Murder At Granite Falls

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.”

TWO

Carrie stood at the open door of her classroom and watched the last child burst out into the hallway.

Marie Colbert, the teacher across the hall, strolled over to join her, her dark curls bouncing with every step. “Why is it,” she said with a laugh, “that no matter how much fun we had in class, the kids act like they’re escaping a dungeon when they leave? And this is only the first day.”

Carrie flicked a glance down the hall, toward the open double doors leading out into the warm Montana sunshine. “I guess lazy summer days are meant for creek stomping, not sitting in class.”

Marie cocked her head and studied her. “You look a little tense.”

“I’m not sure that turn-of-the-century, American Western art really rang their bells.” Carrie shrugged to mask her frustration. “So I talked about how art can be a way to express deep emotions—like that done by refugee children or during wartime, thinking I might reach the kids who are so addicted to violent video games. But no luck today. I’ve got a few students who really don’t want to be here.”

Marie smirked. “I’ll bet the Nelson twins just love all that art.”

She’d pinpointed two of Carrie’s more challenging students, all right. “How did you know?”

“I had Austin and Dylan when I taught third grade. When they weren’t wrestling or lobbing spitballs, they were causing some other kind of ruckus.”

“Sounds familiar,” Carrie said drily.

“Yeah. It took all year and a trip to the doctor for Ritalin to calm them down.” Marie sighed. “I don’t think they’re taking it anymore, though. I hear they’re back to bouncing off the walls in class and haven’t learned much ever since.”

“It’s a tough call for a lot of parents. I don’t know what I would do, if it was me.” But it wouldn’t ever be. After her rocky marriage, she couldn’t imagine ever risking another bad choice and that kind of heartbreak again. How could she have been so totally wrong about one of the biggest decisions in life?

She might as well wish for the moon as to long for the happy little family she’d once dreamed of back in her naive, younger days.

“Well, I’d go with the medications that helped them settle down and learn, but that’s just me.” Marie adjusted her wire-rim glasses. “But, hey, we’ve already got one day down, and just eight weeks to go. I’ll trade you physics for art appreciation any day. You should look at the mess in my room after our gravity experiments this morning.”