The lens focused on one tree, the trunk sturdy. The camera seemed to go up and up until she could see the bottom of what appeared to be a steel or aluminum frame jutting out from the tree with a pair of muddy boots on the floor of bars. One boot was planted flat while the other had the toe pressed firmly into the bars. She could see just the edge of heavy hunting camo pants coming down over the boots as the camera lens began to close in that abrupt way it had of doing long before she was ready.
STELLA SAT UP quickly and kicked off the covers. The room was surprisingly warm, a fire going in the fireplace she rarely used. Sam sat in the chair across from the bed, his dark eyes on her, waiting to give her whatever she needed. That expressionless mask was becoming a little more readable to her and he looked— wary.
She took several deep breaths and shoved both hands into her hair. She’d braided it to keep it away from her face, but she felt as if she’d sweated and it was all over the place. “He’s accelerating, not taking any time between his kills.”
“He’s got a taste for it now, or whatever triggered him has made him so unstable he’s getting out of control. If that’s the case, he’ll make mistakes.”
The killer didn’t appear to be making too many mistakes, not as far as she could see. There had been other backpackers around on Mount Whitney, yet he’d calmly faked altitude sickness and murdered two people.
Stella wrapped her arms around her middle and rocked back and forth. “Thank you for the fire. I don’t even know when I’m cold anymore.”
“It’s getting cold up here. It will start snowing soon,” Sam said.
She was grateful that he stayed in the chair across from her, where she could see his reassuring presence, but didn’t touch her. He always seemed to know what she needed. When she first woke up after one of her nightmares, even though she was handling them better, she was close to panicking— too close. She needed to allow herself the time to breathe. To admit she was afraid. That she detested she was able to connect with a serial killer, even if it meant catching him and preventing him from killing more people.
Sam let her be who she was. He didn’t “fix” her. He didn’t ask her if she was all right. He knew she wasn’t. He just simply let her work through the nightmare the way she had to, and he was there for her, staying silent until she needed to bounce her ideas off him. If she wanted to talk about it, he’d talk about it. If she wanted to divert attention to something else, he would go along with it. That was Sam, exactly what she needed. She was coming to see, more and more, just why they fit together.
She missed Bailey pushing his head into her lap. She missed being able to scratch his ears, giving her something else to concentrate on while she processed. He made her feel safe. He had always given her companionship when she’d lived alone for those years.
“When I first took on the resort as manager, it was really rundown. I lived in the big cabin, which was a wreck, by the way. I got Bailey from a rescue place. He’s a mix, mostly Airedale, but the breeders were upset because another male had gotten in that wasn’t all Airedale, so they gave the pups to the rescue place. He was the sweetest little puppy. I didn’t go anywhere without him. This little bundle of curly fur.”
She rubbed her thigh where Bailey usually positioned his head when he was trying to comfort her. “I called Amelia a dozen times today and she assured me he was doing so much better. She didn’t want me to visit him because she said I’d get him too excited and she’d never get him to calm down again. I just wanted to bring him home. He has to be there several days and needs to be very quiet.”
She knew Sam was well aware she’d argued with Amelia over visiting with Bailey, but in the end complied with the vet’s wishes. She was babbling and Sam just let her, the way he always did. She sighed and forced herself to get to the main topic.
“I didn’t get much at all. I’ll sketch what I did, but I had no idea what I was looking at. You might know. As for the part of the forest, there was no identifying path or trail that I could see. I could hear all kinds of birds. Shabina knows so much about birds, particularly in our area. If she has recordings of birds, if I listened to them, I might be able to tell her which ones they sounded like. She could maybe identify them and also the area for us.”