Murder at Sunrise Lake

by Christine Feehan

  Still, at the end of a very long and trying day, after going out to boat after boat to retrieve mostly drunks who didn’t know how to dock a boat, she wasn’t in the best of moods and she had snapped at Bernice Fulton. Sam was right. She didn’t do things like that. He’d kept his cool. He always did. Sam didn’t snap at anyone. Of course, he didn’t talk to anyone. He didn’t have to. He turned that stare of his on anyone giving him a bad time and they stopped.

  When he got aboard a party boat with five women in bikinis, all of whom were throwing themselves at him, he barely glanced at them. He simply brought the boat in, tied it off and didn’t even gallantly help the drunk women onto the pier. He just walked off, leaving them to Bernice. Stella knew, because she’d been watching. It had been the only thing she’d laughed at the entire evening.

  Stella was having nightmares every night now. She wasn’t able to sleep after them, which meant she was getting very little sleep. That certainly contributed to her growing crankiness. Not being able to discuss her uneasiness and the alarm she felt with anyone added to her irritability. She had no idea what to do in order to protect her friends or those she knew living in the area.

  “Bernice will be happy you’re clearing the air, Stella, but it isn’t telling me why you’re upset. What’s going on?”

  She took another sip of her coffee and regarded the glowing surface of the lake. A little shiver of apprehension went through her. There was no talking to anyone about this. Not even Sam. She had to figure this out on her own, at least until she knew Sam wasn’t involved in any way. He’d arrived two years earlier. He didn’t talk to anyone. He was a complete loner. He could shove his belongings into a pack and be gone in minutes.

  Sam was good at every outdoor activity. He was extremely strong. He had scars all over his body, indicating something terrible had happened to him at some point in his life. Psychologically, what did that do to a person? She’d tried to find out about him on the internet, looking him up, but there was nothing that she could discover. She couldn’t imagine Sam being a killer of innocent people, but she had to know before she trusted him enough to talk to him.

  She could feel Sam’s eyes on her and knew he wasn’t going to let it go. She was acting differently. She’d snapped at an employee. She’d locked her house. She was obviously upset.

  “What made you decide to bring me coffee this morning, Sam?”

  He didn’t bring her coffee every morning. He didn’t make her dinner every evening. He didn’t stop by her house to watch movies every night. She never invited him. He just showed up. When he did, he always cooked dinner. He brought beer. He never asked for anything. Never. He never once stepped over the line to so much as kiss her. She’d been tempted to kiss him more than once, but she never crossed that line with him either. She was afraid he’d just walk away, and she wanted him in her life however she could have him.

  Sam liked to both boulder and trad climb. He’d shown up to climb in the area like so many others. He had driven a four-wheel-drive rig containing his possessions and camped at one of the local campgrounds. He didn’t ask anything of anyone. He seemed to live off the land for the most part, but he wasn’t afraid of work and he was good at almost everything. She’d noticed him right away working in town for Carl Montgomery, the local contractor. Well, the only decent one. If Carl hired him, that meant he was good.

  It was impossible not to notice him. Stella noticed everyone. She was detail oriented, which was why she was so good at her job. Sam was a loner, even in the middle of a busy work site. He rarely spoke to anyone, but that didn’t stop him from doing any task asked of him. In the end, she decided he would be perfect working at the resort as a handyman. He could do just about any type of job she required.

  She offered him a good salary, a cabin year-round and a four-wheel-drive vehicle upgrade. He hadn’t jumped at the offer. He’d taken his time, thinking it over. He even came up to the resort and looked it over before making up his mind. She’d liked him even better for that. She’d never once regretted her decision to hire him, even when he was annoying as hell because he almost never spoke.

  Stella met his dark, compelling eyes. It wasn’t easy. Looking into his eyes never was. Sometimes she thought it was like looking into hell.

  “I can be gone, you want me that way, Stella.”

  He said it so quietly at first the words didn’t actually penetrate. When they did, her entire body nearly shut down. She had to turn her face away quickly, afraid he’d see the burn of tears. Afraid he’d see the panic she felt.

  “Why would you say that to me, Sam?” She could barely speak, barely get the question out. “Because I asked you a question? Why would you say that to me?” She wanted to get up and leave him there, but she was afraid if she did, he would shove all his belongings into his backpack and go and she’d never see him again.

  Sam was even more closed off than she was. It was possible he didn’t feel anything at all for anyone. Did she mean so little to him? Probably. She’d built up their relationship because she needed someone. He was truly self-sufficient. She thought she was, but in the end, she needed the resort, her friends. Sam. She needed Sam. The thought of being without him wrenched at her. Maybe she was just feeling so vulnerable because of the nightmares and uncertainty. Because she was afraid for everyone.

  “I know things sometimes if people matter to me. You matter to me, so I know when you feel like shit.”

  Stella’s fingers tightened on her coffee mug. That was the very last admission she’d expected from Sam. His tone was exactly the same, that low blend of masculine sensuality that sank under her skin and found her somewhere deep. To other people who didn’t ever act on little unexplained urges, his explanation might have sounded ludicrous, but to her, it was perfectly reasonable.

  It was the first time Sam had ever said anything that might make him vulnerable. He all but implied he had a psychic ability, or at the very least, a heavy intuition. She wanted to give him something of herself back. It was only fair. Something real.

  “I have nightmares sometimes. Bad ones. Once they start, they come in clusters. I can’t get any sleep when it happens. Nothing helps.” That was all true. She drank a little more of the coffee and kept her free hand in Bailey’s fur.

  Sam was silent for a long time. When she dared to look at him, he was looking at the mountains. The sun’s rays had scattered color through the trees and ghostly mist. The sight never failed to stir her.

  “What kinds of things bring on your nightmares? What are they about?”

  Those were good questions. She should have thought he might ask her questions like those. He was intelligent and he was a fixer.

  “Dead bodies floating beneath the surface of the lake.” She blurted the truth out. Or half truth. It came out strangled because a part of her felt like it was a lie and he’d given her something of himself. Made himself vulnerable to her after two years of dancing around each other. He’d opened himself up to ridicule and she was still closed off. He was astute. He knew there was something she wasn’t telling him and it had to hurt. She would be hurt.

  Stella forced herself to look up at him because he at least deserved that. Those dark eyes of his studied her face. Penetrating. Seeing too much. She knew there were shadows under her eyes. But what could she really tell him? There was no body. Not even an accident yet. She definitely was going to use her day off to drive around the lake and see if she could find the location where the fisherman would be killed if she couldn’t prevent it. The worst of it was, there were several lakes in the area popular with fishermen. Still, she was certain the location was her beloved lake.

  “Stella, you’re the calmest, clearest-thinking woman I’ve ever come across. I know you’re in some kind of trouble.” He shrugged. “I’m not going to pry. I don’t like anyone asking me questions, so I’m not going to insist you talk to me if you don’t want to share. Once you get past bein
g shaken up, you do what you always do, think in steps and tackle the problem one step at a time. You’ll find the answer. You always do.”

  There was absolute confidence in Sam’s voice and that steadied her. That gave her confidence. He was right. She wasn’t a child, and the killer was on her home turf. Her beloved Sierras. He had no idea she was already onto him and would be coming after him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Thanks, Sam. I don’t do well on no sleep. You seem to be a light sleeper and you’re able to exist on just a couple of hours. I’m a heavy sleeper and need a good eight hours or I’m cranky.”

  A ghost of a smile slid over his face just for the briefest of moments and it was as beautiful as the sunrise. She didn’t think his smile quite managed to reach his eyes, or it was so fleeting she failed to catch it there. She saw it so rarely. More often, the hard lines etched deep in his rough features were the norm.

  “You’ve never been cranky, Stella, until lately. I’d say the nightmares rather than lack of sleep did that.”

  “Maybe, but reminding me that I’ve got a good head on my shoulders helps. I appreciate it. I’m grateful I’ve got the day off.”

  “You work too hard, but you seem to thrive on work.”

  “I love this place. It feels like home to me,” she admitted. She’d never had that before. Everything about the Eastern Sierras appealed to her. “Sometimes I sit outside on the deck and just look around me and feel so lucky to be alive. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

  “I like that you can see the stars at night,” Sam said unexpectedly. “I sleep outside most nights and I like to lie on the cot and look up at the sky. You can’t see the stars from everywhere anymore. Here, they’re amazing, and feel close.”

  Sam didn’t talk as a rule, and just that small revelation from him felt like a gift. She knew he often prowled around the resort at night, checking on everything. He was as bad as the two security guards, or maybe better since he made the rounds nightly and then some.

  She knew Patrick Sorsey, one of the security guards, sometimes fell asleep on the job. He was forty-four, had three children and his wife was pregnant with their fourth child, a shocking oops neither expected. He held down two jobs, and she knew Sam covered for him. Patrick was a good man, just overworked.

  “It’s a little surprising that a few dead bodies floating in the lake would get to you. It’s not like you haven’t had to deal with bodies, the police and medical examiner more than once, and as far as I know, that’s never thrown you before.”

  That was true. Running the resort and being where she was, she had encountered all kinds of scenarios, from heart attacks to true accidents. Mostly drownings from too much alcohol around water. She had no problem handling any of them and knew what to do and who to call. Several of her friends and acquaintances, including Sam, were part of Search and Rescue. In fact, Vienna Mortenson, one of her friends, was head of the program for their county. They talked often, and after each rescue most of those taking part met up at the Grill to chat about what they had experienced. It helped to learn from each situation.

  Stella wasn’t certain how to answer Sam because he was right again. He knew her so well. Few things threw her, including dead bodies—only knowing that a serial killer was beginning his work there in their beautiful piece of paradise. But she could get ahead of him. She just had to stay focused and not get thrown. She wasn’t that child. She wasn’t a teen. She had skills and training acquired over the intervening years.

  She put the coffee mug on the pier and rubbed her temples. “I just need some sleep. I’ve got a couple of days off. That should help. I’ll try to talk to Bernice before I meet Harlow and Shabina. I really do appreciate you saying something to me about snapping at her. She doesn’t deserve it because I’m sleep deprived.”

  “She deserves it because she rented boats to people she shouldn’t have, but you don’t ever snap at people,” he corrected. “I’ve got to fix the air conditioning in Cabin H.”

  “You mean Honeycomb Cabin?” She deliberately used the official name given to the larger rustic cabin that had been renovated and was normally rented continually. A couple had left the night before, and they had one day before the next guests would arrive. That was very rare for that particular, very popular cabin.

  Sam didn’t reply but simply stared at her with no expression.

  “You flinch every time I say Honeycomb.” She couldn’t keep the hint of laughter from her voice. He always referred to the cabins as A, B, or C.

  “Don’t know why you insist on referring to perfectly good buildings with ridiculous names.”

  “We have to call them something for our guests. They aren’t the same as fishing cabins or RVs or the camping areas, Sam. We’re attracting a completely different set of people.” With a very high income. Those cabins brought in revenue all year round. The winter sports—snowboarding, skiing, and snowmobiling—were very popular, and the resort was the gateway to the mountain above them.

  “Will you have enough time to fix the unit before our next guests arrive?”

  “If not, I can install another one and fix that later.” He stood up. “I don’t like that you’re having these nightmares, Stella. If they keep up, I’ll sleep closer and see if I can help.”

  He walked around the Airedale in that silent way he had to stand behind her for just a moment. Then his palm shaped the top of her head, the pads of his fingers settling into her scalp. He ran his fingers in a slow caress from the top of her head to her nape, a barely there whisper of a touch, and yet she felt it like a bolt of lightning sizzling through her body. He didn’t do things like that. His touch sent a frisson of intense awareness down her spine. Every nerve ending lit up. Sam didn’t do casual. He wasn’t a casual man.

  “I’m just going to put this out there, Stella. I’ve got certain skills. Swore I’d never use them again, not for any reason, but I’ve been here a little over two years now and I’ve gotten to know you. If you’re in trouble and you need me, you just say so.”

  She frowned and craned her neck, turning to look up at him, but he was already walking away without looking back. This time, his walk took on a predatory stalk, or maybe it was her imagination because she was so disturbed by her dreams. What did he mean by certain skills and swearing he’d never use them again for any reason? Sam wasn’t acting like Sam. She had counted on him without realizing it, and now she found she was a little afraid of him.

  She looked down at her dog. Sleeping again. Not paying the least bit of attention. “You know, Bailey, you’re supposed to be a protection dog as well as my companion dog. Do you remember me explaining this to you when you were a puppy?” She rubbed the Airedale’s ears. He seemed to be a constant in her life she could count on, like her beloved Sierras.

  She needed to stay connected to her world. Everything around her was changing too fast. She felt as if the ground itself was shifting out from under her. The Sierras harbored a killer. She knew it with every breath of cool morning air she drew in. She never had the nightmare unless a serial killer was in the vicinity. If the pattern continued, a body would turn up within a day or two. Usually two. Not always. That was a very narrow window of opportunity to stop a killer.

  Drawing up her knees, she rubbed her chin on top of them as she looked out over the lake. The fog had reached the very edge of the shore, creeping like shimmering fingers, still with that reddish glow to it. Stella refused to see it any other way than beautiful. Sam was right. She wasn’t given to flights of fancy. She stuck to realism and that was how she was going to catch the killer. She wasn’t going to turn into a frightened child. Her first order of business was to try to find the spot where the murder was going to take place. That was a huge undertaking, as there were several lakes, not just Sunrise, where many fishermen went out in the early morning hours to fish.

  “Okay, Bailey, we’ve got work to do.”

  T
he dog lifted his head, cocked it to one side and looked at her as if asking if she was all right now. She ruffled his fur. “I’m good. Watching the sunrise always resets me. No matter how bad everything is, once that sun comes up it’s all good again. I feel like a new person. We’ve got this. After I have coffee with Shabina and Harlow, I’m going to see if I can sneak in lunch with Zahra.”

  Zahra Metcalf was her soul sister. It had never occurred to her that she would ever have someone she’d really connect with the way she did Zahra. She was friends with the other women. Liked them. Shared with them. But they weren’t like Zahra. She was on an entirely different level. If there was one person in the world Stella trusted, it was Zahra.

  She took her time walking back to her house. Thankfully, no one else was up yet. Very few of her guests wanted to get up as the sun was rising, other than those who were set on fishing the lake. She often felt like telling her guests if they just stepped outside onto the porches or balconies provided and watched the sunrise or sunset, they’d understand the beauty of their surroundings. Some of the guests got it. Most had come to get away from the city, but brought the city with them because they couldn’t bear to leave their electronics behind.

  Stella allowed Bailey to go onto the wide wraparound porch first, watching the dog carefully for any signs that a stranger might have come near her home. There were security gates one had to get through to come to this side of the property, and usually the security guards were “dragons” keeping everyone away unless they had an appointment with Stella. That didn’t mean there weren’t many other ways to access this side of the property.

  She opened her door and went inside with much more confidence when Bailey didn’t show alarm. Art supplies were kept in the studio upstairs. She loved the room with its view of the lake. One side was nearly all glass, a thick sliding wall that allowed her to step outside onto the balcony, where she kept a comfortable chair and small table during most of the months. During winter, when the snow came, she brought the furniture inside.