Murder at Sunrise Lake

by Feehan, Christine

  “Why didn’t you want me to know?” He stroked his hand down her hair.

  “I don’t want you to hunt him. He’s your friend. I didn’t want that for you anyway, but it seems so much worse now. I knew if you thought he was coming after me, that nothing would stop you from hunting him.”

  His hands framed her face, one thumb stroking a caress down her skin. “Nothing was ever going to stop me, Stella. He has to be stopped. But you’re right. The fact that he would try to kill you makes him even more of a priority. We have to warn all of your friends and the sheriff.”

  “Denver could live off the land indefinitely. He could be anywhere. He hunts, fishes, he knows every cave and old hunting cabin on properties most people have forgotten,” Stella said.

  “He could very well be staying on this property, in the fishing camp, some of the older cabins,” Sam ventured. “The ones we had designated to fix up. Denver certainly knows about them. He went with me several times when I was working on the floors. He even helped me with the sinks and electricity.”

  “I don’t want Sonny or Patrick anywhere near those cabins,” Stella said hastily.

  “If Denver had taken off, that would be one thing,” Sam said, “but the fact that you had that nightmare, and you know he’s coming after you, means he’s sticking around here. He really is obsessed with you, Stella.” There was a note of worry in his voice.

  “He doesn’t know about me, though,” she whispered. “He still has no idea that I was that little girl who saw serial killers in my dreams. If we alert him, we take the chance of him getting away. Do we trust Griffen and his boss, Paul Rafferty, to not go immediately to the FBI with this? We can’t, but we have to tell them something so they warn everyone.”

  Sam followed her down the hall to the bedroom. “Have to get those privacy screens up on the windows. We special ordered them and I paid a fortune to ensure they got here fast.”

  “You did?”

  “I think in terms of snipers, Satine.”

  She slipped back into bed and reached for her sketchpad and journal. She definitely didn’t have the feeling Denver was watching. If he was out there, he wasn’t close. He had a healthy respect for Sam and wasn’t taking any chances.

  “Since Denver doesn’t know about your abilities, we can set a trap for him. In the meantime, I will be hunting him. I’m not going to lie to you about that, sweetheart. I want your girls to know. Shabina can’t be running around in the forest for a while.”

  “They’re going to be so upset.”

  “I know they will,” Sam agreed. “I’m going to ask for a meeting with Griffen and Paul first thing in the morning. I’m not going to say anything about your nightmares, but I am going to say that we’ve been worried about Denver and he’s said things that have led us to believe he’s unstable and possibly committing these crimes.”

  Stella sighed. She knew there was no getting around talking with law enforcement. It had to be done. They had no proof, but Griffen would vouch for them with his boss. The ME had already expressed her concern to the sheriff once. Perhaps Sam was right and talking about her nightmares would just muddy the waters.

  “What can they do? They can’t accuse Denver, there’s no proof of any crime.”

  “The sheriff’s office can put a missing person’s report out on Denver and spin it any way they see fit, that he’s mentally unstable and not to approach him, but let law enforcement know immediately. Something along those lines.”

  Stella was already sketching the details the lens of the camera had shown her. The glimpse of the mudroom and what contents she could make out. She drew each item she saw with meticulous care, including corners of the cabinet, the flooring and her hiking boots.

  “I hate this for you, Stella,” Sam said softly. He reached down and wiped just under her eye as a tear dropped on the sketchpad.

  “It’s just as bad for you, Sam,” she whispered, aching for all of them.

  THERE WAS A stunned silence. Stella was the only one standing in Shabina’s beautiful great room with its high ceiling and gorgeous stone fireplace.

  Vienna’s hand went to her throat protectively. “That can’t be, Stella. There has to be a mistake. You’ve made a terrible mistake. Denver is …”

  “Family,” Harlow finished for her. “One of us. Part of us.”

  “He saves lives,” Vienna added. “Do you know how many lives he’s saved? I’ve seen him fight for people. Risk his own life over and over to save a complete stranger. No, you’re wrong, you have to be wrong.”

  Silence fell on the room again. A kind of hopeless despair as each of them tried to process what Stella had told them.

  “You’re certain he’s going to try to kill you next?” Raine asked eventually.

  “I haven’t seen the victim,” Stella admitted. “But it’s definitely my mudroom. Those were my hiking boots. He could be after Sam. Maybe both of us. That seems more likely. I’ll know more tonight. Sam went to meet with Griffen and Paul Rafferty.”

  “Have you talked to Jason to make certain Denver doesn’t circle around and go after him again?” Shabina asked. “If Denver is ill enough to want to kill you and Sam, then he would have no problem carrying out his original plan to kill Jason.”

  “Sam warned him. I don’t know what he said, but yes, he should know to be cautious, although most people in Knightly are going to have a difficult time believing anything is wrong with Denver,” Stella said.

  “Are you absolutely positive, Stella?” Zahra asked.

  “Unfortunately, there’s no question. He’s in hiding. He hasn’t left the area, and he’s definitely hunting me. Or Sam and me.” She looked down at her hands. “I don’t know why. We spent the day out at the boulders with them. Sam did most of the talking with Denver. I was on the rock. I couldn’t talk.”

  “How did Denver know you were aware he was going to kill Jason?” Raine asked in her quiet way. She sat beside Vienna, keeping one hand on her friend’s knee in sympathy.

  “When Jason said he had been working on the project for months and Denver had offered to belay him, I kept trying to turn it around, but that didn’t work. I remember this horrible chill went down my spine and I looked up at Denver. I must have looked at him with accusing eyes. With knowledge. He looked back at me. He was smiling. The smile faded and I saw him. The killer. He saw me. It was just for a moment and then he was Denver again. I turned to Sam and buried my face in his chest and he wrapped his arms around me, and I just stayed that way until I could get control.”

  “He must wonder how you knew,” Raine mused.

  “A while back, Denver told me Sam was a ghost. We were at the Grill before all this happened and Denver told me his father and uncle had died and he’d inherited a lot of money. He also told me Sam was a ghost and not to get involved with him because it was too dangerous. He thinks Sam knows everything. Denver would come to my property all the time and watch us. Or me. I’m not certain which. Maybe Sam. He said men like Sam aren’t seen. He was very intrigued by him. Sam thought Denver was fixated on me, but I’m beginning to be afraid he was fixated on Sam. Not in a sexual way, but in the way of pitting his skills against Sam’s.”

  She turned to face Raine. “He was really the only friend Sam let close to him, and that was mainly because Denver pushed the friendship. You know how Denver is. He just would invite himself along or persist in inviting you. He did that with Sam. Showed him the fishing spots. The best hunting areas. Would go help when Sam had too much work. Denver would talk. Sam rarely talked, but he was a good listener and he liked Denver.”

  “Everyone likes Denver,” Harlow said.

  “What exactly did he say to you about Sam being a ghost?” Raine asked. “Can you remember his wording? You asked me about it, but I don’t recall what you told me Denver said.”

  “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.