himself from her. She’d do the same in his place. She wasn’t going to let Turner intimidate her, so she spoke politely but with authority. “I’m sorry. It’s been a tough week. I haven’t been thinking clearly.”

  “Right. Then you’ll take the test. Talk to your team, and they’ll follow your lead. I’ll call the RCMP and get times set up.”

  Jessica glanced at the door to the men’s room, waiting to see who would come out, but when no one did, she said, “I’m not doing a polygraph test, and I’m not asking the others to do one either. It’s an invasion of our privacy.”

  How could Turner hassle her instead of asking her if she was okay? He knew she dated Roy, and yet he only cared about the money. He should be offering to give her time off and asking if she needed counseling. He shouldn’t be pressuring her about a stupid polygraph test.

  Turner stepped toward Jessica.

  She backed up until her shoulder blades were pressed against the door. Her eyes were level with his Adam’s apple, and she arched her back to look him in the face. Maybe she should invite him inside the ladies’ room, or maybe she should just step back through the door. She didn’t think he’d follow. Even though she’d just come out of there, her bladder demanded another visit.

  “It’s not an invasion of privacy. It’s a criminal investigation. They’re not going to ask you about your private life. They’ll only ask questions relevant to the theft.”

  Jessica glanced along the narrow hallway. At one end sat the offices of the administration staff, at the other the stairs to the ground floor. “That’s not true. They’ve already asked me about my relationship with Roy.” Jessica waited, and when he didn’t answer, she shook her head. “I can’t help you with this.”

  “Then you should know you’re making a career-limiting decision.”

  Turner’s breath caressed her cheek in an intimate way. The odor of mint, of gum used to hide a drink, filled her nasal cavities. She shivered.

  Kalin approached from the end of the hallway.

  Jessica almost smiled at Kalin’s curled lip. Whatever emotion she felt accentuated the color difference in her eyes, and the green one pulsed emerald. Turner hadn’t been whispering, and Kalin probably overheard his threat.

  “Interesting place to have a meeting,” Kalin said to Turner.

  In his mid-forties, Turner had maintained the physique of a long-distance runner, and he looked like a runner ready to bolt. He growled and stomped toward his office.

  One point to human resources, Jessica thought.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Ben stopped at the edge of the guest services counter. Typical of Kalin to pitch in and help others. Twenty-some skiers formed a line in front of the desk. All four tills were open and operating. Kalin worked behind a register, handing out refunds due to the closed lifts. The smile on her face hid any anxiety or sadness she must be feeling.

  Behind her, three large windows faced the hill. The wind blew the snow sideways, and the snow cut visibility to three meters. A screen of snowflakes hid the ski lifts, and Ben had the feeling even though Kalin tapped icons on the till and handed out refunds, she was lost in a blur of thoughts.

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nbsp; He stepped behind the guest services desk and nudged Kalin on the shoulder. “Can we talk?”

  She turned, and the look of expectation on her face crushed his heart. He held his toque in one hand, shifted it to the other and couldn’t say the words.

  “You found him.”

  She’d made a statement, not asked a question. Ben slowly shook his head.

  “Then what? You look frightened.”

  The next skier in line slapped his ticket on the desk along with his credit card. “Any idea when the lifts will open again?”

  “Not today, I’m afraid.”

  “But the conditions must be awesome.”

  Kalin processed the refund as she spoke. “I’m sure they are. The wind makes running the lifts dangerous. We need the weather to settle down.” She handed the guest his credit card. “Thanks for understanding.”

  Ben took a step toward her, and she grabbed the edge of the counter as if bad news might knock her over.

  “The wind hit forty kilometers per hour and has been holding steady for the last couple of hours,” Ben said.

  “I know that.”

  The space behind the till seemed to contract to the size of a gondola built for two.

  Kalin waved the next guest forward. “I can’t worry about that now.”

  Ben leaned close to her ear, speaking so only she could hear. “Since six this morning, another twenty centimeters of snow fell, and the dump’s expected to continue through tomorrow.”

  Kalin’s chest expanded and contracted in rapid succession. She stared at him without blinking.

  Ben had treated people who died while he performed CPR, he told a man who was paralyzed that he would be okay, but this, this was ten times worse. He was about to crush Kalin.

  “You know I have to consider the safety of the search and rescue team in every decision I make. I can’t risk anyone else getting hurt.”

  Kalin clenched her fists at her sides and stood motionless enough to be an ice sculpture. Frost had formed around the edges of the window, doing its best to block out the view, and Ben wished it would block out the way she looked at him.

  Unclenching her fists, she opened the till to get cash for the snowboarder who stood in front of her. “Thanks for your patience.” She missed the woman’s hand and several coins clanged onto the counter. “Sorry.”

  “The risk of another avalanche in the Dragon’s Bowl is high.” Ben took two deep breaths, cleared his throat and said, “I’ve called off the search.”

  Silence greeted him. He expected Kalin to say something. Her face drained of color, and he thought she might faint. He raised his arm to hug her.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “Kalin, I had no choice.”

  “What did Oliver say?”

  Ben could tell Kalin the decision had been his boss’s. Or Turner had forced the issue. Anything would be better than admitting he’d been the one, but he couldn’t lie to her. “He agreed with me.”

  “Did you have to convince him?”

  “No one on the team wants to stop, but everyone knows we have to.”

  After processing one more skier, Kalin turned to the guest services supervisor standing beside her. “I need to close the till. Can you handle things?”

  Without waiting for an answer, Kalin stepped away from the desk, pulling Ben with her. “I’m calling Mom. And you should go tell Jessica.” She dialed, and the call switched to voicemail. Kalin hung up without leaving a message. “She must be on the phone.”

  “Turner is probably talking to her now.”

  “I need to go.” Kalin put her palms flat on Ben’s chest and shoved.

  * * *

  After getting bad news from Oliver about the weather, seeing Ben look miserable, speaking with Jessica and having Kalin almost reprimand him, Turner stared at his office phone, dreading the call he was about to make.

  Phoning Roy McCann’s mother and saying her son was missing was one thing. Telling her the rescue team had shut down the search, that her son was probably dead, was another matter entirely. He could have asked Kalin to tell her mother, but he wouldn’t shirk responsibility.

  He’d been caught off guard by Kalin and forgotten to talk to Jessica about the lost key. That discussion would have to wait. And Kalin. What the hell was he going to do about her?

  He knew how his wife would react to the upcoming call, and it would be horrific. Crystal took the slightest negative comment a doctor made about their son as a personal attack. He couldn’t count the hours he’d spent consoling her after a difficult discussion with one of Warren’s doctors. Warren’s condition hurt him, too, but Crystal’s needs came first, and the emotional demands exhausted him.

  Turner completed a few unrelated calls, asked his assistant if anything needed his attention, and when he couldn’t procrastinate any further, he picked up the phone. Still, he sat, contemplating the words he would use.

  Constable Miller hadn’t stated it outright, but Turner thought the police suspected Roy of stealing the finance center money. Once the weather cleared, Turner would order the team to resume the search. They might find the missing money or at least Roy’s body, but he would tell Mrs. McCann none of this.

  He took a deep breath and dialed. “This is Paul Turner calling from Stone Mountain.”

  “We’ve been waiting for your call. You’ve found him. I knew he would be okay.”

  Even though he couldn’t see her face, he could hear the desperation in her voice. “I’m sorry. We haven’t found him.”

  “Then why are you calling?”

  Turner clutched the edges of his cell, stretching the skin over his knuckles, making the bones protrude. “I need to inform you I called off the search this morning. There is a treacherous storm, and it’s too dangerous for the rescue team to be out in the current weather. The risk of another avalanche is high.”

  “You still don’t know the avalanche buried Roy. What does Kalin say?”

  “I’ll talk with her.”

  “You didn’t include her in the decision?”

  “She’s not part of the search and rescue team.”

  “What about Ben?”

  “Ben and his boss made the recommendation. I agreed with the assessment.”

  “I don’t believe you. Ben wouldn’t do that. Roy is still alive.”

  “The temperature has been well below zero since the avalanche, and two and a half days is a long time to be out there.”

  “I don’t care what the weather is. Roy’s strong. He cycles, he kayaks, he skis. He’s in good shape. He’ll have set himself up on the mountain. Made a snow cave to protect himself. You can’t call off the search. Roy is still alive. He’s waiting for you.”

  “I’m very sorry. Once the weather improves, I’ll instruct the team to resume the search, but I think you need to prepare yourself for the worst.”

  “You don’t know Roy.”

  “I am sorry, Mrs. McCann. There is nothing more we can do right now. This is a tragedy, but I need to stress that Roy entered a closed area. The signage was explicit, and the run was roped off. I can’t put the rescue team in any more danger. I will call you when I have any further information, and please call me if you want to talk or check on the status. I’m here to help you.”

  “I don’t need your help. My son does.”

  Oh hell, what else was he supposed to do? Roy was almost certainly dead, and he needed to focus on the theft. The stolen money would lower his bonus, and he could not afford the loss of income. He had his son to care for.

  The bills grew monthly. Every time they drove to Calgary for treatment, the extra costs for hotels, food and gas were not covered by insurance. Soon they’d have to move to an urban area. As Warren’s disease progressed, they’d need to be near a multidisciplinary treatment center. Until now, he’d appreciated having a stay-at-home wife to care for Warren. Until now, they hadn’t needed the money.

  Cystic fibrosis had been unknown to him. He hadn’t understood the disease when the
doctors diagnosed his son. Now he knew Warren would have a difficult and short life. Telling Crystal his bonus might be in jeopardy could push her over the edge.

  He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and slipped a flask from behind a file. He unscrewed the cap and sucked back a long swig. The liquor burned his throat but eased the stress.

  “Mr. Turner?”

  He slipped the bottle back behind the file and retrieved a piece of gum from his top drawer. Where the hell was his assistant? She was supposed to block people from randomly entering his office.

  He turned toward his door and found a woman who wore her hair waist length and tied in a single braid resting on the front of her shoulder. She looked eighteen, but Turner had the feeling she was in her mid-twenties. Her brown eyes opened wide. Had she seen the bottle? “Yes.”

  “Charlotte Summers.” She reached forward to shake his hand, and without thinking he extended his. “The Holden Press.”

  He let go of her hand as if she’d covered her palm with poison. “I’m busy right now. I don’t remember setting an appointment with you.”

  “I was up at the resort and was hoping to get a few minutes of your time.”

  “We’ve already made a statement about the avalanche.”

  “I was wondering if you could confirm the amount of money stolen.”

  “How do you know about the theft? We haven’t released any details.”

  Charlotte shrugged. “Word travels quickly in our small town.”

  Wrong answer. He’d find out who leaked to the local newspaper and fire that person. “I’ve no comment.”

  “Are the theft and the avalanche related?”

  “Why would you ask that?”

  “I can’t be the only one thinking—”

  “The theft is confidential at this point. Search and Rescue are doing their best to find Roy McCann. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve a meeting to attend.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Kalin grabbed her ski jacket and exploded through the outer doors of the guest services building.