Chapter One

(of Murder in White)

Early on a Friday morning in mid-January, a winter storm approached the mountain resort of Wintergreen, Virginia. Thick gray clouds covered the sky, and heavy snowfall made it difficult to see the next ridge. A fierce wind whipped through leafless forests and across frozen ski slopes. Weather forecasters predicted the storm of the decade, and few people ventured outside. For safety reasons, the resort managers took the unusual and expensive action of closing ski operations for the day.

Cassandra Key scoffed at the weather alerts on her phone. She had designated that morning for a vigorous hike in the Wintergreen forests and would not allow a bit of cold and snow to thwart her plans. After exiting her rented condo, she descended the mountain on the shoulders of two-lane roads—Blue Ridge Drive to Shamokin Springs Trail to Chestnut Place. She wore boots, black ski pants, a bright orange jacket with a hood, and gloves. Cassandra didn’t see a single moving vehicle or pedestrian on the way. She made good time on the roads, but when she reached the access path that would take her down to Loggers Alley Trail, she extended the trekking poles she had brought to help her navigate the steep decline. The snow—which was now an inch thick on the road—lay in uneven clumps in the forest that disguised the way forward. Thankfully, tree blazes marked the trail.

A buzzing noise came from high above Cassandra. What was that? Oh, no, not again, not out here on the mountain, not another blasted drone. If there was one thing Cassandra hated most—and she hated many things—it was the sound of a drone. Progress. Consider the commercial applications, others told her. Think of the value drones would deliver to humanity. Nonsense. Cassandra frequented Wintergreen partly because of their policy prohibiting the use of drones. But on this trip, the drones were everywhere.

She could just about kill Nikki. On most tasks, Nikki performed well. She was certainly an improvement over the previous assistants Cassandra had fired. Nevertheless, Nikki should have found out that the resort had planned for a promotional drone show. The show would involve hundreds of drones, and the production company was conducting practice flights to scout the terrain. Three days earlier, Nikki stood visibly shaking in Cassandra’s office and explained the situation. By then, it was too late to cancel the bookings for the club’s executive retreat. Cassandra had wanted to throw something and nearly did, but the slow-count-to-five thing worked, and she dismissed Nikki with a wave of her hand.

The humming came closer, and Cassandra peered into the gray sky. The drone was bigger than most. Darn thing. Cassandra shook her gloved fist at it, and the drone scooted away. Some nerd was likely recording the storm to post it online, as if that would add value to the world.

At Loggers Alley Trail, Cassandra turned right. After a short incline, the trail leveled out, and she soon reached the Outer Limits black diamond ski run. No skiers crossed her path, which puzzled Cassandra. It was after ten o’clock, and early skiers should be out by now. Maybe the weather had chased them away. What wimps.

Turning to look over her shoulder, Cassandra could barely discern the ridge condos through the trees and snowfall. Bryan McCasland—that jerk—was staying somewhere in Wintergreen, perhaps in one of those buildings. Bryan served as treasurer for the Old Virginia Gun Club. He had won the position two years earlier because of his military back-office experience, and he’d been a pain in her backside ever since. Now Bryan was running a whisper campaign to unseat her as club president. Bryan outrageously claimed she was incompetent, but like all bureaucrats, he could only see the numbers. Never mind. She could take Bryan down anytime she chose. She’d dealt with more significant threats, like the old man. Cassandra shivered, but not from the cold.

Continuing on Loggers Alley Trail, Cassandra passed through a small wooded section and came onto Upper Wild Turkey run. No one skied there either, and she studied the chairlift line above her. The cables were still, and the chairs were empty. Now she understood. They had closed ski operations due to the storm. On Cassandra’s previous ski trips to Wintergreen, the slopes had never been closed for the weather. Perhaps it was worse than she had thought. A cloud brushed across the ski slope and obscured her view of the chairlift, but then the cloud passed, and she could see the upper lift station four hundred yards away.

Kent Olsen—the club’s vice president—was staying in the Highlands complex. Cassandra recalled her evening with Kent the night before, and her hands tingled with excitement. Too bad Kent’s fiancée—Elsie Dale—would arrive in Wintergreen that afternoon. Cassandra chuckled. Poor Kent. He didn’t know which way to turn. His condo was on the top floor, and she could see his balcony. He might be watching for her now. Late the previous night, she had told Kent of her planned hike when she kicked him out of her condo. She squinted at Kent’s balcony and thought she saw a standing figure. Cassandra waved her hands wildly to capture his attention, but then another cloud drifted across the mountain and blocked her view.

The drone she had heard earlier hovered in the clouds. The wind rushed up the mountainside and snuck inside her jacket. She had the slope to herself. Another cloud swept across the mountain, and she could hardly see fifty feet. It was like hiking in the dark. So thrilling. The wind whistled against her hood. Her hands were cold.

The Wintergreen authorities would be angry at her for hiking alone despite the storm warnings, but Cassandra couldn’t help herself. She had never been a rule follower. She laughed, and the motion warmed her chest. The buzzing from another drone reached her ears, or maybe it was the same one.

What should she do with Kent? They had been reckless the previous night when they dined publicly in Staunton. He had touched her at the table and put his arm around her as they left the restaurant. Not much of a risk, because no one knew them in Staunton. Still, it struck her as unwise. He had a lot more to lose than she did. She smiled. Why should she do anything? She could predict Kent’s moves. They would meet for a working lunch, and he would stumble through his decision. With his wedding growing nearer, the time had come for Cassandra and him to cease all romantic encounters. No more clandestine sleepovers. His future depended on it. She would adopt a somber expression but then agree with his suggestion. Of course, she understood. It pained her, certainly, but they would always have their memories.

And then, six months after the wedding, he would come back to her. The risk to his future would not be mentioned. They would attend a conference together, linger over a nightcap at the bar, and wind up making out fiercely in the hallway. Then they’d be right back where they started. Now that she considered it, their affair might never end. Cassandra had no intention of committing herself to one person. She might as well keep seeing Kent off and on for the rest of their lives. Unless something unexpected happened.

But then, of course, there was Elsie Dale, the lumber heiress turned politician who had snagged Kent as her betrothed. Elsie wouldn’t care to know that her husband was sneaking around with Cassandra on the side. Elsie had a lot of clout in Virginia, and she could make life unpleasant for Cassandra if she wanted to. Like all small business owners, Cassandra’s financial survival depended on occupying a successful market position. Crushing Cassandra would be child’s play for someone with Elsie’s resources. Yes, but at the same time, Cassandra had her own kind of leverage, and if Elsie wanted to play rough, Cassandra was more than happy to oblige.

There it was again. That darn drone buzzing in the air in front of her. The cloud cleared for a moment, and she saw the drone again. Yes, it was bigger than the ones flown by middle-class drone enthusiasts. Cassandra squinted at the drone, but then the clouds rolled over her again.

The drone pulled away until it was almost out of earshot. Cassandra would take Loggers Alley Trail across the main ski area and connect with Cedar Cliffs Trail. From there, she would proceed to Pedlars Edge Trail and then take that to Blackrock Trail and the Plunge. She would push her body to the limit. It was the only way to live. Hunt. Fish. Ski. Climb. Be outdoors in nature. Close to the land. That was how she would always live her life.

The sound of a high-powered rifle firing pierced the air. A second shot followed. Cassandra scarcely felt them. The bullets forced her to take two steps backward. She experienced a sensation of falling briefly and then realized, oddly, that she was lying on the ground. The storm continued to surge against the mountain. Snow fell on Cassandra’s body. Her eyes closed, and life seeped out of her onto the snow. Right at the end, with her final thought, Cassandra realized who had killed her. And why.

Thank you for reading Chapter One of Murder in White. This is the third novel in the Wintergreen Mystery Series, featuring the retired homicide detective Bill O’Shea.