Murder at Granite Falls Read online

  Carrie drew in a shuddering breath. “We’ve been apart a long time. I never would’ve gone back to him. But I never wished him harm. And to die like that… Who would do such a thing? Who would even know him around here?”

  “Good question.”

  “And my shotgun was stolen. Maybe ballistics tests could have proven that it wasn’t the one used to kill Billy.” She thought a moment. “Or maybe the killer actually used it—so it would look like I killed him and hid the weapon.”

  “Or that Logan did,” Penny said bitterly.

  “Is he with you?”

  “He’s already home. I came after him over an hour ago.” Penny climbed behind the wheel of the truck, fastened her seat belt, and waited until Carrie was inside before starting the engine. “Our good sheriff grilled him, too, but fortunately he had an alibi.”

  Carrie frowned. “I assumed he stayed in the boathouse last night, but no one questioned me about it.”

  “He was going to, but Aunt Betty and I called him at ten last night. She had a water pipe break and her place flooded. The three of us worked on it through the wee hours, until Logan and I had to get back to set up for our breakfast float group. You had the dog, though…and since your lights were out, he didn’t call to tell you when he left for Betty’s place.”

  “Thank goodness he can prove he wasn’t near the murder scene.”

  “As long as they believe Aunt Betty and me, anyway.”

  “From what I hear about the sheriff, the phrase ‘innocent until proven guilty’ doesn’t seem to be part of his code.” Carrie bent over her clasped hands, feeling more exhausted than she ever had in her life, her stomach still roiling.

  “Never has been. I think it’s more in line with ‘take the easy way out’ and go with the first suspect you see.”

  “But the scary part is that I can understand why I’d be a suspect. Too many witnesses saw that confrontation with Billy after the movie, and both deputies were aware of the problems I’d had with him in the past. In their shoes, I guess I’d feel the same.”

  “Though you’d probably do a better job of investigating. I just hope this doesn’t end up like last year.” Penny gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. “Logan was just a casual friend of Sheryl Colwell, even if several witnesses placed him close to the crime scene and one claimed the two of them had had an affair. The sheriff should’ve known perfectly well that Logan wasn’t guilty, yet he had to go through an entire trial.”

  Carrie felt an icy hand clamp down on her insides. “You hear all the time about falsely accused people going to jail for years and years.”

  “Luckily, in his case the jury was fair and didn’t believe the circumstantial evidence.”

  “Yet some folks still think he’s guilty.”

  “He was judged innocent because he didn’t do it, plain and simple, not because of some failure in the legal system. But people believe what they want to believe, I guess.”

  “Still, now that Logan and I have been questioned, we should be free and clear.”

  “In an ideal world. But frankly, I don’t think this is over.” Penny backed out of the parking space and headed out of town. “I’m not a betting woman, but if I were, I’d bet that the sheriff is hoping to charge one of you—or both, and say you plotted to get rid of your ex-husband. He probably already thinks you hired Logan to help you once you learned of his past history.”

  “But…your brother has witnesses saying he couldn’t have been there.”

  “You think that’s enough?” Penny said bitterly. “His ‘witnesses’ are his great-aunt and his sister. The right prosecuting attorney can practically make a jury believe the sun rises at dusk…and discredit the best defense.” She pulled to a stop at the four-way flashing red light on Main and Fourth, then drove on. “You know what? I even wonder if Billy was killed close by, just to set Logan up.”

  Carrie’s stomach tied itself into a painful knot.

  “And now you’re mixed up in this, too. I’m just going to start praying that the state investigators come up with better answers than our sheriff’s department will, or my brother will never truly be free. And now, neither will you. My biggest question is this—since Logan isn’t a killer, then who has tried to frame him twice?”

  ELEVEN

  She’d been questioned for hours on Sunday, then returned home to find a large van and several dark sedans parked close to the murder site. The investigators from the BCI talked to her at length, as well, showing marked interest in the recent emails Billy had sent, the history of their troubled marriage, and the prowler who’d been in the area.

  By Monday morning the numbness and shock began to wear off and the true horror of it all felt like a cold, hard anvil weighing down her heart. Billy, for all his faults, had charmed her once. She’d loved him back then, and there had been good times. The thought of his brutal murder—of his lifeless body and the unbelievable amount of blood at the scene—made her stomach pitch and her eyes burn.

  On the verge of tears during a long, sleepless night, she debated calling in sick, then resolutely dressed and turned up for work anyway, figuring it would feel better to be occupied and surrounded by people than to sit at home with her dark thoughts.

  Appearing uncharacteristically sympathetic, Mr. Grover appeared at her door halfway through the morning and beckoned her out into the hallway.

  “I heard about what happened at your place,” he said solemnly. “I’m sorry to hear about your loss. The victim was your ex-husband, I hear.”

  She nodded.

  “Obviously suspicious circumstances.”

  She swallowed hard, trying to clear the sudden lump in her throat. “Yes.”

  “The BCI has been asking questions of us here. So has the sheriff.”

  The lump in her throat turned to granite. “Questions?”

  “About your character. Suspicious activities. That sort of thing.”

  She stared at the principal, unable to form any words. She already knew the investigators had an interest in her. It made sense, given the history between Billy and her, but after all the questioning over the weekend she’d assumed they now believed in her innocence and would be looking for other suspects. Apparently not.

  “I just wanted you to know that we’ve had nothing negative to say,” the principal continued. “As far as we know, you appear to have good rapport with the students, and care a lot about them.”

  “Thank you.”

  His smiled faintly. “I’m sure they’re questioning a lot of people, though, trying to figure out what happened that night.”

  She nodded. “I just wish Billy had never come here. He’d still be alive. And I wish they’d hurry and find the killer. What if he strikes again?”

  “As you can imagine, the people around here are plenty nervous. We even had some families call in this morning to say they were keeping their kids at home today.”

  “Three are missing in my class.”

  He eyed her closely. “So how are you holding up? If you want to leave early, I can take over for the last two hours. And if you need a few days—even weeks—off, I’m sure we can arrange it. No trouble—no trouble at all.”

  “I’m…I’m okay.”

  “Have the kids given you any problems?”

  “I figured the Nelson twins would have a lot of questions, at the very least. But all of the kids are…well, subdued. Maybe even a little frightened, thinking about what happened so close to where they all live. I’m keeping them busy with mixed-media sculptures.”

  “Good, good.” Mr. Grover straightened his tie. “Well, then, I’ll leave you to it. But if you change your mind, just give me a call—or call my secretary. Dottie will arrange things.”

  His hearty manner and air of concern had fooled her at first, but as he strode away, the subtext of his visit sank in.

  He’d been hoping she’d take time off. He didn’t want her here. Small matters, in the face of Billy’s tragic death, but once again, her
future in Granite Falls might be on the line.

  On Wednesday evening, after her last white-water rafting certification class, Carrie headed into town for some groceries. Between her mornings at the school followed by the river classes and several more long meetings with various investigators, the time marched by, inexorably slow, while questions and worries swirled through her thoughts.

  And it wasn’t only her who had questions.

  She’d seen them in the eyes of the other teachers. On the faces of her silent, subdued students…and in the growing number of empty desks in her classroom.

  Without a prisoner behind bars, the murder just outside of Granite Falls had to be the biggest topic in anyone’s mind…and she had no doubt about what they were saying behind closed doors.

  Now, standing in the checkout line at the town’s only grocery store, she could feel the stares of the other customers passing by and make out some of the whispers. “That’s her. And he was killed just a few hundred yards from her apartment.”

  Norma was at the cash register. She met Carrie’s eyes briefly and nodded, then turned her attention back to a two-cart load of groceries belonging to a hefty woman with four young children clambering for treats from the candy display by the register.

  When it was finally Carrie’s turn, Norma leaned over the counter and grasped her hand in a quick squeeze. “How are things going, hon?”

  Warmed by her concern, Carrie dipped her head and sighed. “Pretty well, I guess.”

  “A big mess, I’d say. This whole town is on edge, worrying about who committed that murder. I hear they don’t even have a clue so far.”

  “Which is probably why they keep talking to me. But I didn’t know much about Billy’s life anymore, so I’m not much help.”

  “Sheriff came in this morning with his picture, asking if any of us had seen him around town. Handsome fella.”

  “Too handsome for his own good, probably. He…liked to party way too much.”

  She clucked her tongue. “I still can’t say if he was the one asking about you soon after you moved here. Barely caught a glimpse of the guy’s face, and that’s what I told the sheriff, all right. Worries me, though, that someone would come into town all sneaky like, wanting to find out where a woman lives. No good could come of that.”

  Amen. “So…you never saw that guy again?”

  Norma flicked a glance at a customer who’d just wheeled a cart into line behind Carrie, then leaned closer. “Not that I know of. But I have a real bad feeling about all of this.”

  “No kidding.”

  “I don’t think it was some random thing at all, like the sheriff said in the paper this morning. If the killer was just someone who drifted through, that would make no sense. At least, that’s what they say on those Law & Order reruns. The bad guy is often someone the victim knows.” She worried at her lower lip with her front teeth, then lowered her voice. “I heard some details from my cousin Edna, who works down at the mortuary part-time as the evening receptionist. She said someone must’ve had a real passion about getting the job done, with no chance of survival. He also had to be pretty close. So you’ve gotta think it was someone your husband knew—someone he trusted. Otherwise, a big man like Billy could’ve put up a big fight and he would’ve had a lot of bruises. And he didn’t.”

  Small-town gossips, Carrie thought grimly. No secrets were ever safe. What else did the cops know that they weren’t sharing? “You’re right.”

  “My niece is in your morning class—Rachel—and she likes you a whole lot. I’d listen to what’s in her heart before I’d listen to the cops any day.” A smile flickered briefly on Norma’s face, though it didn’t touch the sadness in her eyes. “We need people in town like you. Like a breath of fresh air. I’ll be prayin’ for you every night, hon. I promise you that.”

  On Monday, Noah had been marked absent. “Just a flu bug,” the school secretary had reassured her when Carrie used the intercom to check with the office. But he wasn’t in school on Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday, either. And not one new drawing of violence appeared in his absence.

  On Friday, Carrie unlocked her desk when she arrived and found her folder of the mysterious drawings was gone.

  She drew in a sharp breath. Searched all of the drawers, the stacks of papers on her desk and her briefcase. Who could’ve taken it, and why?

  A second, closer inspection of the drawer that had held the missing folder yielded a single drawing—the newest version—that had slipped beneath some other papers.

  She slid it into her purse, put it in the file cabinet behind her desk and locked the drawer.

  As soon as her class was over, she hurried across the hall to Marie’s room. “I already had a strong suspicion, but I now know who did those drawings.”

  Marie glanced up, then continued sorting a box of pieces that appeared to be from an old Erector Set. “Really.”

  “Noah has been gone all week, and not one picture has appeared during his absence.”

  “Good guess, then.”

  Carrie stared at her. “I was already pretty sure. But you knew all along?”

  Marie shrugged. “Let’s just say it wouldn’t surprise me.”

  “And now the folder of drawings has disappeared from a locked desk in my room.” She caught the uncertainty in the older woman’s eyes. “Do you know about that, as well?”

  Marie turned away, ostensibly to straighten the supplies on her desk. “Just let it go.”

  “This child seems incredibly quiet. Disconnected. I know he must be grieving badly over his mother, and I wonder just how much counseling and support he’s really getting.” At Marie’s sharp glance, Carrie fell silent for a long moment. “I should have been told about things like this before the very first class this summer. Noah should be receiving extra help.”

  “We don’t have resources in this district for extra services. Just do some research on children and grief. It takes time for anyone. And if you’ve met his family, you know that his father and aunt are very protective of him. Noah—for the most part—has done fine. I’m sure he’s moving beyond that unfortunate tragedy and is simply back to his normal, quiet self.”

  Unfortunate tragedy? Carrie’s mouth dropped open at the sheer insensitivity of the woman’s remarks. “Then what about all the violent pictures he draws? With a river that flows red with blood? That doesn’t seem like the hallmark of a well-adjusted child to me.”

  “What do you expect, after what happened in his life?” Marie taped the top of the cardboard box shut and turned to set it on a shelf in her supply closet. “He was in Miss Carson’s class last year. He was really troubled for the first half of the year, but he was seen by the school counselor once a month. By spring he started to do much better.”

  Only once a month? “If he’s doing so well, why hasn’t he been in class all week?”

  Marie glanced at the doorway, then raised an eyebrow when she looked back at Carrie. “Uh…he’s not the only kid who isn’t in school now. A lot of people are worried about their safety these days. Maybe you want to talk to Mr. Grover about this.”

  Carrie turned toward the door to find the principal frowning at her. “I’m just worried, that’s all.”

  He beckoned her out into the hallway. “As I said before, I understand that you’re new here.”

  “But not new to teaching. And I’m—”

  “Concerned. I understand that as well, and I’m trying very hard to be patient with you and with…with that other situation. But the resources you might have seen in a big-city classroom aren’t exactly what we can offer children here. In many ways I think the more intimate, caring educational setting of a small town can offer more. Would you agree it’s possible?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “Ms. Randall. The teachers here know the kids practically from birth. There’s continuity here because staff turnover is rare, and they see the kids growing up throughout their school years, along with their siblings and cousins and neighbors. Ou
r kids do well on the basic skills tests and college entrance exams. And because our student population is small, a child like Noah does not fall through the cracks.”

  Carrie sighed. “I understand.”

  “We are open to new teaching philosophies, but we believe in solid tradition, as well. You can rest assured that he is receiving the consistency and quality of education that he needs until he is successfully launched toward college, trade school or whatever else he dreams of.” His bushy silver eyebrows drew together. “We do well with our tight budget, and will continue to do so—even with the very big cuts we’re facing next fall.”

  He must have given this very speech before, and his words were logical and calm, delivered with an edge that made his true meaning clear. The system was entrenched. And no crusading, upstart teacher was going to rock the boat and still find herself still employed.

  “I understand,” she repeated, disappointment washing through her.

  “Good, good.” He glanced at his watch. “Now I’m late. Afternoon, ladies.”

  Carrie watched him bustle down the hall toward the exit. “That was sure helpful.”

  “I tried to tell you,” Marie said, joining her at the doorway. “This is one principal who is all about the status quo. Me? Maybe I started out with stars in my eyes, but I don’t want to move away. Now I’m just happy doing the best job I can within the system, and I let it go at that.”

  “This isn’t what I want.” Carrie reined in her frustration. “But it’s way too late to look elsewhere for the fall and I need a job to pay off my legal expenses from the divorce.”

  “You also wouldn’t want the bad reference you’d get if you broke your contract for the fall. And given that other little problem of yours, I can’t think of a school system that would want to take a chance. At least, until the murder investigation is over.”

  “But shouldn’t the welfare of a child matter more than anything?”

  “Absolutely.” Marie rested her hand on Carrie’s arm. “You can help Noah a great deal, when he comes back. Just like his teacher did all last year with consistency and attention and praise.”