Descent (A Stone Mountain Mystery Book 1)

by Kristina Stanley

  November 25th

  Kalin’s boss expected her in his office at eight-fifteen to talk to her about Tom Bennett’s death. Probably about her breach in protocol. The experience of treating a colleague had left her exhausted, and after she’d locked the restaurant and gone home, she’d stumbled into bed. She hadn’t had time to process what the death of a director meant and wasn’t sure if she was about to be reprimanded.

  She snowshoed to work, wearing a fleece top underneath her ski jacket and thermal underwear beneath her ski pants. She entered the administration building and traded her winter boots for hiking boots. Once inside her office, she dropped her headlamp and bear spray on her desk.

  After hanging her ski jacket on the hook behind her door, she walked to Gavin Reed’s corner office. The sun rising over the Purcell Mountains pulled her attention outside and away from the photos of Reed’s son ski racing. Ian Reed in action dominated the interior walls.

  In a nervous habit, she tightened the elastic holding her shoulder length hair in a ponytail. She fluffed her bangs using her fingertips. She’d learned there was no point in straightening her hair before her trek to work. She could ignore a little bit of frizz and curl in order to stay fit.

  The early morning exercise had pulled her out of her funk from the night before but meant she’d be wearing her ski clothes for the day. A quick sniff at the armpit of her fleece. All good. Who wants to stink in front of the president?

  Reed stood and greeted her. Neatly dressed in a button-down shirt and ironed jeans, her six-foot-two boss angled his neck to look down on her, and she straightened her back, making herself taller. When she turned fifteen, she’d shot up like a fast growing poplar tree to five-foot-ten, towering over the boys in her class, making her anything but popular. After all the teasing she’d taken, she discovered she found shorter men attractive. Lucky Ben.

  “I’m sorry about Tom,” Kalin said.

  “Thank you for everything you did last night. I hear you performed exceptionally well. Ginny said you took charge and asked me to pass on her thanks.”

  Generous, considering Tom died. Kalin had been scared and performed as if she were on autopilot. Both the hospital and the ambulance dispatch center were in Holden. In a snowstorm, the drive could take over an hour, and for that reason, first-aid training for managers was mandatory. That training had pulled Kalin through the night before. “How is she?”

  “As well as can be expected. Have a seat.”

  Kalin sat in a chair opposite from Reed, and the leather seat creaked. “Was it a heart attack?”

  “Sudden cardiac arrest. The doctor evaluated the AED data and will debrief Ben today. When she’s ready, I’ll ask Ginny what help she needs.” Reed cleared his throat. “Tom held a key role, and I know this sounds harsh, but we have to fill his position immediately.”

  As the human resources manager, Kalin was in charge of recruiting. To her, it did seem heartless to post Tom’s position right away. Thanks for your years of service, sorry you’re dead, but we need a new security director. She gave herself an imaginary slap. She was being unfair. Reed had a resort to run. Ski race training had started, and she was sure he had things to worry about other than security. “What about Fred Morgan?”

  Reed scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t think he’s ready. He hasn’t shown the required leadership skills.” Reed must have seen the look of surprise on her face because he tempered his comment. “He’s very good at his job, but he’s not a forward thinker. He’s knowledgeable about security, and he manages his team well. I just don’t think he can strategize at the level I need.”

  Kalin couldn’t argue with Reed’s assessment. Fred was solid, but he did tend to focus on immediate issues. “Okay. I’ll update the job description. I’m sure no one’s looked at it since Tom filled the role. After you’ve approved it, I’ll post it on the relevant sites.”

  “That’ll take too long. With the resort opening in three weeks, I need an immediate solution.”

  “I can try a head hunter.”

  “I was thinking an internal hire.”

  Mentally, Kalin ran through the list of managers at Stone Mountain, but before she came up with a recommendation, Reed spoke.

  “You’ve done an excellent job managing HR. I’ve seen significant improvements in the department since I moved here. I’d like to combine human resources and security into one group and promote you to director.”

  Security patrolled the premises, answered alarms and investigated thefts. They were first responders to anything requiring the police or paramedics. Kalin thought of the team as a mini police force, which would make her a mini police chief. “I’m flattered, but I’m not sure I have the experience.”

  “I don’t think that’s true. You handled the situation last night perfectly. I’ve talked with the other directors, and they agree you’re a good choice. Fred knows the day-to-day details and can help you with that.”

  Only if he doesn’t resent me. “I’m really not convinced I’m the right person.” Kalin wasn’t sure she wanted the promotion. She’d moved to the British Columbian interior eleven months ago, and with her HR background she excelled at her current job. The HR office opened five days a week, meaning she didn’t work nights or weekends. She had a solid team in place. It was a sweet setup. In contrast, security operated around the clock and would cause a significant lifestyle change, but maybe it was a choice of moving her career forward or having a personal life.

  Reed interrupted her thoughts. “You broke protocol by calling ski patrol instead of security.”

  “I know.”

  “You made the right call. That’s the type of quick thinking we need in a director. HR and security are both about dealing with people. Your leadership skills are more important than specific security knowledge.”

  Maybe. HR dealt with staff issues. Security dealt with guest issues. Both could be difficult, but security issues were more likely to end up in the media or in dealings with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. The power and excitement of the position tempted her, but without relevant experience she might fail.

  Reed continued to pressure her and explained her new compensation package.

  “How much time do I have to decide?”

  “I’d like to know right now.”

  Kalin had the fleeting thought she should discuss this with Ben, but it’s not as if they were married or even engaged. This was her career and her decision. And it was a lot more money, so Ben would have to suck it up and go along with her. “If I accept, I have one request. I’d like to promote Monica to the HR manager.”

  “She’s too young.”

  “She’s twenty-two, but she’s been in her role since she was nineteen. She knows the department and is good with people. Since most of our employees are in their early twenties, they relate well to another young person, and I think she’s ready.”

  “With both of you still here, you have time to post and recruit for the job.”

  “I’m not sure about that. We aren’t fully hired for the winter. We have a new staff housing building to bring on line, and if I have to focus on security, I’d like Monica to take over my role. We can hire a replacement for her much easier.”

  “Okay.” Reed gave a curt nod. “You can promote her, but it’s your responsibility to make sure she succeeds.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  November 26th

  “Are you nervous?” Ben asked.

  Kalin tugged her quilt around her bare shoulders and opened her eyes. “Yeah.”

  Two days had passed since Tom Bennett died. Reed said he’d speak with Fred Morgan first and then announce Kalin’s promotion later in the day.

  After Reed had given her a total of ten seconds to decide, she’d accepted the job. At thirty-one, she was the youngest executive on the director team, and that was too cool to resist. Ben hadn’t been thrilled she’d taken the promotion without talking the decision over with him, but he’d come around to the idea after she’d convin
ced him the change wouldn’t affect their lives much. She just hadn’t defined much.

  Ben stood beside their bed in their one-bedroom suite with a towel wrapped around his hips and dripped water on the carpet. His thick hair rested flat against his scalp, hiding his curls. “You’ll be great.”

  If his half-naked body didn’t distract her from being nervous, nothing would. And she liked to be distracted. “Have time for a longer shower?”

  Ben’s eyes crinkled, and he gave her his best I’m-the-hottest grin. “Rain check? It’s twenty to eight. Can you walk Chica?”

  At the mention of her name, their yellow Labrador thumped her tail and pressed her head further into Ben’s pillow.

  From where Kalin lay, she could see the hairline scar that etched Ben’s lower jaw. Kalin had flexible hours, but Ben didn’t, and his boss expected him at the mountain operations building by eight. “I’ll take her to work with me.”

  “You’ll be a star as a director, so don’t be nervous.” He lowered himself to the edge of the mattress and sucked her lower lip.

  She wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him close.

  “I gotta go, but save that thought,” Ben said in a husky voice.

  She buried her nose into his muscular neck and took a deep breath.

  He pressed his lips onto hers, gifting her with a second kiss. “I really gotta go.” He dropped his damp towel and sauntered across the bedroom.

  She luxuriated in the sight of his butt, muscles hardened from a lifestyle of backcountry skiing and snowshoeing, while he ambled to his dresser and searched for thermal underwear.

  He winked at her before he left the room, and she whipped down the quilt and flashed him. She listened to him laugh all the way to the end of the hallway.

  Ben was thirty-one, a senior ski patroller and the deputy chief of the Stone Mountain volunteer fire department. He had a history of making the rounds with the women. Each season he’d charmed his way to a new girlfriend or two or three. A feminine sigh of disappointment had crossed the resort when Kalin moved in with him.

  She’d heard the gossip that he’d only had one girlfriend for longer than a few months and that he wouldn’t stick with Kalin. Well, he hadn’t had her before, and she didn’t care what other people said. She intended to keep his heart. She stuck her tongue out and blew through her lips in Chica’s direction, and Chica wagged her tail.

  After a quick shower, Kalin slipped into jeans and a scarlet V-neck sweater, topping the outfit with a cream jacket cropped at the waist. Her single accessory was a chunky leather belt. Ski attire on her first day as a director didn’t seem appropriate.

  She filled a thermos with coffee, shoved a strawberry yogurt into her jacket pocket, stepped into her winter boots and opened the door. She jumped back, startled. She hadn’t expected to find a blonde Goddess on her doorstep. “Oh…”

  “Does Ben Timlin still live here?”

  Crap. This was not how she wanted her day to start. “He does. He’s not home right now.”

  “You must be his new housemate.”

  Ten centimeters of fresh snow blanketed the driveway, and Chica left paw prints as she bounded across the drifts. Kalin kept her eyes on her but let her run. “Not exactly.”

  The Goddess gave Kalin a thorough examination and pouted. “Then who would you be?”

  Instead of taking in the snow covered peaks visible from her ground floor suite, as was her custom before taking off for work each day, Kalin eyed the Goddess in return, taking in her tanned skin, her mascara covered eyelashes, and her full lips painted with expertly applied lipstick, and wanted to gag. “Kalin. And you?”

  “Vicky Hamilton.”

  The women stood face-to-face, and sweet perfume wafted toward Kalin. She waited for the Goddess to make her move. Kalin knew who she was. The only woman Ben had spent more than a few months with, and her stomach curdled.

  “Do you have his cell number?”

  Kalin pasted on an insincere smile and shook her head. “He doesn’t like me to give that out. Can I give him a message?”

  “I’m sure he’ll want to hear from me.”

  “Maybe. Give me your number, and I’ll let him know you dropped by.” She would never let this woman enter the home she shared with Ben, and she would never pass on her number. Ben was her firefighter, ski patroller, mountain man hero.

  * * *

  Beside the Alpine Tracks lift shack, Ben prepared a rescue sled, getting ready to ascend the mountain. The icy wind brought the scent of pine trees, a scent that reminded Ben of spring skiing, and the official winter season hadn’t even begun yet.

  Amber Cristelli’s raised voice grabbed his attention, and he glanced in the direction of the loading station. He tried to stay away from the drama that occurred at the resort. Not his thing. But sometimes, he got caught up in it.

  Amber stood in front of the four-person detachable chairlift that carried skiers to the top of the Alpine Tracks ski run, the run assigned to race training, and her job was to ensure each racer had a pass. “I said don’t touch me.”

  Steve McKenzie, a twenty-year-old racer from the Holden team, poked Amber on her shoulder, pushing her backward. He towered over her, leaning forward, and his quads bulged against his red and yellow race suit.

  Ben left the rescue sled, zipped his ski patrol jacket, made sure his name tag was visible, and clomped in his ski boots to Amber’s side. His ski pants rustled as he walked. “Hey. What’s going on?”

  Both McKenzie and Amber turned toward him. Amber was the type of woman men wanted to rescue. Her hair fell in curls, bouncing around her pink earmuffs and onto her shoulders. Her rounded cheeks had the healthy glow of red apples. Ben had the urge to take care of her in the same way he’d take care of a lost puppy. Kalin called this his chivalrous side.

  North American and European ski teams rented ski runs during the weeks before Stone Mountain opened to the public. The teams were training for World Cup and NorAm events. The racers brought with them coaches, fitness trainers, tuners, ski equipment and huge egos—and the huge egos were always a challenge for ski patrol.

  Ben touched his radio and decided against calling for backup. His boss was thinking of moving to Calgary, and Ben wanted to be the next ski patrol manager. He could handle McKenzie on his own.

  McKenzie jerked his head in Amber’s direction but didn’t touch her again. “She won’t let me up the lift.”

  Amber gestured at McKenzie with her scanning gun. “He doesn’t have his pass.”

  “Where’s your pass?” Ben asked.

  “In the tuning room with my jacket.”

  Ben ignored the sneer of superiority on McKenzie’s face. Not intimidated by the height difference, Ben squared himself to McKenzie. “You’ll have to get it.”

  “This is a joke. I need to make my training run.” He pointed to his race suit. “Obviously, I’m a racer. She knows who I am. She’s just being a bitch.”

  Ben kept his cool. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

  “I know why you’re doing this,” McKenzie said to Amber.

  Amber stuck out her tongue, showing off her tongue piercing, and crossed her eyes as Ben stifled a laugh.

  Jeff Morley hovered behind them, wearing the same color race suit as McKenzie. “Let him up or move out of the way. I have to get up too.”

  “You have your pass?” Ben asked.

  Jeff dangled his pass in front of Ben’s nose.

  “Scan Jeff and let him on,” Ben said to Amber.

  The scanner beeped, sounding like a Star Wars light-saber, when she ran the reader across Jeff’s pass, and he winked at her. She stepped aside and let him slide by.

  McKenzie skate-skied around Amber and sat on the chair with Jeff.

  Without hesitating, Ben pushed the emergency stop-button. “Off the chair.”

  “Fuck you, asshole.”

  Ben grimaced but kept his tone calm. “I’m not restarting the chair until you get off.”

  The lift atten
dant came out of the shack with a radio in his hand. “I’ve called security.”

  “Don’t make me miss my run. Just get off.” Jeff pushed McKenzie, forcing him to stand. “Get your shit together.”

  Howard Jenkinson skied toward Ben, with his unzipped Holden team jacket flapping at his sides, and slammed to a stop inches from Ben’s feet. “What the hell is going on?”

  Jenkinson had been the coach of the Holden team for the last eight years. He’d succeeded in getting one skier on the Canadian Olympic team and was grooming Steve McKenzie for the same glory.

  With McKenzie a couple of meters from the chair, Ben restarted the lift.

  “This racer…” Ben turned toward McKenzie. “What’s your name?”

  Amber giggled when Ben didn’t give McKenzie the satisfaction of letting him know he knew his name. McKenzie’s ego was on fire, and Ben wasn’t going to stoke the flames.

  When McKenzie didn’t answer, Ben said, “This racer poked Amber and swore at me.”

  “Is that true?” Jenkinson asked McKenzie.

  McKenzie pushed his goggles onto his helmet, and an innocent expression morphed onto his bearded face. He shook his head.

  “When she wouldn’t let him on the lift, he poked her hard enough she almost fell over,” Ben said.

  “Why the hell didn’t she let him up?” Jenkinson asked.

  “He doesn’t have a pass,” Amber said.

  “Let him up now. He needs to train.”

  Two security officers arrived and positioned themselves on either side of Jenkinson.

  “What is this? You’re not having security kick us out of here,” Jenkinson said.

  Ben straightened his back. “He needs a pass.”

  Jenkinson removed his toque, and the sun glinted off his hairless dome. A vein pulsed across his temple as if straining to fuel his anger. “We pay for the run. It’s ours to use.”

  “You may have paid for it, but that doesn’t give him the right to abuse our employees. Amber’s job is to protect the racers by keeping everyone else off the hill.”