Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 122440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 612(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 612(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
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 mean that Wilder was a 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 fear. “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. Her natural strawberry-blonde hair had darkened to a fiery red, as it did every winter. 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. Raine’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, 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.