Home > Murder at Sunrise Lake(6)

Murder at Sunrise Lake(6)
Author: Christine Feehan

“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.”

The 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.

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