{"id":472,"date":"2025-12-01T04:38:20","date_gmt":"2025-12-01T04:38:20","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/?p=472"},"modified":"2025-11-25T04:43:00","modified_gmt":"2025-11-25T04:43:00","slug":"the-snow-queen-of-death-part-5","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/index.php\/2025\/12\/01\/the-snow-queen-of-death-part-5\/","title":{"rendered":"The Snow Queen of Death \u2014 Part 5"},"content":{"rendered":"<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"alignleft size-full is-resized\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"509\" height=\"511\" src=\"http:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/11\/IMG_1664-1.jpeg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-446\" style=\"width:355px;height:auto\" srcset=\"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/11\/IMG_1664-1.jpeg 509w, https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/11\/IMG_1664-1-300x300.jpeg 300w, https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/11\/IMG_1664-1-150x150.jpeg 150w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 509px) 100vw, 509px\" \/><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p>\u201cI have a list of people I want to question, Grange,\u201d he slid the slip of paper torn from his notebook across the table. \u201cIn the order I have placed them. Has Miss Morozova returned yet?\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNot yet, but the officer is bringing her. They are waiting for the plow to clear the road. They may need chains.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI see,\u201d he replied, \u201clet me know as soon as she has arrived.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Snow continued to pile up outside. Kunst didn\u2019t notice the world beyond the walls of the conference room being settled deeper into a quiet softness while the suspects filed in, one after another, telling their stories about both victims. By the time Kunst and Grange had finished, the room felt heavy and suffocating.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>People settled into their rooms with only a few officers remaining to keep watch. Occasionally, the sound of a snow plow echoed through the lodge.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Grange let out a deep sigh and leaned his chair, \u201cEight hours\u2026almost,\u201d he yawned, checking the time on his phone, \u201cand not many honest answers.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Kunst looked outside from his chair, watching the snow fall. He felt the icy chill of the air seeping through the window. His phone vibrated. Checking the phone, he pursed his lips. \u201cIt\u2019s gonna be a long night. I am sure they are going to want to get back to their training for the upcoming competition, so we need to get this figured out.\u201d He tapped the back of his phone that he had placed on the table next to him. \u201cI am going to go outside for some air.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Kunst left through the door and almost collided with Detective Jones who tried to enter. Jones grunted as Kunst apologized gruffly. Jones watched him leave through the door leading outside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHow do you do it? He\u2019s such a prick.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHe can be, but he\u2019s okay. I think I\u2019ve gotten used to it. He IS usually right,\u201d Grange replied. He looked through his emails on his phone.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWell, the few times I have had to work with him, I knew I couldn\u2019t do it,\u201d Jones sat down next to him. \u201cDoes he have any ideas?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWell,\u201d Grange shut his notebook with his bony fingers, \u201che hasn\u2019t said actually. We are getting timelines and there are plenty of motives. She didn\u2019t get along with most people.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI heard the same thing,\u201d Jones replied. \u201cI overheard the coach tell one of her teammates that she had been giving him grief over something. I couldn&#8217;t make everything out. I saw him arguing with another woman. I think she\u2019s on the team too.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Grange didn\u2019t pay attention. \u201cShe\u2019s been dealing with substance abuse according to another, but we haven\u2019t had the test results back yet. I am sure Kunst will figure it out.\u201d Grange nodded and got up, stretched and straightened his trousers from the long hours sitting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhat do you think, Grange, or are you not allowed to have an opinion,\u201d Jones said as he swung back and forth in the conference chair. He felt the tension in Detective Jones\u2019 voice. It triggered a sentimental reaction to defend his partner and boss. They had a lot of differences but he found Kunst a mentor and someone to look up to.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>As Kunst left through the door, the coldness of the air startled his breath away for a moment. With his hands behind his back, he began to pace the covered porch, his gaze downward. The balcony was short but substantial and looked out into a short distance toward the outline of the pool visitors would enjoy during the summer months. Now it has been completely covered in fresh snow. He breathed in deeply, letting the cold air fill his lungs. His white and grey hair getting gently tousled from the chilly breeze blowing through the space. As the afternoon wore on, he felt the room getting stuffy, a combination of the lodge\u2019s heater and the warm bodies that paraded one by one. It had become so overwhelming and exhausting. His mind drifted to being home in front of his faux fireplace heater and drinking a cup of hot tea. It wasn\u2019t that he couldn\u2019t have it there at the lodge, there was a roaring fire, and plenty of tea. But, he liked the familiarity of his cups and home. He straightened himself upright, rigid with authority. He chastised himself inwardly. Right now, he needed to focus on the case and separate the truth and the lies each person told. He could see it etched deeply on their faces. They couldn\u2019t hide anything from him.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The coach, aloof, but persuasive, got cagey about the fact someone overheard them arguing. He said it was over her not having her head in the game. There was a twitch that said otherwise.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Anya finally turned up at the lodge, annoyed and angry. Kunst demanded her alibi. \u201cHow dare you think I\u2019d have anything to do with my best friend\u2019s\u2026\u201d she sniffled, \u201cdeath.\u201d It didn\u2019t ring true in Kunst\u2019s ears. After she left the room, Grange took a call.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Everyone claimed the same, they were either asleep or in their room going over the schedule or talking to family overseas. Nobody heard anything. Nobody saw anything. Kunst grew more irritable.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Lastly, Lera Morozina, a rival, sounded bitter over her being chosen to lead the team. Grange looked hopeful.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cIt was unfair,\u201d she cried in Russian. \u201cBut, I was in my room, fast asleep all night and all alone.\u201d She stuck her nose in the air, looking down at Kunst, daring him to judge her.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWe went through the security cameras, you were seen leaving the lodge at nine o\u2019clock and returning after midnight.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She stiffened and rolled her eyes, \u201cNone of your business.\u201d Kunst didn\u2019t press her. Grange cast him a look, but Kunst kept his focus downward, his face expressionless as he scanned the notes in front of him. Grange\u2019s frown grew.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>When she left, she directed her irritation with a snort in Grange\u2019s direction.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI think you got under her skin, sir,\u201d Grand said. \u201cI was hoping she\u2019d just confess.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cJa,\u201d he replied, \u201cthat one thinks she is above the law. She may have done it herself or had someone help her and would deny it with a vengeance until exposed. She\u2019d crumble, her ego getting the better of her.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cDo you think she is the one who killed them?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He pressed his fingers together, letting them rest on his lips for a moment. \u201cThat is yet to be seen. Did you get the lab report back for the ex?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Grange jolted upright, \u201cyes, it was definitely poison, and there were remnants in a bottle we found near the body. It had fallen and rolled under the sofa. Cyanide hidden in the sports drink.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI smelled some notes of bitter almonds and his flushed face, I figured,\u201d he replied. \u201cAnything else?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHis alcohol levels were elevated too \u2013 enough to make him belligerent.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;Kunst nodded in his direction. \u201cWhat does that tell you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cSomeone wanted him silenced?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cJa, precisely. But why silenced? What did he know?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Grange nodded. He sat against the back of the chair and laid his pencil under his nose, his top lip curling holding it still.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHere,\u201d Kunst tore out a notebook page, it skirted across the wood table. Grange stopped it with his hand, the pencil fell to the ground and rolled under the table. \u201cStart with a deeper look at these suspects. Give the number on the bottom a call to help. Tell her it\u2019s from me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cCan do,\u201d he replied, disappearing beneath the table, hitting his head as he got up. Kunst smirked as he turned around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>As Kunst paced the patio. Snow fell beyond the overhang, coating the guardrails in a single white mound. His mind wandered to his great-grandmother. He pictured her in Germany, running through the flames of her hometown on fire, trying to flee. He thought of her in the cold terrain of Siberia, far from her family, frightened and alone, then falling severely ill. Her body must have been so frail \u2013 too frail from malnourishment and cold to fight and survive to see her loved ones again. His frown deepened. He tried to not let it affect him, but he couldn\u2019t say it didn\u2019t, not completely. It was decades ago, but felt imprinted on his soul. Dark clouds gathered above him. The emotional toll of the day had taken him by surprise. He found himself angry at everyone. He could see it on his partner&#8217;s face. Everyone deserves justice, he reminded himself over and over again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>His pocket vibrated. As he opened the screen, a text from an unknown sender lit up the screen. \u2018I have information. Meet me behind the pool house\u2019 it read. He moved toward the door. Nearby limbs rustled. A call of an owl made him turn. A shadow shot past his periphery followed by a slight breeze moving past his face. Whatever it was, it disappeared into the dark trees.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He quickly pulled the door open and returned to the warmth of the conference room, disturbing Grange and Jones laughing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI think someone just shot at me,\u201d he blurted out. Both Grange and Jones stared in stunned silence. \u201cWe are making someone nervous. We need to do a search behind the building.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Grange jumped up, followed by Jones, and left with Kunst to investigate that small shadow that brushed past him. His stomach dropped with a sinking feeling of what it was.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhat are we looking for, Kunst?\u201d Grange turned on his flashlight after putting on his thick jacket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAn arrow,\u201d Kunst replied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cOh my god, Kunst,\u201d Grange pulled the hood over his head and they left through the rear door of the lodge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAnd look at this,\u201d Kunst showed him the text, \u201cI got this right before.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Jones also peeked at the text, his eyes growing wide. \u201cUnbelievable.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI am sure there won\u2019t be anyone waiting. It is in the same direction the arrow flew past. We can kill two birds with one stone, ja.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>They trudged through the thick snow, their boots crunching beneath them. They had to make their own paths. Their flashlight lit up the trees. In silence, snow continued to flutter down in thick clumps around them. Lights from the lodge lights behind them blazed, casting a warm glow within the icy air.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cMy feet are becoming blocks of ice, even with these thick boots,\u201d Jones complained, his jaw twitching. Kunst ignored him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cLet\u2019s separate, ja,\u201d Kunst said, pointing his flashlight in different directions. \u201cWe are looking for an arrow. It\u2019s gonna be like a needle in a haystack.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>To be continued\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><strong>Copyright \u00a9 Rachel D. Knepp.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author\u2019s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means\u2014including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods\u2014without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews or critical articles.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>\u201cI have a list of people I want to question, Grange,\u201d he slid the slip of paper torn from his notebook across the table. \u201cIn the order I have placed them. Has Miss Morozova returned yet?\u201d\u00a0 \u201cNot yet, but the officer is bringing her. They are waiting for the plow to clear the road. They [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":418,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[15,96],"tags":[5,17,7,92,10,11,4,20,46,12],"class_list":["post-472","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-detective-fiction","category-fiction","tag-author","tag-detectivefiction","tag-fiction","tag-fictionwriter","tag-shortstory","tag-story","tag-storywriter","tag-writer","tag-writerslife","tag-writingprompts"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/472","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=472"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/472\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":475,"href":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/472\/revisions\/475"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/418"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=472"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=472"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimebyrk.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=472"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}