Avalanche (A Stone Mountain Mystery Book 3) by Kristina Stanley Page B

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.
    “Wait,” Ben yelled.
    Talking to him was not an option. She needed to move. To get far away from him. Her breath snagged in her throat, and she gagged. She ran toward the mountain operations shack, heading for a snowmobile. The wind drowned the sound of Ben’s voice.
    Just outside the shack, a snowmobile sat unattended with the key in the ignition. Through blinding snow, Ben’s silhouette ran toward her. She didn’t care.
    One turn of the key, and the engine ignited. She twisted the throttle, jerked forward and aimed toward the Dragon’s Bowl. At the high speed, snow stung her eyes. The sharp pain felt good. A distraction from agony.
    She reached the edge of the cat track that wound to the summit and turned north. Roy was waiting for her, and she was going to find him. She couldn’t leave him buried.
    Without a helmet and gloves, her skin froze.
    The trail ahead turned sharply to the left, and she hit the curve too fast. The rear of the snowmobile slid sideways and hit a tree. The machine reverberated but kept moving.
    She throttled up, leaned forward over the windscreen and squished her knees against the cold leather seat. Bouncing and sliding to a higher altitude, closer to Roy with every second, she ignored the danger.
    The snowmobile flew over a mound of snow, landed hard and her chin hit the top of the windshield. Blood splattered on the screen. She wiped her chin and kept going.
    How could Ben leave Roy buried on the frozen terrain? Didn’t he care about her?
    Frantic to get to Roy, she increased speed. Her safety meant nothing if she could reach him.
    Almost blinded by the wind and snow, she