Murder at Granite Falls (12 page)

Logan didn’t take his eyes off his quarry. “Carrie, is that right?”

The others had drawn closer, curiosity and a touch of pity for her in their eyes. The truth was so much harder than trying to save face, though it was probably too late for that anyway. She could only imagine the gossip blossoming about the new teacher in town, the next time the locals gathered for coffee at the Silver Bear Café.

“No. He was demanding money. Again. But I don’t have it, and I don’t owe him a dime. When we divorced, everything was split equitably.”

Logan took another step toward Billy, crowding him until he again took a step back. “So the emails can stop. And the phone calls. And the unwanted visits. I can’t tolerate bullying in children, and in a grown man, it’s flat disgusting. A man stands on his own two feet. He doesn’t come sniveling around, trying to strong-arm a woman into paying his way.”

Billy shifted uneasily, and he glanced behind him.

Logan’s voice lowered. “So here’s your one chance. Get out of here now, before I truly lose my temper.”

A patrol car appeared at the corner of Main and Pine. Slowed, then stopped. The officer inside bent over to peer through his passenger-side window, then his door swung open and he stepped out to look over his car roof. He was the burlier of the two local deputies, the friendly one she’d met on her first day in town. Vance Munson.

“I got a call about some trouble. What’s going on here?”

Penny glared at Billy. “That was from me. This guy came into town to cause trouble. Maybe you can send him on his way—or even arrest him. He was
threatening
my friend, here.”

Billy edged farther back into the shadows, his face pale and his eyes pinned on the deputy.

Now other people were gathering, and Carrie wished she could simply melt into the street. This was escalating into an even bigger scene, and there was no way to stop it.

And once Billy switched into defensive mode, there was no telling what he’d say—but it wouldn’t be true, and it wouldn’t be good. She turned to look at Billy. “If I were you—”

But during the moment when she’d looked away, Billy had disappeared.

NINE

A
fter Billy slipped away in the dark, Deputy Munson shooed the crowd away and then questioned Carrie and Penny on the street for a few minutes. After promising to file a report and keep an eye out for Billy in the future, he drove off.

Logan followed Carrie and Penny to Aunt Betty’s house, where Carrie picked up Murphy and her SUV. Logan followed her out to the rafting company property.

At the foot of the stairs to her apartment, he studied her intently. “You know Billy better than the rest of us. He has to realize that there were witnesses who saw him in town, even if the deputy didn’t get a good look at him. He’s hardly here on the sly anymore. Will he leave or stick around?”

“I’m not sure.” She glanced out at the faint outline of the towering pines rimming the parking lot. The moon was barely a sliver tonight, and the darkness seemed to close in on her from all sides. “I have no doubt that he knows where I live, though. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been lurking around here, debating his next move. But I don’t think he’d be foolish enough to come out here tonight—not after being seen by so many people in town.”

“I didn’t see any headlights behind me.”

“And I didn’t see any behind me on the highway except yours, either. He couldn’t have driven that road with his lights
off. It’s too dark, and on the hairpin turns he would’ve ended up over the edge or a ravine somewhere along the way.”

“So now his options are limited. He can hang around town, where people might start to think he’s a suspicious stranger and point him out…”

“Or he could lie low and watch for me coming and going from school. I don’t think he’ll risk coming out here again…not after you confronted him face-to-face and made him back down. He did say something about how giving him money ‘could save my life’…but that was just another one of his empty threats.”

“I wouldn’t count on it. Not after seeing his expression, when he thought he could bully you into giving him exactly what he wanted.” Logan looked down at her, the faint moonlight shadowing the planes and angles of his lean, rugged face. He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Munson said he’d alert the other officers about keeping an eye out for him, using the description and photo you gave them. But until Billy is gone for sure, I’ll be staying in the boathouse at night.”

“But—”

“No arguments.” A corner of his mouth quirked up in a grin. “It’s actually not too bad over there. I may even do some renovating and move in there for good. My cabin is a good hundred years older.”

She looked up at him, grateful for his presence. “You are one very sweet guy.”

He laughed at that. “Don’t tell Penny that. It’ll ruin my image.”

He started to turn away, then paused, turned back and pulled Carrie into an embrace. “You’ll be fine,” he whispered against her hair. “We’re going to make sure your problems are taken care of, once and for all. And then you won’t need to worry anymore.”

A sense of warmth rushed through her, clear down to her
toes, and she curved her arms around him in response. “Thank you,” she breathed.

He pulled back, his arms still around her, and dropped a sweet, gentle kiss on her lips. Lingered.

And then he walked away.

Two nights later, Carrie still had trouble sleeping. Early Saturday morning she remembered seeing the dial of her alarm clock at two, three-thirty and four, her emotions still in a turmoil after the encounter with Billy and the deputy, followed by the most amazing kiss of her entire life.

But she must have finally dozed, because the first unearthly scream made her launch out of bed, dazed and confused, her heart pounding.

The second sent her racing to the window.

Penny’s and Logan’s vehicles were by the boathouse, along with several other cars—probably tourists who’d arrived early for the seven-o’clock breakfast float trip.

Carrie caught a glimpse of colorful T-shirts moving through the trees close to where the driveway opened up into the parking lot. Another voice cried out, then Penny appeared, herding a group of four or five clearly distraught women out of the trees toward the raft company office.

The hubbub of voices grew louder as they all drew closer, then stopped when Penny ushered them into the office downstairs and shut the door.

It’s not my business to interfere,
Carrie reminded herself, reining in her immediate impulse to find out what was going on. And it was probably nothing.

Maybe one of the tourists had simply stumbled and sprained an ankle, or had taken sick. Things were obviously under control, and it was time to shower and dress so she could make it to school in time.

Still, Carrie stood at the window feeling unsettled and
anxious, a rising sense of dread curling through her midsection when she heard the sound of an approaching siren.

An EMT vehicle came into view, then stopped. A heavyset woman and a lean man, both dressed in navy coveralls emblazoned with EMT across their shoulder blades, climbed out and hurried to the rear of the vehicle, grabbed their gear and disappeared into the trees.

Logan wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Was he back in the woods, directing the EMT to someone who was hurt? Or worse, was he the one who was injured?

Images of the stranger who’d lurked by her SUV invaded her thoughts, followed by a frightening premonition that gripped her heart like an icy hand.

Penny had just told her yesterday about an old recluse named Dante, who lived up in the mountains somewhere. What if Dante or Billy had attacked Logan?

It wasn’t hard to imagine Logan pursuing someone, or standing his ground.

She’d already let Murphy outside earlier in the morning to do his business, and he’d been blissfully sleeping on the sofa ever since, but now he stood growling at the window, every muscle rigid. “You’ve got to stay here, boy…I’ll be back.”

The dog didn’t so much as flick an ear. His attention remained riveted on the EMT truck outside.

Please, Lord, don’t let this mean he senses that something terrible has happened. Please, let Logan be all right.

Numb, already afraid of what she was going to find, she pulled on a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, jammed her feet into loafers, and then she jerked open her front door and started to run.

TEN

C
arrie was halfway across the parking lot when she heard the discordant wail of even more sirens approaching.

Logan appeared at the edge of the clearing, his shirt covered with blood and his shoulders slumped in an expression of…defeat? He acknowledged her with only a faint nod when she reached his side.

“What happened?” She resisted the urge to run her hands over his arms and chest, to search for wounds. Someone, or something, had been badly hurt. “Are you all right?”

“A man was shot,” he said finally, his voice bleak and raw. “I tried to help, but…it was no use. The EMTs say he was probably gone before they even took over. They’re with the body now.”

“Oh, Logan.”

He looked so devastated that she stepped forward to wrap her arms around him and offer comfort, but he glanced down at his clothes, still glistening with blood, and held up his hands to keep her at bay. “Don’t.”

“I’m so sorry. Who was it—do you know?”

“I…can’t be sure.”

But from the haunted expression in his eyes, he probably had a good idea. “Could it be that old guy Penny mentioned—Dante?”

“I don’t think so.”

Fingers of icy horror crawled up the back of her neck. “You don’t
think
so?”

“This guy…” he looked at the ground, clearly measuring his words “…isn’t Dante. I know that much.”

“Didn’t you get a good look at his face?”

Logan’s mouth flattened to a grim line. “Yes, but it’s…hard to tell. He was wounded badly.”

She closed her eyes briefly against the sudden image that slammed into her thoughts. “Did a—a bear get to the body?”

“No. I think it was a shotgun, close range. Probably more than once. The EMTs agree.”

An uneasy feeling turned her blood to ice. “I need to see him, Logan.”

“Don’t, Carrie. Just wait for the sheriff…and a positive ID.”

She started toward the scene, but he gently caught her arm. “This isn’t anything you want to remember, Carrie. Believe me.”

She shivered at the subtext of his words. “I can’t explain it, but I have a really uneasy feeling about this.”

“You and me both.” An unreadable expression crossed Logan’s face. “And unfortunately, I have a good idea about how all of this is going to go down.”

“I need to see him, Logan. Please.”

He led her back through the trees to where the two EMTs were kneeling by the blanket-covered body. One of them, a middle-aged man with Phil embroidered on his pocket, was talking on a cell phone. Given the medical jargon he was using, he was probably talking to a physician.

“This is Carrie Randall,” Logan said. “She’s renting the apartment here and has had some problems with prowlers. She’d like to see the victim.”

The two EMTs exchanged glances, and then Phil shoved his cell phone into a holster on his belt and shrugged. His partner,
a brunette with Maura emblazoned on her uniform, frowned. “Why?”

“She feels she may know the victim.”

Maura shook her head slightly. “Why don’t you wait, ma’am. The body will be cleaned up at the funeral home in town. It…won’t be quite as difficult, then.”

Anxiety roiled through Carrie’s stomach. “Please—I just need to know.”

Phil lifted back a corner of the blanket.

She’d somehow guessed, even before this moment. A hint of intuition. A sixth sense. A heavy sensation in her heart. Or perhaps just logic, because of Billy’s arrival in town and his threats.

Still, disbelief and horror swamped her as she stared down at the remnants of an all-too-familiar face. She could still see the scar traversing what was left of his cheekbone. The thin, cruel twist of the mouth, even in death.

“Billy,” she whispered with a hand over her mouth. No wonder Logan had tried to protect her from this.

The world narrowed, the edges of her vision fading to a long, dark tunnel as a loud buzzing sounded in her ears.

And then everything went black.

Three patrol cars arrived one after another, lights flashing. Maura sat with her arm around Carrie on a nearby log. Wrapped in a blanket now, Carrie’s head was bowed. She hadn’t said a word since she came to after collapsing at the sight of her ex-husband’s body.

Logan stood near the body with the EMTs, his arms folded across his chest and his heart heavy as deputies Rick Peterson—as starched and pressed as ever—and Vance Munson climbed out of their vehicles and strode up to the scene.

A moment later the door of the patrol car emblazoned with County Sheriff swung open. His belly wedged behind the
steering wheel, Bryce Tyler awkwardly shifted his bulk out of the car and limped to the crime scene, scowling as he favored his left hip.

Logan could see it in the officers’ eyes already. The doubt. The judgment. An air of vindication, even. He didn’t have to guess that he’d soon feel the cold, hard clamp of handcuffs on his wrists, or that he’d be shoved roughly into the backseat of one of those patrol cars.

They thought he’d gotten away with murder once before, and now they’d do everything in their power to see it didn’t happen again. The thick, clotted blood on his hands and shirt would be evidence enough to arrest him.

Phil stepped aside as the sheriff hunkered down to lift away the blanket to study the victim’s face. “A group of female customers discovered the body,” he murmured. “They arrived early, and were walking through the woods looking for wildflowers.”

Tyler’s eyes narrowed. “Where are they now?”

“Up at the office, with Penny. One of them was nearly hysterical.”

“What did you see when you arrived?”

Phil canted his head toward Logan. “He was performing chest compressions, but it was too late. The guy was gone.”