Murder at Granite Falls Read online

  The man’s gaze darted warily around the open space, and he tentatively came forward another step, as if unwilling to leave the security of the forest behind.

  “The trail passed near his cabin,” she called out. “He says he’ll talk to you.”

  Logan joined them near several boulders marking the mouth of the trail. “We’ve known each other for a long time, haven’t we?”

  The old man nodded.

  “I promised him something if he’d come with me,” Carrie said. She broke into her backpack and offered Dante a bottle of water and a granola bar. Then she searched farther into the depths of the bag and came up with her palm-size sewing kit, which he took greedily, turning it over and over in his hand.

  “Something more if you’ll just stay for a little while,” she said with a soft smile. She sat on one of the boulders and leaned over to pat the next one over. “Here, have a seat.”

  He hesitated, then sat, though he looked like a bird on the verge of flight. The miasma of unwashed male and filthy clothing obliterated the fresh scent of pine and wildflowers wafting across the meadow.

  “Okay, Logan—fire away.”

  “Someone was killed close to Wolf River a few weeks ago,” Logan said slowly.

  Dante reared back in alarm. “Wasn’t me. I wasn’t there. No, siree.”

  “No, we don’t think you had anything to do with it. But we want to make sure the sheriff doesn’t come up with that idea, either. He’s trying hard to solve this crime, and so are we, but we need help. Did you see or hear anything?”

  “I wasn’t there. Somebody saw too much, all right.”

  “You did? You saw too much?”

  Dante gave a hard single shake of his head.

  “Someone else, then? The guy who was killed? Or was someone else there?”

  Dante didn’t answer.

  “You’ve spent the last few months down close to the Wolf. I’ve seen you along the riverbank any number of times. So why did you suddenly take off and come up here—away from the good fishing? You had to have a reason.”

  Silence.

  “Were you scared of someone? Did someone see you—maybe the one who killed that man? Were you threatened?”

  “Not safe. Time to go.”

  “Please, Dante,” Carrie urged. She reached over, put her first-aid kit in his hand, and gently curled his fingers around it. “If you can tell us anything, we’d appreciate it so much.”

  Dante silently studied the box in his hand.

  “Please?”

  He stood, started to walk away, his shoulders hunched, but then he turned back, his face filled with defeat and a touch of fear. “Don’t trust anyone. Not even the ones you know.”

  And then he melted back into the forest.

  EIGHTEEN

  By the time they reached the last mile marker on the Liberty Ridge trail, it was late afternoon and dark clouds were boiling up over the peaks of the mountains to the west. Logan had slowed up even more on the way back, no longer able to tough it out and hide the pain radiating from his old rodeo injuries.

  “Want me to go borrow someone’s four-wheeler and pick you up?” Carrie teased gently, though from the worry in her eyes, he could read her concern.

  “I’m fine. We oughta be able to beat that storm if we just keep trucking.”

  “So you say, old man.”

  “Wait a minute. I believe we have just a year or so between us,” he teased back, though there was a lifetime of different experiences between them that made him feel a hundred years older, and he couldn’t deny that he’d become jaded over the years. Their differences ran far deeper than something as simple as a birth date. “Just when did you become such a Pollyanna?”

  “Roughly at birth.” She jogged in place, waiting for him to catch up. The trail widened at the last half mile before the parking area, and there she fell in step with him. “You did a great job, Logan. This is a tough trail in anyone’s book.”

  He laughed. “You were a cheerleader, right?”

  “Nope. I had to get home to work horses and tend cattle, just like my brother.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “So, want to take Penny and me out for supper?”

  Just you, maybe.

  He reined in that errant thought, though the idea was intriguing. A night out on the town with Carrie Randall would probably eclipse every other social experience in years, bar none. But where would that lead? Wanting more of those evenings.

  Wanting to get to know her on a much more personal level.

  And between the two of them, it would be a toss-up as far as who was the most damaged and unready for any sort of deeper relationship.

  He’d bantered with her on the long hike back, admiring her quick wit. Her ability to handle herself well in the wilderness. Enjoying her company a little too much. Caring…too much.

  But she’d just experienced the trauma of her ex-husband’s terrible death. Had feared being stalked, whether by Danvers or someone else. Vulnerable as she was right now, any sort of deeper relationship might spring out of all of those emotions and not something real.

  And she’d already made it abundantly clear that she wasn’t going to fall for another cowboy ever again, in this life or the next.

  Though heaven knew he had his own issues, as well.

  Janie’s death still felt like a cold, empty place in his heart. He’d mourned her for years, and then he’d finally healed. But the vestige of that loss had been an ongoing hesitance over commitment compounded by some failed relationships later on.

  Coupled with this second round of false accusations, rising public sentiment against him, and the very real possibility that Sheriff Tyler might manage to make charges stick this time, he was the last person she’d want to—or ought to—connect with at any rate.

  “Wow. You sure have given that idea a lot of thought. Was my idea that bad?” She slipped her arm into the crook of his elbow for a friendly squeeze. “Forget I said anything, honest. I was just joking.”

  “Sorry, I was just thinking about other things. Dinner would be great.” He grinned down at her, thankful for her company and these moments of setting aside the more troubling issues that were looming. “How about pizza?”

  “Hmm…just you and me, maybe?” She was still teasing, but there was something else in her expression now. A flicker of hope, of vulnerability.

  Just you and me were his thoughts exactly, even though he knew it would be a mistake. “You don’t really want to pursue that thought, Carrie. There’d be no future in it. You deserve a lot better.”

  She faltered just a beat, and then she readjusted her smile. “Message accepted. So let’s give Penny a call and ask her to meet us, okay?”

  What had she been thinking, practically asking Logan for a date? He’d been kind, with his gentle, tactful deflection. But even now he probably thought she was a little pathetic.

  She hadn’t meant it that way. She’d simply enjoyed Logan’s company and had wanted to extend the day with a quiet supper to discuss what had been happening lately. That was all. Nothing more than that. Really.

  Now, across a table from Logan and Penny, with the Dixie Chicks blaring from an old-fashioned jukebox in the corner and the hubbub of a big crowd at the front tables wearing Granite Falls Baseball on their jerseys, she still wanted to slither under the table and die.

  “So you found Dante,” Penny was saying. “Was he any help?”

  “He was his usual, nervous self.” Logan took a long swallow of his Coke. “He didn’t like being found and he didn’t have a lot to say—and even that didn’t make a lot of sense. He said someone saw too much but it wasn’t him. He wouldn’t say he was threatened, but then he said he ‘had to go,’ and ‘it wasn’t safe.’”

  “And then he said the oddest thing,” Carrie chimed in. “Something like ‘Don’t trust. Not even the ones you know.’ So what does that mean?”

  Penny shook her head. “It sounds like his usual paranoia to me. You two probably took that trip for nothin
g.”

  But it hadn’t been, Carrie mused as she finished her slice of pepperoni with extra cheese.

  She’d finally had an afternoon with Logan, after all this time trying to avoid him. And she’d found him funny and warm, able to give and receive the little barbs of humor that had made the trip pass more quickly. She’d enjoyed every minute and wished for more…

  And then he’d made it clear that he felt no similar interest. Ouch.

  “So what’s the next step?” Penny asked.

  Logan angled a quick look at the other patrons sitting nearby, and he lowered his voice. “We have people to talk to…a few leads to follow. Carrie and I are going to talk to that student and his parents, too. If we don’t work fast and find the evidence we need, we could find ourselves being charged and thrown in the county jail.”

  “I agree. I haven’t heard another word about the investigation, and Tyler didn’t come back again to talk to you and Carrie, like he said he would. It makes me think that he isn’t looking beyond you two, and now he’s working on building a solid case.”

  Penny’s words replayed through Carrie’s thoughts long after the evening was over and she was back at her apartment with Murphy, who had now decided that the center of her bed was his alone at night.

  For the third time since midnight, she gently shoved his limp, uncooperative form down to the foot of her bed, where he served as a cozy foot warmer, and then she flopped back to stare at the ceiling some more.

  Without her school salary or many hours available at the rafting company, she wouldn’t be able to stay here or anywhere else in Granite Falls for more than another month or two. By summer’s end, she had to find another place to live, another job.

  But even now it was almost too late to apply for other teaching positions for the coming school year, though perhaps that would be a fruitless exercise anyway, with the murder case still up in the air, and with the kind of reference Grover would likely write for her.

  Which left the offer Trace had repeatedly made to her—the little cabin on his ranch.

  Lord, help me figure out what to do here, because I’m at a loss and could sure use some help. And if You wouldn’t mind, please give Logan a hand, too.

  Carrie awoke with a sense of new resolve. She could do something. Logan was right.

  If Noah’s pictures had been a silent cry for help, then she needed to gently talk to him and make sure his father and aunt knew about the burdens he was carrying.

  And if indeed Noah had been a witness to his mother’s death, that could be the key to helping Logan straighten out his past troubles and fully, once and for all, clear his name. It was the least she could do before she had to leave town for good, in search of a job. And there was no better time than now.

  With Logan off guiding a group of fly fisherman at several remote, hike-in streams for the day and Penny taking rafters down the river until five o’clock—the best day they’d had in a long while—she couldn’t leave until after six.

  Logan hadn’t yet returned and Penny was still chatting with some customers out on the riverbank when six o’clock rolled around. Carrie debated, then called the nonemergency number at the sheriff’s department. The office secretary said the sheriff was out, but Carrie could leave a message for the deputy covering that area.

  She hesitated, then left a brief message on voice mail.

  After writing a note for Logan and Penny, she left it on the office desk.

  On the way out of town she mulled over what she could say to Linda. “Your nephew is in danger” probably sounded too over-the-top. Unbelievable.

  As wary as the woman had been, telling her, “You’ve got to come to the police station with me so Noah can make a statement” would probably send Linda running straight for the hills with Noah in tow.

  And what about the child? If he had to talk to the sheriff—or even a jury—would reliving his mother’s death be too traumatic, too difficult for him to face? Could she even think of putting him in that position?

  Following her previous set of directions, Carrie turned off the highway and followed a narrow curving road way up into the hills until it turned to gravel…then a turnoff onto an even more narrow, deeply rutted track.

  It was dark back here, with the evening sun resting on the tips of the mountains to the west and its soft rays barely filtering through the heavy canopy of pines.

  She passed several empty rustic cabins, the doors half-open and windows staring out at her like black, empty eyes. She shivered, wondering why Linda and her brother would want to live in such a remote location. Privacy was wonderful, in a well-kept place, but the abandoned cabins were eerie.

  The trees opened up into a clearing, where the last cabin stood. She pulled to a stop. Started to get out, then hesitated, as a sense of foreboding began prickling at the back of her neck.

  Last time, there were lights in the windows. The door was firmly shut.

  Linda’s car was still parked in front. But now the cabin was dark, its front door wide-open. She looked around the clearing for any signs of motion.

  Nothing moved except for the breeze tossing the branches.

  Had Linda and Noah’s father taken him and left in some other vehicle?

  Or was the woman hiding, at the sound of an approaching car?

  Or maybe it was all more innocuous than that. Maybe they were all out hiking, and still making their way home. Or maybe they were in a back room watching a movie on a DVD, and had lost track of time. Far more likely scenarios than anything Carrie could dream up just because the place seemed so dark, so terribly lonely without anyone around.

  “Linda?” she called out. “Noah?”

  No one answered.

  She took a steadying breath, gathered her courage with a brief prayer, and started for the front door. “Linda—are you here?”

  The silence was deafening as she tentatively reached up to knock on the door frame. “Linda?”

  The long shadows of sunset crawled across the clearing, casting the weathered cabin in dim light. Was that something moving in the darkness over there—a wolf, or a coyote? A man, furtively moving through the darkness?

  Her heart hammering in her chest, she turned to hurry back to her waiting vehicle.

  And then she heard it.

  A thin cry…like that of a dying rabbit.

  Her imagination—or real?

  Shaking, she turned around to scan the cabin, the surrounding brush. Maybe it had just been the wind, keening through the trees.

  Maybe it was someone wanting to lure her back.

  Breathing hard, a hand clutched at her throat, she started for her truck at a run. But as she climbed behind the wheel, she heard it again, and this time knew it was no mistake. The words, now repeated in a weak litany, chilled her to the bone.

  “H-help me. Please…y-you’ve got to save Noah.”

  NINETEEN

  Carrie drove the Tahoe closer to the cabin and turned on her headlights, then backed up and repositioned the vehicle a few feet over, aiming at the weak cries for help.

  She grabbed a flashlight, made sure her phone was still in her pocket, and warily opened her door. “Linda?”

  “Over…here.” The voice was weaker now. Raspy.

  Taking another careful look around the clearing, Carrie hurried toward Linda’s voice.

  She lay crumpled against the foundation of the cabin, half-hidden in a tangle of brush, her clothing crimson with blood, her face and throat clotted with it. The dirt around her was stained dark.

  Carrie took a sharp breath as she knelt at Linda’s side and punched 911 into her cell phone.

  “N-no,” Linda wheezed, choking on the fluid in her throat and trying to catch her breath. “Don’t. H-he’ll come back.”

  “Who will come back? Who, Linda?”

  “He…he’s got Noah. Go—find him.” The woman’s eyes rolled back and she slumped against the wall, her breathing barely audible.

  Carrie finished her hasty 911 call, giving th
e directions and Linda’s name as she hurried to her truck for the simple first-aid kit she kept in the glove box. She jerked on her only pair of vinyl gloves, then raced back to Linda’s side and tried to examine her wounds.

  A cut trailed from below her ear to the base of her neck. Others—defensive wounds, probably—were crosshatched on her hands and arms, and there appeared to be stab wounds on her lower belly.

  And everywhere Carrie looked, there was blood.

  Opening the first-aid kit, she stared at the puny assortment of small adhesive bandages, two-by-two gauze squares and a roll of clingy stretch bandaging.

  She grabbed the gauze squares and pressed them into place along the neck wound, using strips of adhesive tape to hold them in place. She added more and more layers of gauze while applying pressure with her palm until the bleeding slowed, then stopped seeping through the gauze.

  She searched for the other wounds, wrapping the worst as best she could.

  Linda stirred, opened her eyes halfway. “Noah…please go…”

  A faint sound of sirens wailed in the far distance, though with the curving, narrow mountain roads, it was still a long ways off.

  Linda’s eyes opened wider in alarm. “Shouldn’t…have called.”

  “You need help. The ambulance will be here soon, I promise.”

  “Don’t…stay here. Go. Now.”

  “Where is he? Where’s Noah?”

  “Taken. M-maybe an hour ago.”

  “Who did it?”

  Linda’s eyes drifted shut. Heaving shudders seemed to roll from deep within her. Shock…blood loss…would she even make it until help arrived? Carrie sorted through the memories of her last first-aid class.

  Blankets. Raise the feet—except with a heart attack. But with those abdominal wounds, maybe not in this case, either? She ran into the house and brought out blankets. Rechecked the wounds, then gently tucked the blankets around Linda.