If Ashley had an issue, Carrie thought with an inward smile, she would probably march up to a teacher’s desk and make her complaints perfectly clear.
None of the other kids stood out.
They all participated, to some degree, except for Noah Colwell, who appeared to be afraid of his own shadow, but the others seemed as boisterous and outgoing as any other fifth graders would be; chattering and joking with each other before and after class.
From now on, Carrie would watch them like a hawk and make sure she discovered the identity of her unknown artist. And if there did seem to be some concerns, she would definitely follow through, no matter what Marie said.
Surely Principal Grover couldn’t be as callous as Marie claimed.
FIVE
On Friday, with four drawings in her folder, Carrie guessed there would be a fifth by the time class was over, but she still hadn’t seen anyone surreptitiously leave one of them behind. The anonymous artist obviously waited each time until her back was turned.
At five minutes before class ended, she leaned against her desk and smiled. “You’re all doing an amazing job with your paintings. We’ll finish them up on Monday so they can be displayed in the hall, and then we’ll start a unit on the influence of American Indian culture on art. Any questions?”
Everyone stirred, clearly eager for the bell to ring.
“I have one for you, then. I’ve found some wonderful drawings in the room—really well done. But I don’t know who did them, and would like to give them back to the right person.” She briefly held up one of the drawings, then slipped it back in the manila folder. “Does anyone know who did them?”
Some of the students looked around at each other, while others just gave her a blank stare.
“No one? Well, if the artist wants to talk to me privately, that’s fine, too. Have a great afternoon, everyone.”
Right on cue, the school bell rang and the students flooded out the door.
With a sigh, she gathered up the folder and strode to the main office, where Dottie, the silver-haired school secretary, greeted her with a warm smile. “How’s it going?”
“I’m really happy to be here. The town is charming.”
“And busy.” Dottie chuckled. “Now that the tourist season is under way, Main is nearly impassable, but come September things will go back to normal.”
“Is Mr. Grover available? I have a few questions for him.”
Dottie glanced out the window toward the parking lot. “He left just a minute ago, but you might be able to catch him. Or you can leave a message with me.”
The message left for him yesterday hadn’t done much good, so Carrie shook her head. “I’ll see if I can catch him outside. Otherwise, I can just wait until next week. Thanks.”
She hurried out the door and down the sidewalk, reaching the parking lot just as the principal stepped off the curb by a gray Ford Focus. Tall, with thinning brown hair, wire rims and a paunchy midsection, he had the weary air of someone who needed to retire. And from what Marie had said about him, that day was long past due.
“Mr. Grover, could I bother you for just a second?”
He paused and frowned. “Is it important? I’m meeting my wife for lunch.”
“Really, this will just take a moment. I’m a little worried about someone in my class—”
He gave a bored sigh. “The pictures. I know.”
“You do?” Carrie’s heart lifted. Maybe this was an ongoing situation and was already being addressed.
“Marie told me about your concerns. Really, this type of drawing is very typical for boys this age. Just like she told you, they’re intrigued by weapons and battles, and most of them go through a phase of drawing this stuff. It’s like a rite of passage.” He snorted. “Given the tremendous violence of the video games they’re allowed to play, it’s no surprise.”
“But it seems—”
“Ms. Randall.” There was no mistaking the impatience in his voice. “I realize that you’re new at teaching. But this is not an issue. And if it bothers you a great deal, well…”
His voice trailed off, leaving his implication perfectly clear.
“No. It’s not that,” she said, frustration and disappointment washing through her. Marie had been right after all.
He punched a button on his key ring and opened his car door. “Good, then. See you on Monday.”
She stepped back and watched him drive away.
Had she been foolish, making more of something than she should have? Was it worth jeopardizing her contract to pursue it further?
The principal had made that risk clear, yet a still, small voice in her heart called out a warning, urging her to not let this go. Please, God, let me know what to do.
Saturday dawned bright and clear, with a chilly breeze typical in the mountains during the first half of June. Pausing as he worked at patching a spare raft, Logan breathed in the incomparable sweet scents of pine and damp earth.
Snowdrifts still persisted in shaded places, though the delicate buttercups, spring crocus and crimson paintbrush were already blooming in abundance in the meadows, and now rafting customers had a good chance at seeing the other signs of spring—like newborn bear cubs, or moose calves.
It couldn’t be more different from the heat and dust of a rodeo arena, and for the first time, he found himself almost wishing that he could leave the circuit for good.
As if that were a choice.
His attorney had been worth every cent, but now Logan would be riding broncs a lot longer than he’d intended to…and already, his old injuries made him feel twice his age on cold mornings.
Doc Henderson had said another bad crash in the arena could disable him for good, but the chances of that were slim no matter what Penny thought. It was a risk he’d just have to ignore.
At the sound of approaching footsteps, Logan looked up and saw Carrie making her way across the rocky shoreline to stand at the water’s edge.
She was dressed in faded jeans and a moss-green T-shirt knotted at her trim waist, her glossy hair shimmering in the sunlight. She looked like one of the woodland sprites in the painting Penny had kept on her bedroom wall since she was a child.
Just looking at Carrie made him want to run his fingers through that beautiful hair. Made him want to whisk her away to someplace where they could talk and get to know each other a lot better, away from the intermittent hustle and bustle of this place.
But that was a bad idea.
She hadn’t fled after he told her about Sheryl’s death and the trial—which was incredible in itself—though she’d been carefully formal and distant ever since, offering a polite wave or nod if they happened to cross paths.
He knew she left for school by seven in the morning and didn’t return until almost two. Afterward, she worked on lesson plans, according to Penny, or left again in her SUV to head for the endless miles of hiking trails in the area. She had yet to go anywhere in the evening, though…and disappeared into her apartment with the windows closed and shades drawn before nightfall. So what was up with that?
Not that it was any of his business, and he planned to keep it that way.
As if sensing his attention, she turned away from the river and sauntered up to him. “Penny says you have just one raft guide hired for the summer.”
Warning bells sounded in his head. “That’s right. Tina and Penny both take groups down the river. I do, too, in a pinch.”
“But you have three rafts, and she says there’ll be times when you’re shorthanded.”
He hesitated, then nodded.
“I’d like to work for you, if you need a spare guide. My afternoons and weekends are free.” She lifted a delicate shoulder. “Future summers, too, once school is out each year.”
He hid a smile at her naiveté. She had no idea how tough it was to manage a big, bulky raft with a load of people…or about the endless hours of training it took to get to that point. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s a lot harder than you think.
”
She didn’t bother trying to hide her own smile in response. “I do have some idea.”
“This river has some Class I sections, but even if you’ve been white-water rafting before, the wilder stretches are dangerous. Right now, with spring runoff, they’re up to a strong Class IV, and the river channels are changing all the time. Have you been rafting before?”
“California Salmon River, Class V. Colorado River, Grand Canyon.”
He whistled. “Those must have been exciting vacations.”
She tipped her head in agreement.
“But being a passenger and being a guide are two different things. The responsibility…”
Penny rounded the corner with an armload of life jackets and plopped them on the ground next to the raft. “I see you two are getting things settled, then. Glad to have you on board, Carrie. We need the help.”
Startled, Logan looked between Carrie and his sister. “Wait a minute—”
Penny beamed. “I actually had to sort of talk her into it, but we are so lucky. I had no idea that she’d been a raft guide before. And experienced guides usually just want to hire on with the bigger companies.”
Eyeing Carrie’s petite build, Logan felt his mouth drop open. If she could handle a kayak on a glass-calm lake, he’d be surprised. “Experienced? Her?”
“It isn’t all about brawn,” Penny retorted, her eyes sparkling. “I don’t suppose you asked her, but she put herself through college working as a raft guide on the Snake.”
He blinked. “The Snake.”
“Jackson Hole area.”
“I do know where it is.” He felt a new sense of respect for the young teacher standing in front of him, though for the life of him he still couldn’t imagine her having the required strength. The Snake was beautiful, but its changing channels could be fast and treacherous in the spring, and had even claimed a number of lives in recent years.
Penny toed one of the life jackets. “I know you’ll want to check out her skills, so if you two want to take a trial run, go right ahead. Tina and I can handle everything here for a while. And hey, it might even be a good chance to get to know each other. Honestly, I’ve never in my life seen two people trying so hard to ignore each other. I think you’d find each other to be good company.”
Uncomfortable, Carrie looked away.
She’d expected that she’d need to demonstrate her river skills, but she’d been thinking that Penny or Tina would go with her because they were the guides who were on the river the most. The last thing she wanted was to face those hours alone with Logan.
Sure, the water was fast and high. Reading the currents, channels and hazards of an unfamiliar river would require fast decisions and decisive maneuvers, leaving little time for awkward conversation.
But since she’d come to terms with her concerns about his past, her traitorous heart had gone back to its old routine—with that little extra skip every time she saw him, along with an unwanted sense of extra awareness that had no place in their strictly business relationship.
And she definitely wanted nothing more than that.
She’d already succumbed to foolish attraction once before and had discovered that she was apparently a poor judge of character. And where had it gotten her? A precipitous marriage to Billy, and after it was over, she’d ended up watching the shadows and fearing the night, regretting her poor judgment. It would be a long, long time before she had any interest in taking that risk again. Distance was the best policy.
Though from the pained expression in his eyes, Logan had little desire for greater proximity, either. Exactly how she felt…so why did his cool reserve rankle?
He cleared his throat. “Sounds like a good plan, Penny—except I have an appointment at the bank at eleven, and they close at noon so I can’t be late. You’ll have to go with her instead.”
“I have two two-hour float trips scheduled today.” Penny folded her arms across her chest and frowned. “You could reschedule that appointment.”
“Nope. It’s with Rob Peters, the loan officer. He’s leaving on vacation later this afternoon. Tina—”
“Has to watch the office while I’m on the river, so she can collect the money and release forms from the second set of customers today. Then she has to bus them down to Hawk Landing so they can board, and bus the first group back up here.”
Logan thought for a moment. “We’ll also need to check with the insurance company about adding another guide.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Carrie murmured, backing away. “I…um…have lesson plans to work on and errands to run. Penny can just let me know when she has the time…or we can forget about it altogether. It doesn’t really matter to me.”
Penny frowned. “But you said you’d be interested in some hours, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“If you could handle the office this afternoon, that would be great. As a guide you’d be getting tips, but at least this would be an extra paycheck. And if things are slow, you can work on your lesson plans in the office.”
“That would be fine.”
“Good. Then we can sort out the other issues later.” Penny gave her brother a long, pointed look. “After Logan and I sit down for a talk, I’m sure we can get this settled.”
SIX
Carrie hesitated on the steps of the Granite Falls Community Church and glanced at the sign listing service times, needing an extra moment or two to settle the butterflies in her stomach.
She’d always loved old churches, and had admired this white clapboard church with its towering steeple and tall stained-glass windows along both sides of the sanctuary when she’d first come to town for her interview.
But this was her first Sunday service here. She hardly knew anyone in town. Light rain was falling, so no one was standing around to visit on the sidewalk, and already she felt like an awkward outsider. But this is about You and me, God. Right? It isn’t a social occasion.
Taking a fortifying breath, she pulled open the massive oak door and stepped into the small crowd of people chatting quietly just inside. Ahead, through an open set of double doors leading into the nave, a center aisle led to the altar, with oak pews on either side.
“Ms. Randall!” Rachel, one of her students, sidestepped through the gathering with a middle-aged brunette in tow. “This is my mom, Ivy Graham.”
“What a nice surprise,” Carrie murmured, offering her hand. “Rachel is a fine student. I’m so glad to have her in my class.”
“She talks a lot about you.” Ivy smiled warmly. “There are several of your students who attend here, actually.” She craned her neck to search, then waved a hand toward a tall, barrel-chested man at the far end of the entryway. “There’s Garrett’s dad. Have you met him?”
“Not yet. Is Noah here?”
“Now, that’s hard to say. He’s such a quiet little guy—not that I blame him.” She craned her neck. “Ah—see over there, by the water fountain? There he is. And the redhead next to him is his aunt Linda Bates. She’s been living with her brother and Noah since Sheryl died.”
As if they’d heard her words, Noah and his aunt both looked in her direction. Linda’s eyes widened when Noah tugged on her sleeve and whispered something, then the two of them hurried away from the entry toward a side exit.
Oblivious to their departure, Ivy continued to survey the other churchgoers. “There’s Margaret, from down at the bank…and Oscar Nelson—he owns the drugstore. Oh, and there’s one of the deputies in town. Have you met Rick Peterson?”
Surprised, Carrie looked across the room and caught sight of the tall, slender deputy. “Briefly.”
Dressed in a white polo shirt and khaki slacks instead of his crisply starched uniform, he still wore a military aura of command. “He’s the older brother of one of my high school classmates.” She winked. “Come with me. It’s always nicer to visit with someone if he isn’t giving you a traffic ticket, don’t you think?”
Carrie followed Ivy across the entryw
ay. “We did meet, but it wasn’t over a traffic violation.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Ivy’s hand flew to her mouth, a pink tinge climbing up her face. “There was some sort of…a domestic call, wasn’t it? I heard it on the scanner.”
“You and everyone else in the county, apparently.” Carrie offered a wry smile. “But it wasn’t a domestic issue. I saw a prowler and called 911.”
Clearly flustered, Ivy blushed a deeper pink. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to pry, or anything…I spend more time with my feet in my mouth than anyone I know.”
The soft sweet strains of “Beautiful Savior” began, and the stragglers in the entryway all headed toward the pews. The deputy started to follow, until he glanced over at Ivy and turned back. “Mornin’, Ivy,” he said, his voice soft and warm.
Until now, Carrie had only seen him in his terse cop mode, but if the man wasn’t carrying a torch for Rachel’s sweet mom, Carrie would be surprised.
“Rick, I believe you two have met briefly once before, but under less pleasant circumstances. This is the new teacher in town, Carrie Randall,” Ivy whispered. “Carrie, this is Deputy Rick Peterson.” She looked between them and smiled, then backed away. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to join my mother and the kids.”
When Ivy stepped away, the deputy pinned Carrie with a hard, searching look. “Are you still staying out at the Bradley place?”
“I am.”
“Any more troubles out there?”
“There were, actually. Someone damaged one of the river rafts.”
“Damaged?”
“It looked like it was slashed, actually, with a knife.” She met his gaze squarely. “But Logan said it wouldn’t do any good to call in a report.”
“I hear his rafting company isn’t doing so well financially.” Rick’s cold eyes narrowed. “Things aren’t always what they seem, Ms. Randall.”
“If you’re implying that he did it himself for the insurance claim, you’re wrong.” She caught the rising emotion in her voice and took a slow breath. “Anyway, he’d want a police report on the vandalism, right?”
Murder at Granite Falls Page 6