Stella watched him closely. She loved his mind, the way he put things together but let her think things through herself. That was important to her. She didn’t want anyone solving her issues, she’d been doing that for herself too long. Still, it was nice to be able to lean on him once in a while, to know he was there and that he would be a sounding board. She liked that he used her as one as well.
“I just don’t believe in coincidence, that there were two different men doing these things, one a serial killer and the other a stalker, especially since they popped up at exactly the same time. It makes sense they’re the same person,” Sam said.
She tried to absorb that without flinching or taking on blame. What this man did was on him, not her. She wasn’t responsible for what her father had done. Her foster mother had given that gift to her through her love and counseling, refusing to allow Stella to take on that burden. She hadn’t allowed her to continue believing she had broken up her family and pushed her mother to suicide. She wouldn’t throw that wisdom away, not now when she had to hold tight to it in order to try to save a life and prevent a killer from murdering again when he seemed to be unstoppable. But it was hard not to think that the killer was ripping away the kinds of memories she cherished and wanted to hold to her.
“I don’t believe in that kind of coincidence either, Sam.” How could they possibly link him to the “accidents”?
* * *
—
Over the next few nights, Stella carefully recorded the details from her nightmares. She sketched the early morning sunlight spilling across sparse grass growing over rocky ground. The grass was mostly yellow and brown and had fallen over rather than having been trampled. The rocks embedded in the dirt made the path uneven, the trail faint, as if few people walked it. Still, the trail was there, no more than a foot or so wide. Now that the lens had opened a bit, it was easier to see. Leaves and debris, such as twigs and even small branches, covered the ground, making the borders of the path harder to see, but with the wider view, Stella was able to discern the twists and turns as the trail seemed to lead endlessly to nowhere.
Clearly, this wasn’t a favorite climbing area for locals or tourists. October was getting late in the season for climbing, especially bouldering, but beautiful days weren’t wasted. Often, since Stella was so busy during the fishing and tourist seasons, after she closed the resort, she would try to get in as much bouldering as possible before the weather changed. It wasn’t surprising that these two climbers were enjoying the clear, although brisk, October weather.
Stella studied the third night’s sketches, laying them out across the bed for Sam to look at with her. He liked to climb as well. That was what had originally drawn him to the area, as it had so many others. Climbers came from all over the world to try their expertise on the various boulders. Fortunately, there were all kinds of climbs, for everyone from beginners to experts.
“This is the best I could get, Sam,” she said, chewing worriedly on her lower lip. “Three nights and mostly I’ve seen the trail going in. This is the bottom of the rock. Granite. Big surprise there. I sketched as much detail along the bottom part of the rock as I could see. There’s this gnarly overhang here. I swear I’ve seen it before. See how the colors go from a red to an almost deeper shade of purple? That isn’t just a shadow. I thought it was at first, but I don’t think it is. The lines in the granite swirl here.”
Sam nudged her over with his hip and settled next to her, picking up the drawing to study it. “This isn’t a place I’ve been climbing. It has to be remote. I’ve looked at the trail going in several times and no one has been on it other than perhaps one, maybe two people in months. You can tell by the grass and debris. If I were to make a guess, I’d have to say it was probably the same person making the trek back there. Maybe both of them.”
“I know I’ve been there at least once,” Stella said. “I rarely forget anything, especially somewhere I’ve bouldered.”
“It’s possible you weren’t bouldering,” Sam pointed out. “If there are two of them, they might be trad climbing. Or sports climbing. Look at the shadows. They’re carrying rope.”
Stella didn’t like climbing with rope. That was a well-known fact among her friends. She could do it, but she didn’t like it. She preferred to solve the problems bouldering presented. She was a solitary climber. The risks were her own. “This particular place is very remote, Sam. If someone is working it, my guess is it’s someone’s long-term project. He’s been working on it for weeks, maybe longer, but that’s just a guess.”
She pressed her hand to her forehead. “This is so frustrating.”
Sam caught her wrist and pulled her hand down, keeping possession of it. “You’re driving yourself crazy, Stella. You have to let this go for a little while. You’ve done everything you can do for now. Tomorrow night, you’ll get a bigger glimpse of the rock and that will hopefully jog your memory. If not, then when we show all these drawings to the others, one of them will recognize the place. Always, on the fifth night, you get a much clearer vision.”
“He’s been killing the very next day. He doesn’t wait one or two nights like the other killers. He’s too eager.”
Sam’s thumb slid up and down over the back of her hand in a little caress as he pressed her palm over his heart. “The moment we know the location, we can drive out there. What’s more natural than you practicing rope climbing? Especially where we know no one else is around? The killer is interrupted and we find out who he is.”
Something in his voice made her heart stutter and then accelerate. There was no real inflection. His tone was soft, gentle even, so Sam. She turned her head, her eyes meeting his.
“Sam.”
“What is it, sweetheart?”
He brought her hand to his mouth and scraped his teeth over the pads of her fingers, igniting a million fiery nerve endings, nearly distracting her. She took a deep breath.
“Once we know who he is, we have to talk to Griffen.”
His gaze didn’t shift from hers. He looked at her steadily, his teeth biting down. Her stomach turned over and her sex clenched.
“What exactly are we going to say to Griffen, Stella? What proof do we have? There’s no way to convict him.”
“Sam, you can’t go after him.”
He didn’t say anything, he just looked at her.
She shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. You can’t.”
“Sweetheart, what other choice is there? We can’t let him keep killing people. Once we know who he is, anyone he kills after that is on us. The cops can’t arrest him without proof. You know that. They need enough for a conviction. They don’t have anything on him and they aren’t going to get it. He’s too intelligent. They would have to wait for him to kill. Then he’d have to make mistakes during his kills.”
“You can’t.”
“It’s what I do.”
“Not anymore. You aren’t in that life. You came here to find a different life and you’ve found it, Sam. It would be different if it was self-defense, but it isn’t. And don’t you dare set yourself up so he comes after you. I mean it.”
“He can’t live, Stella.” Same steady tone. Gentle. Patient. He didn’t look away from her, not even for a moment.
She framed his face with her hands. “Honey, you have to listen to me. We can’t be judge, jury and executioner. We don’t have that kind of authority.”
“I do.”
“Not anymore.”
“I have it. I’ve chosen not to use it. We can’t let him continue.”
“What then? You go to jail?”
“Please, Stella. I can arrange an ‘accident’ just as well as this guy.”
“I’m not sacrificing you for him or for anyone else. We have to think of another way,” Stella insisted, and leaned into him to brush kisses over his mouth to prevent him from arguing with her.
She
had no idea what it would do to him to have to kill a friend. He’d gotten out of that business. Maybe he was slower than he had been. He might hesitate. Even if he did kill the serial killer and the body disappeared, or his death was deemed an accident, what would that do to Sam? He had finally come to terms with his past. He didn’t need to start all over again. And whatever agency he’d worked for might see this as a sign that he wanted to come back. Or they could blackmail him into going back.
“Stella.” Her name came out a mixture between a growl and a groan. “Sweetheart, let’s get dressed and go for a walk. This is the third night in a row he hasn’t been outside watching the place. Let’s take advantage, unless it’s too cold for you.”
She knew Sam was restless at night and prowled around the property even more than the security guards did. “Sounds good to me.”
They both pulled on warm clothes, boots and gloves and went out into the cold. The temperature had dropped even lower than she’d expected. She gave a little gasp and he laughed.
“I’ll take Bailey out when we get back. You’re sure you’ll be warm enough?”
“Yes.” The sky was clear, no clouds, allowing the stars and half moon to shine overhead. She let him take her hand in his. It still felt a little strange to her to be holding hands with him, but she couldn’t help but like it. His hand was quite a bit larger than hers and his fingers enveloped hers.
“Did you feel better about your relationship with your father after talking to him, Sam?” Stella had held the question back for some time and then was upset with herself for blurting it out. “I’m not asking out of idle curiosity. I wouldn’t push you for answers. It’s just that the holidays are coming up. In spite of the fact that he did ask me and that has nothing to do with it, as you know, Shabina and I put on dinners for the others who are in town. I just assumed you would be spending the holidays with me . . .”
He tightened his fingers around hers. “You assumed correctly,” he said decisively.
“He is your only family. If you wanted to invite him, he’s welcome. I’d just have to know ahead of time. Don’t invite him if it would make you uncomfortable to have him there. The point of all of us getting together is to have a good time. We can drink too much if we want, or indulge in too many of Shabina’s amazing pies or desserts. You know what we’re like.”
“I do. Denver and I take all the dogs for walks while you ladies get a little crazy on us.”
She laughed. “That’s right. I can’t see your father taking the dogs for walks. He did say he has a lady friend. It’s possible she makes amazing holiday meals.”
“I hope she plans on indulging his every whim. He was used to it from my mother.”
“He never remarried?”
“No,” Sam said, and pulled her closer to him as they walked around the shore of the lake. The breeze was light, teasing at their clothes. “That did surprise me. I always thought he’d at least move in with a woman, but he didn’t.”
“Did you ask him why he didn’t divorce your mother?” Stella dared to ask. “That would have been my first question. I don’t understand why men who cheat bother to get married in the first place. And when they do, why they just don’t man up and leave.” In a way, she was trying to tell him that was what she expected from him.
Sam brought her hand in close to his chest as they fell into step together. “I asked him why he just didn’t let her go, let her get on with her life.”
“Did he have any kind of an answer?”
Sam shook his head slowly. “At first he tried to weasel his way out of answering, blaming his decision on the church and holy vows. I pointed out he was breaking his vows constantly so they really didn’t mean shit to him. In the end, he admitted Mom ran his house the way he wanted it. She kept him comfortable. She also prevented any of the women he slept with from getting any ‘big’ ideas about trying to become the next Mrs. Rossi.”
Stella refrained from calling his father a really ugly name, but it was difficult. She stayed silent, thinking that was the best way to stay out of trouble. As far as she was concerned, Marco Rossi was a first-class dick.
“I think he thought because I was older now, I’d understand. I didn’t. I don’t. I never will. And not just because she was my mother. He’s a selfish bastard and should never have married in the first place. He married her because her family was one of the ruling families and it was like marrying royalty. I thought he loved her. He claimed he did in his own way. He said he loved her more than he has ever loved any woman. He also said that was part of the reason he wouldn’t divorce her. That and her family would never understand.”
Sam rubbed the bridge of his nose with one gloved finger as they continued to walk around the lake. The water lapped gently at the shore. “He did admit to having many regrets. He said he wished he’d stayed home for her birthday. He didn’t because he’d already agreed to meet several of his friends at the strip club and he didn’t want to look weak. He’d forgotten the date. He said he should have just called them and canceled.”
“That’s so sad, that his ego wouldn’t allow him to back down, even though he wanted to.”
“I actually said that same thing to him and he pointed out that it was a different time then. Men and women had different roles. Even children did. He was brought up in a harsher environment than he brought me up in. I suppose he’s right.”
“Still, it’s obvious that he doesn’t have much respect for women, does he?” Stella asked.
“I’m grateful he’s never had a daughter. If he had, he would have treated her like a commodity,” Sam said. “I might have had to arrange to do him in myself. I would never have tolerated him treating my little sister like that.”
“That man with him, his bodyguard or whatever he is, Lucio Vitale, he doesn’t seem as if he has much respect for women either. Or he doesn’t think they have brains.”
“His entire family was wiped out. It’s a long story, not a pleasant one. I imagine he’s very bitter and relentless in his need for vengeance. He’s a man to stay away from. I’m not surprised to see him with my father, although I’m a little shocked that Marco trusts him.”
Stella blinked up at him. “Do you think he would hurt your father?”
“If it ever came out that Marco had a hand in the killing of his family, damn straight he would kill him without batting an eye. He’d do it slow and ugly too, savoring every moment of his torture. His family died hard. First his father. Then his older brothers. He took care of his mother and sisters financially by fighting bare-knuckle in the death matches.”
Stella frowned up at him. “What is that?” A little shiver went down her spine because she had a terrible feeling she knew. “That’s not like those Hollywood films where they fight to the death, is it?” She tried to sound sarcastic so it wouldn’t be real.
“That’s exactly what it is.”
“I didn’t think those were real. He’s still alive so he must have won.”
“He won, but they took his money to pay his father’s debt every match. That left his mother and sisters without a roof and no food. He had to do other things to get money for those things, and still, life wasn’t good for any of them.”
They walked in silence, listening to the familiar sounds of the night creatures and the whisper of the wind ruffling the surface of the water. Bats wheeled and dipped, catching insects as they flew in the moonbeams above the water’s edge.
“You just never know how complicated a person’s life is, do you, Sam?” Stella asked. “Ever since the nightmares have started, I’ve been finding out all sorts of things about my friends, from Denver to Vienna, things I hadn’t known before.” She tilted her face up to his. “Things about you. I guess everyone has things in their past they prefer stay there. I feel for him now, for Vitale, and I don’t want to. I think he’s too much like your father. I also think he’s the man who broke Raine’s he
art. I don’t know that, but if he did, he’s indirectly responsible for her father’s death and her being thrown out of her family.”
“I hope not,” Sam said. “Raine strikes me as the vengeful type. If they both are, that could be a very bad combination. Especially if they both are sitting at our holiday dinner table.”
“Since the talk didn’t go so well, I guess I won’t have to worry about that,” Stella said, feeling somewhat relieved.
“Actually, it went better than I expected. I had checked into his medical history before I went to see him. He does have a heart condition. I also put a couple of top-notch investigators on him to dig up as much as they could in an afternoon. It does look as if he’s considering retiring. He’s moved the bulk of his money, all legitimately his, into his offshore accounts. It looks as if he’s been having meetings with the man he would have take over for him.”
“You believe he is retiring?”
“He’s taking the steps toward it. Careful ones,” Sam acknowledged, turning them around, taking them back in the direction of the house. “He was looking into real estate here and he really has met a woman he seems to like. This one is closer to his age and doesn’t seem to be interested in his money, although it’s too soon to tell. It appears he was telling the truth about those things.”
“You’re taking a wait-and-see policy with him, aren’t you?” Stella guessed.
“I advised him to hire a very good security firm and gave him the name of one. I have friends I know who are excellent bodyguards. It’s up to him whether or not he listens. Raine’s father should have hired guards. Just because you retire doesn’t mean you’re out of the game. You still have a lot of knowledge. The feds can still decide to come after you. It isn’t like in the old days where there are shoot-outs all the time, but that doesn’t mean criminal activity isn’t taking place. It’s just conducted behind the scenes and the families look very legitimate and stay as low-key as possible. No one wants to draw attention to themselves. So, killing an old man who is living up in the Sierras by putting a bullet in his head would be stupid. Arranging an accident would be easy.”
Murder at Sunrise Lake Page 34