Murder at Sunrise Lake Page 7

  Raine was petite, a blonde with sun-kissed hair that was usually left loose. She paid little attention to her appearance, which meant she didn’t really need to. Large slate-blue eyes framed with golden lashes and brows were the bane of her life, at least she always said they were. Stella thought her eyes were gorgeous.

  Everything about Raine was a little on the wild side, as if she were untamable. Fiercely independent, no matter how much she feared something—or because of it—she worked at it until she was able to do it. She loved bouldering, and would spend hours happily working out problems on the rock. Trad climbing was her nemesis. She was actually afraid of heights and didn’t trust anyone on the end of her rope. Still, she was determined to climb. She parasailed even when that scared her and she had ended up loving it.

  Raine had hiked the John Muir Trail by herself, taking several weeks in the wilderness to do so, summiting Mount Whitney several times. She had also hiked Mount Shasta and then gone to Europe and hiked the Alps alone. She’d gone to Iceland and climbed into a dormant volcano, and visited ice caves in Romania, hiking around the backcountry. She’d done the same in Thailand.

  “You look tired, Raine. You don’t have to come camping with us tonight,” Stella said. “We’re close to the resort. You could stay in one of the cabins and get a good night’s sleep and then join us tomorrow night. We were thinking of camping for three nights.”

  Stella felt guilty for not confiding in her friends, but what could she really say? There was no murder. There was no body. There was no explanation she could give them without turning her world upside down. Nothing made sense to her right now. It had to be an outsider, not someone who lived and worked in the town.

  There were so many people with temporary jobs. She pressed her fingers to her temples. People came and went. Even at the resort she hired the same staff, but they didn’t all stay year-round. Still, she couldn’t imagine any of the people she knew—not even the ones she wasn’t particularly fond of—as a serial killer. But an outsider wouldn’t have knowledge of a fishing spot that only a very few locals used.

  “Are you okay, Stella?” Raine asked.

  “Yes, I was just thinking about the things Shabina was telling us. I know Zahra has run into prejudice occasionally because of where she comes from, but it’s always been from outsiders. They start asking about her accent and then get all weird with her. I never once considered that someone would be that way with Shabina.”

  “Let me take a guess,” Raine said. “One of four. Bale Landry, Sean Watson, Jason Briggs or Edward Fenton. It’s one or all of them. College buddies. Very superior to women. They were mixed up in a fraternity that made lists of female students, particularly ones that appeared to be of different ethnicities. Those in the fraternity were to sleep with as many of the women as they could, any way they could. They would pretend to like them, date them, or they would simply get them drunk at a party. If the woman was innocent, they scored more points for that.”

  “That’s disgusting,” Stella said. “There was an entire fraternity of male students at a college dedicated to hurting female students emotionally like that? That’s vile and sordid and so disgusting it turns my stomach.”

  “It was a game to them. They had a point system,” Raine said. “If I gave you all the details, it would really turn your stomach. I’d like to say it was college shit, but as far as I’m concerned, by the time you’re in college, you’re responsible for what you do. Your moral code is developed, and clearly the four of them don’t have one when it comes to women. I’m fairly certain they’ll cheat on their wives if they get married. I was appalled when Harlow went out with Bale.”

  “You told her.”

  “I showed her the evidence. I don’t usually do that sort of thing, but I wasn’t going to let one of my close friends fall into a trap like that. When she walked, he was really angry.”

  “Do they know you had anything to do with her finding out about them?” Shabina asked.

  “She didn’t tell him she knew about his stupid game or even that there was a tie between the four of them. She just ended their dating. Harlow has never really done relationships here so it wasn’t a huge leap for him to believe that she might get cold feet and run for it,” Raine said.

  “Sean asked Shabina out a while back,” Zahra supplied. “She declined and he’s been terrible ever since. He called the police on her today and accused her of trying to poison him. Guess who showed up to check out the complaint?”

  “We are so not talking about this again,” Shabina said. “I’m going to get dessert. Raine? Did you order?”

  “I wasn’t hungry for lunch, but asked for coffee. Would love dessert, whatever you made as the special.”

  Shabina stood up and did her best to glare at Zahra. “Don’t you dare talk about me while I’m gone or you don’t get any dessert. It just so happens to be your favorite.”

  Zahra flashed her impish smirk, the one that let her get away with just about anything. Shabina hurried away, glancing over her shoulder several times, trying to look stern.

  Raine burst out laughing. “I take it Craig Hollister came in, and technically, that’s talking about him, not Shabina.”

  Zahra’s eyes lit up. “That’s true. Yes, Craig came, but she didn’t embellish much. You didn’t happen to look into Craig’s background, did you, Raine?”

  Raine looked indignant. “Well, I haven’t looked into his background yet because he likes Shabina but I’m not entirely certain she’s that interested in him. If I was going to snoop, it would have to be a far more interesting person.”

  Zahra shook her head. “Sam. I would think you would find him totally intriguing, Raine.”

  Stella’s breath caught in her throat. She didn’t want the spotlight on Sam. She didn’t know why, but she didn’t want Raine to suddenly train her computer skills on him. She kept quiet. Sam was a loner. He could hunt. Fish. Climb. He could use scuba gear. He wasn’t an expert in any of those things, but he wouldn’t have to be.

  Raine made a face. “Sam’s boring. He doesn’t even talk, Zahra. He’s worse than Bruce.”

  “No one is worse than Bruce,” Zahra declared. “Sam doesn’t dance with anyone but Stella, and that’s romantic.”

  Raine laughed. “Or she tolerates him stepping on her feet.”

  Sam had never stepped on her feet. Not once. She couldn’t imagine it ever happening. He was far too aware of where his feet were placed at all times—and she wasn’t altogether certain Raine was telling the truth. Raine noticed everything about everyone. Sam would be interesting to her just because he was such a loner and he was so quiet, so why wasn’t she admitting it?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Harlow and Vienna were able to drive out to the location and set up their tents with Raine and Zahra as well as Stella, staking out the campsite for their own. Stella wanted to make it clear to any of the fishermen that the spot was overrun with campers. They moved the picnic table close to the firepit and pulled out lounge chairs to arrange around the pit, which they filled with firewood in preparation for evening or morning.

  Stella knew few people ever went down that particular very pitted dirt road even to fish, so she wasn’t worried their tents would be disturbed while they were gone. So if this location was so remote that only Denver and Bruce fished there regularly, was one of them the target?

  Her backpack and sleeping bag were in her rig, along with her cooler, when she parked in front of the Grill, where she was meeting Zahra, Raine and Shabina. Vienna and Harlow promised they would meet them in the morning after their shifts at the hospital ended. The music blared loudly, reverberating through the building as it always did, inviting everyone to get up out of their chairs and dance.

  Zahra waved wildly, nearly falling off her chair. She’d managed to grab the largest round table closest to the bar just to the right of where the band played. It was their favorite place t
o sit because it could accommodate most of them and the others could sit at the bar or even on the ledge surrounding the plants behind the table. Bruce and Denver sat at the bar in front of the table. Sam was at the bar as well, but on his usual corner stool. Raine and Shabina were already at the table with Zahra, so Stella waved and then made her way to Sam.

  “Hey.” She shifted one hip onto the barstool beside him. He was always warm. She didn’t know if it was because he was so dense, his muscles making his body thicker than he actually appeared, or if he was just naturally hot. When she got near him, he seemed to elevate her body temperature by several degrees.

  His dark eyes moved over her in that way he had, as if he saw everything about her, things no one else saw. “Stella.”

  “We wanted to go camping tonight. There’s a spot we staked out already, our tents are there. I’m worried we’ll drink too much and not make it out there.” She put her elbow on the bar and leaned her chin on the heel of her hand, looking up at him. She’d never seen Sam drink too much. He’d never had more than a beer, two at most on a hot day. He was a water man and mostly stuck to that, unless it was coffee in the morning. Even that was sparingly.

  “You planning on drinking tonight?”

  “I wanted to, but I don’t have to, Sam, not if it’s an inconvenience.”

  “Where’s the campground?”

  She told him, watching his face closely. She should have known it wouldn’t do much good. Sam’s face didn’t give much away.

  “Satine, that isn’t a campground. It’s a fishing spot. Denver showed it to me a year ago. No one goes out there.”

  “Exactly. It’s a gorgeous spot when the sun comes up. It has a picnic table and firepit and we’ll be on our own, no one around to bother us.”

  He held out his hand. “The four of you? Where are the other two?”

  She dropped the keys to her rig into his palm. “Working. They’ll meet us there in the morning. Thanks, Sam.”

  “No problem.”

  She slid off the barstool and then stopped and turned back, although she didn’t know why. She shouldn’t have. “Are you going to dance with me tonight?”

  Again, his dark gaze drifted over her. This time, she could have sworn there was a hint of possession in his eyes, but it could have been a trick of the light. A frisson of awareness slid down her spine as if every nerve ending suddenly woke up and went on high alert. Her heart accelerated and she just managed to stop herself from pressing her palm over her chest.

  She had never asked him to dance before. Never. He’d already called her on acting out of character. This was really out of character. She wasn’t certain why she wanted to see his reaction. He hadn’t made a fuss over the campsite except for one comment, and now he was looking at her with exactly the same expression on his face, except . . . different.

  “Don’t I always dance with you?”

  He did. One dance. It wasn’t what she was asking for, was it? She didn’t know. She nodded, suddenly confused. Upset all over again by the nightmares. By the fact that she was so certain a serial killer was creeping close to her friends—Sam included. By her suddenly mixed-up feelings.

  Sam reached out to run his palm very gently over her hair. Barely there. A whisper of a touch, yet she felt it like a sword of pure heat piercing her skull and rushing over her to sweep through her body, growing hotter the lower the ball of raging need went. Finally it settled, low and wicked, a seething pool of hunger and passion in her very core, her sex clenching and aching for him. She touched the tip of her tongue to her lip and stepped back, shocked at her reaction to him. What. The. Hell. She hadn’t drunk anything, so no one put anything in her drink. She’d just reacted like that to his touch.

  Stella hoped he couldn’t actually read her mind, as she sometimes suspected he could, because right now it was pure chaos and lust. She turned and hurried over to the table where her friends were already ahead of her, their drinks waiting, chips and salsa on the table. They had her drink waiting as well. Bruce and Denver spun around in their seats in order to join the conversation.

  Stella’s drink of choice, like the other women, was a Moscow Mule. The chips were homemade, as was the salsa. That was part of the charm of the Grill. Usually the band was good, at least to dance to. They were so far off the beaten path, it wasn’t like they got amazing bands vying to come play, but they did get decent ones. There were several good musicians in town playing together, and the locals, Stella included, enjoyed dancing to their music.

  “Harlow made some beautiful pottery,” Raine was saying as Stella took a seat next to her. “We went over to Judy and Tom’s before I left on my last trip and she showed us how to do throw vases. Harlow has such patience for detail. Every single one of her pieces is so beautiful.”

  Stella knew that was the truth. Harlow could easily sell her work, and sometimes did in Tom and Judy’s shop in town. Raine favored smaller, more classic pieces, little bowls or mugs she wanted to perfect that she used in her home or gave to her friends. She never considered selling her pieces, but she did like to give them as gifts at times.

  She especially loved animals and would attempt, when making the “perfect” coffee or soup mug for a friend, to include their dog or cat on the pottery piece. Unfortunately, she was very exacting and hard on herself, so she often started a piece multiple times before she was satisfied enough to pass it on.

  “What did she make this time?” Shabina asked.

  “Glazed vases, but they were stunning, all depicting various places around the lake as the sun was rising. You know how good she is with a camera. She’s been collecting pictures of the sunrise for the last few years from various locations around the lake, and she chose the ones she wanted to put on pottery,” Raine said. Her voice was filled with admiration.

  “I hope that puts her closer to her dream,” Zahra murmured.

  “Her dream?” Raine echoed. “Harlow never talks about anything in particular she wants to do. Although she does have that beautiful photography studio of hers and she sells gorgeous pictures now and again in the art galleries.” She nudged Stella’s drink closer to her. “You’re behind. You need to catch up.”

  Zahra shrugged and drank more of her Moscow Mule, her head nodding in beat with the music. “What do I know?” She hopped out of her chair and rounded the table, doing the unthinkable by coming to stand in front of Bruce. “Dance with me.”

  The big man nearly fell off his barstool to accommodate her. His large hand completely swallowed Zahra’s as he led her toward the square in front of the band, already packed with bodies. Lawyer Collins, a man born and raised in Knightly who fixed laptops and sold cell phones and laptops out of his store, immediately came and claimed Raine. Denver slid off his barstool, his amber-colored eyes seeking Stella’s, but Sam was there before him, capturing her wrist and smoothly pulling her from her seat, guiding her to the dance floor, one hand on her lower back. She glanced over her shoulder to see Carl Montgomery claim Shabina as Denver dropped back on the barstool, a wry grin on his face.

  Sam pulled her close to him, her back to his front, as the music pounded out a beat. The man could dance. He just seemed to have rhythm and knew how to move. More, he kept anyone from stumbling into her, no matter how drunk they were. She’d come in late, and those drinking were already feeling it, inhibitions lowered.

  Sam’s body was close to hers, close enough that she could feel his heat. He was always so damn hot. His energy was low-key, so why was his body temperature so hot? He wrapped one arm around her, high, just under her breasts, and pulled her body tight against his. He’d danced with her countless times, but he’d never done that before. The moment he did, she could feel every hard line of his body. She was instantly aware of him as a man and her as a woman. That dynamic had been growing between them for a long time, a comfortable, easy bond that seemed natural and strong.

  Stella didn’
t let many people into her world—not the real one. Somehow, Sam had found his way inside hers. He always kept his word. Always. She could rely on him. When he said he would get something done, he always did it. When things went wrong and a guest got out of hand, he would suddenly appear, a silent partner standing right at her side, looking so intimidating, trouble melted away. She didn’t know when she began viewing him as someone important in her world. Important to her as a woman. But he was. There was no getting around that.

  Toward the end of the evening, Stella slipped onto the barstool beside Denver as she often did when Bruce and Zahra were dancing. She knew she was a little past the point of sobriety, but then Denver looked as if he might be as well. That wasn’t exactly Denver’s way.

  “You okay, Den?”

  “Got some news from my family a week or so ago and I’m still processing,” he admitted.

  Denver never talked about his family. He was speaking low, so she had to lean into him. “I’m here if you want to share.”

  They’d talked about a lot of things. Denver was better at sharing then she was. She often felt guilty about that. She was closed off for a reason, and that wasn’t going to change. She glanced up briefly to catch sight of Sam in his usual corner—drinking water. Waiting to take her and her girls to their campsite. Maybe she could share a little with Sam later if she was going to catch a killer. She had to trust someone.

  Denver sighed. “My old man and his brother, my uncle Vern, got into it and they shot each other. Stupid really, but inevitable.”

  He shook his head, stating the facts as if they didn’t touch him, when Stella could see that wasn’t the case. His hands shook as he wrapped them around his drink. Normally he drank beer. He was drinking hard liquor.

  “They killed each other. Both bled out before anyone could get to them. My mother died while I was in the military, so I inherited the entire fucking estate. All of it. The lawyers contacted me and let me know, that’s how I found out they were both dead.”