“I think we’re all going to find a way to be on Whitney,” Raine agreed. “Tell her tomorrow after your dream. That way you’ll know whether the couple dropped their backpacks at Trail Crest and have their day packs on. I’ll try to find permits and go through them for couples that might be planning to summit Whitney in the two days after tomorrow to see if we can get ahead of him. That’s all we can do, Stella.” She glanced out the window. “The dogs have been patient with us. We can take them for a walk and get all this out of our heads for a little while.”
Stella was more than happy to do just that.
MOMMY, DADDY’S DOING the bad thing again.
There was no mistake about it, the two backpackers were making their way up to the top of Whitney, day packs on their backs. Stella could make them out in the early morning light. Gray streaks glimmered through what had appeared as unrelenting darkness and both turned off their headlamps as they continued at a steady pace.
Occasionally the woman seemed to call out to him to stop and both would look at the wide, sweeping views. Stella had been there more than once and she knew what they were experiencing. The climb was worth every strenuous moment. There was nothing like the beauty of the Sierras, and from atop Whitney, aside from the achievement, the breathtaking views felt like sitting on top of the world. The trail was only two or so miles from Trail Crest to the summit. There was only the one switchback left that could give the two climbers any trouble, and so far, Stella didn’t feel the killer’s presence. He hadn’t followed them from Trail Crest. Perhaps he was waiting for their descent?
Her heart started to accelerate and she immediately calmed herself. This might be the last night for her clues, but she wouldn’t panic. That was the point of all this, gathering every piece of information she could get in order to save these two individuals. She forced herself to be that onlooker, taking in every single detail, looking for the tiniest shape of a rock or an outcropping she might be able to make out in the dim lighting so she could sketch it and hopefully find the exact location if they missed them at Trail Crest.
The female hadn’t shown any signs of altitude sickness. She might be a relatively new backpacker, but she had trained for this hike. Her partner must have stressed the importance of it, or she was a natural at this kind of altitude.
Altitude sickness was nothing to mess around with, and many seasoned hikers fell prey to it. One had to recognize the first signs of it. Headache, nausea, shortness of breath. Legs refusing to cooperate no matter how hard you commanded them to move. Stella knew, she’d had it happen. She’d been careful, going slow, eating the right foods, but still, anything over eight thousand feet was always a risk, a fifty-fifty shot for her. She would try to camp every thousand feet or so if she could when she was preparing for a mountain like Whitney, but it didn’t always guarantee she was going to dodge the altitude sickness that sometimes prevailed, even if it was mild.
The woman said something again to the male and he stopped, came back to her, and they looked out toward the early morning sunrise. It was still too early for the sun to climb high enough to illuminate the granite. He indicated the summit, clearly telling her that if they could make it to the top to watch the sunrise, it would be worth it. She nodded and they started out once again.
Stella felt him then. Just a thin, ominous threat carried on the wind blowing across the open trail. He was like a dark film infiltrating the beauty of the early morning. Sly. Cunning. A sinister presence creeping into the picturesque setting. She couldn’t tell where he was. Behind them? In front of them? She should be able to see him. Why couldn’t she?
She took several deep breaths in an effort to remain calm. It wasn’t like there were places to hide. The early morning light was beginning to reveal more and more, and the killer couldn’t hide in the shadows for much longer. She found herself straining to see through the gray, looking for him.
The couple continued upward toward the summit, and as they came around the last switchback, there was a person huddled right on the edge, rocking back and forth, head in hands, pack beside him, clearly suffering altitude sickness. It wasn’t uncommon to get so close and not be able to make even the last five hundred feet, or think one couldn’t make it. She’d had it happen where her legs just refused to work.
Stella observed the individual as the couple approached him. Clearly it was a man, although it was impossible to tell his size or even his build. He wore a dark rain hoodie over his jacket, the hood covering his hair and shielding his face. The closer the couple got to him, the more that ominous, pervasive feeling of menace grew.
She tried to yell to the couple to stay back, but already the male had hesitated in his forward progress. He obviously spoke to the killer, who shook his head and indicated he felt sick.
The male took out his water and walked over to the killer, the female trailing behind him. Stella cried out a warning, but nothing could be heard. She could only watch helplessly as the killer, who had feigned altitude sickness, rose suddenly. In a blur of motion, he gripped the male with both hands and turned so the male hiker teetered on the edge of the cliff. Oddly, it looked as if he reached out and caught at the hiker’s left ring finger as he shoved him.
The female stood frozen, in clear shock. It had taken the killer all of two seconds or less to throw the male over the side. She probably had no idea what actually happened. The killer turned to face her and she opened her mouth to scream. Before a sound could escape, he was on her, one hand slamming over her mouth as he shoved her right to the very edge. He held her there a moment.
Stella couldn’t imagine how the poor girl felt, looking down, knowing she was going to die. She didn’t understand what the killer was doing, but he appeared to hold her finger, the way he’d done to the male, slowly, cruelly, tipping her over the edge. Then the woman was gone, out of Stella’s sight, and only the killer remained, crouched down, looking around him to make certain there were no signs that he was there.
He didn’t go up to the summit but, head down, body slumped, began to make his way back down as though he’d already made the climb and was on his way down to Trail Crest. The lens snapped closed and she couldn’t stop it, although she tried.
SHE HAD NEVER gotten a clear view of him. Not his face, not his size. Not one identifying mark. He could have been anyone. He was faceless, shrouded in his hood, stooped over, and no doubt if he met anyone on the trail he would feign altitude sickness. If he heard them coming, he would lie down, curl up, and wave them on, assuring them he would be fine, he was hydrating. They would never see his face or actual build.
She woke, wanting to scream out her frustration, but at least she knew the couple would drop their backpacks at Trail Crest. There would be a two-day window for the killer between this nightmare and when he struck. They would have to monitor Trail Crest for couples in those two days, but surely they could stop the couple from climbing.
She tried not to think about James Marley and how the killer had murdered him when he hadn’t been able to kill his first victim. If they saved the first couple, would he simply select someone else to kill and take them instead?
“Stella, you already know you have to work through this,” Sam’s calm voice came. Always reassuring. “You write it down and sketch it. You’re going to talk to Vienna today. Raine said she’d look for permits. Vienna and I will go up Whitney. It makes sense for us to go. We’re the ones they’d call for Search and Rescue and we can easily make an argument that we need to figure out faster and better methods to get to people in trouble. Vienna will be able to get us onto the trail both days.”
Stella knew he didn’t want her there, but she also knew that made perfect sense as well. “You’re right, it’s just hard to see him murder two innocent people. He pretended to have altitude sickness and they were going to help him. I hate that doing something nice for someone got them killed.”
“I know, sweetheart,” he said gently. “We’re going to stop him.”
Stella hoped he
was right. It was just that watching the killer, he seemed so invincible somehow. So completely bold, hiding in plain sight. Usually, there were several people on the trail that early in the morning, but somehow his luck held.
VIENNA MORTENSON WAS tall, blonde and gorgeous, with the looks of a supermodel. Her Scandinavian ancestry was very evident in her pale hair and large green eyes. She hadn’t come from money, but she made it by playing cards, and she’d put herself through nursing school with her earnings. She was a serious card player, eventually playing high-stakes poker in Vegas, although she kept a fairly low profile when possible. She said it was never good to get the wrong people interested in you. Some were very sore losers.
Stella knew very little about Vienna’s life other than that she had a mother she sent money to, paying her rent and utilities in Las Vegas. She knew her mother lived with someone, but Stella didn’t have a clue who that person was, if they were related or anything about them, and Vienna never said.
Vienna’s house was small but very neat, everything in its place. Every single piece of furniture had been chosen with care. She took her time deciding on what she wanted in chairs for her living room or the kitchen table. She wasn’t a person to be rushed over personal decisions, yet she could think fast in a crisis, making decisions that saved lives when others depended on her.
Her cat ruled the household. Princess, the white Persian, had a bed in every room. She had a climbing castle and scratching walls everywhere, in every possible shape that could please the finicky animal. The smug little feline strutted around to show Stella she was the boss, especially since Stella “stunk” of Bailey.
Stella didn’t dare bring Bailey into Vienna’s home. Bailey had good manners and would have curled up in a corner and calmly waited for Stella and Vienna to finish their visit. She knew because they’d tried. Princess would have none of the invader in her home. She’d attacked him, chomping on his giant paw, racing up his hind end, clawing her way to his back to try to ride him to the front door.
Bailey had made it abundantly clear that unless he got to retaliate in a big way, he was staying in the 4Runner and Stella could visit Vienna and her vicious cat alone. He was not protecting her.
“Bailey looks miserable out there,” Vienna said, turning away from the window to give her cat the best glare she could muster up. It wasn’t much of one.
Stella feared for any children Vienna might have if she ever ventured down that path. “He’s just fine. He’s sulking. Princess is the only cat that’s never fallen in love with him. He can’t understand why she thinks he’s a barbarian.”
“I’m sorry about your father, Stella,” Vienna said suddenly. She crossed the living room again to look down at the sketches Stella had made. “He’s in prison?”
“Yes. I don’t have any contact with him, but I make certain to know what’s going on with him so I don’t get blindsided if suddenly, by some miracle, he gets out.”
Vienna sank down into one of her beautiful and very comfortable chairs. No leather for Vienna. She liked material with extra padding in her chairs, a thick wall of stuffing draped over a sturdy frame that promised to last for years; her chairs either glided or raised to give one a nice foot rest. Where she managed to find her furniture, Stella didn’t know, but it came from taking her time and not settling.
“I think Sam is right, the two of us should go up there. It would be natural for us to go up there together. No one would question it, Stella.”
“Do you have time off?”
“I’ve got tomorrow off and can trade. It’s done all the time. I can say I have a chance to do this and the weather is holding. The holidays are coming up so someone will want to trade with me.”
“It’s terrifying to think that he’ll just switch victims like he did with Marley,” Stella said. “That’s another huge fear. That I save two victims and condemn someone else to death.”
“You didn’t do that,” Vienna reprimanded. “You can’t let yourself think that way or you’ll go crazy. This is an opportunity to save lives. Maybe not this time or the next time, but if we don’t catch him, think how many people he will kill.”
“That’s what Sam and Raine say.”
“They’re right. In any case, if we can’t stop the couple, Sam and I will start up from Trail Crest. Thanks to your dream, we know what to look for. It’s possible we can prevent any other hikers from trying to help a lone male feigning altitude sickness. We’ll sit a distance from him and just talk to him. That should frustrate him to no end.”
“He’s lethal.”
“I’m counting on your Sam being lethal. Is he?”
Stella thought about that. She nodded slowly. “I believe he could be, given the right circumstances. If anyone tried to harm you, Vienna, then yes, he would be.”
“Good to know.”
“Meaning, if you go up there with him, don’t let yourself get separated from him. You have to stick right with him no matter who else is with you. No matter who else you know and how well you know them.”
Vienna’s light wheat-colored eyebrows came together. “What does that mean? Do you suspect our friends? Or someone we know?”
Stella sighed and rubbed the sudden goose bumps covering her forearms. “It makes me sick to admit this, but I think the only way it works for me to get these nightmares is if I’ve come in physical contact with the serial killer. I’ve been in close proximity to a serial killer before and not had nightmares, but each of the killers I’ve had nightmares about I’ve actually touched physically.”
Vienna looked at the sketches and then crossed one elegant leg over the other. She was dressed in soft burgundy-colored straight-legged yoga pants. The pants had little twists at the bottom that made them look classy. At the back was a band of crisscrossed ties in a darker shade of burgundy. Her cable-knit sweater was cream with dots of various sizes and shades of burgundy. Everything about Vienna screamed classy, sophisticated and stylish, yet she was a super-skilled outdoorswoman.
“That sucks, Stella.”
“You’re telling me.”
“It could be anyone, though, right? You check in all the men and women who compete in the big fishing tournament every year at the fishing camp. And you check in the people who rent the cabins at your resort. When you’re here in town, you’re at the businesses all the time, talking to everyone and picking up brochures, refining them. It doesn’t have to be someone in our immediate group of friends.”
“No.” Stella kept rubbing her arms.
“Why would someone we know suddenly start killing?”
“I don’t know, Vienna. Why does anyone do anything? I don’t think my father killed those first few years of my life, but he certainly did after I was five. Why would he start then? He’s never said.”
“Were you ever tempted to ask him?”
Stella shook her head. “I couldn’t bear to look at him. I closed the door on my childhood and I’ve been afraid to open it. This has been hard enough. I’ve been remembering things about my mother I haven’t wanted to look too closely at. The last thing I want to do is confront him.”
“I can relate to that,” Vienna said. “I’m all for moving forward and letting the past stay where it belongs. Sam and I should be up there tonight. If that couple hits Trail Crest around two in the morning, we need to be there. I can’t tell by the sketches what time it is. Did Raine give you a list of permits?”
“Yes. Everyone who has a permit for both days. I’ll have her send them to your phone.” She was already texting. She sighed when she got a reply back. “Poor Raine. They’ve sent a helicopter for her again. She’s going to try to make it back to my place before morning to wait with me, but apparently she has to work. She’ll send you the list of permits, Vienna.”
“Something big must be up.”
“Whenever there’s some kind of terrorist thing going on somewhere that I’m reading about, Raine suddenly is nowhere to be found,” Stella said, lowering her voice, although she didn’t kno
w why. It wasn’t like anyone was around. “Please be careful up there, Vienna, and don’t leave Sam’s side. Promise me.”
“I promise. This guy scares the crap out of me.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Stella, there’s a couple of men at the gate saying they want to see you. Man by the name of Marco Rossi?” Patrick Sorsey said, his voice sounding tinny as he called up from the security gates. “He asked for Sam first, but Sam’s nowhere to be found and it’s damn early for visitors.”
Stella glanced over at Raine. At least she wasn’t alone. Raine had just gotten there, before the sun came up. She had the feeling Sam wasn’t going to like this, but she couldn’t turn away Sam’s father. Besides, it was a welcome distraction while they waited for news on whether or not they were successful in reaching the couple before the killer had.
There were so many names on the permit list for the two-day window the killer might work in. So many question marks. Vienna and Sam had gone up to Trail Crest to see what they could do to find the couple and hopefully stop them from getting killed.
“Please escort him up to the house.” That would give her just enough time to change from her pajamas to jeans and get the fire going in the living room. It was too cold to make him stay outside on the porch, although Sam would probably insist that was what she should have done— or just waited for him to get back before allowing his father to visit.
“Sam’s father is here,” she hissed, dragging down her pajamas, tossing them on the bed and yanking up her favorite jeans. She found a cable-knit sweater to pull over her T-shirt and then hurried into the living room to get the fire going.
“Sam has a father?” Raine asked.
“Very funny.” Stella took the time to glare at her over her shoulder. “He isn’t going to be happy with me for letting him in. They kind of had a falling-out. I’ve never actually met him. Do you have a weapon on you?”
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