Christine Feehan

Unedited First Chapter

Harlow Frye curled up in her favorite swing chair on her front porch.  She’d purchased the property for just these moments, when her day had gone to absolute hell and she needed to find balance and serenity again.

From her porch she had a view of the Sierra with all its majesty, one of the best she could have without going backpacking or hiking.  She’d been lucky to find her own little piece of paradise.  She really needed the peace this evening for a number of reasons.

She bought the house for the studio and the amazing wraparound porch with the extraordinary views of the majestic mountains.  The inside of the house had needed to be renovated, but she’d taken her time and modernized, upgrading each room to her satisfaction.  Her home was her sanctuary and she treated it that way.

She had the eye of an artist.  A photographer.  She was a little on the obsessive-compulsive side when it came to her home. If she was honest, she was that way with just about everything.  It made her a good surgical and trauma nurse.  It also made her an excellent photographer as well as potter.

On two sides of her property, her house was surrounded by woods.  Aspens, pine, oak, and fir made up her mini-forest.  She owned twenty acres, and a good fifteen of those acres were forest.  Almost daily, she walked in those woods.  Her trusty little beagle, Misha, loved the walks in the forest.  Other than running along the canal, it was her canine family member’s favorite thing to do.  Harlow tended to run along the canal every day.  She had her own private workout room and spent a couple of hours not only stretching and doing strength training, but also kick-boxing.  As an exercise it was really quite invigorating as well as useful.

Most evenings, her porch swing was her favorite place to be.  She would scrub her face, pull her flaming red hair into the classic messy knot on top of her head, put on her most comfortable leggings and whatever top the weather required.  She had a tendency to curl her long legs under her and sip at a glass of white wine, often reading a book.  The last few days at work had been particularly grueling, and she just wanted to enjoy the peace of home and the beauty of the distant mountains.

Harlow worked as a surgical nurse and often took extra shifts in the ER.  Their hospital had a trauma unit thanks to the incredible fundraising Zahra Metcalf did on the hospital’s behalf.  Also, Vienna Mortenson donated a tremendous amount of money from her gambling wins.  Often times, whatever Vienna donated, Giselle Gentry, a woman belonging to one of the founding families of Knightly had matched Vienna’s funds.

Their community was tight-knit and very supportive of their hospital.  Thanks to Zahra, and Vienna, both close friends of Harlow, the hospital could offer doctors, nurses and staff a good wage.  Because they could, they were able to attract excellent personnel for their hospital, consequently making it one of the best and busiest in several counties, although small.
The day had been horrendous at work.  Harlow had lost a good friend, a man she respected.  Lawyer Collins had been one of the first people she’d met when she moved to Knightly.  He’d set up her security system around her property.  He’d always been easy-going and friendly.  He’d even asked her out a couple of times, but Harlow preferred not to date, especially someone she had made friends with…and she genuinely liked Lawyer, which couldn’t be said of most men she’d met.

The worst part of his death was that the doctors couldn’t find the cause.  He’d seemed to have had a reaction to something, an insect or plant.  Something toxic for certain.  There was talk about bringing in infectious disease experts.  Every spare minute she had, she sat by his side, whispering encouragement, sponging the sweat from his body, doing everything she could to keep him comfortable, but early that morning, he had succumbed to the terrible unknown pathogen.

The leaves were beginning to turn color creating a magnificent photograph in her mind.  Spring was giving way to summer, but slowly, as if unveiling a lush landscape painted by a master.  Spring had brought unusual amounts of rain, turning every meadow into a riot of color.  The wildflowers grew in abundance on every conceivable ground surface.  Even now, in late spring, flowers were everywhere, their colors adding to the striking shades of green from the trees and brush.

Looking at the beauty that always brought her peace should have settled the churning in her stomach, the knots that refused to go away.  Or the ominous feeling she couldn’t rid herself of.  A storm was brewing, it might be in the distance, but it was coming toward Knightly—or maybe it was already here.  She couldn’t shake the feeling that the peace they had throughout this last year was about to be shattered.

The year before, one of her best friends, Shabina Ashcroft, originally Foster, had been set up to take the fall for a series of murders.  Worse, she had been slowly maneuvered into a severe PTSD episode that nearly took her life.  Thankfully, Rainier Ashcroft had arrived on the scene, and no one ever went against Rainier and survived intact.  He had worked for the Special Activities Division in the CIA for years and now owned a security company made up of men who had also worked in that division.  He was a force to be reckoned with and Harlow loved that Shabina had his protection.

Rainier stayed away from most people, but those he considered family were under that umbrella of protection, just as Shabina was.  That meant Shabina’s closest friends, Harlow included, were looked after by him.  Honestly, that could be a pain in the neck.  Rainier tended to be the kind of man who gave orders and expected everyone to follow them—and they did.  This last year, as quiet and peaceful as it was, had made that trait in him difficult, but she had to admit, with the ominous feeling growing stronger every day, Harlow was grateful to have him.

As if losing Lawyer wasn’t bad enough, Harlow’s father, a U.S. senator, had come under suspicion in the disappearance of a very young woman.  Harlow hadn’t had anything to do with her father in years.  He was one of the reasons she had moved to Knightly, to be far from him and the media.  Now, her family was back in the spotlight, which meant reporters were calling continuously.  Things were stacking up, one after another, to bring about a terrible storm, the last thing Knightly and its inhabitants needed.  The last thing she needed.

********************************************************

Two weeks later, Harlow sat at the back table in the Sunrise Café, her favorite place to eat, and where she normally met with her best friends.  Shabina Ashcroft owned the café with her husband, Rainier, although Rainier liked to refer to himself as a silent partner.  Personally, Harlow didn’t think there was anything silent about Rainier, other than his walk.  He could enter a room and take command.  He didn’t need words.  Just his presence, one piercing stare from him said it all.

Harlow looked around the table at the faces of her friends.  These five women were more like family to her than friends.  Over the years, she had learned she could count on them no matter what the circumstances.  They had proved themselves to one another over and over.  That was more than her family had ever done.

Stella Harrington Rossi sat directly across from her.  Stella had called the meeting. If the six friends had a center, Stella was it.  She had brought them all together, first with climbing the boulders, so famous in the Knightly area, and then by inviting them to go dancing at the Grill.  Stella was a powerhouse in Knightly.  She had saved a resort, turning it into a fishing mecca, where fishermen came from all over to compete in tournaments.  That had helped every business in the town of Knightly.  She owned a second resort, higher up the mountain, devoted to skiers.  The love of her life was Sam Rossi.  Sam had worked for the Division of Special Activities at the CIA as had Rainier, Shabina’s husband, and Zale Vizzini, Vienna’s fiancé. 

Sam had come to Yosemite to find peace.  Two years before his marriage to Stella, he’d become part of their circle of friends, always volunteering to be their sober driver.  Stella hired Sam as a handyman when she first took over the resort.  He was excellent at just about anything to do with motors or carpentry.  They were a good fit.  All the friends had come to love Sam like a brother, and he treated them as family.  She was also certain that Sam knew about her parents and the shame she felt.  As was his way, he didn’t say much, but he was watchful, and she knew if she wanted to talk to him, he would listen.  She hadn’t said much about her family to the others, not the really bad things, but she intended to.  They knew about the Senator’s penchant for young teens, but not the ordeal that had been her childhood, or the suspicions she had when other teens had disappeared.

“Where’s Shabina?” she asked.  She looked around the café.

Shabina was gorgeous.  Her mother was from Saudi Arabia and her father, from Houston, was legendary for putting out oil fires around the world.  Shabina had inherited her silky skin and gorgeous eyes from her mother.  She wore her thick black hair in a long braid she normally wrapped in some intricate knot.

“In the kitchen at the moment,” Stella answered.  She sighed and pushed her hands through her unique platinum-colored hair, something she’d inherited from her Finnish grandparents along with her crystal-blue eyes.  “I swear that woman never stops working.  She works as hard or harder than her employees.”

It was the truth.  Shabina loved the café, and she had turned it into a major success.  She was an amazing chef.  The café had a reputation far and wide.  Shabina wasn’t sitting with them because she ran her café and did most of the cooking as well as waiting tables when needed. 

Rainier told her nearly everything.  He only kept her in the dark when he was going on a mission.  Even then, if she asked, he would probably tell her whatever she wanted to know.  Rainier might be the most intimidating man Harlow had ever met, but he wasn’t that way with Shabina.  He couldn’t even look at her without his eyes softening to a look of absolute love. 

Harlow wanted someone to love her the way Rainier loved Shabina.  She didn’t believe it was possible.  If by some miracle someone fell that deeply in love with her, she wouldn’t know what to do.  Her parents certainly weren’t a blueprint for a successful relationship.  Still, she dreamed. or fantasized, especially when Hawk Wilder was around.  She had no idea why he appealed to her, but she was seriously obsessed with him.  She couldn’t see other men—only Wilder.  She recognized how unhealthy her fantasies about him were, but she gave herself permission to have them, after all, he was rarely around.  He worked in the Special Activities Division of the CIA and was very close friends with Rainier, Sam, and Zale.
Raine O’Mallory sat in her usual chair at the end of the table.  She was never without her laptop.  She had a walking cane hooked to the table and relied on it far more than she wanted any of them to know.  Raine had been shot and nearly lost her leg when a casino owner had hired men to kill Vienna.  Harlow knew she was still fighting to come back from the horrific injury.  She had metal rods, pins, and plates in her leg, and more than once infection had set in.  Raine had been an incredible athlete.  She had done physical therapy for over a year, and she’d really applied herself, maybe a little too much.  She could walk with a cane, but she wasn’t climbing, one of her greatest loves, and that told Harlow a lot about the injury.

Harlow admired the fact that Raine insisted on her independence and lived in her home with her Jack Russell terrier, Daisy.  Raine had lived a life of extremes, traveling around the world hiking everything from the John Muir Trail to the Alps. She parasailed and went into ice caves.  And she did it solo.  There wasn’t much in the way of adventures that she hadn’t tried.

She was incredibly brilliant and worked as an analyst.  It was clear to Harlow and the rest of her friends that Raine’s job was very important to the government, and she had an extremely high clearance.  Many times, a helicopter had been sent for her, and she would be gone for days or even weeks.  She took Daisy with her, and no one ever seemed to object.  In fact, when Raine asked for something, she was given it immediately.

Lately, Harlow had been concerned for her.  Raine seemed very tired and withdrawn.  Because she was in the medical field and very astute when it came to her patients, Harlow had observed that Raine’s leg was still painful.  That had to be worrisome to Raine. 

“Everything all right?” Vienna greeted her.  Vienna was engaged to Zale Vizzini, a man working in the same field Rainier and Sam had been in.

Did it show that she was stressed?  Harlow was a woman used to not showing her emotions.  She’d grown up in a political family right in front of the press.  She was a surgical and trauma nurse.  She was definitely slipping if Vienna could see she was uneasy.

Harlow shrugged, trying to appear casual.  “The senator just won’t stay out of the headlines.  He’s so certain he’s powerful enough to get out of the charges and remain in office.  As you and the rest of the world know, he’s under investigation for the disappearance of an underage girl.”

“I’m so sorry, Harlow,” Raine said.  “This must be so difficult for you.”

“My parents have always been difficult.  My mother is insisting they come here.  She wants the senator out of the spotlight.  He loves the spotlight.  Even if I allowed them to be here, which I would not, the senator would have as many reporters as possible following him.  I think he’s behind her pushing to come to my home.  He always goes back to how perfect our image as a wholesome family is.  He thinks that buys him the conservatives.”

“You’ve always known what he’s like, Harlow,” Vienna said, her voice gentle.  “That’s why you ended up in Knightly in the first place.”

Raine reached out and laid her hand over Harlow’s.  “It isn’t the same, Vienna.  We knew about her father because she confided in us.  Now the entire world knows.”

Harlow nodded.  “Raine’s right, Vienna.  I despise that everyone knows about him, but it’s a good thing.  I don’t know how many lives he’s destroyed, so it’s good that he’s at least being investigated.”  Faint color rose in her face, and she couldn’t help sending a quick look toward Zahra to see her reaction.

Zahra Metcalf was the current administrator of the hospital, and she ran it very efficiently.  She had been raised in a small village in Azerbaijan.  Her parents had allowed her to go to school and then sent her to college, where she met Harlow.  When she returned on her break, everything was different.  Zahra’s parents had arranged a marriage for her, a common practice in her small village. 

Ruslan Islamov was a very powerful man in the village.  He insisted Zahra no longer attend college, and she was to be appropriately covered from head to toe.  Harlow had been visiting her family with her, and she arranged for Zahra to escape.  That meant Zahra could never return home.  Never see her family again.  Harlow had taken her home, and the senator had attacked her.  Fortunately, Harlow heard Zahra’s cries for help and had intervened.  Harlow’s mother helped Zahra stay in the country and then become a citizen.  Zahra had never once acted as if she blamed her.  If anything, she always acted grateful to her. That didn’t lessen the humiliation that her father had nearly raped her friend. 

Harlow cleared her throat.  “I don’t think the senator will be able to weasel out of this one, but it sucks that everyone is talking about it.  I can’t tell you how many times reporters have tried to contact me.” 

“In person?” Raine asked.  “If so, Harlow, we’ll have to hire security.”

“You’re beginning to sound like Rainier.  That’s his answer for everything.”  Harlow managed a faint smile. 

“Unfortunately for us, Rainier is right most of the time,” Raine stated gently.

Harlow rubbed her left eyebrow.  Her head was beginning to hurt. “I used to get these vicious headaches all the time.  They began when I was ten and found out that I wasn’t my father’s firstborn.  My parents had hired a young girl to work for them.  She was fifteen or sixteen and here illegally.  Naturally, my father had taken advantage of her and gotten her pregnant.  Did my mother leave him?  No, she helped him by trying to force the girl to give up her baby so they could adopt it.  When she refused, they sent that sixteen-year-old pregnant teenager back across the border.”

“You have a sibling?” Vienna asked.

Harlow nodded.  “At least I’d like to think he’s alive.  My mother said the baby was a boy.  They didn’t have any idea where the child was or even if he lived.  Or if the teenager lived through the birth.  They didn’t care what she was going back to.  They simply rid themselves of the inconvenience.”  She rubbed her eyebrow again.  “The headaches have come back with a vengeance.”

“I’m so sorry, Harlow,” Raine reiterated.  “I don’t think it would be such a bad thing to let Rainier handle the security.  It’s his field of expertise.  And there have been death threats made, not just against your father and mother but against you as well.  Extra eyes watching out can’t hurt.”

Harlow sat up straighter in alarm, not at the threats; she had grown up in a political family.  It wasn’t the first time and she considered herself very safe in Knightly.  But she didn’t want Sam, Zale or Rainier to know.  If the men in their circle knew the truth, they’d make her life hell.  “How did you know I’d received death threats?  Surely the military isn’t monitoring my mail.  Because most of the threats had been delivered through mail.”

“Most?” Vienna echoed.  “Harlow, how many threats have you gotten?”

Harlow again shrugged casually.  “I often get them for various reasons.  I’ve even had them from families or friends of patients that didn’t make it.”
Vienna stared at her in horror.  “No way.”

Harlow nodded.  “Most recently, after Lawyer Collins died, I received a couple of threats in the mailbox.  Not exactly threats,” she hedged.  “Just unpleasant.”

“Why in the world would anyone target you over Lawyer’s death?” Stella asked.  She sounded outraged.  “You and Lawyer were good friends.”

Harlow sighed and rubbed at temple.  “He asked me out a couple of times.”

Raine’s delicate eyebrow arched.  “A couple of times?  Everyone in town knew he had a thing for you, Harlow.”

“I feel a little guilty that I couldn’t reciprocate his feelings,” she admitted.  “But when he was so ill, he was conscious part of the time and knew I was there.”  She hadn’t left his side, trying everything possible to save him.  At the very least, she felt she brought some peace to him.

“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?”

“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 anymore.  You know that’s not normal.”

“It’s normal for me.  And not all of them are death threats.  Just hate mail.”

“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 timeframe 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 likeable 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 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 conceivable 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 of 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.

More and more, Harlow found herself having a difficult time understanding human nature.  It didn’t make sense to her that someone like Raine would be ostracized by her family.  But then every single one of her friends, like her, had a reason for living in the Sierra.  The mountains were a place of peace for them.  It had been a deliberate choice to form their own family and she felt lucky to be included with the women and their spouses.

Raine frowned in concentration as she contemplated the question of whether the person targeting agents would be considered a serial killer.  “Technically, I suppose he would be if he plans several murders and carries them out.  A serial killer typically plans and carries out more than two murders.  Each victim is separate from the others with a cooling-off period between.  Most serial killers are driven by the psychological thrill or derive pleasure from the kills.  Someone setting up agents to die, but not doing the actual killing, might not come under that same heading.”

“He’d most likely be motivated by money,” Harlow murmured under her breath.  People did horrible things for money.

Zahra shoved food around her plate with her fork.  “Would Zale or Rainier be described as a serial killer?  They’ve had to kill many times.”

Harlow’s gut tightened in instant rejection.  What would that make Wilder?  She shook her head.  “Absolutely not.  Do you have any idea how much good they’ve done?”  She was a little embarrassed by her outburst and once more turned her attention to the food on her plate.

“What is it, Harlow?” Raine asked, her voice gentle.  “Tell us.”

Harlow was used to remaining silent.  She’d talked about her life with the senator and her mother, but was always careful to keep any details to herself.  She pushed back against the seat, her eyes meeting Stella’s.  “Is it possible you’re able to feel a serial killer through me?”

“You?” Stella’s eyebrows shot up.  “Are you thinking of Wilder?”

“Of course not,” she was a little shocked at the suggestion. “Wilder’s like Zale and Rainier.  He works for the government and believes he’s saving lives.  In any case, I’m not really around him that much.  It isn’t like he hangs out with me.”  She might wish he did, but she had no idea what she’d do with him if he did.  She wasn’t a woman to have relationships.  She knew she would sabotage it.  She just didn’t trust and she had every reason not to.

The women exchanged long looks.  “Seriously, Harlow?  When he does work for Rainier, he always manages to be wherever you are,” Zahra pointed out.

“Harlow,” Raine interrupted, keeping them on track.  “Who do you think Stella could be feeling through you?”

Harlow dropped her hands below the table to twist her fingers together.  What she was about to voice would be considered the worst of betrayals in her family.  “It’s entirely possible my father is a serial killer.”

There was an astonished silence.  Vienna shook her head.  “Why would you think that, Harlow?”

Raine sent Vienna a quelling look.  “I understand why you might be considering that Stella is having nightmares because she’s close to you.  Has she met your father?”

“Thankfully, no.”

“You wouldn’t accuse your father of such a thing if you didn’t have good reason,” Raine continued.

She fell silent, pressing her hand tightly against the hard knots forming there.  She couldn’t even look at Zahra.  Zahra had never said one word to the other women about what Harlow’s father had done to her.  She had always been friendly and acted grateful to Harlow for rescuing her, but Harlow had felt so much shame.  Sometimes it was difficult to even look at her.  Remembering.  Her father had attacked Zahra, believing she wouldn’t say a word even to Harlow.  To Harlow, he was a monster and always would be.

She needed to tell them and she did, not looking at her friend.  “The senator has always believed he had to the right to any girl of his choosing.  He prefers teenagers.  He uses force and if there are any repercussions, they disappear.  I found out he shoved them over the border in the middle of the night, but with this woman missing, the one he’s under investigation for, it’s possible he made them disappear permanently.”

“My father was a proven serial killer,” Stella said very gently.  “You know that.  If your father is, it has nothing to do with you.”

Harlow sighed.  “Stella, you changed your name.  Your entire life.  You came here to start over, where no one knew who you were.  You know as well as I do that the taint would follow you forever if you hadn’t done that.  My father is a senator.  He wants to make a bid for the presidency.  Until all this came out, he had a very good chance of succeeding.  Everyone knows his name.  He loves the spotlight and spends every moment basking in it as often as possible.  Worse, for me, he used his family to get where he is, touting American family values.  You’ve never met him, but you know me.  Maybe you’re feeling his crimes through me.”

“It’s possible,” Stella said reluctantly.  “I just know the nightmares aren’t letting up.  But even if that’s what I’m feeling, your father can’t possibly be responsible for deaths here. If it isn’t a serial killer, what’s happening?”

Raine was silent, studying the information she pulled up in her laptop while the others sipped at tea and ate scones.

“If I look into deaths during that first time period, two months ago, only three were recorded.  There was a car crash, the vehicle forced off the road and the two men in it died.  Drugs were found in the car.  By that I mean they were transporting a ton of powder.  It’s likely they were chased, there were bullet holes in the car, but before anyone could retrieve the drugs, if that was why they were forced off the road, the sheriff showed up.”

Stella shook her head.  “That doesn’t sound like a serial killer, although I suppose it could be.  It sounds more like a drug deal gone wrong.”

“The third death, and we all know her, was Giselle Gentry.  She owned half the real estate in Knightly and was on every board she could sit on.  But she was seventy-six and had a live in caretaker.  She fell and hit her head.  It didn’t appear to be foul play.”

“That doesn’t fit either,” Stella said, “although it appeared to be an accident.”

“The only thing of note in the M.E.’s report was that a possible explanation was that she was bitten by something she was allergic to and went into anaphylactic shock and fell.  It was the fall that killed her.”

Harlow frowned.  “Lawyer was bitten by something but we couldn’t identify what it was.”

“That doesn’t sound like a serial killer,” Stella said.  She shrugged.  “I honestly have no idea.”

There was nothing more to discuss on the subject; they simply didn’t have enough information, so the talk turned to other more pleasant things—their pets.

Instead of easing the tension in her, Harlow felt more than ever that a huge storm was brewing and she and her friends were going to be caught right in the middle of it.