Murder at Sunrise Lake

by Feehan, Christine

  “Did you see any part of the killer?”

  “I only saw his shadow on the rock. He spent so much time working to stage the scene, to make certain it looked as if his victim had been there completely alone. He knew no one was going to come out there to disturb him.” She tried to keep the bitterness from her voice. “He felt so much elation, Sam. This triumph. Feelings of superiority and even euphoria. He isn’t going to stop. He likes it too much.”

  “Unfortunately, that was the kind of thing I witnessed when I was investigating the deaths of the soldiers being killed. Once I was certain I had the killer in my sights and I started shadowing him, I could pick up those little nuances as he stalked his victim. The flushed face. The elevated breathing. Sometimes he’d stalk the victim over and over just to prolong that euphoria, the feeling of power, of holding life and death in his hands.”

  She leveled her gaze on him. “You had to take lives, Sam. Did you ever get that feeling?”

  He frowned. “In the beginning, I always felt a little sick. I never hesitated, but there was always revulsion in the pit of my stomach. Eventually that went away and I was numb. At night, when I was alone, I wouldn’t be numb, but then that went away too.” He lifted his lashes and looked into her eyes. Steadily. “I decided it was time to get out, Satine. I wasn’t taking any chances. I served my country and I did my best to serve with honor. I took chances that maybe I shouldn’t have because I was a dumb kid who felt I had to pay for the sins of my father and the blood running through my veins.”

  “I felt that way for a long time. I think we’re very much alike.”

  “I think we’re not, sweetheart. I think you’re someone very special.”

  “Sam. To me, you’re an unexpected gift. You don’t even know. I felt responsible for my mother and the breakup of our family. I learned not to ever talk to anyone about what was going on in my life. It just became such a habit that I found it hard to let anyone in.” She sent him a small smile. “You snuck in when I wasn’t looking.”

  He gave her an answering smile. “That was the idea.” The smile faded. “Maybe we both had the same codes drilled into us and that’s why we were able to understand each other’s need for privacy. I was raised in secrecy as well. My profession only added to the need to maintain that code.”

  “The mystery adds to your allure. My friends perv on you,” she told him, to lighten the moment.

  One eyebrow lifted. “The same friends who tried to convince you I was a serial killer?”

  “Well … yes. With the exception of Raine. She didn’t believe it for a minute. I’m convinced Raine may have information she hasn’t disclosed to anyone else, or she just has a sixth sense about people. She’s different and always has been. She knows what it’s like to love and lose her family. She always talks about them, Sam. Her mother, father and brothers. Her childhood. She had a happy childhood. I had no idea they considered her dead to them.”

  “I’ve heard of that punishment,” Sam said. “It seems extreme, especially as she was never told that her father was in the mob. I find it odd that her mother would go along with what is obviously her brothers’ punishment … Unless—” He broke off abruptly.

  “What?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know Raine very well. She’s always quiet. Almost always stays in the background observing everyone, but she’s very intelligent.”

  “That’s an understatement, Sam. She’s off-the-charts smart. Cool under fire. She can handle herself in any situation.”

  “Would she set herself up as a target to draw out her father’s killer? Get her family to cut her off in order to protect them?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Would she talk her brothers and mother into publicly disowning her? Whoever had her father killed would think her family blamed her and they wouldn’t look twice at a little slip of a girl living up in the Sierras alone. She doesn’t go near her family. If they are monitoring her brothers, her brothers aren’t making inquiries into their father’s death. They’ve accepted it as the price one pays for being in the business.”

  Stella’s breath caught in her lungs. That was exactly something Raine might do. She was very probably patiently unraveling the trail leading to who was behind her father’s killing. “If that’s what she’s done, she would find a way to talk to her mother and brothers without risk. Not in person, but through her computer,” Stella conceded.

  “I think your friends fit with you, sweetheart, because they know about keeping secrets and about love and loss, just the way you do.”

  “We do,” she corrected.

  STELLA STARED AT the familiar truck and then slowly turned her gaze to Sam. “He’s going to kill Denver. Sam. He’s going to kill Denver. Our Denver.” She could barely conceive of anyone doing such a thing. “He’s part of our family. Yours and mine. We have to hurry. What if we’re already too late?”

  She shoved open the door to her 4Runner and all but hurtled herself out, her heart pounding, her mouth dry. Who would want to kill Denver? Of everyone in the community, with the exception of Vienna, he was the most helpful. He was the sweetest. He was needed as the resident anesthesiologist. He was on the Search and Rescue team. He helped the elderly get through the winter by sharing the meat he hunted and the fish he’d caught. Even vegetables from his large garden were canned by many of the community members. He was always willing to help with repairs at their homes, going with Sam when they were told of an elderly person’s home with a leaky roof or sagging floor. The two men often cut and split firewood and brought it to those who could no longer get it for themselves.

  Sam caught her wrist and hauled her back onto the seat. “Stop, Stella. Take a deep breath. You aren’t going to be any good to him flying off the handle that way. If you can’t play your part, you’ll have to stay here and I’ll go alone. The killer can’t know we’re onto him. Denver believes he’s out here with a friend to work on a project. They have to believe we came to work on your fears. The killer has no reason to think we’re onto him. None. Unless you give us away, he’ll believe it’s sheer coincidence we chose today to come. And it makes sense. It’s a beautiful day.”

  Stella forced air into her lungs. “It’s just that it’s Denver. He’s family. He’s practically an icon in the community.” She looked past Denver’s rig to the SUV parked in front of his. Her breath hissed out. “I should have known. Should have guessed.” Maybe a small part of her had. “Jason Briggs. He’s the one who issued the warning to Shabina to stay out of the forest.” She looked at Sam’s expressionless mask. “Why? Was that supposed to cast suspicion on his friends? Or was he tempted to go after Shabina?”

  “I don’t know, but we have to get moving. Let’s get the gear and start walking. We want to make certain we’re right behind them.”

  “You’re right,” Stella agreed, taking another deep breath to calm herself. “I don’t want Denver on that rock before we get there. There can’t be any accidents, especially as we walk up. He may change his plan midstream, like he did out at the lake because we interrupted him. We have to have a natural way to keep Denver safe.”

  They hiked the distance fast, the climbing gear in their backpacks along with water bottles and food as if they planned to spend the day. Stella hoped they wouldn’t have to, but just in case, they were prepared to outlast the killer.

  It was a beautiful day, the sun shining, throwing beams across the boulders as they approached. They heard the low laughter of the two men carried on the slight breeze. Sam moved slightly in front of her, his larger body partially blocking the two climbers’ vision of her as they turned to face them.

  Jason’s smile faded, a scowl marring his good looks as he put his hands on his hips and turned fully to glare at them.

  Denver’s smile widened in greeting. “Sam. Stella. What are you doing all the way out here? Don’t tell me Stella’s going to climb this thing?”

  Stella couldn’t help herself, she launched herself into Denver’s arms. He
caught her in a hug. “You’re going to brave this boulder?”

  “It’s not a boulder,” she objected against his shoulder, not wanting to lift her head and look at Jason, afraid she’d shoot daggers at him.

  “What are you doing here?” Jason demanded.

  “Stella doesn’t like heights,” Sam said easily. “I’m going to belay her while she practices getting comfortable out here where no one is around. What are you doing here?”

  Sam sounded cheery. Easygoing. As if nothing was wrong and he talked to serial killers every single day.

  “I’ve been working on this project for months,” Jason admitted. “I’ve been telling Denver about it and how slow it’s been going for a while now. He offered to come out with me and belay me today. It will be so much easier without having to use a top rope.”

  Stella heard Jason as if from far away. She’d already taken a step away from Denver so she could look into Jason’s face. She wanted to see his expression when he answered Sam. She did her best to process Jason’s statement. To make it fit with the facts.

  This couldn’t be his project. It had to be Denver’s project. Jason had to be the one to volunteer to belay Denver. None of this was making any sense. She looked up at the boulder and then again at Jason’s face. Then to Sam. As always, his features were set in an expressionless mask. No help there at all.

  Had she heard right? Again, she tried to twist Jason’s statement around to fit with what she was certain were the facts, but no matter how many times she replayed the audio, it came out the same. This was Jason’s project and Denver had volunteered to belay him. Which meant …

  She turned back to her beloved friend, heart sinking, lashes lifting, and her eyes met his.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Mommy, Daddy’s doing the bad thing again.

  The camera lens focused on a dark room. The room appeared to be rectangular. Stella did her best within the narrow vision she had to take in as many details as she could, but it was dark. The only light came from what appeared to be a penlight that was being flashed around the room, and that was even shielded, as if the person holding the light feared it would be seen. She caught a quick glimpse of the edge of a crash pad. Just the tip, but she was certain it was a crash pad. The lens was already closing down. Just as it was, she saw the light flash across the pair of hiking boots in the corner. The lens snapped closed.

  STELLA SAT UP, fighting her way out from under the covers, kicking at them, scissoring her legs in desperation to get blankets and sheets off, her breath coming in painful gasps. She leapt up, trying to get out from under the remnants of the nightmare, uncaring that she’d gone to bed in practically nothing and it was very cold this time of year. Sam was a furnace at night and he took any clothes off her anyway.

  “Sweetheart.”

  Sam was in the chair across from the bed like always when she had her nightmares, but she didn’t even look at him. Truthfully, she didn’t even see him. She didn’t notice the freezing floor under the bare soles of her feet, or that Bailey scrambled to a standing position in his crate. She just ran from the room, heart thundering wildly in her ears. The back of the house was dark and she hadn’t thought to bring a light. She stood in front of the back door leading to her mudroom— the same room someone had tried to break into the night Bailey had been attacked.

  “Stella. Talk to me.” Sam came up behind her.

  She stood in front of the door shivering, but not because of the cold. She was numb— unable to feel anything in that moment. She just stared at the closed door. She didn’t want to turn on the overhead lights. If she did, and the killer was watching, he would know she was onto him. She bit her lip. She still couldn’t bring herself to say his name. To let herself think it was him. Her friend. One of her best friends. Why? Why would he start killing? It didn’t even make sense.

  She put her hand on the doorknob and started to twist it open. Sam placed his palm above her head and leaned, preventing the heavy door from moving.

  “Talk to me, Stella.”

  “You knew it was him, didn’t you?” She was afraid it came out an accusation.

  “I had no way of knowing, but I became suspicious when Bailey was stabbed four times so viciously and not killed. It took nerves to do what the attacker did. Nerves. Strength. Knowledge of anatomy. And then, it was a small thing, but Denver had suddenly taken an internship with the ME. He claimed he was restless. And because of your nightmares, Vienna pointed out the strange coincidence of the broken fingers to the sheriff and the ME. Denver lost interest after that. I think he wanted to be the one to point it out and get the glory. It nagged at me. He was already into so many things, so why go there? And then to just kind of drop it.”

  “You didn’t say anything,” she persisted.

  “I had no real proof and I didn’t want the killer to be Denver. I don’t have many friends, Stella. Denver matters to me. So, no, I didn’t know, but he had all the right abilities and he was in the right place at the right times.”

  He sighed again. “And then there were the times the watcher wasn’t present. Vienna was exhausted the other day. She mentioned that there was an accident two nights in a row and the third night she’d just slept. I realized that if she was in surgery, they would need an anesthesiologist, and that meant Denver. If he was at the hospital, he couldn’t be here. I checked. He was there. I checked back on the other days in town when you said no one had been watching, and again, out here, and he was at the hospital every single time.”

  “He came to the vet’s the night Bailey was attacked.”

  “He came late, and none of us saw the condition of his arm,” Sam pointed out.

  “You never said anything to me.” She held herself away from him, whispering, and this time it was an accusation. “Why not, Sam?”

  “Yesterday, when we went out to the Twin Devils and Jason and Denver were climbing together, you thought at first that Jason was the killer, didn’t you?” he countered, stepping closer. Not answering her. Sam. Her heart hurt for him. For both of them.

  Stella could feel him radiating heat against her back. She nodded but didn’t look at him. She kept her eyes on the door to the mudroom. Kept looking at Sam’s hand, fingers splayed wide, holding the door closed. Pandora’s box. If she opened it …

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Then Jason started talking about how he had been working on the project for months and Denver offered to belay him, and I looked at Denver. Into his eyes. I knew. He went out there to kill Jason. He was going to kill him and make it look as though Jason had gone out there to work his project alone with just a fixed rope. We got there and he didn’t have his chance.”

  Sam very gently wrapped his palm around the nape of her neck. “You didn’t want to talk to me about it last night.”

  He had left early in the evening for several hours, and when he came back, he hadn’t said a word and she hadn’t asked him any questions. She was terrified of what he might have done, but now, after her nightmare, she knew Denver was still alive.

  “You were quiet all the way home, and every time I tried, you just shook your head. I had to give you your space to grieve, Stella.”

  His voice was so gentle. Too gentle. Too compassionate. She couldn’t take it right then. She couldn’t fall apart more than she already had. Sam was too important. Her Sam. She had to think clearly, carefully go over every move she made before she made it. She took a deep breath and turned to face him, deliberately turning her back to the mudroom door and pressing her weight against it.

  She couldn’t run through her house in a panic and Sam couldn’t go into that room with her or see her sketches or talk about her nightmare. Not this one. He would take matters into his own hands, she knew he would. He would feel it was his responsibility to bring justice to Denver. He had already indicated he thought he should. But it was Denver, and he loved Denver whether he could say it out loud or not. She knew he was grieving just as she was.

  “This is so terrible for both o
f us. For all of us. We’re going to have to tell the others, Sam. I still don’t know how we’re going to tell them, but we have to. Jason could still be in danger.”

  “I talked him out of going there again for a little while,” Sam assured her. “But that isn’t going to save another climber from Denver retaliating. We have to talk about it, Stella, and we don’t have time to wait. I need to know what spooked you tonight.”

  “It was a nightmare.”

  “I’m well aware it was a nightmare, sweetheart. I see you have them all the time.”

  “No.” She looked away from him, unable to meet his eyes when she was lying. “It was just an ordinary nightmare, not a serial killer nightmare.”

  There was a long silence. She could feel his gaze on her face and she couldn’t help squirming under the intensity. His fingers were very gentle as he cupped her chin and forced her head up until she found herself looking at him.

  “I think we both are going to have to confess, sweetheart, because you are possibly the worst liar on the face of the planet and I don’t like keeping anything from you, especially things you won’t like.”

  She knew instantly what he’d done. “You went to see Denver.”

  “He’s in the wind. We have to talk to Griffen, Stella. We have to put everyone on alert. If we don’t, anyone he hurts, you know that’s on us.”

  “I agree.” She didn’t want Sam hunting Denver. She took his hand and tugged, trying to get him to head back toward the bedroom.

  Sam didn’t budge. “What don’t you want me to see in the mudroom?”

  She sighed. “Let’s go talk in the bedroom. I just panicked.”

  “Sweetheart. Don’t make me resort to throwing around the L word and freak you out. Just tell me.”

  “He knew. Yesterday at the boulders, when I realized it wasn’t Denver’s project and I looked at him, there must have been something in the way I looked at him that made him realize I knew what he was planning. The nightmare showed a mudroom. Gear. But the last thing was hiking boots. I swear, Sam, they’re my old hiking boots. I leave them in the corner of the mudroom. He’s coming after me.”