Stella sat back, staring at Zahra in shock. In a hundred years she would never have thought of trying to change her dreams. Not those dreams. She was too shocked by them. Too terrified. “That’s brilliant, not that I know the first thing about cameras or lenses.”
“But you do know how to draw what you see, and Harlow knows a lot about photography. She’s good, Stella, really good. If you can get any details at all, she might be able to tell you what you’re looking through and how to widen your view or move it even a little.”
Stella bit down on her lower lip, trying to recall all the times she saw through the lens. She’d always concentrated on what she saw, the vivid details, training herself to see everything she could, not what she was seeing through. Now she tried to narrow her vision, block everything out but that lens.
“Honestly, I’m too scattered to recall anything about the lens, Zahra, but you might be onto something. The thing is, if you are, and I can find something on the lens to help identify it, then I’d have to go to Harlow. As you well know, Harlow, like everyone in our circle of friends, is extremely intelligent and quick on the uptake. She’s going to know something is up, especially after the attack on Sam. Everyone now suspects James Marley was murdered but no one can prove it.”
Zahra shrugged. “Maybe, but how is your asking about a certain type of lens going to have her connecting those dots?”
“I’ve never asked about a camera in my life, Zahra. I have zero interest in them. I’ve gone to see her work and that’s it. You all laugh at me and I’m good with that. I don’t make any effort to get better. She knows that,” Stella pointed out.
Zahra gave her that little mysterious, intriguing smile that got to every single man within miles if they saw it. Stella always thought she was beautiful when she flashed that particular secretive smile that told anyone seeing it exactly nothing, but they would want to know more.
“You can’t purposely taunt Harlow, Zahra,” Stella said. “You’re such a minx sometimes. What did Harlow ever do to you?”
“Harlow was very good to me,” Zahra said staunchly. “If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t have made it into this country. I wouldn’t have gotten my citizenship or gotten into college. I owe her a lot. She’s been a good friend to me.”
“But?” Stella prompted.
Zahra shook her head. “I’ve never changed the way I’ve felt about her. It’s just complicated between us. I tease her occasionally and she takes it with grace.”
“She never goes home. Never. Her mother comes here to see her, but she never goes home.” Stella didn’t make it a question, because if Zahra knew why Harlow’s mother visited but her very popular senator father didn’t, she didn’t want to put her on the spot.
Harlow was a talented surgical nurse, but her first love was photography. She’d gone to school for it and not only taken classes at college but interned with some of the masters, both digital and old-school. She’d been making a name for herself when all of a sudden she’d gone to nursing school and seemingly become passionate about that career. Then she’d gone to the High Sierras and stayed. She was needed there and she could take the photographs she loved and do the work she felt was important.
“Tonight I’ll see if I can get any details on the lens, Zahra,” Stella promised. “If I can, I’ll write it down, sketch it, and see if Harlow can help me. Thanks for understanding, but mostly, thanks for being my friend. I really needed you. As your friend, I have to tell you, that’s the same zucchini stick you’ve had for the last half hour and you’re dipping it into the sauce. You may as well pick up the sauce container and drink it.”
Zahra made a face at her and dropped the zucchini onto her plate. “The sauce is excellent.”
“I was getting that.”
CHAPTER NINE
Mommy, Daddy’s doing the bad thing again.
The man kept up a steady pace in the very early morning hours, the young woman right behind him. It was still dark and both wore headlamps clamped to their foreheads. He cast a few glances over his shoulder, as if anxious that she was all right. She looked around her more than she paid attention to where she was putting her feet. The light whirled and bobbed as she tried to take in her surroundings even in the dark.
The wind blew viciously, cutting at them both, tugging at their clothing, whipping at their jackets and her hair in spite of her baseball cap. Leaves swirled around the couple as they advanced along the trail. The man had a good gait, easy and natural along the climb. The woman seemed to struggle. There were rocks beneath the mat of leaves and she rolled them beneath the soles of her hiking boots, mostly because she wasn’t paying any attention to where she was going or what she was doing.