Murder at Sunrise Lake

“I have no problem with that.” Having a serial killer around was enough for her to contend with.

Zahra inserted herself between the bar and Stella’s barstool. “What are the two of you whispering about? Sam’s looking very serious and dictatorial.”

Stella studied his expression carefully. “You could be right, Zahra.”

Sam’s eyebrow shot up. “I look dictatorial? What do you mean by that, Zahra?”

“I mean exactly what it sounds like, Sam, that you look like you have a tendency to tell people what to do in a tyrannical way.” Zahra gave him her impish smile. “Fortunately, you never speak, so you can’t actually be bossing Stella around. You just look like you are.”

“That is fortunate,” Sam murmured.

Harlow draped herself over Stella’s shoulder. “You three are looking cozy over here. Stella, you’re not drinking your mojito.”

“It’s all yours.” Stella indicated the drink. “I think my beloved coffee will do today. It always feels so weird drinking alcohol at lunch.”

Harlow picked up the drink and took a healthy swallow. Zahra watched her, a little frown on her face. She suddenly reached out and took the glass from Harlow.

“Babe, what’s wrong? You don’t drink in the afternoon either. Not like this. Do you want to go to a table?”

Harlow looked stricken. “I’m just upset for you. Worried. I don’t know what to think. Have you been following the news? The war started up again between Azerbaijan and Armenia for that strip of land.”

“The president signed a deal to stop the fighting,” Zahra said.

Harlow nodded. “That’s exactly right. He did. And I asked some of my sources to dig a little deeper just to make certain everything was staying calm. It’s been years, but getting you out of the country was difficult, Zahra. That man was so determined that he wouldn’t ever let you go and he’s so high up in the military now. He’s got his own resources. If that conflict is ending and he asks the commanders or president or whoever to give him help, they would, wouldn’t they?”

Stella went very still, watching the color drain from Zahra’s face. She felt Sam’s fingers tighten on the nape of her neck. Suddenly, it seemed as if her entire world was falling apart. In the space of a couple of weeks, the serial killer had turned not only her world but also her friends’ worlds upside down— or at least it felt that way.

“Who is this man, Zahra?” Sam asked.

Zahra shook her head. “It isn’t entirely his fault.” She lifted her long lashes and looked at Harlow. “It isn’t. In our village, which is very small, Ruslan was the son of the village elder. His mother was from a family in Turkey. He had been educated in Russia. His life wasn’t easy. He had a name that although considered perfectly part of Azerbaijani culture, was more Russian culture. And then because he was educated in Russia, some of the elders looked at him as if he might not be completely loyal to us. To make matters worse, he was difficult to read. He had been in a tough school and learned not to show emotion.”

“Zahra, you don’t have to defend him,” Harlow said.

“I’m not, I just want everyone to understand, life is very different where I grew up. Women don’t have passports. We don’t come and go whenever we want. We wear the clothes our fathers and then our husband deem respectable. Marriages are arranged. It is very rare for a couple to fall in love first, at least in the village where I grew up.”

“Is it easier for the men? Do they have a say in who they want to marry, or do the elders arrange the marriage?” Sam asked.

“Sometimes they are allowed a say,” Zahra said. “Not always. In this case, I believe Ruslan went to his father and asked for me. His father, as head of the village, could demand any unmarried woman for his son. It would be idiocy to refuse him.”

“But you don’t know for certain if this Ruslan went to his father or if his father insisted,” Sam persisted.

Zahra shook her head. “I have no real way of knowing. I woke up one morning during a break from my college classes to my father suddenly telling me that I was no longer going to school and that I was to be covered from head to toe always if I went out of the house. When I protested, he became quite violent. It was shocking and unexpected, to say the least.”

For a moment she looked as if she might cry, but she pushed back her hair and lifted her chin. “That’s when he told me I was to marry Ruslan Islamov and he wanted me to be covered at all times, to learn my place as his wife. My father said Ruslan told him it was his duty to teach me my place, that I was running around in improper clothes, speaking my mind and acting like a whore. Ruslan told my father I was shaming my family.” She looked down at her hands.