Murder at Granite Falls (13 page)

Tyler frowned. “I didn’t think you could pronounce a death.”

“Not in this county. But we worked on the victim for a good thirty minutes, as well, and maintained communication with the E.R. doctor at Granite Falls Memorial. This guy was shot at least once. Probably a second time after he was on the ground. He sustained significant blood loss. He was turning cool and gray. Since the pupils were fixed and dilated, and there were no respirations or pulse, we received orders to cease our chest compression efforts.” Phil gave him a steady look. “We were
also told to leave him exactly as he lay, as it would be a crime scene. As if we didn’t know.”

Tyler’s gaze slid sharply toward Logan, then back to the EMTs. “So the other witnesses have been in the office together, all this time. Was Logan ever up there with them?”

Phil’s eyebrows drew together. “No. He was here with Maura and me. Why?”

The sheriff angled a quick glance at Logan—checking for guilt or fear, no doubt.

Logan gave him a steady look in return. “I was doing what I could, hoping to save this guy.”

“Right. Vance—I want you to get up to the office. Each one of those tourists needs to be questioned thoroughly, before they have any more time to talk with each other.”

“Absolutely, boss.” Vance loosened the top button of his rumpled uniform shirt. “I’ll get right on it.”

“And I want them separated—especially from Penny.”

Vance ambled away in the direction of the rafting office. “Sure enough.”

“Penny?” Logan straightened. “She’s been nothing but helpful. She’s the one who made the 911 call, and—”

“And she’s your sister, cowboy,” Tyler shot back, flipping open his cell phone and hitting a single digit. He spoke rapidly into the phone, then snapped it shut and shoved it into his breast pocket.

Rick’s cold gaze darted between Logan and Carrie, who was still leaning over her folded arms. “Was that the BCI on the phone?”

The sheriff nodded. “They’ve got a crime unit wrapping up a murder scene just over the county line. They’ll have a couple men here within an hour, and the rest of the team and a mobile lab will be here within two. We’ll process the scene while we wait, then let them have at it.”

Logan sighed under his breath. The arrival of the Montana
Bureau of Criminal Investigation meant the investigation would be handled right…
unless
the local department managed to destroy the evidence first through sheer incompetence, if not intent. They’d probably already decided he was involved and were just waiting to find proof.

The sheriff turned back to the body and slowly pulled back the blanket, revealing a tangled, blood-soaked shirt. A silver rodeo belt buckle. Faded, muddied jeans.

He lumbered back to his feet, pulled a digital camera from the bag at his side and began snapping off dozens of shots from every angle. “I’ve never seen this guy before. Did you find any ID? Was his wallet stolen?”

“It wasn’t in any of his pockets.” Phil peeled off his vinyl gloves and folded them into each other in one swift motion.

“Well, the BCI’s got the lab, ballistics and manpower to cover more ground than we can. From the looks of him, he must have been running through the brush, so maybe his billfold is somewhere in the woods.” Tyler pinned Logan with a searching look. “So what do you want to tell us about all of this, Bradley?”

“Maybe the shooter stole it,” Logan said slowly. “That would make sense.”

“Would it, now. Did you know the victim?”

“I think I saw him briefly for the first time Wednesday night, though it was too dark and things happened too fast for a positive ID.”

Tyler gave a derisive snort. “Then how would you recognize him now?”

“I’m almost sure.” Logan hesitated, regretting the need to involve Carrie, but there was no way out of it. He sent her an apologetic glance. “Carrie says she can positively identify the body, though. She lives out here, and rents the second-floor apartment of the rafting office.”

“Carrie?”

“Carrie Randall.”

The sheriff shifted his gaze to her. “Why didn’t you speak up in the first place? So who is this?”

Carrie lifted her head, the expression in her eyes still shell-shocked, her voice faint. “B-Billy Danvers. My ex-husband.”

Rick drew in a sharp breath. “She already told both Vance and me that this guy was a bad one, clear back when she first moved to Granite Falls. She was afraid of him following her here. She’d even filed a restraining order against him.”

Tyler’s eyes narrowed on her. “You don’t say.”

“Vance said he responded to a call in town Wednesday night, though it was dark and Danvers melted into the shadows when he arrived,” Rick added. “Vance didn’t get a look at his face. Ms. Randall, Logan and Danvers were involved in some sort of verbal altercation.”

“Now isn’t that interesting,” the sheriff drawled. “So there’s some troubled history, then.”

Carrie’s eyes widened at the implication. “I had no reason to do him harm, Sheriff.”

Rick flipped through the notebook in his hand. “I was out here the second of June on a 911 call because Ms. Randall reported a prowler. She does have a shotgun—I saw it myself. She told me that she’d owned it for years and that she knew how to use it.”

So they were already figuring she had both motive and means…and out in the dark pine forest, they’d assume that there would have been plenty of opportunity. But there wouldn’t be evidence. There
couldn’t
be. “It—it’s hardly uncommon to own a weapon if you’ve grown up on a ranch.”

She appeared so pale and fragile. No wonder, after what she’d just seen, and now the two officers seemed as intent as terriers after a rabbit. As if they thought they could close the case in the next few hours and get back home for a good night’s sleep.

The sheriff and his deputy exchanged looks. “Where is that shotgun now?”

“It’s in my a-apartment. But I haven’t used it for a good six months or more.”

“So you’d have it handy in case your ex-husband showed up, I take it. Did he threaten you, Ms. Randall?”

“I had put it in the back of my SUV when I moved to Granite Falls. When Deputy Peterson was out here, he insisted that I bring it up to the apartment so I’d have some protection. It’s on the top shelf of my bedroom closet.”

“Rick—go get it and tag it as evidence. The BCI can run the ballistics.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But it hasn’t been loaded in
months,
” Carrie protested, her face pale.

“Right.”

“But—”

“We’ll check it out, ma’am.”

“You won’t find any connection—I can promise you that.”

Tyler arrowed an impatient look back at Rick. “Go.”

Rick hesitated. “Another thing you should know…Ranger went crazy inside the cruiser the night I was here on the prowler call.”

“Did you let him work the area?”

“I got called out to that fatal accident on the highway. I had to leave.”

“So something might’ve been going on out here even then.” The sheriff ground out his words, his eyes narrowed on Carrie, then he swept Logan with a satisfied look, a faint smile curled the edges of his lips. “My men and I need to process this scene, but after that, the three of us are going to have a long, long talk. So don’t even
think
about going anywhere. Understood?”

“Are you saying we’re under arrest?” Logan stared at the man.

Not one thing could prove he’d had anything to do with the victim’s death, yet the sheriff immediately assumed the worst.
Small-town law enforcement in Granite Falls—the easy way out, every single time.

“Let’s just say that you are both ‘persons of interest’ and that I’m guessing you two might have some valuable information to share.” Sheriff Tyler tipped his head toward Rick. “Go get that shotgun and tag it, then come back and settle these two in the backseats of separate patrol cars so there’s no more time for any collaboration on details. I’m really looking forward to what each of them has to say.”

Rick jogged over to the raft company office, climbed the outside staircase, and went into Carrie’s apartment. Ten interminable minutes later he returned with a grim expression.

“I know she owns a shotgun. She admitted it was hers, and I saw it myself. But I just searched every corner of that place and only found an empty box of shells.”

Sheriff Tyler turned to stare at her, his eyes cold and suspicious. “Where’s that shotgun, Ms. Randall?”

“On my shelf. Like always.”

“Well, I’ve got an officer who says it isn’t, and now we have to wonder. What was it used for, and where is it now?”

Still numb with shock and horror, Carrie stepped out of the sheriff’s office four hours later. Billy was
dead.

Any love between them had dissolved long before the divorce. It had then descended to outright animosity on his part, though she’d felt only a cold, empty place in her heart that grew every time he turned up again to rail at her about the settlement and how she “owed” him.

But still…there had been love, once. She’d been excited about becoming his bride. Happy about their future together. And now, he was dead, and she couldn’t erase the image of his mangled, bloodied face from her mind.

Having to wait alone, trapped in the backseat of that patrol car until the sheriff was ready to head for town, had escalated her fear until she’d been shaking.

Now, she stood on the sidewalk, too dazed to even think through how she could get home.

“Carrie—over here.” Penny stood in front of the Wolf River Rafting Company pickup, just a few parking spaces down. “Need a lift?”

It took a moment for the words to register, then Carrie blinked back tears of relief at seeing a friendly, understanding face after hours of rapid-fire questioning.

Bryce Tyler was a small-town sheriff, but he was no laid-back Andy of Mayberry. He’d acted like a pit bull, sure he could trip her up if he hammered the questions at her long enough, refusing to give up, his face changing to a deeper shade of red as the minutes ticked by.

“What a terrible day.” Penny gave her a quick hug. “I’ll bet you can’t wait to just go home and pull the covers over your head. And for what it’s worth, I’m really sorry about your loss. I know it had to be terrible seeing Billy like that…even if you two did have a world of trouble between you.”

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.