Murder at Sunrise Lake

by Christine Feehan

  “He’d been drinking pretty heavily. He never drinks very much. I’d been drinking too. That’s when he started telling me about his father and uncle and how they were dead. He’d had a really ugly childhood. He never talked about his past so I felt really privileged that he opened up about it to me. I could also tell he was a little bitter. Then he said something about Sam and me having a relationship. That we never danced more than one dance and Sam had his hands all over me. I was kind of upset that I’d been drinking so much I didn’t get the full benefit of feeling Sam’s hands all over me, so I texted him and asked.”

  “You texted Sam and asked him if he had his hands all over you?” Harlow echoed, laughter bubbling up in spite of the seriousness of the conversation.

  “I told you I had too much to drink,” Stella defended.

  “Keep going,” Raine insisted.

  “Yes, but start with what Sam said,” Zahra suggested.

  Stella wasn’t sharing that. “That is not pertinent.”

  “I’ll bet it’s not,” Zahra muttered.

  “I reminded Denver that he was Sam’s friend and he said no one was really friends with a ghost and that was what Sam was.”

  Raine’s eyebrows drew together. “He actually said no one was really friends with a ghost and that was what Sam was? You’re certain?” There was speculation in her voice.

  Stella nodded. “Yes, because I said Sam was real flesh and blood. That he worked his ass off at the resort and on Search and Rescue, that Denver was the one who told me he did. Then he started talking about the military again.”

  “Wait.” Raine stopped her. “Again? He’d been talking about the military?”

  “Earlier, when he was talking about his life, he said even though his family was wealthy, he didn’t touch their money. He put himself through school by going into the military. That was how he became an anesthesiologist. He was an officer in the Army and became a doctor. He said men like Sam were necessary and were called in when all else failed.”

  Stella went over to the side table Shabina had set up with water bottles and the kettle with hot water, mainly for Zahra, and the baked goods. She took a bottle of cold water and drank from it, needing the break.

  “Stella, I know this is difficult,” Raine said. “I wouldn’t keep harping on this conversation if I didn’t think it was important. Can you tell me anything else he said regarding Sam being a ghost?”

  Stella frowned, trying to remember. “Something about sometimes seeing them like shadows, hunting like wolves, but alone, always silent. I remember that because it stuck with me. Sam does kind of stay in the shadows and he is very quiet. He’s difficult to spot, so that resonated with me. Denver said you didn’t see ghosts most of the time, you just felt them. They got you out of a bad situation. I thought that was a good thing and said so.”

  Her other friends were staring at her wide-eyed, as if what Denver said about Sam was gospel. She hoped Raine had a reason, a direction she was taking this.

  “I need to know what he said about his family. You said he was upset, Stella. Tell me what he said.”

  Stella detested going over Denver’s past with everyone in detail. In a way, as silly as it sounded, it felt like a betrayal. He’d never shared his secrets before and she had felt honored that he had, even though they both had been drinking.

  “I wouldn’t ask you if it didn’t matter,” Raine said. “It isn’t idle curiosity. If I understand Denver’s state of mind, it’s possible I can figure out what his endgame is.”

  Stella was well aware of how Raine’s mind worked. She fit pieces of puzzles together very fast. The others were all watching her closely. Even the dogs seemed to be on alert. She took another drink of water to steady herself.

  “He said lawyers had called him with news a week or so earlier that his father and his uncle Vern had shot each other and bled out before anyone could get to them, and he was still processing. Denver said it was so stupid, but inevitable. He tried to act like it didn’t matter or affect him, but his hands were shaking pretty badly. His mother died while he was in the military so he said he inherited the entire estate. The implication was that his inheritance was large.”

  “Give me a few minutes,” Raine said, and opened her computer, typing fast.

  Vienna stood up, wrapping her arms around herself. “I don’t even know what to think. Denver is about the nicest human being on the face of the earth. I can’t imagine him flinging random strangers off Mount Whitney or drowning James Marley.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “No matter how hard I try to make myself believe he could have done those things, I just can’t.”

  “I’m the same way,” Stella said. “With the exception of that one moment when I looked into his eyes. I saw someone else. He looked back at me and it wasn’t my Denver. Our Denver. It was someone else altogether. I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “If Denver came from all that money, why would he need to be here?” Zahra asked.

  Harlow raised an eyebrow. “Just because a person comes from money doesn’t mean bad things can’t happen in their families, Zahra, you know that. Didn’t you hear what Stella said? He didn’t want them to pay for his medical training. He joined the military in order to be able to become a doctor.”

  “Denver had a horrific background,” Raine said. “I’m in his medical records. His father and uncle should have been prosecuted a million times over. Another interesting fact is the uncle was suspected of torturing and killing three young women on three separate occasions, but he ended up having an ironclad alibi in each case. The reason he was suspected was because his nephew reported he saw his uncle drag one of the women into his vehicle. The second time his nephew reported he saw his uncle with the missing woman in a warehouse and she was tied up. The third time he claimed the uncle had another missing woman in a basement of an abandoned building.”

  “Did the cops begin to think Denver was the one killing the women?” Shabina asked.

  “At the time he was too young. But they stopped believing him. Get this, Denver had his finger broken multiple times and reset when he was just a child, corresponding to when he told the police about the young women he saw with his uncle,” Raine reported.

  “How many women were killed?” Stella asked.

  “I’m doing a search,” Raine said. “If I were to come to a conclusion, I would say the father and uncle were both killing, trading off, to give each other alibis. They had Denver watch, maybe forced him to participate, from the time he was a little child. They were monsters.”

  Stella turned away from the others and walked over to the window. She wanted to go home and just close herself in her house with Bailey and Sam and pretend none of this was happening. She thought her childhood had been monstrous. Denver had truly lived through a destructive, hideous childhood, and now there was no way out for him.

  “He came here for peace, so they couldn’t get to him,” she whispered. “He didn’t ever want to be like them.”

  “The police were suspicious of his father and uncle many times in various disappearances of women over the years,” Raine said, “but they never could get enough proof to build a case.” She closed her computer. “What else did Denver say about Sam being a ghost, Stella?”

  Stella clenched her teeth for a moment, biting back a retort that Sam wasn’t a ghost. He was a flesh-and-blood man with feelings. Denver had been his friend as well.

  “He said ghosts were used for other tasks outside the military and they usually didn’t last long, they died young. He said if they did break free, they were hunted down because they were too big of a security risk, they knew too much and the government wanted them dead.”

  “Which would imply that Sam, because he’s alive, is too good to get caught even by any other ghost hunting him,” Raine said.

  “I guess so,” Stella agreed, not knowing how that helped them at
all.

  “You need to repeat this entire conversation to Sam.”

  * * *

  —

  Mommy, Daddy’s doing the bad thing again.

  Glass shattered in the windowpane, bursting inward, and then, as a gloved hand appeared, smashing fast and efficiently, the shards fell like rain onto the floor of the mudroom. He knew exactly where the door lock was and had it open in seconds, uncaring of the blaring alarm. Reaching back outside, onto the porch, Denver dragged his hostage into the mudroom and shoved her so hard she fell onto the floor. Unable to catch herself with her hands tied behind her back, Vienna’s face hit the corner of the built-in cabinet and she gave a little cry.

  Denver crouched down beside her, sweeping her hair aside to examine her cheek. He seemed gentle with her, but he didn’t get her up. Instead, he put the edge of his knife to her throat and waited. She was the bait to lure Stella into the mudroom, otherwise there was no way Stella was going to come in. He’d already texted Stella, and sure enough, she opened the door very slowly, looking frightened, putting her head in to observe first. He didn’t say anything, just touched the razor-sharp blade to Vienna’s throat and let a line of ruby-red drops of blood appear. Stella stepped inside just as he’d instructed, despite Vienna’s cries of warning.

  “Denver, what are you doing? Honey, you have to stop.” Stella put one hand out to plead with him.

  Denver didn’t look at her face. He didn’t wait. He was on her in seconds, sweeping her legs out from under her, taking her down beside Vienna, his knife already stabbing. Over and over, twisting and raking. Twenty, thirty times. Not once did he look at her face or the trails of blood. The pools. He blocked the sound of her screams. He didn’t feel the familiar elation or the rush of euphoria. He just kept stabbing on automatic.

  One minute. Two. Three was all he had. Then he was up. He lifted Vienna’s head up by her hair and slashed across her throat with the knife, cutting deep, dropping her casually as he went on out, leaving the mudroom walls splattered with red and the floor pooled with it. The lens of the camera closed abruptly, everything going to black.

  Four nightmares later, it was very clear to Stella that Denver was hunting her, not Sam.

  * * *

  —

  Stella leaned back against Sam’s chest, looking out over the lake, watching the sun come up. They stood together on the private pier, the various shades of gold and crimson pouring across the surface of the water. There was little wind to ruffle the water. It appeared like glass, with the various shades of colors sparkling like gemstones. No matter what time of year, the view of the lake never failed to move her.

  Sam’s arms felt like her own place of safety, yet he hadn’t been there when Denver had managed to get into the mudroom. They might know what Denver planned and how he planned to do it, thanks to her nightmares, but they were no closer to finding him. The sheriff’s office had put out a missing persons report on him, stating there was concern for his mental health and not to approach but to call the sheriff’s office if he was spotted. No one had seen him.

  Sam had gone to every one of Denver’s favorite hunting and fishing camps, every cave he had talked about, but he hadn’t found tracks. Denver was too familiar with the forest, the private properties where most owners only came up at certain times of the year. He could be anywhere.

  There was such beauty and a sense of calm and peace just looking out over the lake, watching the sun rise. Standing with Sam’s arms around her allowed Stella to breathe when she felt as if she’d been unable to draw in air for hours.

  Sam nuzzled the top of her head with his chin. “You feeling better, sweetheart?”

  She’d cried for hours—or it had seemed as if she had. Until there were no tears left. Her eyes and face felt swollen, but the cool morning air was helping to make her feel refreshed again. Sam had made the suggestion that they walk out onto the private pier and watch the sun come up. He hadn’t flinched away from her red, splotchy face. He’d held her hand and helped her over the rocks as they made their way to the private dock and out to the end of it.

  She’d sketched every detail of the nightmare, journaled it and then told him everything she could think of, all the while sobbing for their lost friend who wanted to kill her and Vienna. Sam was Sam, and he just let her grieve. Then he’d held her while he studied the sketches, read her journal and listened to her account, asking her a question every now and then in between handing her tissues. After, he told her to get dressed in warm clothes, that they’d watch the sun come up over the lake and drink coffee. She wasn’t about to turn that offer down.

  “I’m going to take you into town, Stella. You and Bailey both. I want you to stay with Shabina until I come for you. I’ve asked her to have all of you stay there, Raine, Harlow, Zahra and Vienna as well.”

  She turned her head to look over her shoulder at him. He was back to inscrutable. “Why Shabina’s?”

  “She has the best security. I know you’ll be safe there,” Sam said. “And just in case, to err on the side of caution, I’ve asked a few of my friends to help out. They’ll be outside on her grounds, patrolling. No one will get in or out. That means they won’t be bribed by Shabina’s baked goods or seduced by any of your friends’ charms. They’re professionals.”

  “Oh my God, Sam, you know where he is, don’t you?” She stepped away from him, forcing him to drop his arms so she could turn around and face him. “You do. You know where he is. You plan on killing him.”

  Sam didn’t respond. He kept his gaze steady on hers.

  Stella shook her head. “You can’t. Sam, you can’t. Call Griffen. Let Griffen arrest him.”

  “For what? You aren’t thinking straight. Griffen can’t arrest him. Denver hasn’t done anything they can prove.”

  “Then we should go together. Talk him into a confession. Get it on tape or something. I don’t care. You can’t kill him. I want you to stay with me. If you do this, how can you stay here? You’ll come to regret it and you’ll want to move on.”

  “Why would I regret it? Sweetheart, listen to me,” Sam said gently. “I know you’re thinking in terms of protecting me, but think in terms of Denver being family. Being ours. What do you think Raine was trying to tell you? Denver knew he was deteriorating. He didn’t want to be his father or uncle. You were always his last resort, Stella. He knew, ultimately, if he went after you, I would hunt him down and I would end him.”

  Stella shook her head, unable to speak past the terrible lump in her throat. “Sam, no.”

  “You said it yourself, there was no feeling of triumph, of power, when he was stabbing you in your nightmare. It was different from all the other times. He could barely look at you or Vienna. He killed both of you because in his sick mind it was the only way for him to get me to end this for him.”

  “You don’t know that,” she whispered.

  “I do know he can’t kill himself, but he’s willing to pit his skills against mine. It’s his game and he’s made the rules. I have to know all of you are safe. He believes he can lure Vienna to him, but he can’t. I’ve made certain of that. The moment you told me about the nightmare, I texted one of my friends and he collected Vienna and took her to Shabina’s. He did remove her cell phone before he left her there.” He sent her a faint grin. “Apparently, she was spitting mad. That girl has a bad temper.”

  “Where did all these friends come from all of a sudden?” Stella asked suspiciously, but it was really more to buy time. He’d never seemed to bother with friends, other than Denver.

  “When I first became suspicious of Denver, I called a few of my friends who owed me favors and asked them to get out here fast if they could. I was fortunate in that they were between assignments and they came. They’ve just been waiting for me to give them the word on what they needed to do. Keeping Denver from getting to Vienna or any of your friends is number two on my priority list. Ke
eping him from getting to you is number one on that list.”

  “Keeping him from getting to you is number one on my list, Sam,” Stella murmured. “I know you and Raine both think this is some well-thought-out plan by Denver to pit you against him, and that just makes it worse. He has a side to him that thinks he’s intellectually superior. You know he does. All of us know it. That night at the Grill when he’d had too much to drink, when he was warning me about you being a ghost, he had that note in his voice.”

  “Meaning?”

  “He was an officer, Sam. He came from a background of money. Whether or not he turned his back on that money, he still was raised with it. He was a doctor. He was always in a position of authority. Everyone looked up to him. He might be quiet and seem unassuming, but he was looked up to. He was used to a certain amount of deference, and he would have gotten it in the service just as he did here.”

  Sam didn’t interrupt her. He never did. He waited to hear her out. He always did. Stella couldn’t hide her fears for him. “Denver wasn’t a very sexual man, Sam. He didn’t date a lot of women. He would ask someone out now and again, but not really pursue them. But he liked being considered really good at everything. He was falsely modest about it. The first one to volunteer for the most dangerous climbs when it came to the rescues, because he could do them. He shared the meat he could with the elderly. The fish. Everything he did, he was good at. Everyone in town liked him and sang his praises. He was a big deal in Knightly. And then you came along.”

  Stella’s gaze moved over Sam’s beloved face. She didn’t know which of them was right, but no matter who it was, Denver wasn’t going to go peacefully. She did know that much.

  “He was an officer and he thought his men looked up to him and yet he couldn’t get them out of a tough situation. Along comes a single man—someone they referred to as a ghost, someone with no rank or real education, in his eyes. His men admired that man because he single-handedly saved them. How do you think Denver would really feel no matter what lip service he would pay?”