Excerpt, Twisted Road #3
“I still find it difficult to believe he’s gone,” Vienna admitted. “But if you stayed with him and worked hard to save him, who would be upset with you that you didn’t?”
“Lawyer had a lot of friends. He was very well-liked and with good reason. He was a very good man,” Harlow said.
“That tells us nothing,” Vienna pointed out. “Do you have any idea who threatened you because Lawyer died?”
“The letter was in my mailbox. The usual idiotic threatening words cut from magazines. It sounded like the person was a close friend of his and blamed me for not doing my job.”
She had been upset that anyone would think she wouldn’t give her best to any patient, let alone one she cared so much about. She knew who had sent the letters but she wasn’t going to open that particular can of worms. Maybe another time.
“But you didn’t tell Rainier,” Raine protested.
“He would make a huge deal of it. In any case, I just found that one in my mailbox yesterday. It isn’t the first and won’t be the last.”
“You’re so used to death threats,” Raine said, “you don’t even get alarmed at them. You know that’s not normal, don’t you?”
“It’s normal for me. And not all of them are death threats. Just hate mail.”
Stella, who had been uncharacteristically silent, drummed her fingers on the table and then cleared her throat.
If the six girls had a heart, it was Stella.
She had brought the women together, and they’d formed a tight bond, much like a family.
Stella owned two very successful resorts, one a fishing venue and the other spot mostly for high-end clients who loved Yosemite and skiing.
She was married to Sam Rossi, a man who had once been in the same profession as Rainier, Wilder and Vienna’s fiancé, Zale.
They had known Sam for two years before he and Stella became a couple, and they all loved him and welcomed him into their circle.
Sam seemed as much a part of their circle of friends as all the women.
“I’ve been having strange nightmares,” Stella announced.
Instant alarm skittered down Harlow’s spine.
Stella had a gift, or curse, however one wanted to look at it.
She had, more than once, identified serial killers.
Nightmares tended to precede murders. It had been established that Stella didn’t feel a killer near unless she had come into physical contact with him—or her.
Raine looked up sharply and Vienna gasped. “Serial killer–type nightmares?” Vienna asked.
Stella frowned. “That’s just it, I don’t know. It isn’t like I can see someone actually killing. The dreams are vague and disjointed, but it feels the same.”
“When did you start having them?” Raine asked. She was always practical. Logical. Calm. She opened her laptop.
“The first series started about two months ago, but I didn’t see anyone die.
I had the nightmares several days in a row, just the way I normally do, but then I stopped having them.
Sam did some investigating to see if anyone had died under suspicious circumstances in that time frame, and there wasn’t anyone.
” Stella’s gaze jumped to Raine. “About a week ago I began having the nightmares again. Nothing concrete. No people. Heavy breathing. Shadowy images of a man, but I couldn’t see him.
I just felt how evil he was. I woke up every night for a week, sweating and terrified, but when Sam asked me questions, I couldn’t give him any answers.
The dream was so abstract I couldn’t make sense of it. ”
There was a long silence. Raine’s fingers flew over the keyboard. She frowned and shook her head. “I’m with Sam, Stella. We haven’t had any violent, unexplained deaths in the last two months.”
“What about accidents?” Harlow asked. “Denver made every one of his kills appear to be an accident. Could someone be copying him?” She looked at Raine. “Isn’t that something that happens a lot?”
Large knots formed in Harlow’s stomach. Dr. Denver Dawson, a very likable man, one they had all considered a close friend, had turned out to be a serial killer.
He was extremely clever. Yosemite was a vast playground for him.
When he killed each victim, he made it appear they’d died in an accident.
Each accident was very different from the one before.
Without Stella’s nightmares pointing them in the right direction, he might have gotten away with murder for years.
If Stella was having nightmares, no matter how vague, Harlow feared someone was either already killing or about to start.
“I don’t know about a lot of copycats, but it does happen,” Raine agreed. “What do you think, Stella? You have good instincts. You need to trust them.”
“That’s what Sam says.” Stella drummed her fingers on the tabletop.
“Usually, I can draw what I see in my nightmares. I end up getting quite a few more details when I do that. And I always keep a journal, writing down everything I see, but these nightmares aren’t presenting the way they always have. ”
Raine nodded. “I get that, honey, but your gut must be saying something to you. You aren’t exactly new at this.”
Stella bit down on her bottom lip. “I think someone is either contemplating killing or has done so in the past. I can’t get a reading because I don’t think he’s killing precisely at this moment.
Still…” She hesitated. Sighed. “I could be wrong. It feels like I’m getting it wrong, but nothing else makes sense. ”
A little shiver went down Harlow’s spine.
She leaned across the table, lowering her voice to a mere whisper.
“Do you remember Rainier and Rush saying someone was betraying the agents in Blom’s division?
They’ve been looking for him—or her. Stella, you’re so connected with Sam, is it possible he met the killer, not you, but you’re feeling him through Sam?
” She didn’t want that to be the case because it might be that Wilder was the target.
He was out there somewhere, long gone on some mission for Blom.
She wasn’t supposed to know—no one was—but she’d casually made an inquiry, not just of Wilder but also Rush, another one of the men in Blom’s employ.
The answer had been a shrug, which meant the two men were most likely somewhere doing covert things she didn’t want to know about.
Stella didn’t answer immediately, thinking it over.
She was always very deliberate in her answers, never jumping to conclusions.
“I honestly never thought of that, or that it could be possible. What do all of you think? Vienna? Raine? Zahra? Shabina?” Shabina had quietly joined them some time earlier.
She was so quiet, as was her way, they had barely noticed that she’d joined them.
Raine unconsciously rubbed the top of her thigh as if her leg ached.
Harlow and Vienna exchanged a concerned glance.
Harlow didn’t like that Raine’s leg was still painful.
She’d had well over a year of diligent physical therapy.
She’d been lucky they’d saved the leg, but clearly, there were still problems. Harlow made a note to herself to gently inquire when she was alone with her friend.
Vienna was the first to respond. “It’s possible, Stella.
I wouldn’t have considered it possible for you to feel a serial killer through your husband, but Sam and you are very close.
The two of you are around so many people because of the two resorts, but he’s around many others you’re not because of his previous work. ”
“And his father,” Raine said. “Let’s not forget who Sam’s father is. Being head of a branch of the Mafia is as close to a serial killer as it can get, I would think.”
Harlow had thought the chances were remote that her guess would have any merit, but Vienna made sense.
So did Raine. She hadn’t thought about Sam’s father, Marco Rossi.
He had been a violent man in the past. He’d certainly ordered killings.
He acted as if he was retiring, but so far, no one believed he was.
Stella wasn’t around him that much, but she had met him several times. He’d even been in her house.
“If someone just ordered a killing,” Stella mused, “do you think I would pick up on that if I knew them?”
“It would have to be more than one,” Raine said. “You’ve never had nightmares unless a serial killer was active.”
Harlow forced herself to confess her worst fears. “Could whoever is targeting agents be someone close to Sam?” She looked to Raine for the answer. Raine knew things. “If he’s setting up agents, even if he isn’t the one to kill them, wouldn’t that make him a serial killer?”
Raine had very delicate features, pale skin with freckles and bright, fiery red hair.
There was no mistaking Raine. People underestimated her all the time simply because of her looks.
She was small and on the thin side, but extremely strong from climbing boulders and hiking rough terrain.
She had always been a powerhouse, one they relied on for her calm, steady logic.
When Raine had been shot and the bullet had all but destroyed her leg, Harlow had tracked down her family, who lived in San Francisco, to tell them the dire situation.
Harlow’s brother had told her he didn’t have a sister and to never call them again.
He’d been exceedingly rude and harsh. She’d been filled with sorrow and furious that her friend, the one she knew to be an exceptionally kind and compassionate woman, would be treated as an outcast by her family.
She’d never told Raine or the others what she’d done.
She knew Raine would be embarrassed, and at the time, she was in a terrible situation, so close to losing her leg.