Page 27 of Deadly Storms (Sunrise Lake #3)

Shabina had very few days off that she kept strictly for herself. Usually, when she did have them, she was in Yosemite searching for birds. She wanted to find a way to relax, and she doubted being in the environment where the murder had taken place would allow her to do that.

She hadn’t gotten much sleep again, and her increasing anxiety had been conveyed to her dogs.

They were restless, patrolling the entire house continually, going to the windows, insisting on being let outside to patrol.

She was reluctant to let them, afraid if someone was watching, they might take the opportunity to hurt or kill her dogs.

Her Dobermans had been trained never to touch food anyone had tossed into the yard.

If someone attempted to bribe them with food, that stranger would be met with a full-on attack.

She wasn’t worried about poison, more like a bullet.

Bailey, Stella’s Airedale cross, had been attacked and stabbed repeatedly with a knife.

She would never forget that night of waiting at the vet’s, anxious to hear Bailey would live.

She couldn’t imagine if that had been one of her dogs.

Her favorite early morning run was along the Knightly Creek Canal.

She started the nearly four-mile run where the scenery was the most beautiful.

Very large deciduous trees lined one side of the canal with beautiful panoramic views of the Sierra Nevada mountains in the distance.

The scenery was breathtaking, and she never got tired of it.

Great blue herons with sticklike legs walked in the water, hunting for fish or frogs.

They were majestic birds, standing around four or four and a half feet tall, but she knew they had hollow bones and weighed no more than five or six pounds.

These beautiful birds could fly up to thirty miles an hour.

Her dogs knew better than to go near the canal when the birds were in it.

They ran beside her or just ahead or behind her on the dirt road.

After crossing a cattle guard, the terrain changed to grass and wildflowers.

The grass was a mixture of brown, yellow and green stalks interspersed with brightly colored flowers.

Occasionally a cow lay in the field close to the road, and a few others grazed in the grass.

Again, the dogs paid no attention to the cows but stayed close to her as she ran.

She left the canal to follow a gravel road along the lane and kept running until she hit the four-way junction.

She made a left turn, looping back along the dirt road following a small waterway ditch.

Brush and grass grew in abundance along the ditch.

At times she lengthened her stride here to pick up the pace, but Malik suddenly spun away from the ditch toward the brush.

Morza went on full alert, matching his pace to hers exactly, as if his body could absorb any attack coming at her.

Sharif aimed his body across hers to block her progress, and she halted immediately, taking a long, slow look around her, one hand sliding into the pack at her waist, fingers curling around the familiar butt of her gun.

“What is it, Malik?” she asked softly.

Releasing the safety, she kept her weapon in close, moving within the center formed between Sharif and Morza as she approached the third Doberman.

He stood over a large bush, his teeth bared, hackles up.

She moved closer, half expecting to see a snake, although her dogs generally didn’t react to any form of wildlife unless it was a direct threat to her.

As she got closer, she could see a few of the leaves and thin branches of the bush had a dusting of what appeared to be various spices.

She crouched down to smell them. Black lime, cardamon, saffron.

Her heart began to pound as she caught sight of the torn packages.

She bought many of her spices directly from a spice souk in Saudi Arabia.

When she couldn’t get what she wanted directly because of restrictions on shipping, she knew of a store in the States owned by a family from Saudi Arabia who somehow were able to get very high-end spices.

She caught sight of one date stuck to a leaf toward the center of the bush. An Ajwa date from Saudi Arabia, which she considered one of the best dates in the world. She purchased the dates from that same shop in order to make the cookies she served with the Arabic coffee.

This wasn’t a coincidence. Someone had broken into the café and gotten into her kitchen—unless…

Her thinking trailed off. She didn’t want to believe that anyone working for her would betray her.

Would they help Bale? Or Sean? Many of the women in town had really fallen for Sean, and the newer, younger waitresses flirted with him.

If he asked them to get a little of her spices and a date or two, would they think it was harmless?

If another murder occurred and the spices and dates coming straight out of her kitchen were found on the altar, she was in real trouble. There was no way for anyone, not even Raine, to save her from being arrested. She backed away from the bush. She wasn’t touching it.

Calling the dogs to her, she flipped the safety on, shoved her gun back into her pack and began to run along the dirt road looping back toward the canal.

She forced her mind away from panic and attempted to sort through the possibilities.

Bale? Or Scorpion? Those were her two main suspects.

She just couldn’t wrap her head around the senseless murder of an innocent man to frame her, not from either of them.

Nothing Scorpion had done made the least bit of sense to her.

As far as she was concerned, he wasn’t merely a serial killer, he was a mass murderer.

He just hadn’t been caught at it. If his government knew he was the one raiding and killing, they chose to turn a blind eye because he was a diplomat.

That didn’t make sense either, not when he could cause an international incident.

And truthfully, she didn’t know if Scorpion was who Raine said the government suspected.

She didn’t understand why they hadn’t arrested him if they thought he’d committed such heinous crimes.

She’d been a teenager when she had been rescued, and the truth was, she knew very little about Scorpion’s life.

Raine had said her people didn’t know for certain who he was, but that wasn’t necessarily the truth.

Shabina understood classified. She also understood that under the cloak of diplomatic immunity he was protected.

Once back at her car, she loaded the dogs and drove straight home.

It had always been a sanctuary for her, much like the Sierra.

Now she felt vulnerable. Her café wasn’t safe either.

She knew she needed to ask Raine to check the security feed at the café.

She didn’t know if she was becoming more paranoid by the minute or if the danger to her was real.

Would the conspiracy to implicate her include members of her own staff?

She was absolutely positive the spices and date had come from her supplies at the café.

To her horror, Bale’s car was parked in front of her gate. He had the engine running, but the moment she drove up, he leapt out of the driver’s seat and approached.

She gave the command to alert the three dogs and once again pulled her favorite pistol with the cherrywood handle and dropped her hand out of sight, but where she could easily bring it up to defend herself.

“Bale,” she greeted.

Studying him, she realized he appeared as if he’d been in a physical altercation. There was swelling around his jaw and under one eye. The knuckles on both hands were scraped and swollen. He definitely had been in a fight.

“What did you think you were doing yesterday?” he demanded. His eyes were filled with hate, with malice. “If you think you can turn my friends against me, you’re wrong, you little bitch.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Bale. I gave my regular tour. I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary.”

He stepped closer to the car and all three dogs gave a low warning growl.

“Step back,” she advised.

“Don’t you ever tell me what to do. I’m not afraid of those mangy mutts.

I’ve told you that before.” He lifted two fingers as if he had a gun, aimed them at each dog and acted like he was shooting each one in the head.

“That simple. They’re gone. You’re going to be running along the canal, opening your café or hiking a trail and all three will be dead in a matter of seconds. ”

A chill went down her spine. He meant it. She heard the resolve in his voice. First, he had threatened to burn her café down with her inside it, now he was admitting he planned on killing her dogs.

“I don’t understand why you hate me so much, Bale. What is it that I did to you?” She knew better than to engage him in conversation. The more he talked to her, the angrier he seemed to get. Just looking at her provoked him.

“You’re one of those high-and-mighty bitches that think the world revolves around them.

Look at this place.” His arm swept wildly around to encompass the high fence and gates protecting her home.

“Keeping the riffraff out. Everyone you look down your nose at.” His voice got louder.

Spittle burst from his mouth along with his accusations.

“Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, spending Daddy’s money and teasing men with your face and body because you think you can get away with it. ”