Roxanne Rustand - Murder At Granite Falls

Maybe Lorena was right.

Maybe his past had turned him into just another emotionless, thoughtless guy who wasn’t capable of commitment. But at least that way, he didn’t ever risk breaking the remnants of his heart.

The last rays of sunshine were slicing through the mountains to the west when Carrie finally finished putting away her clothes and arranging her possessions. Logan and his sister had left an hour ago, after stopping in to make sure she was settling in, and they’d also made sure that she had their cell numbers and the home number of their aunt Betty who lived in town.

Nice people, both of them. At least on the surface. Or were they?

Her stomach tensed into a tight ball of anxiety once again, because she still could not set aside that brief conversation with the deputy in town. There had been distaste in his expression when she’d announced her destination—far more than she might have expected if he just felt concern about a woman alone coming to this isolated place.

She shook off her doubts with a heavenward glance.

She’d prayed long and hard about the decision to come to this town. It was time to reestablish her independence and her career. She’d done the right thing, and worrying was a waste of time. But still…

Harley, curled up on the back of the sofa, opened one eye and looked at her, then went back to sleep, clearly unconcerned. “A dog would care,” she said drily, stroking his soft fur. “He’d come and sit by me and offer moral support.”

A deep rumble vibrated through the old cat’s body—more junkyard engine than purr—letting her know that at least the most important creature in the room was content. Smiling to herself, she stepped out onto the balcony and braced her hands on the railing to lean out into the fresh, sweet pine-scented mountain air.

The rushing sounds of the Wolf River beckoned. Not more than a dozen yards from her new home, its closest bank offered an easy slope for beaching rafts. Even here, she could smell the water and damp earth. The water, now ink-black in the deepening twilight, brought back such good memories of her college summers….

Drawn to its wild beauty, she went down the outside stairs and took a few steps toward the river. The sound of a twig snapping jerked her to a halt as an invisible hand of fear grabbed at her shoulder. Prickles of awareness at the back of her neck escalated to absolute certainty. She was not alone.

Someone was here. Very, very close.

She could sense his eyes burning into her back.

Hear his breathing.

She could feel his heartbeat, pounding in cadence with her own. Oh, Lord—I could really use Your help here.

Stifling a cry, she whirled and flew up the stairs, flung open the door and slammed it shut as soon as she made it inside. Her heart hammered against her ribs and her lungs burned as she drove the dead bolt home, shoved the sofa against the door, then locked all the windows and pulled the shades.

No footsteps crept up the stairs.

Nothing was moving outside when she surreptitiously peeked through all of her windows. “Just my overactive imagination,” she chastised herself aloud. “And next, I’ll be afraid of dust bunnies.” Maybe her “stalker” had just been a coyote, frozen in place at her unexpected appearance. Or a menacing chipmunk.

She’d finally talked herself down from that shaking, adrenaline-laced moment of fear when the cell phone clutched in her damp palm started to sing the first tinny notes of “Beer Barrel Polka.” The screen listed only Unavailable Number and no name, so it wasn’t anyone listed in her phonebook.

She stared at the phone, hesitated, then lifted it to her ear and said hello.

Seconds ticked by. Three. Four. Five.

In disgust, she lowered the phone and poised her forefinger over the end button.

“Don’t hang up.” The harsh, low whisper effectively masked the caller’s voice. “Not yet.”

“Who is this?” she demanded.

“Don’t matter.” His low, venomous laugh grated against her skin and raised the hair at the back of her neck. “Not yet.”

“Billy?”

He ignored her question. “You look pretty in that green shirt tonight.”

Her hand shook and she nearly dropped the phone. “What?”

“Real pretty.”

“Who is this?”

“I’d be more careful in the future if I was you. The night isn’t all that safe.”

“Maybe not for you, either,” she snapped. She jammed her finger onto the keypad of the phone to end the call.

So the sense that someone was out there hadn’t been her imagination—and it definitely hadn’t been some sort of wildlife, either. He’d been out there in the shadows. Watching her. Close enough to see the color of her shirt despite the deep twilight.

Billy?

He’d been her first guess, and a flash of anger and their long, troubled history had made her issue that foolish challenge. But now she wasn’t so sure. And how could he or anyone else have found her new cell number?

Anxiety spider-crawled its way up her spine as she started pacing the confines of her apartment, her arms wrapped around her stomach. She’d given it only to her brother, Logan and to the school where she’d be working. That deputy had sure hinted at his opinion of the Bradleys. Logan? But why would he want to drive away a new tenant? It made no sense.

She debated about calling 911, or her brother, but he was far away with heavy responsibilities of his own. Or Logan himself, which might not be a bad idea.

He answered on the fifth ring, his voice laced with concern. “Something wrong?”

She chose her words carefully. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“I’m at my aunt’s house fixing a faucet.”

Yeah, right. “This late?”

A pause. “I didn’t have time until now.” He sounded vaguely distracted. “Do you need something?”

Now she could hear faint female voices in the background and the clank of something metal—maybe a wrench—so he was telling the truth after all.

At least she hadn’t confronted him face-to-face, where he’d see the warm flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck.

“Did…you or Penny give my phone number to anyone?”

A pause. “Of course not. Why?”

“Only a few people have it. I think I had a prowler.”

“Did you call the sheriff?”

“I didn’t actually see anyone, and there wasn’t a crime.” Yet, she thought with a shudder. “But a bit later I got a phone call—it had to be the same guy. No specific threat, but it was creepy.”

“I can be there in twenty minutes. Keep your doors locked.”

“You don’t have to come. I just wanted to…um…mention it.”

This time, the pause was much longer. “You wondered where I was tonight,” he said flatly. “Because I have your cell phone number—so I could’ve made that call.”

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, embarrassed. “And because one of the deputies in town doesn’t seem to like you very much.”

“Vance? Rick?” Logan sighed heavily. “Believe me, neither one has a valid reason. But right now, I’m concerned about your safety. Do you want Penny and me to come out?”

His calm concern rang true and despite her doubts earlier, she knew in her heart that Logan couldn’t be her stalker. What motive could he possibly have?

She went to the windows overlooking the balcony and peered into the calm peaceful night. An owl hooted from a nearby tree. From far away came the faint, distant howl of a coyote, followed by a chorus of the higher pitched yips of its young. But here she could see nothing moving, and a sense of peace settled over her. “No…it’s not necessary. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up.”