Murder At Granite Falls

The last rays of sunshine were slicing through the mountains to the west when Carrie finally finished putting away her clothes and arranging her possessions. Logan and his sister had left an hour ago, after stopping in to make sure she was settling in, and they’d also made sure that she had their cell numbers and the home number of their aunt Betty who lived in town.

Nice people, both of them. At least on the surface. Or were they?

Her stomach tensed into a tight ball of anxiety once again, because she still could not set aside that brief conversation with the deputy in town. There had been distaste in his expression when she’d announced her destination—far more than she might have expected if he just felt concern about a woman alone coming to this isolated place.

She shook off her doubts with a heavenward glance.

She’d prayed long and hard about the decision to come to this town. It was time to reestablish her independence and her career. She’d done the right thing, and worrying was a waste of time. But still…

Harley, curled up on the back of the sofa, opened one eye and looked at her, then went back to sleep, clearly unconcerned. “A dog would care,” she said drily, stroking his soft fur. “He’d come and sit by me and offer moral support.”

A deep rumble vibrated through the old cat’s body—more junkyard engine than purr—letting her know that at least the most important creature in the room was content. Smiling to herself, she stepped out onto the balcony and braced her hands on the railing to lean out into the fresh, sweet pine-scented mountain air.

The rushing sounds of the Wolf River beckoned. Not more than a dozen yards from her new home, its closest bank offered an easy slope for beaching rafts. Even here, she could smell the water and damp earth. The water, now ink-black in the deepening twilight, brought back such good memories of her college summers….

Drawn to its wild beauty, she went down the outside stairs and took a few steps toward the river. The sound of a twig snapping jerked her to a halt as an invisible hand of fear grabbed at her shoulder. Prickles of awareness at the back of her neck escalated to absolute certainty. She was not alone.

Someone was here. Very, very close.

She could sense his eyes burning into her back.

Hear his breathing.

She could feel his heartbeat, pounding in cadence with her own. Oh, Lord—I could really use Your help here.

Stifling a cry, she whirled and flew up the stairs, flung open the door and slammed it shut as soon as she made it inside. Her heart hammered against her ribs and her lungs burned as she drove the dead bolt home, shoved the sofa against the door, then locked all the windows and pulled the shades.

No footsteps crept up the stairs.

Nothing was moving outside when she surreptitiously peeked through all of her windows. “Just my overactive imagination,” she chastised herself aloud. “And next, I’ll be afraid of dust bunnies.” Maybe her “stalker” had just been a coyote, frozen in place at her unexpected appearance. Or a menacing chipmunk.

She’d finally talked herself down from that shaking, adrenaline-laced moment of fear when the cell phone clutched in her damp palm started to sing the first tinny notes of “Beer Barrel Polka.” The screen listed only Unavailable Number and no name, so it wasn’t anyone listed in her phonebook.

She stared at the phone, hesitated, then lifted it to her ear and said hello.

Seconds ticked by. Three. Four. Five.

In disgust, she lowered the phone and poised her forefinger over the end button.

“Don’t hang up.” The harsh, low whisper effectively masked the caller’s voice. “Not yet.”

“Who is this?” she demanded.

“Don’t matter.” His low, venomous laugh grated against her skin and raised the hair at the back of her neck. “Not yet.”

“Billy?”

He ignored her question. “You look pretty in that green shirt tonight.”

Her hand shook and she nearly dropped the phone. “What?”

“Real pretty.”

“Who is this?”

“I’d be more careful in the future if I was you. The night isn’t all that safe.”

“Maybe not for you, either,” she snapped. She jammed her finger onto the keypad of the phone to end the call.

So the sense that someone was out there hadn’t been her imagination—and it definitely hadn’t been some sort of wildlife, either. He’d been out there in the shadows. Watching her. Close enough to see the color of her shirt despite the deep twilight.

Billy?

He’d been her first guess, and a flash of anger and their long, troubled history had made her issue that foolish challenge. But now she wasn’t so sure. And how could he or anyone else have found her new cell number?

Anxiety spider-crawled its way up her spine as she started pacing the confines of her apartment, her arms wrapped around her stomach. She’d given it only to her brother, Logan and to the school where she’d be working. That deputy had sure hinted at his opinion of the Bradleys. Logan? But why would he want to drive away a new tenant? It made no sense.

She debated about calling 911, or her brother, but he was far away with heavy responsibilities of his own. Or Logan himself, which might not be a bad idea.

He answered on the fifth ring, his voice laced with concern. “Something wrong?”

She chose her words carefully. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“I’m at my aunt’s house fixing a faucet.”

Yeah, right. “This late?”

A pause. “I didn’t have time until now.” He sounded vaguely distracted. “Do you need something?”

Now she could hear faint female voices in the background and the clank of something metal—maybe a wrench—so he was telling the truth after all.

At least she hadn’t confronted him face-to-face, where he’d see the warm flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck.

“Did…you or Penny give my phone number to anyone?”

A pause. “Of course not. Why?”

“Only a few people have it. I think I had a prowler.”

“Did you call the sheriff?”

“I didn’t actually see anyone, and there wasn’t a crime.” Yet, she thought with a shudder. “But a bit later I got a phone call—it had to be the same guy. No specific threat, but it was creepy.”

“I can be there in twenty minutes. Keep your doors locked.”

“You don’t have to come. I just wanted to…um…mention it.”

This time, the pause was much longer. “You wondered where I was tonight,” he said flatly. “Because I have your cell phone number—so I could’ve made that call.”

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, embarrassed. “And because one of the deputies in town doesn’t seem to like you very much.”

“Vance? Rick?” Logan sighed heavily. “Believe me, neither one has a valid reason. But right now, I’m concerned about your safety. Do you want Penny and me to come out?”

His calm concern rang true and despite her doubts earlier, she knew in her heart that Logan couldn’t be her stalker. What motive could he possibly have?

She went to the windows overlooking the balcony and peered into the calm peaceful night. An owl hooted from a nearby tree. From far away came the faint, distant howl of a coyote, followed by a chorus of the higher pitched yips of its young. But here she could see nothing moving, and a sense of peace settled over her. “No…it’s not necessary. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up.”

TWO

Carrie stood at the open door of her classroom and watched the last child burst out into the hallway.

Marie Colbert, the teacher across the hall, strolled over to join her, her dark curls bouncing with every step. “Why is it,” she said with a laugh, “that no matter how much fun we had in class, the kids act like they’re escaping a dungeon when they leave? And this is only the first day.”

Carrie flicked a glance down the hall, toward the open double doors leading out into the warm Montana sunshine. “I guess lazy summer days are meant for creek stomping, not sitting in class.”

Marie cocked her head and studied her. “You look a little tense.”

“I’m not sure that turn-of-the-century, American Western art really rang their bells.” Carrie shrugged to mask her frustration. “So I talked about how art can be a way to express deep emotions—like that done by refugee children or during wartime, thinking I might reach the kids who are so addicted to violent video games. But no luck today. I’ve got a few students who really don’t want to be here.”

Marie smirked. “I’ll bet the Nelson twins just love all that art.”

She’d pinpointed two of Carrie’s more challenging students, all right. “How did you know?”

“I had Austin and Dylan when I taught third grade. When they weren’t wrestling or lobbing spitballs, they were causing some other kind of ruckus.”

“Sounds familiar,” Carrie said drily.

“Yeah. It took all year and a trip to the doctor for Ritalin to calm them down.” Marie sighed. “I don’t think they’re taking it anymore, though. I hear they’re back to bouncing off the walls in class and haven’t learned much ever since.”

“It’s a tough call for a lot of parents. I don’t know what I would do, if it was me.” But it wouldn’t ever be. After her rocky marriage, she couldn’t imagine ever risking another bad choice and that kind of heartbreak again. How could she have been so totally wrong about one of the biggest decisions in life?

She might as well wish for the moon as to long for the happy little family she’d once dreamed of back in her naive, younger days.

“Well, I’d go with the medications that helped them settle down and learn, but that’s just me.” Marie adjusted her wire-rim glasses. “But, hey, we’ve already got one day down, and just eight weeks to go. I’ll trade you physics for art appreciation any day. You should look at the mess in my room after our gravity experiments this morning.”

“Are you a regular teacher here?”

“Honey, I graduated from Granite Falls High. I went off to Montana State, came back, and I’ve taught here ever since. Ten years.”

“You must know all of the families well, then.”

“It’s a really close-knit community. Tourists come and go, but the locals really watch out for each other.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Carrie muttered under her breath. Really glad.

“Hmm?” Marie gave her a distracted glance as she held up her hand to slow down a straggler racing for the door. “I hear you’ll be full-time in the fall. Where did you teach before?”

A brief, painful memory of Billy’s erratic, footloose ways cut through Carrie’s thoughts. “Until now, I’ve…just been able to do some substituting, now and then. We moved around a lot.”

Marie gave her an approving smile. “Lucky you to find a permanent position here. It isn’t easy, these days.”

“I know. And I’m thankful for this summer job, too. I need the money.”

Marie chuckled. “Don’t we all. Did you find a decent place to stay?”

“I have to start looking for something long-term in the fall, so let me know if you hear of anything. I have just a summer lease out at a rafting company property.”

“Which one?”

“Wolf River. Logan and Penny Bradley.”

“Really.” Marie’s eyes widened. “How did you end up there?”

“Weeks of searching on the internet—and the first day the apartment was listed, I nabbed it sight unseen. It’s really nice,” Carrie added, feeling defensive at the hint of incredulity in the other woman’s eyes. “Despite being a little noisy with the tourists coming and going on raft trips. I moved in over the weekend, and it was crazy on Sunday.”

“I can imagine.” Marie looked at her closely. “And what about the Bradleys? Have you had a chance to get to know them?”

“Not really, but they both seem like nice people.”

“Yes. Well…I’m sure they are.”

The tone in her voice didn’t ring quite true. “Is there something I should know?”

After casting a glance down the hall to where several teachers had emerged from their classrooms and were striking up a conversation as they headed toward the door, Marie flashed a diffident smile. “Well, I’m not one to gossip, you know. Maybe I shouldn’t say anything.”

“Now you have me worried.”

“Well…the Bradleys had a little…uh, trouble a year or so ago.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Nothing proven,” Marie reassured her. “It all turned out okay…for them. There are people around town who still really want answers, though. Hey, I’d better get busy, or I’ll be here all afternoon.”

Nothing proven? Uneasy, Carrie watched Marie waggle her fingertips in farewell and scuttle across the hallway to her classroom. First Deputy Munson and now Marie had hinted at trouble, though neither had given her any concrete reason to worry.

So what on earth was going on? Tomorrow afternoon she had to go back to her brother’s ranch to pick up the last of her possessions, but when she returned, she was going to find some answers.

Not again. Carrie stilled. Held her breath. There it was—a rustle in the bushes—closer, this time. The muted crunch of pine needles. The snap of a twig.

And another.

It wasn’t the bears this time, though she might be the only person who’d ever wished it were. They tore at the garbage can lids with single-minded determination, heedless of the noise they created. But this was too quiet. Too stealthy.

And it wasn’t a wolf.

The looming threat out there was human and she’d never felt so alone.

She eased the blinds away from the window and peeked out, thankful that the apartment was darkened already, but frustrated by the dim sliver of moon that had long since slipped behind a threatening blanket of clouds.

Marie’s words from this morning ran through her mind again and again. The Bradleys had experienced a “little” trouble a year or so ago.

After class ended at noon, Carrie had taken the long trip to Trace’s ranch, and hadn’t made it back to her apartment until dusk. Logan’s pickup was gone, but Penny had just returned with her evening float trip customers and their cars were still parked next to both buildings.

She’d had to park farther away than usual, just beyond the bright pool of light beneath the security lights shining from the peak of the boathouse and the top of a single pole close to the river landing site.

It hadn’t seemed important at the time, with a noisy group of rafters chattering along the shore as they peeled off their life jackets. But now…

She drew in a sharp breath as a hunched dark form materialized out of the gloom next to her old SUV and crept from one door to the next, trying the locks. Lord—what do I do now?

She could yell and startle him…but what if he then came crashing through her apartment door? Her heart pounding, she stepped away from the window and took a slow, faltering breath, trying to still her trembling fingers and shaking knees as she punched 911 into her cell phone.

Four rings.

Five.

Six.

Why wasn’t anyone answering?

Moving back to the edge of the window with the phone at her ear, she furtively stole another look.

The stranger wasn’t by her Tahoe. He now stood a few feet away from it, something gleaming at his side. And he was staring right at her window as if he knew exactly where she was standing. As if he were taunting her.

“911. What is your emergency?”

She stood frozen, staring through the blinds as the figure melted back into the shadows.

“You have called 911,” the dispatcher said with an edge to his voice. “State your name and the emergency, please.”

“I…I think there’s someone outside. Trying to break into my SUV.”

“Your location?”

“Nine miles north of Granite Falls. Wolf Creek Rafting Company.”

“Hold on.”

She gripped her phone even tighter as several interminable seconds ticked by. The breeze had picked up, sending branches scraping against the building. The shadows beyond the reach of the security lights seemed to be shifting, coalescing.

Was that someone lurking by the boathouse? At the bumper of her SUV? Or was it just her imagination? Billy had threatened to make trouble—was it him?

From some distant place in the darkness she heard the faint sound of a distant engine roaring to life…then fade, heading toward the highway.

“Ma’am, I have an officer who should be there within twenty minutes. Are you alone?”

“Yes.” More than I’ve ever been in my life.

“Stay inside. Keep your doors and windows locked.”

He certainly had a knack for stating the obvious. “Believe me, I will,” she said wryly. “But I…I think I heard a car start up. Maybe he left it hidden somewhere up the lane and now he’s gone.”

“Do you still want the officer to stop out?”

“No…” She bit her lip. “On second thought, please. If this guy is still in the area and sees a patrol car arrive, it might scare him off.”

“Yes, ma’am. The officer will get there as soon as he can.”

Carrie leaned her head against the window frame and peered through the edge of the blinds. The parking lot was empty. Only the sounds of the river and the breeze-tossed branches filled the silence.

But this incident brought back memories of other nights last fall, when she’d tried to still her racing heart. When a threatening phone call or email had kept her on edge. When Billy had promised to make her pay.

And there’d been another one of his cryptic emails just last night. A subtle threat. A promise that when he came back to Montana, he was planning on a little visit.

The figure out in the darkness had seemed a little…taller than him, though that could have been a trick of the lighting, or a perception enhanced by her own fear.

But what if he was back in Montana and had already found her?

Counting the slow drag of the minutes on her watch, Carrie shivered in the chilly night air, unable to tear herself away from the window. What if the stranger came back? What if he managed to quietly pick the lock on her door?

Harley padded across the room to wind around her ankles like a warm, sinuous powder puff, then stalked away and curled up on the back of the sofa where he promptly went to sleep.

“Some watch cat you are,” she muttered.

The most interest he’d shown since their arrival Sunday had been over the appearance of Logan’s golden lab. The cat had patrolled the windowsills for ten minutes after the sighting, the low grumble in his throat promising no quarter if he ever got the chance to attack.

The dog didn’t appear very energetic. It had apparently slept away the afternoon in the boathouse, and had only emerged to jump into Logan’s truck when he got ready to leave yesterday evening. With all the people around, it hadn’t uttered a single bark.

But still, a dog might offer a sense of security, and her brother’s fiancée, Kris, did run an animal shelter…though it would be a long drive to check out the possibilities for a good, noisy companion.

“I wonder if Logan would like to make a temporary trade?” She studied her sleeping cat, who opened one eye, offered a bored yawn and went back to sleep. “Maybe not.”

At the crunch of tires on gravel she stiffened, a hand at her throat…then relaxed when a patrol car marked with K-9 Patrol on the side pulled to a stop.

Relief flooded through her when a deputy stepped out with a clipboard in hand. He wasn’t the rumpled, overweight teddy bear of an officer she’d met in town, though. This one was thin, austere-looking and older, his uniform crisply pressed, his military-cut, salt-and-pepper hair silvered by security light overhead.

She stepped out of her apartment onto the balcony. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she called out as she descended the stairs and crossed the parking area to meet him.

“Deputy Rick Peterson.” He accepted her handshake. “I hear you’ve had a little trouble?”

“There was someone out here, trying to break into my Tahoe. I keep it locked, so he couldn’t get in. I know it’s probably not a big deal, but I’m here alone.” The police dog in the backseat of the patrol started barking. “Maybe your buddy has picked up his scent, or something.”

“Had any trouble out here before?”

“I just moved in Sunday afternoon and thought I had a prowler last night, as well. This is the first I’ve actually seen him.”

“You surely haven’t had enough time to make any enemies here.” He looked at her over his half-rim glasses. “Or have you?”

She shook her head. “No. But one might’ve followed me from the past.”

He pursed his lips as she told him about Billy, then he flicked on his flashlight and circled her vehicle. She followed on his heels and peered inside, too.

“Are you missing anything?”

Her boxes of books were still on the backseat, along with her old camera bag and an even older ink-jet printer. “Everything is still there—not that anyone could want it.” She tried the door handles. “And the car is still locked. I suppose I’ve called you on a wild-goose chase.”

“Not a problem. If a stranger was out here lurking around, I can understand why you’d be concerned.” He scanned the wide parking area and beyond that, the dark, nearly impenetrable pine forest that rimmed the clearing on three sides. “Maybe you’d be better off finding a place in town. Closer to civilization.”

“I tried, but no dice. I’ll have to find a different place by September, though.”

“Our county sheriff’s department is understaffed and we have a lot of ground to cover. If you do encounter trouble out here, we might not be able to respond as fast as we’d like.”

She nodded, biting her lower lip. “I understand. I still hope my past isn’t going to be an issue. But I’ll let the Bradleys know about it.”

His eyebrows drew together. “Still, a lady living alone like you might want to take a gun safety course and keep a weapon around. There’s other varmints out here besides the two-legged kind.”

“I grew up on a ranch. I’ve had my own shotgun since I was twelve.”

“Is it here?”

“It’s in the back of my SUV.”

He snorted. “Won’t do you much good in there.”

“I didn’t want to bring it in until I had time to install a padlock on my closet. There are families with kids all over this property during the day. If one came upstairs and found it while I wasn’t home…” She shuddered.

He went to the back door of the SUV. “Ma’am, I recommend that you take it upstairs for the rest of the night. Just firing off a warning shot might do a world of good if that prowler comes back. It could take us a long time to get here.”

She could only imagine the deputy’s amusement if he saw her battered 1960s Remington shotgun, a gift from her grandfather.

Years ago, back when she was a teenager, she’d left one of the ranch dogs in her pickup cab while she’d struggled to catch and treat a calf with scours, and the dog had chewed the butt of the wooden stock to splinters. The weapon was old but accurate, and sentiment had kept her from trading it off.

She patted her pockets. “I…don’t have my keys on me.”

He tipped his head toward the front door. “Looks like you have a keypad, though.”

She pulled a face. “It doesn’t work. I can just take care of this tomorrow.”

His gaze sharpened. “Go ahead and get your keys. I don’t mind waiting.”

At the hint of suspicion in his voice she sighed, and dutifully ran upstairs to retrieve her keys from the kitchen table. If he’d misread her hesitation and thought he was going to make headlines by finding stolen loot or a few hundred pounds of pot in her trunk, he was going to be sadly disappointed.

She unlocked the liftgate, opened it and stepped aside while it lifted on its own.

His eyes flared wide when he saw the only contents—the old shotgun and a box of shells. “That’s…it? Does it even work?”

“It actually shoots true, even if it looks a little rough.” The barking from inside the patrol car grew more frantic. “Does your dog need to be let out, or something?”