“I suppose you deserve it.” He got up, came to the side of the bed, leaned over and brushed a kiss to her temple as he trailed a finger down the side of her cheek to her chin.
His touch was barely there, like a whisper, but she felt it all the way through her body, the way she always did whenever Sam touched her. Abruptly he turned and stalked out, moving with his silent grace, reminding her of a panther. She watched him go, nearly mesmerized, until he was out of sight. Even before they were in a relationship, he’d always managed to catch her attention when he moved like that. He would go from being perfectly still to looking as if he were flowing across the ground. He really did disappear into shadows.
Stella leaned down and pulled open the drawer in the nightstand containing her sketchpad and journal. She switched the bedside lamp on dim and began to meticulously recall as much detail as possible from the dream. As always, when she first started, it never felt like she could get enough from the tiny portion the lens of the camera showed her, but when she actually began to draw, and the picture took shape, there was more than she thought.
The grass was long and textured, blues, greens, yellows and reds. It was thick as it ran up a slope and into the trees. The trunks of the trees were round and heavy with saplings struggling to grow in between the larger ones, most faltering, choked out by the heavy brush and towering trees around them. She only had the impression of tall trees; she couldn’t actually see the tops of them. Leaves and needles lay on the ground, and some of the branches she could see were clearly losing the fight with the wind.
It was the strange metal frame she wasn’t familiar with, jutting out from the tree with the grid on it, the two boots resting on it, with just the very edge of camouflage pants showing, that baffled her. She would have to look that up on the internet if Sam didn’t know what she was looking at.
As soon as she finished sketching, she switched to the journal and wrote down as many of the details as she could remember, specifically the birds and insects she heard. Every sound counted. She really hoped Shabina could identify that for her.
Sam placed the hot chocolate on her nightstand. “Gave you whipped cream tonight.”
She picked up the mug. “And chocolate sprinkles.” She flashed him a smile. He was staring down at the drawing. “Do you have any idea what that is?”
“Sure. Hunters use them. They sit up in a tree and wait for deer to come to them. Deer. Elk. Whatever they’re going after. It’s called a tree stand.”
She frowned. “How come I haven’t heard of them?”
“You’re not a hunter.”
“But nearly everyone around here hunts for their food, Sam. They don’t talk about tree stands. How high up are they put in the tree?”
“Anywhere from twelve to thirty feet, maybe. It depends on the amount of cover there is. This time of year might be more difficult to find good cover because the branches are dropping leaves.”
“How does one climb into the tree stand?”
“Hunters use all different methods. Climbing sticks are very popular.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“I’ll show you on the internet. That would be the easiest, but just from the little that you’ve picked up, it looks like he’s definitely going after a hunter.”
“Sam, practically everyone we know is a hunter. That’s how most people get through the winter. You hunt. Denver hunts.” She put her mug down and pressed her hands to her temples, wanting to scream in frustration. “Sonny hunts. Even Griffen. Mary does. Without hunting they can’t feed their families.”
“Those boots look too big to be a woman’s boots,” he replied, calm as always. “We can rule out the women we know who hunt. We can rule out any hunters who aren’t sitting up in a tree stand.”
“How do we know who hunts from tree stands?” Stella wrapped her arms around her middle again, rocking herself back and forth.
“Sweetheart, there’s no reason to get upset this early. We have to outthink him. We have to think of this like a puzzle we’re solving and you’ve already got pieces he doesn’t know we have. He believes he’s clever and no one could possibly be onto him.” Sam retrieved the mug of chocolate and held it out to her. “Drink your chocolate. It always helps you think.”
Stella took the mug from him. “If the person watching us is the same as the one doing the killing, don’t you think he’s watching because he already knows who I am?” She looked up at Sam, the knots in her stomach tightening. “It’s possible I was his trigger. He found out who I was and wanted to pit himself against me.”