Murder at Granite Falls

by Roxanne Rustand

  Maybe she’d just confirmed the answer Principal Grover wanted regarding school in the fall, but she sure hadn’t managed to establish better rapport.

  And until Linda or the boy’s father decided to open up—if ever—apparently that was how things were going to stay.

  Logan had stayed overnight in the boathouse ever since the murder, and always left Murphy with Carrie in her apartment. The dog seemed to understand the new routine, because he settled down and didn’t pace and whine through the night.

  On Tuesday afternoon after a long discussion, Logan finally agreed to go back to staying at his cabin…as long as Carrie kept the dog overnight and her cell phone handy.

  “So now it’ll be just you and me, buddy,” Carrie said, stroking the old dog’s head as she watched the last customer’s car pull out. “But we’ll be fine.”

  Buttoning her sweater against the evening chill, she sauntered over to the boathouse to help Logan and Penny finish putting away the equipment. Murphy followed and curled up on his bed in the corner of the building.

  “There were several more calls while you were gone, and four more reservations via the internet. Things are looking good for the next week or so.”

  “Thanks. It helps to have a voice instead of a recording if people call.” Penny smiled. “And that’s just the news we want to hear.”

  Murphy suddenly stood up, his head up and ears pricked, his tail low and still, then he bolted out of the building to stare at the line of trees to the south, near the river’s edge.

  Logan motioned for Penny and Carrie to stay inside. “I’ll go check around.”

  They stood in the doorway and watched him go. Dusk was falling, and now the world was in shades of muted gray. In just a few strides Logan disappeared. Carrie wrapped her arms around her middle, straining to see where he’d gone.

  Someone else appeared out of the shadows. Voices drifted through the darkness. Logan’s tone insistent, the stranger’s voice hesitant.

  “I think it’s Dante Loomis,” Penny said, after listening intently.

  “You mentioned him once before. Who is he?”

  “A reclusive old guy who’s lived off the land up in the mountains somewhere since coming back from Vietnam. He doesn’t show up for weeks or even months at a time, then drifts into town for supplies—more alcohol, mostly. The younger kids are frightened of him because he looks scary with all that scraggly hair, but he’s harmless. He hasn’t ever harmed a soul around here, anyway. I hate to think what he might’ve been through in that war.”

  “Sounds like a troubled guy.”

  “Exactly. They say he was normal before. Now, he supposedly has quite an arsenal, is suspicious of everyone and is still convinced that ‘government agents’ are after him.”

  “Shouldn’t he have gotten help? Like at a veterans’ hospital somewhere?”

  “You’d think, but he would have none of it. Come on—you should meet him in case you run into him out here sometime. Logan?” Penny called out. “We’re coming.”

  Carrie followed her outside to where Logan and Dante stood at the far end of the parking area, under a pool of light from the security lamp overhead.

  She could see why small children might be frightened. A good six feet tall, Dante was dressed in multiple layers of ragged clothes, with an army surplus–style backpack hooked over one arm. Between the long, wispy hair erupting in wild tangles from beneath the old baseball cap pulled low over his eyes and his scraggly beard, he was more apparition than man in the dim light.

  One bony hand repeatedly plucked at the buttons of his jacket while his head swiveled back and forth like a radar dish as if he were anxiously scanning the area for the fastest escape route. He gave Carrie a furtive glance, then dropped his gaze and shuffled his feet.

  “Dante, this is Carrie. She works for us.” Logan spoke distinctly, slowly. “She’s a good lady.”

  “I’m glad to meet you, Dante.” Carrie stepped forward and offered her hand, but the man took a wary step backward. “Nice evening, isn’t it?”

  He craned his head in an odd motion, met her eyes for a split second—probably incredulous because she couldn’t have come up with a more inane thing to say—and then he spun on his heel and loped off into the darkness.

  “That went well,” she muttered, feeling a flush of embarrassment. “I said ten words and sent him running.”

  Logan chuckled. “Actually, it did go well. He hung around long enough to meet you before taking off, and that doesn’t always happen…or so we’ve heard. He’s shy as a wild deer around most folks.”

  She stared into the gloom, trying to make out his retreating form. “I feel sorry for him.”

  Penny nodded. “Me, too. But we heard that he ran away from several facilities over the years, and refused psych treatment. I guess he’s living the life he wants.”

  Carrie hesitated. “Does he show up around here often?”

  “Nope…maybe just two or three times during the two years we’ve been here. Right, Logan?”

  “At the most. And once was just a glimpse.”

  “Maybe he could’ve been the prowler I saw.”

  “Like we said, he doesn’t come around here much,” Penny said. “He avoids civilization. So the likelihood that you saw him is pretty slim.”

  “What about Billy’s murder? Couldn’t he be a suspect?”

  “Dante? I doubt it.”

  “Was he ever questioned?”

  “I actually did hear that he was, but not for long. He doesn’t always make a lot of sense.”

  “Even if he didn’t do it, maybe he saw something suspicious, if he’s been hanging around this area.”

  Penny and Logan exchanged glances.

  “A slim chance, maybe. But like I said, he’s a recluse. Even if he claimed he’d seen something and was brought in to testify, I doubt a court of law would believe him,” Penny said slowly. “Then again…I suppose anything is possible.”

  After coming to Granite Falls, Carrie had twice felt the eerie, unseen presence of someone watching her, and she’d seen a prowler once. With the timing of Billy’s emails and his ultimate arrival in town, she’d been sure that he was the one who’d been lurking in the shadows. But now, there was an alternate explanation.

  It could have been Dante, with his secretive, vagabond ways, though Logan and Penny had both insisted that the old guy was harmless. Maybe he’d just been curious about someone new moving into his territory.

  The more frightening possibility was one that she didn’t want to think about—that the prowler had been Billy’s killer. A killer who was still at large.

  Had Billy been a random victim—or a specific target? Knowing her ex-husband, he could’ve headed north to escape serious gambling debts or a run-in with a dangerous element at some honky-tonk bar. That could explain why he’d come back to Montana to find her, and wanted money so badly.

  If the guy had come after him from down South, maybe he was long gone. If it had been a random act…

  She shivered, thinking about the dense forest and the perfect cover it offered. The rushing water of the nearby river that could mask the sound of someone approaching.

  Saying a silent prayer to herself, she tried to shove those fears aside as she showered and put on her favorite Snoopy pj’s and a red summer-weight cotton sweater, then checked her windows and door locks and whistled to Murphy as she headed for bed.

  Watching from the shadows at the end of the boathouse, his frustration grew by the minute.

  It had seemed so perfect.

  A grisly murder on the Bradley property and Logan’s past legal history should have immediately branded him as the lone suspect. Eliminated all future risk and helped settle the past once and for all. Even better, there’d been a perfect victim—one who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and had inadvertently seen too much. When he became confrontational there’d been no other option but to eliminate him, but there couldn’t have been a better choice. Learning that the ex
-wife probably had good reason to see Billy disappear had been icing on the cake.

  But oh, no.

  Despite a murder in his own backyard, Logan had come up with an alibi that would probably hold up in court. And now people were beginning to dredge up the topic of Sheryl Colwell’s death again. Starting to think Logan seemed like a “nice young man” and wondering why he’d ever been brought to trial for her murder.

  Those questions were dangerous.

  Though there’d been no witnesses in either case, questions could lead to more curiosity. And if anyone delved too deeply into Sheryl’s past…

  Cursing under his breath, the man lifted his gaze to the curtained windows of the apartment above the rafting company office and watched the silhouette of the woman checking her windows and turning off the lights, one by one.

  The sheriff was a fool and the BCI investigators clearly weren’t much better, but he’d been careful to eliminate evidence at each murder scene at any rate, for he was a meticulous man. But Penny, Logan and Carrie were starting to ask questions around town…and he knew they wouldn’t stop until they’d discovered way too much. They had to be stopped.

  And if one of them needed to die to make that happen, so be it.

  FOURTEEN

  Though business had been slow the week before, the July Fourth holiday brought a welcome surge in reservations. Penny and Tina each took groups on six-hour white-water trips, while Logan took care of slow-paced scenic float trips both morning and afternoon. He’d let Carrie guide with him on his early morning run, then she’d guided her first scenic float down the river solo, with a small group of passengers from California.

  Now, at eight o’clock in the evening, the customers and Tina were long gone. Logan had just finished grilling hamburgers and brats out next to the river, while Penny and Carrie shook a red-checked tablecloth over the picnic table by the boathouse and brought out potato salad, baked beans and thick wedges of watermelon.

  “Gorgeous evening,” Carrie said, her voice wistful. “Brings back a lot of memories.”

  A shadow of worry crossed her expression, and Logan wondered if she was remembering any good ones spent with her ex-husband.

  “What are some of your favorites?” Penny asked as she adjusted the foil covering on a bowl of potato salad that she’d set in a larger container filled with ice.

  “Picnics—a lot like this one, back when Trace and I were kids. Fireworks, of course. And sparklers.”

  “Maybe you should have gone back home to be with family today,” Penny said with a smile as she laid out paper plates. “We could’ve managed. But we’re sure glad you’re here.”

  “I had to teach yesterday and figured I needed the hours of working here. I’m not sure I feel much like celebrating this year, anyway. Not after…what happened to Billy.” She bit her lower lip as she glanced toward the woods where he’d been found. “It still doesn’t seem real.”

  Logan watched the range of emotions play across her face. She looked so vulnerable that he wanted to pull her into his arms for a long, comforting hug. “I’m sure it doesn’t.”

  By all rights, the man who’d been killed should have made it to old age, and no one should now have to live with the memories of seeing that grisly murder scene out in the woods—especially someone who had once loved him. Good marriage or bad, it had to be the stuff of nightmares. Even Logan had awakened at night, reliving the moment of shock when he’d first seen the man lying in a pool of blood, and he’d only met Billy once. So how did Carrie feel?

  Penny surveyed the food on the table. “Looks like everything’s ready—let’s eat.”

  They all sat at the picnic table and served themselves family style. When Carrie brought out a streusel-topped peach pie and ice cream, they moved over to the blazing campfire Logan had started while Carrie and Penny were clearing the picnic table.

  “I’ve been doing some checking around town, over the past couple of days. Talking to people,” he said.

  Carrie stilled, her face pale. “Any luck?”

  He flicked a glance at Penny. “We’ve both been trying to find out if anyone saw Billy lurking around town, or if they saw him talking to anyone in particular. No luck so far.”

  “And no word about any abandoned campsites, either,” Penny added. “A deputy found his pickup with just a blanket and duffel bag in it, but it didn’t have a camper on top. There’s no record of him checking into any cabins, motels or resorts in the area, either. So he figures Billy must’ve been camping somewhere.”

  Logan thought for a minute. “If he did, maybe there’d be clues left behind about who would want to kill him, and why.”

  “You’d think. But the investigators have been searching everywhere without any luck.”

  “It doesn’t surprise me.” Carrie pushed at her piece of apple pie without taking a bite. “He probably slept in the cab of his pickup. He did that plenty of times when he was rodeoing and said it saved a lot of motel bills. Though he did start keeping one of those high-tech backpacking tents behind the seat of his truck. A red one, I think.”

  “You should call the sheriff’s office and let them know.”

  She smiled sadly. “I’ll do that, though he was never one for backpacking and camping, really. I think he won the tent from someone in a card game and just forgot he had it back there.”

  Twilight had fallen and embers from the fire crackled and shot upward like fireflies into the darkening sky when Logan stirred the logs with an iron poker. “Anyone up for fireworks? They ought to start in a half hour or so.”

  Carrie looked up in surprise. “Wouldn’t they be half over by the time we got there?”

  “We have a better place to watch. Quite a few townsfolk come up into the foothills, too—just a couple miles this side of Granite Falls. Do you two want to go?”

  Penny finished the last bite of her dessert and gave a blissful sigh. “That pie was perfect, but now I just want to clean up here and then head off to bed. I’m beat.”

  “Carrie?”

  She glanced uncertainly between them. “You’re sure you don’t want to go, Penny?”

  “You two should go and have some fun.” Penny stood and gathered up some of the leftovers, then looked across the table and must have caught Carrie’s hesitance, because she smiled. “Well…okay. Maybe I’ll stop there for a while, then head on down to Aunt Betty’s. Deal?”

  Logan found himself holding his breath, waiting…not wanting the evening to end. He couldn’t hold back a grin when Carrie finally nodded. “I know Penny—once she gets there, she won’t leave until the grand finale. Let’s get this place cleared and bear proofed, so we can be on our way.”

  The scenic overlook on the highway to Granite Falls was certainly no secret as a fireworks destination. By the time their two vehicles pulled in, there was barely enough parking space. Logan motioned for Penny and Carrie to take the last free area off the highway, while he parked along the shoulder.

  “Looks like we got here just in time,” Penny said as she pocketed the truck keys and handed Carrie one of the three flashlights she’d brought from the boathouse.

  “Or maybe not, given all of the parked cars here.” Carrie dutifully followed as Penny stepped over a guardrail and started down a short path leading to a long, rocky ledge high above a vast, deep valley.

  Several dozen people were already settled on blankets and folding chairs along the ledge, some with picnic baskets, coolers and thermos containers. The scent of hot cocoa wafted on the chilly mountain breeze coming down from the high country. Down below, distant rows of sparkling lights revealed the street layout of Granite Falls, while colorful points of light marked the motels, restaurants and other businesses in town.

  A rustle of whispers, marked by a few louder voices, spread through the crowd when Logan followed and helped spread out a blanket on a section of rock ledge well past the other people.

  “That’s him…and to think he’s out here, free as a bird.”

  “Sheri
ff isn’t looking hard for anyone else. Sorta gives you a clue, doesn’t it?”

  “Makes you wonder what it’ll take.”

  “But if they don’t have proof, they can hardly arrest him. And if there’s no proof, how can you even suggest he did anything wrong?” a softer feminine voice protested. “Now, just be quiet—the fireworks are starting.”

  Carrie winced and glanced in the direction of the voices, then turned to Logan as the three of them sat down on the blanket, with Logan in the middle—probably by design, if the smug grin that Penny flashed was any clue. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. If you want to leave…”

  He reached over and covered her hand with his. “Thanks. But this is nothing new.”

  She savored the warmth and weight of his large, strong hand on hers and held very still, not wanting him to let go. “It still isn’t right.”

  Penny leaned forward to peer around him. “The gossip never ended all last year. People were cruel, some were just snide—saying awful things aloud that we could overhear. And now it’s probably going to be worse.”

  “Then maybe we should go.”

  “And give these uninformed people that much power?” She whispered just loud enough that the people nearby must have heard her, because they all fell uncomfortably silent. “Hopefully they’ll be embarrassed and learn a good lesson when the truth does come out.”

  “Easy, Penny,” Logan warned, his voice tinged with quiet laughter. He looked down at Carrie and gave her hand a gentle squeeze, then let go. “She’s my guardian.”

  “Someone has to be,” Penny shot back. “‘Judge not, lest ye be judged,’ the Bible says. And what about the Ninth Commandment—on not bearing false witness against someone? Some people figure the Lord’s words don’t apply to them, I guess.”

  Carrie looked up at Logan, wishing she could take away the hurt he must feel.