Murder at Sunrise Lake

“Is that what you really want to do?”

Denver shrugged. “No. After being there a few times, I realized I wouldn’t want to do that day in and day out either. I think I’m just restless. Maybe I need a long vacation.”

Stella laughed. “Everyone comes here for vacation, Denver.”

His brows drew together. “That’s right, they do.”

STELLA HAD RARELY been nervous alone on her property. Long before she had hired Sam, she had handled many of the difficult drunk partiers in the middle of the night alone, or with one of her security guards. She just wasn’t a person who panicked. But now she found herself uneasy, pacing through her house looking outside, feeling as if maybe she’d been followed back to the resort.

Sam had stayed in town in order to talk with his father. She’d run a few errands, picked up groceries and made the hour-long trip back from Knightly without incident. Her resort was up higher in the mountains, so it was decidedly cooler. The elevation assured she received snow and ice when the town was often spared.

It wasn’t that late by the time she returned home, but the sun had set and it was already getting dark. She had checked, but no one appeared to be on the road behind her. Still, the feeling of uneasiness had begun to grow in her, and now that she was home and had put her groceries away, that feeling persisted.

“What do you think, Bailey? Should we stay trapped in here or take a little walk around the property?” She dropped her hand onto the dog’s head. He seemed as restless as she was, but just the way she was acting could convey anxiety to the animal and put him on alert.

He padded to the window and looked out as if to answer her. Stella sighed. This wasn’t the night for Sam to be gone, but he had family issues that were important for him to deal with. She was certain the watcher was out there. She’d set the alarm, but that didn’t mean anything. A good sniper could shoot right through the many windows she had and kill her if that was what his intentions were. She hated the feeling of being trapped in her house.

Finally, she decided she would go outside with her security guard and just walk around the property, something she did often. If the watcher knew her at all, he wouldn’t think she was doing anything much different than normal. Sonny was on duty and she texted him. He would be there already, making his rounds. He always answered immediately and he would come up to the house and meet her.

She waited, scratching Bailey’s ears, grateful she had her dog. Sonny didn’t text her back. Time seemed to slow. She called him, her heart beating. Sonny always answered. He was reliable. He liked his job. He was thorough. He might even be considered overeager. Unlike Patrick, he didn’t miss a single area when he checked the resort at night. He knew every inch of the property, which made him valuable when they were looking for missing partiers or a child who wandered off.

Sonny didn’t answer his phone. Now she was more than worried. That was totally unlike him. She checked the log-in she could access from her phone. He’d gotten to the resort before she had and relieved Patrick on time. Swearing softly under her breath, she did the only thing she could do under the circumstances. She sent a text to Sam.

Sonny not answering. Afraid he’s hurt. Am going to look for him. Calling Griffen.

Wait for Griffen.

Sonny could be hurt.

She couldn’t take the chance and Sam knew it. They had to rely on one another. She put the call in to the sheriff’s office and hoped they had someone available. Most times, they could get someone there in ten minutes.

Stella armed herself with two guns just in case, slid a knife into her boot and went out the front door. “Bailey, find Sonny.” She gave the command and turned him loose.

Bailey took off fast, rushing into the gathering darkness. Stella jogged after him, sending up a prayer to the universe that Sonny was alive and okay, that he was out of range, even though her text had been marked delivered. The dog skirted around the lake and then made a rush toward the heavier trees, where he disappeared from her sight altogether. There was no path or trail to run on to follow him. The ground was uneven, and even though it wasn’t completely dark, running could be perilous. She didn’t want to trip and fall or sprain an ankle. She kept jogging, but she slowed her pace enough to pay attention to where she was putting her feet.

Bailey roared a challenge, the sound shocking in the night, rising to a horrible crescendo, and then just as suddenly he shrieked in pain, over and over. The breath left Stella’s lungs, but she increased her speed, throwing caution to the wind. Bailey had never sounded like that, never once in all the years she’d had him. Not that scream of agony that was wrenched from him. It was worse when he went silent.