Murder at Sunrise Lake

Vienna nodded. “I think that’s why she gets uncomfortable when she does see me. She’s so terrified I’ll bring it up. She doesn’t want to answer any questions. I tell myself I won’t ask, but then, do I want to take a chance on losing her and never knowing where I came from if she really isn’t my mother?” She made a face. “Even saying that out loud in front of my closest friends sounds ridiculous. Of course, she’s my mother. We’re so much alike. Maybe not in looks, but in every other way. I don’t want anyone else to be my mother.”

“No one else is,” Raine said. “She raised you. She was there for you every step of the way. That makes her your mother whether or not she gave birth to you. I’m with Stella on this, Vienna, you need to find a way to resolve it. Maybe invite the two of them here for a special dinner at Shabina’s with all of us. That way the conversation won’t turn to anything that personal. We could all help with dinner.”

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea, Vienna,” Stella said. “Do you think they’d come? We could gift them with a room at the hotel in town.”

Vienna was silent, struggling not to cry. “All of you are the absolute best. I’ll consider it, but I might want to wait until after we catch this serial killer. I don’t want Stella to suddenly see him lurking in the hotel hallway while my mother is there.”

Stella nodded. “Now that you mention that, it might be a better plan to wait.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Mommy, Daddy’s doing the bad thing again.

The early morning sun tried to shine through drifting clouds. Dirt, rock and overgrown yellow and brown grass covered with mostly small debris that had drifted on the wind lay on the ground. Twigs. Leaves. Pine needles. The trail wasn’t well used or well marked, but still, as Stella observed it through the narrow lens, something about it seemed familiar.

Two people walked along that path of uneven dirt and overgrown grass. She caught glimpses of shadows on the ground. Two men, both tall with what could have been backpacks, making them appear misshapen.

She felt the mood of each of them because they were both broadcasting so strongly. Both were excited. Both anticipating. They were talking, laughing. Friendly. Knew each other. She strained to listen. To hear what they were saying. At least catch the sound of their voices. She knew they were laughing and talking yet she couldn’t make out the words. Laughter? Could she identify them through laughter? There was a strange thudding in her ears interfering with her ability to hear. Her own heartbeat pounded like a drum so loud she was afraid the two men might hear her.

While both seemed to share the same emotions for the day’s climb, one felt more. One felt pure elation, a smug rush of sly glee, of absolute power. Instinctively she knew the killer was anticipating taking his time with this “accident.” He not only knew his victim but also was friends with him. This was new. She did her best to stay calm and tried to adjust the lens of the camera in an effort to open it wider. It didn’t work, only frustrated her that she couldn’t ferret out additional clues on the shadows of the men or see more than the ground they covered at the fast pace the two set.

The lens began to close, that narrow opening shuttering, leaving her staring at a black screen.

STELLA SAT UP, heart pounding, scrubbing her hands down her face over and over, trying to wipe away the child’s fear and face the nightmare as a grown-up. “I know them,” she whispered and looked up, confident Sam would be there.

They’d gone to bed together, his arms around her, but when she had her nightmares, he always did the same thing— he gave her space. Instinctively, he seemed to know she needed it. He sat right across the room from her, directly in her line of vision, so all she had to do was look up and she’d find him. Just knowing he was there settled the terrible twisting knots in her stomach and allowed her to breathe when her lungs felt raw and burning.

Sam looked back at her, his dark eyes on her. She could see the love there and it warmed her. Sometimes it shocked her. They didn’t say words like love between them. They were new. Two years might not be new, and they’d been together that long even if they never acknowledged it, but their feelings for each other had definitely been growing during that time.

She attempted a smile. It was shaky, but it was there. “He definitely has escalated his timetable, hasn’t he? He wasn’t very satisfied with his last kill to act so fast. One day? I don’t know if I can keep doing this. Maybe we should talk to the FBI.”