Murder at Granite Falls (21 page)

He didn’t miss a stride. “It’s better if you don’t come along. Those are some advanced trails up there, and it’s a long hike from the parking area.”

She hurried up the stairs, shoved the box under a pile of camping gear in her closet, then raced back down to climb into the passenger side of the truck. Logan was already behind the
steering wheel, an elbow resting on the open window at his side and the motor idling.

“Don’t worry about me,” Penny called out. “I’ll just stay here all alone…and bored…and try to fend off the sheriff and his posse.”

“If we’re lucky, this will all soon be over,” Logan retorted. “And when we’re vindicated, we’ll be back to being too busy to even
think
about being bored.”

The closest parking area for Liberty Ridge was along the highway to Battle Creek. The poorly marked, rarely used six-mile trail rising above that point wound through boulders and up steep, rocky trails more suited for mountain goat than man.

At roughly the halfway point, Logan pulled to a halt. “How are you doing?”

She frowned. “This has to be terrible for your back. I’m more concerned about you.”

“I’m good.”

Which wasn’t exactly true, but if these six miles up meant finding some answers, it would be worth every Ibuprofen and hot, steaming shower it took to ease the pain that would follow.

She’d brought a backpack with her, and now she reached inside and offered him bottled water, then took one out for herself. “I’ve got four more, plus a box of granola bars.”

He grinned at her. “What are you, a Girl Scout?”

“I was. So I’ve also got…let’s see. Matches. A two-man nylon tent that folds as small as a paperback book. Water purification tablets. A matchbook-size sewing kit, with scissors. One of those all-purpose, multifunction, folding Swiss army pocketknives. And…folding cups. Oh, and a first-aid kit. And bear spray.”

Now, he couldn’t help but laugh in appreciation. “How did you pack so fast?”

“Since I’ve been living out here, I just keep it ready. I go hiking quite a bit, actually.”

He eyed the pack, which had to weigh ten or fifteen pounds. “You should let me carry all that from here on out. The rest of this trail is a lot more rugged.”

“Nope. I brought it, I lug it.” She studied him, her humor fading. “And you don’t look all that comfortable as it is. Are you able to go on? You could wait here until I get back.”

“Maybe Dante is harmless, but the bears aren’t. Let’s go.”

He set a slower pace, figuring that she had to be getting tired, until he looked back and found she was right on his heels, giving him an impatient flutter of her hand as a signal to step aside.

She disappeared up the trail after that.

He continued on, tensing his muscles to protect the vertebrae in his lower back and counting the steps he took, one by one. Whatever progress he’d been making with his healing was being compromised, along with his chances for returning to rodeo, with every time he took over a white-water float or ended up hiking on these rough trails.
And then where will I be, God? Just another time in my life where things are going totally wrong, and there’s no way to stop it.

Twenty minutes later Carrie was still out of sight, but now he thought he could hear faint voices far up ahead.

The trail opened up into a small, grassy meadow strewn with wildflowers in a riot of color—blues, pinks, yellows, violets—set against a backdrop of the snowcapped Rockies rising massive and uncompromising on every side.

He turned slowly, humbled and awed by the contrast of such grandeur and the tiny, delicate rainbow of flowers at his feet. The place seemed to overwhelm his minuscule existence.

Maybe a thousand people had trampled through here before,
but being here felt like a message, just for him.
Be still,
a voice whispered in his heart.
And know that I am God.

It was a verse called up from his memories of Sunday School long ago. And that he’d remembered it at this moment, at this perfect time, gave him a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Carrie’s voice drew closer, chattering words he couldn’t make out, and then she appeared at the edge of the meadow with Dante following a few steps behind her.

The man’s gaze darted warily around the open space, and he tentatively came forward another step, as if unwilling to leave the security of the forest behind.

“The trail passed near his cabin,” she called out. “He says he’ll talk to you.”

Logan joined them near several boulders marking the mouth of the trail. “We’ve known each other for a long time, haven’t we?”

The old man nodded.

“I promised him something if he’d come with me,” Carrie said. She broke into her backpack and offered Dante a bottle of water and a granola bar. Then she searched farther into the depths of the bag and came up with her palm-size sewing kit, which he took greedily, turning it over and over in his hand.

“Something more if you’ll just stay for a little while,” she said with a soft smile. She sat on one of the boulders and leaned over to pat the next one over. “Here, have a seat.”

He hesitated, then sat, though he looked like a bird on the verge of flight. The miasma of unwashed male and filthy clothing obliterated the fresh scent of pine and wildflowers wafting across the meadow.

“Okay, Logan—fire away.”

“Someone was killed close to Wolf River a few weeks ago,” Logan said slowly.

Dante reared back in alarm. “Wasn’t me. I wasn’t there. No, siree.”

“No, we don’t think you had anything to do with it. But we want to make sure the sheriff doesn’t come up with that idea, either. He’s trying hard to solve this crime, and so are we, but we need help. Did you see or hear anything?”

“I wasn’t there. Somebody saw too much, all right.”

“You did? You saw too much?”

Dante gave a hard single shake of his head.

“Someone else, then? The guy who was killed? Or was someone else there?”

Dante didn’t answer.

“You’ve spent the last few months down close to the Wolf. I’ve seen you along the riverbank any number of times. So why did you suddenly take off and come up here—away from the good fishing? You had to have a reason.”

Silence.

“Were you scared of someone? Did someone see you—maybe the one who killed that man? Were you threatened?”

“Not safe. Time to go.”

“Please, Dante,” Carrie urged. She reached over, put her first-aid kit in his hand, and gently curled his fingers around it. “If you can tell us anything, we’d appreciate it so much.”

Dante silently studied the box in his hand.

“Please?”

He stood, started to walk away, his shoulders hunched, but then he turned back, his face filled with defeat and a touch of fear. “Don’t trust anyone. Not even the ones you know.”

And then he melted back into the forest.

EIGHTEEN

B
y the time they reached the last mile marker on the Liberty Ridge trail, it was late afternoon and dark clouds were boiling up over the peaks of the mountains to the west. Logan had slowed up even more on the way back, no longer able to tough it out and hide the pain radiating from his old rodeo injuries.

“Want me to go borrow someone’s four-wheeler and pick you up?” Carrie teased gently, though from the worry in her eyes, he could read her concern.

“I’m fine. We oughta be able to beat that storm if we just keep trucking.”

“So you say, old man.”

“Wait a minute. I believe we have just a year or so between us,” he teased back, though there was a lifetime of different experiences between them that made him feel a hundred years older, and he couldn’t deny that he’d become jaded over the years. Their differences ran far deeper than something as simple as a birth date. “Just when did you become such a Pollyanna?”

“Roughly at birth.” She jogged in place, waiting for him to catch up. The trail widened at the last half mile before the parking area, and there she fell in step with him. “You did a great job, Logan. This is a tough trail in anyone’s book.”

He laughed. “You were a cheerleader, right?”

“Nope. I had to get home to work horses and tend cattle, just like my brother.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “So, want to take Penny and me out for supper?”

Just you, maybe.

He reined in that errant thought, though the idea was intriguing. A night out on the town with Carrie Randall would probably eclipse every other social experience in years, bar none. But where would that lead? Wanting
more
of those evenings.

Wanting to get to know her on a much more personal level.

And between the two of them, it would be a toss-up as far as who was the most damaged and unready for any sort of deeper relationship.

He’d bantered with her on the long hike back, admiring her quick wit. Her ability to handle herself well in the wilderness. Enjoying her company a little too much. Caring…too much.

But she’d just experienced the trauma of her ex-husband’s terrible death. Had feared being stalked, whether by Danvers or someone else. Vulnerable as she was right now, any sort of deeper relationship might spring out of all of those emotions and not something real.

And she’d already made it abundantly clear that she wasn’t going to fall for another cowboy ever again, in this life or the next.

Though heaven knew he had his own issues, as well.

Janie’s death still felt like a cold, empty place in his heart. He’d mourned her for years, and then he’d finally healed. But the vestige of that loss had been an ongoing hesitance over commitment compounded by some failed relationships later on.

Coupled with this second round of false accusations, rising public sentiment against him, and the very real possibility that Sheriff Tyler might manage to make charges stick this time, he
was the last person she’d want to—or ought to—connect with at any rate.

“Wow. You sure have given
that
idea a lot of thought. Was my idea that bad?” She slipped her arm into the crook of his elbow for a friendly squeeze. “Forget I said anything, honest. I was just joking.”

“Sorry, I was just thinking about other things. Dinner would be great.” He grinned down at her, thankful for her company and these moments of setting aside the more troubling issues that were looming. “How about pizza?”

“Hmm…just you and me, maybe?” She was still teasing, but there was something else in her expression now. A flicker of hope, of vulnerability.

Just you and me
were his thoughts exactly, even though he knew it would be a mistake. “You don’t really want to pursue that thought, Carrie. There’d be no future in it. You deserve a lot better.”

She faltered just a beat, and then she readjusted her smile. “Message accepted. So let’s give Penny a call and ask her to meet us, okay?”

What
had she been thinking, practically asking Logan for a date? He’d been kind, with his gentle, tactful deflection. But even now he probably thought she was a little pathetic.

She hadn’t meant it that way. She’d simply enjoyed Logan’s company and had wanted to extend the day with a quiet supper to discuss what had been happening lately. That was all. Nothing more than that. Really.

Now, across a table from Logan and Penny, with the Dixie Chicks blaring from an old-fashioned jukebox in the corner and the hubbub of a big crowd at the front tables wearing Granite Falls Baseball on their jerseys, she still wanted to slither under the table and die.

“So you found Dante,” Penny was saying. “Was he any help?”

“He was his usual, nervous self.” Logan took a long swallow of his Coke. “He didn’t like being found and he didn’t have a lot to say—and even that didn’t make a lot of sense. He said someone saw too much but it wasn’t him. He wouldn’t say he was threatened, but then he said he ‘had to go,’ and ‘it wasn’t safe.’”

“And then he said the oddest thing,” Carrie chimed in. “Something like ‘Don’t trust. Not even the ones you know.’ So what does that mean?”

Penny shook her head. “It sounds like his usual paranoia to me. You two probably took that trip for nothing.”

But it hadn’t been, Carrie mused as she finished her slice of pepperoni with extra cheese.

She’d finally had an afternoon with Logan, after all this time trying to avoid him. And she’d found him funny and warm, able to give and receive the little barbs of humor that had made the trip pass more quickly. She’d enjoyed every minute and wished for more…

And then he’d made it clear that he felt no similar interest.
Ouch.

“So what’s the next step?” Penny asked.

Logan angled a quick look at the other patrons sitting nearby, and he lowered his voice. “We have people to talk to…a few leads to follow. Carrie and I are going to talk to that student and his parents, too. If we don’t work fast and find the evidence we need, we could find ourselves being charged and thrown in the county jail.”

“I agree. I haven’t heard another word about the investigation, and Tyler didn’t come back again to talk to you and Carrie, like he said he would. It makes me think that he isn’t looking beyond you two, and now he’s working on building a solid case.”

Penny’s words replayed through Carrie’s thoughts long after the evening was over and she was back at her apartment with Murphy, who had now decided that the center of her bed was his alone at night.

For the third time since midnight, she gently shoved his limp, uncooperative form down to the foot of her bed, where he served as a cozy foot warmer, and then she flopped back to stare at the ceiling some more.

Without her school salary or many hours available at the rafting company, she wouldn’t be able to stay here or anywhere else in Granite Falls for more than another month or two. By summer’s end, she had to find another place to live, another job.

But even now it was almost too late to apply for other teaching positions for the coming school year, though perhaps that would be a fruitless exercise anyway, with the murder case still up in the air, and with the kind of reference Grover would likely write for her.