Beneath the surface a si.., p.1
Beneath the Surface (A Sienna Dusk Suspense Thriller—Book 2), page 1
B E N E A T H
T H E
S U R F A C E
(A Sienna Dusk Mystery—Book 2)
T a y l o r S t a r k
Taylor Stark
Taylor Stark is author of the MARY CAGE mystery series, comprising five books (and counting); of the CARLY PHOENIX mystery series, comprising five books (and counting); and of the new SIENNA DUSK mystery series, comprising five books (and counting).
An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Taylor loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit taylorstarkauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.
Copyright © 2024 by Taylor Stark. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
BOOKS BY TAYLOR STARK
MARY CAGE SUSPENSE THRILLER
FAR FROM HERE (Book #1)
FAR FROM HOPE (Book #2)
FAR FROM SAFE (Book #3)
FAR FROM SIGHT (Book #4)
FAR FROM REACH (Book #5)
CARLY PHOENIX SUSPENSE THRILLER
COLD JUSTICE (Book #1)
COLD BLOODED (Book #2)
COLD TRUTH (Book #3)
COLD PURSUIT (Book #4)
COLD VENGEANCE (Book #5)
SIENNA DUSK SUSPENSE THRILLER
BENEATH THE FROST (Book #1)
BENEATH THE SURFACE (Book #2)
BENEATH THE LIES (Book #3)
BENEATH THE SILENCE (Book #4)
BENEATH THE WHISPERS (Book #5)
CONTENTS
Chapter ONE
Chapter TWO
Chapter THREE
Chapter FOUR
Chapter FIVE
Chapter SIX
Chapter SEVEN
Chapter EIGHT
Chapter NINE
Chapter TEN
Chapter ELEVEN
Chapter TWELVE
Chapter THIRTEEN
Chapter FOURTEEN
Chapter fifteen
Chapter SIXTEEN
Chapter SEVENTEEN
Chapter EIGHTEEN
Chapter NINETEEN
Chapter TWENTY
Chapter TWENTY ONE
Chapter TWENTY TWO
Chapter TWENTY THREE
Chapter TWENTY FOUR
Chapter TWENTY FIVE
Chapter TWENTY SIX
Chapter TWENTY SEVEN
Chapter ONE
Miranda Holbrook was running, arms pumping, legs driving down with all the power she could muster. Her breath came in short pants that instantly turned to vapor in the cold Aspen air. Her heart was pounding now, a strand of her light brown hair flying loose with the effort of running so hard.
She knew that she wouldn’t be able to keep this going for long, even as she knew that she had to keep going. This wasn’t a matter of choice; this was a matter of life and death.
Or at least of followers, and that was almost as important.
Miranda kept pushing on, the treadmill beneath her feet on the balcony of her Aspen home set at an incline to match the mountains behind her. Miranda wanted to glance around at them to enjoy the view, but that would have spoiled the video she was shooting. “How long can I sprint up a mountain for?” was her working title. Maybe she needed something less clickbait, or maybe something more, she hadn’t decided yet.
For now, there was only the relentless pounding of her feet against the treadmill. Behind her, Aspen was getting dark, but was anywhere truly dark these days? Lights twinkled across the city, marking homes and restaurants, high end boutiques and the lodges of ski-hotels. There were even lights set out on some of the slopes so that people could enjoy night skiing before heading to the bar for some apres-ski. Still, the sunset made for a great backdrop to the video, so Miranda would be leaving it in.
Her toned body continued to push on the treadmill, encased only in spandex in spite of the cold out here on the balcony. An idle part of Miranda’s mind wondered if there was a whole series to be done on the benefits of cold weather training for looking younger. The rest was still very much engaged in trying to ignore the effort and the pain of pushing so close to her max for so long.
Miranda looked good, she knew she did. Not just good for her age, because what was 41 these days except a number, but good. She was toned and fit in all the ways that the modern fitness industry required. And she knew that her audience wanted to see that, hence the spandex rather than more sensible winter running gear.
Finally, Miranda couldn’t take anymore. She all but collapsed from the running machine, checking her first instinct to stop herself, because her second instinct was how good it would look, how authentic, to show that she’d pushed herself to the point where she could barely stand anymore. So, even if she could have caught her footing, she let herself collapse to the decking of the balcony, in front of the weights bench where she routinely recorded her morning lifts.
Miranda lay there for several seconds, partly to get her breath back and partly so that she would have enough footage of that if she needed it later in the edit. Once she was sure that she had enough, she stood up and went over to one of the windows of her home, using it as a mirror while she checked her appearance wasn’t too bedraggled. Her audience expected her to be the right kind of exhausted after her fitness challenges. Tired, yes, but not red or blotchy or any of the other things that they might be. They wanted sweat, but only so that it could make Miranda’s skin gleam in the right ways.
Miranda applied a little makeup just to make sure, then headed back in front of the camera. She could take the parts she didn’t need out, but for now, she needed to deliver her final message. She’d written it out carefully on her iPad, setting it up next to the camera so that she could look down the lens in that sincere way that she’d perfected so well.
"So there you have it, that's what my body can take right now. I found my limit today, but if you don't push those limits, you'll never be all that you can be." That was her core message, the one that she always tried to include in this kind of video. It was one she believed, too. So many people let the world hold them back. Well, not Miranda. "So how about you? How have you pushed your limits today? Let me know in the comments, and don't forget to like and subscribe."
Okay, it probably needed a little work. Maybe some inspiring music over the running, if she could find any that wouldn’t get her demonetized. A few stock shots of the mountains to emphasize the location, maybe a bit more work on the intro, letting people know that Miranda knew exactly how fortunate she was to live somewhere like Aspen. They liked it when she stayed humble, although as with her looking tired post workout, it had to be the right kind of humble. She had to be grateful that she’d gotten here, but still emphasize that she’d done it all through hard work, the kind of work that they could do too.
For now, though, Miranda was done filming out here. The temperature was dropping as it got into night, even with the heaters that she had set up on the balcony to counteract the cold. She thought about jumping into the hot tub post-workout, but right then, Miranda just wanted a shower and a glass of wine.
That was her one vice, she thought to herself with a smile, because it always reminded her of all the other vices that she’d done away with. She ate clean now, didn’t do anything to her body that might impede its performance. She didn’t waste her time on toxic people, didn’t let people use her.
She put away the filming equipment, but left the exercise gear as it was. Miranda didn't do cleaning. She had people for that these days. She had people for most things. She was a regular one-woman business empire, and the main thing she sold was… well, just herself. Her message, her inspiration, the sight of her fit and toned and ready to influence an audience of a couple of million subscribers.
Miranda went back inside and showered, taking her time to luxuriate in it. It was hard to believe that there had ever been a time when she hadn’t been who she was today. A time when she’d had a husband and a dull job out on the East Coast, when she’d been bored and flabby, taking her looks for granted. Her husband leaving her for a younger woman had been…
…well, at the time, it had been devastating. Even now, Miranda could feel tears welling up at the thought of it all, because it turned out that even expensive therapists couldn’t do the work for her, and Miranda was always happier working on her body than on the parts of her that had been hurt in the past, and she didn’t feel like delving too deeply into it all when there wasn’t going to be a hit video coming out of it.
Maybe she could talk about it all on camera, though, with her chat playing the part of therapist. Miranda could tell her story, and ma ybe that would be a hit, because it would only show how much she'd overcome in the process of making herself who she was today. Maybe there was a chance to branch out into a whole other area of content, do a couple of collabs with online shrinks who gave out mental wellness advice. It was all one thing, really, wasn't it? Mind and body as one, trying to become an integrated, perfect whole?
That sounded good to Miranda, and she resolved to make a note of it, start to script something out once she was done with the edits to today’s video. It took a lot of time and effort to make her work look natural and off the cuff.
Miranda headed back out into her apartment, dumping her workout gear in the laundry basket, but not bothering to carry it down to the washing machine. She didn’t do laundry any more than she did cleaning. She dressed in more comfortable clothes, still stylish, still expensive, because she could afford that kind of thing these days, and besides, what would happen to her brand if some random person caught a glimpse of her through the windows to her expensive home and saw that she was looking anything less than perfect? The price of fame was eternally looking good, but that was all right, because Miranda liked looking good.
Miranda went through to the house’s well equipped kitchen, all smooth, beautiful surfaces picked for their looks more than for any sense of practicality. Miranda cooked occasionally, showing her followers top tips for meal prepping, but mostly, like laundry and cleaning, it was something better left to other people. Taking control of her diet was one thing, but having to do the work of cooking every day was quite another. She was a busy woman.
In any case, it was a rule that she didn't eat after the sun went down. It meant that dinner dates at restaurants were out of the question, but Miranda always preferred the kind of hot young guy who would invite her to join him out on the slopes, or who would be up for some kind of adventure in the mountains. She headed for the cabinet where she kept her wine instead because that didn't count when it came to this kind of rule. It also meant that drinks and dancing were always an option when she was bored.
Miranda briefly thought about going out to do that now. There was always some good apres-ski action available in Aspen, and whenever Miranda was feeling a little starved of attention it was good to stand in a bar and just watch the eyes turn her way. Miranda didn’t care whether it was because she was famous now or just because they were appreciating the body she’d so carefully crafted. All that mattered was that they were looking.
It was tempting, but she had the video edits to finish first. In a lot of ways, the view counts on her videos were even more validating than the attention of strangers in bars. Still, Miranda didn’t have to miss out on the whole experience.
Curating her wine collection was one thing that Miranda did do herself, albeit with the aid of a lovely South African wine merchant who always seemed to be available to give Miranda all the attention she needed. She picked out a Bordeaux, uncorking it and decanting it, enjoying the ritual of it all.
Miranda frowned as she felt a blast of cold air running through the house. Had she left the big French windows leading to the balcony open? No, they were closed, but the cold was still there. Miranda wandered through the house, trying to locate the source of it.
She found it a minute later, because the front door to her place was open, swinging in the wind as fresh blasts of air came through. Hadn’t she closed it properly when she came home? No, she must have.
Was one of her staff here? If so, they were going to find themselves groveling out an apology if they wanted to keep their job. Coming over unexpectedly, leaving the door open? What did they think they were doing?
“Julio? Estrella?” She tried the names of her current trainer and her cleaner first, because they were the most likely to be here, but there were others: a chef, a handyman. She employed a bunch of other people but they were mostly on the other side of the world, editing and managing content remotely.
Miranda shut the door carefully and made her way back through the house. There was still no sign of someone. Maybe she hadn't shut the door properly after all. She made her way back up to her kitchen and the waiting wine.
When she got there, the decanter had been tipped over, spilling wine over the countertop. It looked like blood.
Miranda looked around frantically, and there, in the shadows of one corner, she saw movement. A figure stepped forward from the spot where he’d been hiding, dressed all in black.
Miranda’s heart hammered with sudden fear. “Who are you? What do you want?”
The figure kept moving forward, and now Miranda saw the noose in his hand. She screamed, but the figure kept coming…
Chapter TWO
Most days, Sienna would have found patrolling Aspen peaceful. The trouble here was mostly small stuff: rich college kids getting drunk and needing to be moved on, someone causing trouble out on the slopes. Already today, Sienna had had to remind a rich tech entrepreneur that he couldn’t simply take a resort’s snowmobiles without asking, but she’d managed to resolve the situation without arresting anyone.
Sienna hadn’t had to arrest anyone all day, which was, in some ways, the way she liked things. If she could resolve problems before they got to that point, that was better all around. She certainly knew that it was the way her boss, Chief Garret, preferred her to resolve any issues involving Aspen’s wealthier residents and visitors. He didn’t want that kind of negative publicity for the town.
Just the thought of that was almost enough to make Sienna go back and arrest the tech guy. She didn’t want anyone thinking that they got special treatment here. But that would just be petty, a reaction to her boss, rather than the right thing. Sienna kept cruising in her patrol car instead, moving slowly, keeping an eye out for trouble while listening to the radio in case any calls came in.
She looked up towards the ski slopes wistfully. A part of her would have preferred to be up there, patrolling on skis. Except that she suspected that what she actually wanted to do was just ski for a while. There was nothing better than the feeling of the wind whipping through her jet black hair, her athletic frame crouched low for maximum aerodynamic efficiency. She might be a cop now, but, as a former Olympic prospect on the slopes, she couldn’t just switch off her love of them.
Maybe she would patrol the slopes later. The resorts usually liked to have a cop around to make everyone feel safe, and there was a subset of the skiing community who still got a kick out of seeing the 26 year old former skiing star out there among them. Of course, occasionally one of them would cause trouble just to see if Sienna could still keep up with them. She always could.
For now, though, her attention was on the heart of town. She cruised around it at a speed that let her dark eyes scan the boutiques, restaurants and high end stores for trouble, although the main point was that the sight of her there in her uniform would deter it, the sight of the police cruiser making the tourists feel safer.
Because nothing much was happening, Sienna’s thoughts started to drift, and that was dangerous right then, because there was only one topic that her thoughts were going to drift towards:
Her brother, Sean.
Sean, who had gone missing right at the height of Sienna’s career, a little more than a year ago. Whose disappearance had been a part of why Sienna had become a cop in the first place. Sean, who had found himself left behind when Sienna had been off training and competing. She’d been away a lot, but she’d still come back to Aspen to train. She’d still seen him.
“He always seemed fine,” Sienna told herself, except that was a kind of lie, wasn’t it? Sienna knew that Sean had always put up a front of being fine for her benefit, the way he’d learned to, they’d both learned to, after their parents died. Make it seem like everything was okay, and people wouldn’t ask difficult questions. Make it seem fine, and maybe it would be fine, in time.
Sienna had known that Sean did that, but she still hadn’t asked the questions she should have done, still hadn’t made sure that he was really doing okay without her there.
She didn’t have a copy of the file she’d taken out of its hiding place at the back of her wardrobe with her, but that didn’t matter, because Sienna knew most of the details by heart now. She knew the day Sean had stopped calling her, knew the day when she’d come back to Aspen and found him simply… gone.
