Murder at Sunrise Lake

Stella made the turn onto the pitted dirt road leading to the lake. Dust rose around her in clouds, forcing her to slow her speed. She came up behind Sam’s rig, threw the 4Runner into park, turned off the engine and jumped out. She didn’t see Denver’s truck. Sam was already fishing. He wore a hat and waders. Just like in her nightmare, he had waded out among the boulders, plants and reeds. She released Bailey and ran toward the lake, calling out to Sam.

The wind had come up and it whipped at her hair, tore tears from her eyes. Maybe it put them there. He was too far away to hear. Her gaze went to the surface of the lake where the wind tugged at the water. There was that dark spot that drew her gaze like a magnet, that exact spot where Sam had dropped his line. Of course he’d hit the spot where the water seemed to swirl just a little bit, making its own lazy pool.

The sun had risen, casting the lake in beautiful colors the way it did every morning. Today it had chosen various shades of purple, from light lavenders to dark purples to burgundies and finally dark, dark reds. Her heart accelerated as she ran. She felt that dark menace creeping closer. It wasn’t her imagination. It was there, beneath the surface of the water, swimming toward Sam’s hook. Swimming toward him like a silent wraith.

She saw his arm jerk slightly, just the way the fisherman’s had in the nightmare. He stepped out farther into the lake, gently battling the fish on his line. Stella felt as if she were running in slow motion. Past the tents. The picnic table and firepit. She kept yelling, trying to tell him to get out of the water. To let go of the line. He was too far out there, away from the safety of the shore. As she ran, she shed her heavier clothes, the jacket, the sweater, so she was down to her tee. There was no getting out of her jeans or shoes; she didn’t have the luxury of time.

Sam moved farther out of the safety net of shore, wading deeper among the reeds, working the “fish” on his line. She could imagine the determination on his face. She kept running as she saw his body jerk and lose balance, something Sam never, ever did. He went over backward abruptly, just like in her nightmare, hitting the back of his head on a boulder.

He was a big man and it took several heaving tries for the killer to drag Sam’s unresponsive body underwater, giving Stella the time she needed to cover the rest of the ground. She didn’t hesitate, running into the icy water and then diving below the surface.

The lake was fed from the snowpack every year, and the temperature was freezing to her body. Shockingly so. It didn’t matter. The cold barely registered as she swam toward the killer trying to hold Sam down in order to drown him. Sam wasn’t completely out with his head injury. Instinctively, he was fighting back, his movements slow.

Stella hit the killer from behind, trying to get around his air tank, wishing she had worn a knife so she could sever his airline. She jerked at him, going for his mask, for anything to distract him. He swung around, punching at her face and hitting her cheek. She inserted her body between him and Sam, determined that he wouldn’t get to the nearly unconscious man. She swam at the killer once more, trying to tear his face mask off again. This time he drew his legs up, knees to his chest, and slammed them into her hard, driving her away from him with the power of his legs. He swam away fast, disappearing out of sight beneath the deeper water.

Stella tried to move, to swim, to do something, but she couldn’t. She just curled up there in the water, her mind sluggish, unable to process what she needed to do next. Sam’s hands caught at her before she realized she was nearly completely numb and unable to move in the icy water. They staggered together through the reeds and boulders up to the shore where they lay together, Sam nearly on top of her. He whistled for Bailey and the dog responded, lying down on the other side of Stella at Sam’s command. They lay that way trying to catch their respective breath and warm up enough to actually move.

“We need to get you out of your wet clothes,” Sam said eventually. “I’ll build the fire back up to get us warm.”

“I can do it, Sam. Your head. You took a bad hit on the rocks when he jerked you under.” She was shivering so badly she thought she might crack her teeth, they chattered so much. She had a terrible image of them fracturing and just disintegrating and falling right out of her head.