Murder at Sunrise Lake

She didn’t want to relive those moments again, under the cold water when she thought Sam was drowning and that dark sinister figure had loomed large, rocketing toward her so fast she had nearly somersaulted backward. He had been gone before she’d had time to think.

“Why didn’t he try to kill me, Griffen?” She sat up straighter, frowning. “It wouldn’t have been that difficult. He had on scuba gear. He could have held me underwater.”

“I wasn’t unconscious.” Sam provided an answer. “I’d pulled my knife from my belt. Granted, I was slow, maybe a little disoriented from the blow to my head, but I was aware of the attack and him going after you.”

She hadn’t even seen the knife in Sam’s fist. Now that she tried to pull up details, she realized it was Sam who was really the one dragging her out of the water, more than her dragging him out.

“I guess I wasn’t all that heroic.” She sent Griffen a little grin and wrapped her hands around her to-go mug. “I hadn’t had my coffee yet or I would have been much sharper.”

Griffen spent a few more minutes with them and then left to organize a search for the assailant. Local volunteers were used to coming together to help law enforcement when needed for various tasks. In this case, they would work in pairs, both on and off the water, searching for anyone who might have seen anything that would lead to the identification of the assailant.

HARLOW ARRIVED AT the campsite to take a look at the knot on the back of Sam’s head. “Vienna is helping Griffen send all the volunteers out. Denver and Bruce are really upset that they weren’t here. Denver says he was supposed to be fishing with you this morning, Sam, but he was a little hungover. He set out to come but had to stop several times because he was sick.” She tried not to laugh as she said it. Everyone knew Denver wasn’t at his best if he drank too much.

She had a little first-aid kit with her, which she opened and handed to Sam. “Naturally, the two of you would just be sitting here as if nothing happened, drinking coffee. Does anything faze you, Sam?”

“If Stella doesn’t get her coffee in the morning.”

There was a brief silence. Harlow looked up from where she was gently moving her fingers around the swelling at the back of Sam’s head. “Did you just make a joke? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you make a joke.”

“It isn’t a joke if Stella doesn’t have coffee.”

“That’s so true,” Harlow agreed.

“I’m right here, in case anyone hasn’t noticed,” Stella pointed out. “Sheesh. A little crack on the head and Sam thinks he’s a comedian.”

“I’ve always been funny,” Sam said without a change of expression. “It didn’t take a knock on my head to make me that way.”

Harlow burst out laughing. She shook her head. “I had no idea. I can’t wait to tell Vienna. The mere idea that Sam can crack a joke is going to slay her.”

“Don’t encourage him, Harlow.” Stella put her head back and looked up at the drifting clouds. It was good to be alive. “And Vienna doesn’t even have good sense. She’s a cat person.”

That made Harlow laugh more. “What does that mean? Cats have way more sense than dogs do. Bailey would have jumped into that cold water to save your ass and so would my silly little beagle, Misha. Vienna’s cat, however, would have turned her nose up in pure disdain. She would have known better.”

“She’s got a point,” Sam said. “Bailey would have.”

Bailey lifted his head and looked up at Stella with his brown eyes. She scratched behind his ears. “Because you’re so loyal, right, boy? You would have saved me. That cat of Vienna’s would have let her drown.”

“Are you talking baby talk to that huge animal?” Harlow demanded. “Isn’t he supposed to be some badass protection dog?”

“I don’t talk baby talk to my dog,” Stella denied. She did, all the time.

“She does,” Sam confirmed, and reached out to take her hand right in front of Harlow.

His hand was warm. His fingers strong. Whatever Harlow was going to say was cut off mid-sentence when she saw him take Stella’s hand. It was the first time Sam had actually made any kind of real public claim on her, if one could call hand-holding a public claim. Sam didn’t seem the type of man to hold hands. He was just too reserved for any kind of public acknowledgments or displays of affection.

Harlow bent her head closer to Sam’s wound. “This isn’t as bad as it could have been. Head wounds tend to bleed a lot and make things seem far worse than they are. Do you have blurred vision?”

“No. A bit of a headache at the back of my head where the knot is. It’s centered right there. More of a throbbing, like I can feel my heartbeat there.”