Murder at Sunrise Lake

“You must be overheated with all these clothes on. Take them off and wait for me in bed. I’ll just be a minute taking Bailey out.”

That gruffness in his normally gentle voice was the only thing that told her he was as affected by their kiss as she was. That and his hard body pressed so tightly against hers. A little dazed, she nodded up at him.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Mommy, Daddy’s doing the bad thing again.

Stella could see the climbing shoes and gear, ropes and even the edge of a backpack where it lay against a smaller rock. The shoes moved and the base of the boulder came into view. There was an overhang right at the bottom of the granite that seemed to be hollow for a long distance. She immediately knew she had climbed it— or tried to. The reason her memory was so vague was because she’d only gone there once. The boulder had been far too difficult— and high— for her skill set.

She tried to push her memories away and concentrate on what she was seeing. She needed to catalogue every detail, to make certain she got this right. Colors swept up the rock. Reds and dark grays, light yellows and golds, this rock had all the colors of granite with the early morning sun beating down on it. She even caught glimpses of a deep purple in the cracks as the two men paced across the ground, looking upward.

The boulder was very high. When one of them turned slightly and the lens followed that sweep, she caught sight of a second boulder, almost as tall with a jagged top. Both were wide and long. They looked as if they would be a climber’s dream— and nightmare. Neither would be an easy climb, but few boulderers would pass up the chance to work out the problem of ascending to the top in total triumph. Apparently, that was exactly what the victim had been doing— working on his project for some time.

Stella studied what she could see of the base of the boulder. The overhang was extremely severe. A climber would have to be a spider, going upside down and finding a route to take him up and over the ledge to get to what appeared to be a smooth surface. There were cracks and outcroppings, if you just had the patience to find them. The granite wasn’t smooth at all, but had little fingerholds and tiny places the toes of climbing shoes could find to lever one’s body up.

The shadows thrown by the two boulders in the early morning hours indicated these two boulders would be considered “high balls.” She thought they could be at least thirty or forty feet, if not higher. She didn’t want to think that the climber was considering climbing without rope on his own. It was done. There were a lot of climbers who free-climbed. She didn’t like heights and just the thought freaked her out. Now, knowing that the killer intended to murder his friend made climbing the heights and depending on someone else all the worse.

She could see only portions of the rock as the two men began to prepare for the climb. One was climbing, the other belaying from below. Her heart began to pound. Again, there was that feeling of absolute triumph emanating from the killer. The air felt heavy and oppressive to her, a sinister, menacing shroud the killer created with his twisted glee. He was there with a friend. His friend trusted him enough to put his life in his hands, and all the while he plotted to kill him and make it look like an accident. Stella was uncertain how he was going to manage that and not have suspicion fall on him.

She took in every single detail she could of the boulder and the gear before the lens closed and she found herself once more staring at a black screen.

STELLA SAT UP slowly, not even fighting her way out of the nightmare. The moment she lifted her lashes, she was staring into Sam’s eyes. She knew he would be there, sitting across from her in the chair, his gaze steady on her face. Calm. Her anchor. She definitely was falling in love with him. Just seeing him righted her world.

“I got more details. I’ve been there. I know I even tried to climb it once. It was beyond my ability. I never would have gone there alone, so it was with one of my friends. I don’t understand how the killer plans on making this look like an accident without everyone knowing he was involved.”

Her gaze clung to Sam’s. Even though she was getting so much better at handling the nightmares, she needed that first connection with him, and he never failed her. He was always right there. She glanced at the large crate where Bailey was curled up, his gaze trained on her alertly. He was as devoted as ever. The terrible attack hadn’t in any way diminished their relationship. She had so much to be thankful for. These two and her friends.