Murder at Sunrise Lake

by Feehan, Christine

  “How in the world did you ever get into playing poker for a living, Vienna?” Zahra asked. “I tried to practice not showing any expression on my face when I was coming over here and I knew we’d be talking to Stella about Sam, but the more I practiced, the worse it got. If I was playing a high-stakes poker game with a bunch of mean men who wanted to see me fail, I’d be sweating bullets.”

  Vienna shrugged. “I needed money and I was good at cards. I didn’t really know about counting cards so much as I don’t forget cards. I don’t forget much of anything I see, so playing cards is easy enough as long as I get the right cards. Sometimes it isn’t always about skill. I also study people. That helped too. And my opponents tend to underestimate me. The most difficult part was getting started. Getting enough money to buy into the game.” She gave them a little half smile. “Then once you start winning, it’s all about figuring out how to keep your winnings. Everyone’s out to take it from you.”

  “Do you enjoy it?” Raine asked.

  Vienna nodded. “Very much. I’m careful though. I’ve seen too many people get addicted to gambling. It isn’t winning money that’s thrilling for me, although it’s always a rush. It’s taking down the bullies. I guess when you were the one that got pushed around all the time, you get so you can spot the ones who enjoy doing the pushing. I can see them a mile way.”

  “Like Bale,” Shabina said.

  Vienna nodded. “Exactly like Bale. He’s a bully. He has to run the show. His friends had better fall into line, and so had everyone else. If they don’t, he makes fun of them and mocks them until they do what he wants. He’ll keep going at them until he gets his way. I’ve watched him do it, even to his best friends. They rarely stand up to him. Sean comes the closest, and when he does, he disappears for days on end into the forest, probably waiting until he thinks Bale is over his little snit.”

  “I can imagine the ones in Vegas are even worse than Bale,” Stella ventured.

  “I don’t know about worse,” Vienna said thoughtfully, “but certainly more entitled. They have money, way too much money, and they each think they’re the best at cards. They don’t want some woman to come along and take their reputation away. It’s humiliating to them. I mean, they smile and play it off nice, but you can see those tempers smoldering below the surface. I wire the money to my accounts before I ever leave the hotel and then have security walk me to my car. Even then, I had two incidents where someone tried to run me off the road on my way home. They weren’t playing either.”

  “Vienna.” Harlow breathed her name. “I hope you went to the police. Did you at least have the money to hire bodyguards after that? You lived in Vegas. Is that why you ended up here? Are you hiding out?”

  Vienna laughed. “Nothing so dramatic, Harlow. I came up here every chance I had because it brought me peace when I never felt like I had any. There’s something about the Sierras that slows everything down for me and puts it in perspective. I can see what true beauty is and what really matters, and the money isn’t important. Putting the slap-down on the bullies isn’t important. Taking the breath of fresh air and watching the sun come up over the lake makes the world right for me. When I got the chance, I moved up here permanently.”

  “Are you close with your mother?” Shabina asked.

  “There was a time I was. We were best friends. I thought we’d always be close. She met someone and she’s very happy, or so she says. I hope she is. I pay her rent and send her extra money for utilities and groceries. She writes and sends postcards she designs, inviting me to come see her and her lover. But when I do visit her, she’s so nervous, I’m uncomfortable and have the feeling she doesn’t want me there. I never stay more than a few minutes and she doesn’t try to get me to stay.”

  “Is her lover there when you visit?”

  “Never.” Vienna looked down at her drink. “That’s my fault really, not my mom’s. She never talked about my father. In fact, when I asked about him, she refused to talk about him. I have no idea who he is. It’s weird, like I was born into this void. No grandparents or siblings. There were no photographs or family history. Mom never talked about her past at all. It was always just the two of us.”

  Vienna rarely talked about her past, so all of them stayed silent. Stella wished Bailey was there. He was very fond of Vienna and he would have sensed her mood and gone to her to comfort her. She sipped at her drink and waited.

  Vienna looked up at them. They hadn’t turned on lights so it was only the low flames from the fireplace throwing those dancing colors onto the walls that lit up the room enough to see her expression of regret.

  “I was so childish when Mom announced she’d fallen in love. I want her to be happy. For heaven’s sake, I’m a grown woman. I don’t want her alone or living her life out with me and my cat. It was just that I fought so hard for her to stay alive and then suddenly, out of the blue, she tells me she’s fallen in love. She met a woman named Ellen at the infusion center. She was a volunteer there. They became friends.”

  Zahra frowned. “Did you know she preferred women?”

  Vienna shook her head. “She never dated. Not once. Not men or women. Not throughout my childhood or when I was an adult. She never discussed her sexuality with me. I thought I knew everything about her. I didn’t think we had secrets from each other, but it seems my entire life was built on secrets.”

  She gave them a shaky smile and took another drink of her icy margarita. “Thank heavens for midnight margaritas. This is a great way to spend the night.”

  Zahra raised her glass first. The others followed suit and they drank solemnly.

  “You’ve never met Ellen?” Stella asked, to prompt Vienna to keep talking.

  Vienna shook her head. “No. Mom and I had a terrible fight when she told me. Like I said, it was my fault. I reacted like a jealous teenager, not wanting my mommy to date. I’m embarrassed to think about how truly selfish and childish I acted. I’d been going to nursing school full-time and playing a few high-stakes games to keep the money coming in to pay the bills. I was exhausted and someone had tried to run me off the road. That was the night she chose to disclose how happy she was. I was at my lowest point. Scared. I wanted comfort and to talk things over with her. I was even considering putting off nursing school in order to pay off the medical bills faster so I wasn’t burning the candle at both ends.”

  “Oh no,” Harlow whispered.

  Vienna nodded. “It still doesn’t excuse my reaction. I dragged myself through the door and she was all over me, hugging and practically jumping up and down she was so excited. She didn’t notice what a mess I was or that I’d been crying. She just blurted out her news. I remember staring at her. Just standing in the entry-way of our apartment staring at her with my jacket still on. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t get one word out. I really, really wish it had remained that way, because when I did talk, the things I said were horrible.”

  Silence fell again so only the crackling of the fire remained. One of Shabina’s dogs, Sharif, padded over to the bank of windows and pressed his nose to the glass.

  “That’s always my signal to close the blinds,” Shabina said. “He’s bossy that way. At least he allows me to have them open if there’s a storm. He knows I like to watch storms.” She used the remote to bring down the privacy screens, covering all the windows simultaneously.

  “Doesn’t your name mean ‘eye of the storm’?” Stella asked.

  “Yes, although my father says I am the storm.” Shabina sank back down and rested her back against the sofa. Sharif curled up beside her.

  Vienna frowned. “Of all of us, Shabina, you’re probably the sweetest. Why in the world would your father think that?”

  “Excuse me,” Zahra said, her dark brows drawing together. “I believe I’m the sweetest.”

  Laughter broke out immediately, and Zahra endured it with great dignity. She poured herself the last of the margaritas from the pitcher. “All of you are not my friends right now. And I’m eating the rest
of the chocolate bars, so don’t touch them.”

  Stella stood up. “I’ll make a fresh pitcher of margaritas. It won’t take long.”

  “There’s lots of different cookies in the kitchen,” Shabina called after her. “Throw some on another platter since Zahra isn’t sharing.”

  “Only because the lot of you refuse to acknowledge I’m sweet.” Zahra sat back down and took another bar. She waited until Stella was back and had topped everyone off with a fresh drink. “How bad did it get between you and your mom, Vienna?”

  Vienna frowned over the exquisite stemware. “I hurled insults at her until she finally hurled them back. But then she said something to the effect of she wasted her entire life in hiding, a sword hanging over her head for what? I wasn’t even her own blood. I know she said that. I know it. She stopped abruptly, turning white. She even put her hand over her mouth. I asked her what she meant and she said I was mistaken. That she hadn’t said that. Maybe I wished she had. Too bad for me, I was just going to have to deal. She was the one who got very ugly after that, saying really nasty things. I believe she did so on purpose in order to keep me from going back to that little piece of the fight that actually held the truth about my past.”

  Stella found herself a little shocked by Vienna’s story. She sounded hurt, and Stella could understand why. Vienna had grown up close to Mitzi, her mother, just the two of them. She’d worked hard to help her mother survive and was happy to do so. It had to have felt like betrayal even if Vienna was an adult. It had always been the two of them, and suddenly bringing in a third party without any warning would have blindsided her.

  They should have worked it out by now. Why hadn’t they? It made no sense that they hadn’t. Too many years had slipped by. Vienna’s mother had had cancer once already. Vienna was a nurse. She knew how quickly one could lose loved ones in accidents or to illness. She knew how often cancer returned.

  “Have you tried to talk to your mother since that night about what was said, Vienna?” Stella asked, her voice as gentle as she could make it.

  Vienna nodded. “I think that’s why she gets uncomfortable when she does see me. She’s so terrified I’ll bring it up. She doesn’t want to answer any questions. I tell myself I won’t ask, but then, do I want to take a chance on losing her and never knowing where I came from if she really isn’t my mother?” She made a face. “Even saying that out loud in front of my closest friends sounds ridiculous. Of course, she’s my mother. We’re so much alike. Maybe not in looks, but in every other way. I don’t want anyone else to be my mother.”

  “No one else is,” Raine said. “She raised you. She was there for you every step of the way. That makes her your mother whether or not she gave birth to you. I’m with Stella on this, Vienna, you need to find a way to resolve it. Maybe invite the two of them here for a special dinner at Shabina’s with all of us. That way the conversation won’t turn to anything that personal. We could all help with dinner.”

  “Actually, that’s not a bad idea, Vienna,” Stella said. “Do you think they’d come? We could gift them with a room at the hotel in town.”

  Vienna was silent, struggling not to cry. “All of you are the absolute best. I’ll consider it, but I might want to wait until after we catch this serial killer. I don’t want Stella to suddenly see him lurking in the hotel hallway while my mother is there.”

  Stella nodded. “Now that you mention that, it might be a better plan to wait.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Mommy, Daddy’s doing the bad thing again.

  The early morning sun tried to shine through drifting clouds. Dirt, rock and overgrown yellow and brown grass covered with mostly small debris that had drifted on the wind lay on the ground. Twigs. Leaves. Pine needles. The trail wasn’t well used or well marked, but still, as Stella observed it through the narrow lens, something about it seemed familiar.

  Two people walked along that path of uneven dirt and overgrown grass. She caught glimpses of shadows on the ground. Two men, both tall with what could have been backpacks, making them appear misshapen.

  She felt the mood of each of them because they were both broadcasting so strongly. Both were excited. Both anticipating. They were talking, laughing. Friendly. Knew each other. She strained to listen. To hear what they were saying. At least catch the sound of their voices. She knew they were laughing and talking yet she couldn’t make out the words. Laughter? Could she identify them through laughter? There was a strange thudding in her ears interfering with her ability to hear. Her own heartbeat pounded like a drum so loud she was afraid the two men might hear her.

  While both seemed to share the same emotions for the day’s climb, one felt more. One felt pure elation, a smug rush of sly glee, of absolute power. Instinctively she knew the killer was anticipating taking his time with this “accident.” He not only knew his victim but also was friends with him. This was new. She did her best to stay calm and tried to adjust the lens of the camera in an effort to open it wider. It didn’t work, only frustrated her that she couldn’t ferret out additional clues on the shadows of the men or see more than the ground they covered at the fast pace the two set.

  The lens began to close, that narrow opening shuttering, leaving her staring at a black screen.

  STELLA SAT UP, heart pounding, scrubbing her hands down her face over and over, trying to wipe away the child’s fear and face the nightmare as a grown-up. “I know them,” she whispered and looked up, confident Sam would be there.

  They’d gone to bed together, his arms around her, but when she had her nightmares, he always did the same thing— he gave her space. Instinctively, he seemed to know she needed it. He sat right across the room from her, directly in her line of vision, so all she had to do was look up and she’d find him. Just knowing he was there settled the terrible twisting knots in her stomach and allowed her to breathe when her lungs felt raw and burning.

  Sam looked back at her, his dark eyes on her. She could see the love there and it warmed her. Sometimes it shocked her. They didn’t say words like love between them. They were new. Two years might not be new, and they’d been together that long even if they never acknowledged it, but their feelings for each other had definitely been growing during that time.

  She attempted a smile. It was shaky, but it was there. “He definitely has escalated his timetable, hasn’t he? He wasn’t very satisfied with his last kill to act so fast. One day? I don’t know if I can keep doing this. Maybe we should talk to the FBI.”

  “You’re exhausted, Stella.” Sam’s voice was gentle. “You’re not getting much sleep, and after the attack on Bailey, you sleep for an hour or two and wake up. You and I both know the FBI can’t catch him because there isn’t any evidence. He’s not leaving anything behind. The most we have on him that even says he exists are the broken fingers. Even the ME would say that’s thin. There’s an explanation for every broken bone.”

  “I know.” Stella got out of bed and went to him, breaking pattern. She couldn’t help it. “Sam.” She crawled into his lap, putting her arms around his neck, allowing him to comfort her. “I know both of them. I know I do. There was something about them that was so familiar to me but I just couldn’t pin it down.”

  She buried her face against his chest. He felt invincible. His heartbeat strong. His chest like iron. His arms surrounding her, a secure fortress. She just wanted to stay there for a little while and hide. Be safe. Not have to think about losing this round to the serial killer. Not have to think that she might uncover a friend and know that all along he’d been a vicious murderer, capable of walking with someone he knew, knowing he was going to kill him.

  Sam’s palm shaped the back of her head and then stroked caresses down her hair. “It’s all right to grieve for him, sweetheart. For the loss of a friend. Whoever he is, he was lost to us the moment he went down this path. He isn’t that same person anymore and we can’t think of him that way. That means, Stella, we already lost a friend.”

  “I don’t want to
lose two of them.” She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. “I’ve failed so many times now. I can’t fail this time. I know the victim. There was something about the voices. The laughter. I can’t say what it was. The lens didn’t stay open long enough, but I know I should be able to identify both of them. And the place they were going to climb.”

  She frowned, biting down on her lower lip, trying to remember.

  “You need to do what you always do, sweetheart. Draw it. The details come to you. Once you draw it, you can see if anything rings a bell. I’ll look at it as well and then you run it by your posse. They all climb.”

  Stella slid rather reluctantly off his lap. He was always warm, and the loss of his heat made her shiver. Or maybe it was just the idea of knowing the serial killer was spiraling out of control. “He seemed so gleeful, Sam. So smug. I hated knowing that he was talking and laughing with a friend of his and all the while he was plotting to kill him. He was taking pleasure in knowing that.”

  She slipped back into bed and retrieved her sketchpad, journal and pencils from the safe built into the wall. “He isn’t here tonight. No one is watching us. Or at least I can’t feel him.”

  “I can’t either. I did nose around a bit up along the side of the ridge above the bend in the lake, almost directly across from us. I figured if anyone really wanted a vantage point and they knew the property, that would be the most likely place to build a camp. They could stay there indefinitely with the right supplies, rain, shine or even snow, and be somewhat protected.”

  “Great. I thought you’d already discovered his hiding place after Bailey was attacked.”

  “That was too easy. I considered how intelligent this killer is and factored that in along with the idea that he was obsessed with you.”

  Stella shuddered. “I’d rather not think about him being fixated on me, Sam.”