“It is funny what we take on ourselves as kids,” Shabina said, coming over to stand beside her. “After I escaped and they found me, they were really angry. I was beaten severely and thrown into this awful pit. Every single day they would beat me. The nights were worse and then it would be that pit. There were rats and bugs. But it got so I believed I deserved it. I wasn’t worth anything. I wasn’t grateful enough for the things they’d provided for me, the way they had treated me before, which, by the way, hadn’t been much better. Most of all, I deserved it because I was responsible for forcing my father to work the way he did, in those countries.”
Stella half turned from the gardens. That sounded insane, but children did think the strangest things. She stayed quiet, letting her friend tell her how her teenage self came to those conclusions.
The other two dogs came close to Shabina, one on either side of her. “I started thinking if I hadn’t wanted my father to buy me new shoes for school, or a new backpack, he wouldn’t have wanted to start a company that made so much money. It was my fault that he needed to make that kind of money. I grew too fast and they had to keep buying me new clothes all the time. If I wasn’t growing, he wouldn’t have to work so much. We wouldn’t have to travel to so many other countries and put us at risk.”
There was silence as the two women looked out into the gardens. Stella loved her own house, but if she had to choose another one, just for the grounds alone, she would have wanted to live here. Once the gates were closed, it was as if they were in their own world. She felt that way at the resort.
“You were so lucky to find this place, Shabina. It’s really extraordinary.”
“Raine found it for me.”
“I didn’t know that.”
Shabina nodded. “In those early days, I was still very much afraid. I was determined, but afraid. You know Raine and her computer skills. She knew everything there was to know about me in probably two-point-five seconds. She knew I was looking for a house, a piece of property, with some grounds to it. I had told the real estate people I wanted gardens and enough land to walk and exercise the dogs, but I think Raine knew what I needed. This was a private sale. She got me a tour. The moment I saw it, I knew this was what I wanted. The kitchen is a chef’s dream. The grounds are unbelievable. And there are suites so when my parents come, even though there’s a guest house they won’t stay in, they can use one of the suites.”
“They won’t stay in the guest house?” Stella repeated.
“Nope. Not a chance. My mother says she refuses to give up the late-night girl talks, and if I’m truthful, I enjoy them. I don’t want to give them up either. Dad says he doesn’t want to give up raiding the refrigerator, that he starves without me in the house to cook.”
“I thought your mother cooked.”
“He claims she’s given up cooking the good dishes in favor of the kind that are supposed to be healthy.” Shabina laughed. “Naturally, he says this in her hearing so she chases him around the room, just so he can let her catch him.”
“Your parents sound lovely, Shabina.”
“They are lovely. So many couples wouldn’t have survived the trauma of their only child being taken and gone for so long, but it made them stronger. They have a bond that seems unbreakable. I want that for myself but …” She broke off and shook her head. “I think one has to actually go out with or be friends with a man before they can have an unbreakable bond.”
Stella laughed. “That’s true. Poor Sam, to hear him talk, he waged a secret campaign for the last two years because I was so closed off to the idea of a relationship.”
“Sam is so impossible to read,” Shabina said. “I would watch him at the Grill when we all got together. He always came. He and Denver seem to be good friends. And it’s very clear that Carl Montgomery likes him. Carl wasn’t too happy with you stealing Sam out from under him. He told me it’s hard to find good workers, and Sam was one of the best he’d ever had. Skilled and had a good work ethic. Around here, with the dirtbags coming in, you just don’t get that combination often.”
“We were dirtbags, Shabina,” Stella said. “We came here and didn’t even know we were considered dirtbags.”
“I showered daily.” Shabina burst out laughing. “I rented a house because of the dogs. But we were talking about Sam. He always sat on that one barstool just a little apart from us, one barstool over or just away from our table. His face was in the shadows. Did you notice that?”
“I noticed everything about Sam,” Stella admitted. “Denver usually sat next to him. Sometimes, if Carl came in, he did. And once in a while, Craig. I’ll bet you noticed when Craig came in, although he wasn’t in uniform.” Stella nudged Shabina.
Shabina laughed again. “You’re awful. See why I always end up blushing when any of you mention poor Craig? The point is, it was impossible to tell what Sam was thinking or feeling. He was just there, but not in this creepy way, more like a protective way.”
That surprised Stella. “You got that feeling from him?”
“Most of the time, yes. Unless Sean and his crew were insulting me on the dance floor, and then he just walked over and intense menacing vibes would pour off him. He didn’t have to say anything. He just looked at them and they usually left or went back to the bar. He could be scary. I ought to know, I’ve had protection details most of my life.”
“I just stared at him and hoped I didn’t blurt out something stupid like he was utterly gorgeous or impossibly sweet,” Stella admitted. “Zahra likes to ply me with Moscow Mules when I go to the Grill with her, or worse, mojitos, because I drink too many of them without realizing I’m doing it, then I say things I shouldn’t.”
“He’s sweet?” Shabina asked.
Stella nodded. “These last couple of years, while he worked for me, he never asked me questions. Never put me on the spot. If I had the worst day ever, with some of the guests yelling their heads off at me, I’d go home and he’d be on my deck, grilling the best dinner ever. He’d point to a cooler and there would be ice-cold beer in it. He wouldn’t expect me to talk. He didn’t talk. I could go in and change, put my feet up and sit in my swing chair while he made dinner. We ate and he’d leave. Sometimes he’d do the dishes. Sometimes, if the day was really bad, he’d watch my favorite movie, Moulin Rouge!, with me. I think he thought I was an idiot for crying, but he’d just hand me the box of tissues.”
“Wow, who knew it was the silent types who could be all sweet when it was needed?”
“And he loves Bailey, which was essential, and Bailey loves him back. You know how Bailey is with everyone. He likes people, but he’s completely devoted to me. He included Sam with me. Kind of like we were the same person. I don’t even know when that started happening. I didn’t notice or I might have gotten jealous.”
“How is Bailey?”
Stella sighed. “Poor baby wants to come home and I want him home. Sam keeps telling me that we want him to have the best care possible. I know Amelia is giving that to him, but he doesn’t like being away from us.”
“While you’re working on this, I suppose it’s a good thing to be somewhat mobile and not tied to the house,” Shabina said, looking down at the sketches again. “I wish I could be of more help. This is definitely the D7 zone. Your hunter hiked in the six miles. I don’t think he went too far in, because he’s hauling too much gear. I doubt if he’s local. Maybe if you can figure out how the killer is actually going to manage to murder his victim, it would help. I mean, he is high up in a tree. He can’t sneak up behind him and climb up without being seen. He can’t shove him out of the tree, again because he’s too high up. How does he actually kill him? Do you have any idea?”
That was a good question and Stella had wondered that herself. If she was sitting up in a tree stand, safe from a serial killer, how would the killer get to her? If he tried to climb the same tree, the victim was armed. Wouldn’t he shoot? Or would he feel threatened? How would the killer make it look like an accident? Most of the time, a
hunter would harness himself into the tree stand. Stella knew, because she’d read all about it once Sam told her what it was.
“Someone that high up in a tree should be able to see anyone coming at them, right?” Shabina asked. “I don’t know all that much about tree stands, but in order for them to be of any use they have to be pretty high up in the tree.”
“Sam said twelve to thirty feet.”
“Then how does the killer expect to get to his victim without the victim fighting him off?” Shabina asked.
“He wouldn’t know he was a serial killer,” Stella pointed out. “He’s just another friendly hunter passing by.”
“Do hunters visit with one another? Doesn’t that defeat the purpose? If the guy waits up in his tree stand for a deer to come by and another hunter stops under his tree and starts talking, wouldn’t he scare off all the deer?”
“Maybe we have it all wrong and the serial killer is the one in the tree stand,” Stella ventured suddenly. “Could that be? He sits up there waiting and along comes an unsuspecting hunter. He lures him over with some kind of deer sound and then murders him and makes it look like it was his tree stand all along. Is that plausible?”
Shabina scrunched up her nose. “I don’t know, Stella. What about the purchase of the tree stand? That would be traceable. It isn’t like the killer could figure out a way to put it on the victim’s credit card. Even if he paid cash, that’s a big jump.”
Stella gave a little cry of sheer annoyance. “This entire thing is so frustrating. It’s a big jump to think that we could find a single tree in an entire forest. If this serial killer really is playing a game with me, he’s got to be laughing his head off right now.”
“I just don’t think he’s onto you.”
“That’s what Sam says, but why not?”
“Because how could he be? It isn’t like you’re that same person.”
“Maybe he went to high school with me. I can’t have changed in looks that much. I’ve never run into anyone I went to school with, but it’s possible they saw me and I didn’t see them.”
Shabina sighed. “Honestly? I didn’t think of that.”
Stella bit down on her lower lip. “Do you have any idea how many people come here to climb or backpack? There are a million things for people to do and it’s so beautiful. We get visitors all the time. I’m always busy during the season. I wouldn’t notice someone from those days, not when my foster mother had cancer and a serial killer was on the loose. My world was falling apart again.”
“You told me the serial killer has to be someone you’ve physically come in contact with or you wouldn’t be having the nightmares. That was one of the reasons you didn’t want to tell any of our male friends,” Shabina pointed out.
“I might have come in contact with someone I went to high school with,” Stella said. She doubted it. In those days, she stayed to herself. She didn’t trust anyone and she didn’t have friendships. If she was face-to-face with someone from her high school, close enough that she would physically touch them, would she remember them? She thought so. Her mind tended to be obsessive about details.
“I want it to be someone from my past, Shabina,” she admitted. “But I don’t think it is. I think it’s someone close to me here. Someone from town. One of the businesses.”
“Like Sean.”
Stella tried to picture Sean as a serial killer. He was incredibly strong. Most of the climbers were, and Sean was a forester. He knew animals, but then again, most of those in the area were hunters. They knew the anatomy of animals.
“What about Edward? What do we know about him? Bale’s the leader of the group, and Jason sort of hangs out on the edge. Sean is an ass, but Edward is right there in the thick of it, yet he is so quiet I overlook him,” Stella said. “He climbs. He hunts. He does a lot of winter sports, right? That’s kind of his thing.”
“He was born right in town,” Shabina said. “I hear everything at the café. He was raised by his grandmother. Still lives in the same house, from what I understand. He inherited it after she died. One of the women in town was talking to her friend at lunch one day— this was a couple of years ago— and she mentioned that he took her back to the house after a dinner date. She said the house was super creepy. There were lace doilies everywhere, that the furniture and pictures and everything seemed out of time, as if nothing had been touched since his grandmother’s day. It was dark, with old heavy drapes covering the windows. She didn’t like the way the house smelled, like old moth balls or something. In any case, she couldn’t relax and ended up going home before anything happened. She never went out with him again.”
“How strange. He seems like a modern man. He’s got all the latest toys and equipment,” Stella said. “His truck, his climbing gear, snowmobile, all of it is the latest and greatest.”
Shabina sighed. “Let’s go for a walk in the gardens. This isn’t getting us anywhere. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”
“It was a long shot. I knew it when I brought this to you,” Stella admitted. She followed Shabina outside, the three Dobermans rushing out with them. Inhaling the crisp October air, she took a moment to savor the fact that she didn’t feel anyone watching her. She could relax. Maybe she just needed to move in with Shabina for a few days for some respite.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The body of the hunter, Victor Bane, was found nearly immediately by his brother, Lawrence, who had gone looking for him just before sunset. It appeared as if Victor had fallen from his tree stand and broken his neck. His brother was very confused by the “accident,” as Victor always took safety precautions and wore his harness faithfully.
Lawrence had packed in Victor’s gear himself. Lawrence had been the one to set up the tree stand and see to it that Victor was comfortable and had everything he needed before Lawrence left his brother to his favorite sport. Victor was good at hunting. He was the one who usually provided the meat for winter, and he was proud of his skills. He had multiple sclerosis and it was all he could do to hike and backpack the trails at times, but he did it. He hunted from a tree stand now, but he was still accurate. He never took a shot if his hands were shaky.
Nothing about the “accident” made sense. Lawrence kept repeating it over and over to anyone who would listen. Victor wouldn’t have tried to climb down without him being right there. If he shot a deer, they used walkie-talkies to communicate. Lawrence would have come. If there was an emergency, he had a satellite phone.
Vienna told them all that the ME found it suspicious that the left ring finger had two breaks on it in exactly the same places as the climbers and James Marley. She even had the sheriff come in and take a look. He didn’t seem to think, even with four people having the exact same breaks on the exact same finger, that he could build any kind of a case. Falling from tree stands wasn’t all that uncommon, and when you added multiple sclerosis to the mix, it stood to reason that an accident was an accident. The ME had a drink with Vienna and voiced her concerns. She said four people with exactly the same breaks on exactly the same finger was pushing the boundaries of coincidence for her. When Vienna had pushed her, asking what she was considering, the ME had backed off, shrugging, just shaking her head.
Stella couldn’t blame her. What were the odds of a climbing accident on Mount Whitney, a fishing accident on Sunrise Lake and a hunting accident in the Inyo National Forest being in any way tied together? If the sheriff didn’t think broken fingers were enough to build a case— and she knew he was right— then what was she going to do? Stella didn’t blame him either. Even if he did think there was cause to think Victor’s death wasn’t an accident, there were no witnesses. There was nothing whatsoever, no evidence to suggest a serial killer had murdered him. That was the danger of this killer. Other than his “signature” of the broken finger, there was no way to identify his kills.
Stella cried over the hunter, but she’d all but resigned herself to the fact that she wasn’t going to be able to save him. There just weren�
�t enough clues to find him in time.
Shabina called and asked if Stella wanted to come for a girls’ night at her place. Sam insisted that she go, that she needed at least a night off before Bailey was back and the killer struck again, as his timetable seemed to be getting shorter and shorter. Sam was afraid that meant he was unraveling.
It felt good to just climb into her favorite pair of leggings and a long shirt, eat pizza and be with her friends. Stella found it strange to be without Bailey, but Shabina’s Dobermans, Raine’s Jack Russell and Harlow’s beagle were all there. Zahra had lost her dog two years earlier and continued to vacillate between getting another dog or a little black kitten. Where she got that idea, no one knew. She’d been heartbroken when she’d lost her beloved rough-coated half–Pyrenean Shepherd and half something no one knew. Her energetic gray, black and white Elara had been twenty pounds of sheer fun. Zahra continued to say if she got another dog, she would get the same combination, although she swore Elara wore her out “forcing” her to take her out for runs a hundred times a day. All of them knew Zahra didn’t like to run. She shared Stella’s view of the pastime. Jogging was okay, but running was just the worst possible thing in the world. For her dog, she sacrificed with much complaining.
Stella sat tailor-fashion on the floor of Shabina’s great room with its luxurious carpet that one could practically swim in. The huge stone fireplace was lit, the flames burning orange and red, casting images on the walls. Instead of sitting on the cozy sofas and chairs, all six women sat on the floor, using the furniture as back supports. Over the last few years, they’d gotten comfortable sitting that way. In the center of their circle were bowls of popcorn and small chocolate bars Shabina had made for the evening.
“I’m going to gain so much weight tonight,” Zahra moaned as she chose another one of the bars. “I wouldn’t eat it, but just looking at it puts weight on my thighs, so I might as well enjoy it.”
Murder at Sunrise Lake Page 30
