Murder At Granite Falls. Roxanne Rustand
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And another.
It wasn’t the bears this time, though she might be the only person who’d ever wished it were. They tore at the garbage can lids with single-minded determination, heedless of the noise they created. But this was too quiet. Too stealthy.
And it wasn’t a wolf.
The looming threat out there was human and she’d never felt so alone.
She eased the blinds away from the window and peeked out, thankful that the apartment was darkened already, but frustrated by the dim sliver of moon that had long since slipped behind a threatening blanket of clouds.
Marie’s words from this morning ran through her mind again and again. The Bradleys had experienced a “little” trouble a year or so ago.
After class ended at noon, Carrie had taken the long trip to Trace’s ranch, and hadn’t made it back to her apartment until dusk. Logan’s pickup was gone, but Penny had just returned with her evening float trip customers and their cars were still parked next to both buildings.
She’d had to park farther away than usual, just beyond the bright pool of light beneath the security lights shining from the peak of the boathouse and the top of a single pole close to the river landing site.
It hadn’t seemed important at the time, with a noisy group of rafters chattering along the shore as they peeled off their life jackets. But now…
She drew in a sharp breath as a hunched dark form materialized out of the gloom next to her old SUV and crept from one door to the next, trying the locks. Lord—what do I do now?
She could yell and startle him…but what if he then came crashing through her apartment door? Her heart pounding, she stepped away from the window and took a slow, faltering breath, trying to still her trembling fingers and shaking knees as she punched 911 into her cell phone.
Four rings.
Five.
Six.
Why wasn’t anyone answering?
Moving back to the edge of the window with the phone at her ear, she furtively stole another look.
The stranger wasn’t by her Tahoe. He now stood a few feet away from it, something gleaming at his side. And he was staring right at her window as if he knew exactly where she was standing. As if he were taunting her.
“911. What is your emergency?”
She stood frozen, staring through the blinds as the figure melted back into the shadows.
“You have called 911,” the dispatcher said with an edge to his voice. “State your name and the emergency, please.”
“I…I think there’s someone outside. Trying to break into my SUV.”
“Your location?”
“Nine miles north of Granite Falls. Wolf Creek Rafting Company.”
“Hold on.”
She gripped her phone even tighter as several interminable seconds ticked by. The breeze had picked up, sending branches scraping against the building. The shadows beyond the reach of the security lights seemed to be shifting, coalescing.
Was that someone lurking by the boathouse? At the bumper of her SUV? Or was it just her imagination? Billy had threatened to make trouble—was it him?
From some distant place in the darkness she heard the faint sound of a distant engine roaring to life…then fade, heading toward the highway.
“Ma’am, I have an officer who should be there within twenty minutes. Are you alone?”
“Yes.” More than I’ve ever been in my life.
“Stay inside. Keep your doors and windows locked.”
He certainly had a knack for stating the obvious. “Believe me, I will,” she said wryly. “But I…I think I heard a car start up. Maybe he left it hidden somewhere up the lane and now he’s gone.”
“Do you still want the officer to stop out?”
“No…” She bit her lip. “On second thought, please. If this guy is still in the area and sees a patrol car arrive, it might scare him off.”
“Yes, ma’am. The officer will get there as soon as he can.”
Carrie leaned her head against the window frame and peered through the edge of the blinds. The parking lot was empty. Only the sounds of the river and the breeze-tossed branches filled the silence.
But this incident brought back memories of other nights last fall, when she’d tried to still her racing heart. When a threatening phone call or email had kept her on edge. When Billy had promised to make her pay.
And there’d been another one of his cryptic emails just last night. A subtle threat. A promise that when he came back to Montana, he was planning on a little visit.
The figure out in the darkness had seemed a little…taller than him, though that could have been a trick of the lighting, or a perception enhanced by her own fear.
But what if he was back in Montana and had already found her?
Counting the slow drag of the minutes on her watch, Carrie shivered in the chilly night air, unable to tear herself away from the window. What if the stranger came back? What if he managed to quietly pick the lock on her door?
Harley padded across the room to wind around her ankles like a warm, sinuous powder puff, then stalked away and curled up on the back of the sofa where he promptly went to sleep.
“Some watch cat you are,” she muttered.
The most interest he’d shown since their arrival Sunday had been over the appearance of Logan’s golden lab. The cat had patrolled the windowsills for ten minutes after the sighting, the low grumble in his throat promising no quarter if he ever got the chance to attack.
The dog didn’t appear very energetic. It had apparently slept away the afternoon in the boathouse, and had only emerged to jump into Logan’s truck when he got ready to leave yesterday evening. With all the people around, it hadn’t uttered a single bark.
But still, a dog might offer a sense of security, and her brother’s fiancée, Kris, did run an animal shelter…though it would be a long drive to check out the possibilities for a good, noisy companion.
“I wonder if Logan would like to make a temporary trade?” She studied her sleeping cat, who opened one eye, offered a bored yawn and went back to sleep. “Maybe not.”
At the crunch of tires on gravel she stiffened, a hand at her throat…then relaxed when a patrol car marked with K-9 Patrol on the side pulled to a stop.
Relief flooded through her when a deputy stepped out with a clipboard in hand. He wasn’t the rumpled, overweight teddy bear of an officer she’d met in town, though. This one was thin, austere-looking and older, his uniform crisply pressed, his military-cut, salt-and-pepper hair silvered by security light overhead.
She stepped out of her apartment onto the balcony. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she called out as she descended the stairs and crossed the parking area to meet him.
“Deputy Rick Peterson.” He accepted her handshake. “I hear you’ve had a little trouble?”
“There was someone out here, trying to break into my Tahoe. I keep it locked, so he couldn’t get in. I know it’s probably not a big deal, but I’m here alone.” The police dog in the backseat of the patrol started barking. “Maybe your buddy has picked up his scent, or something.”
“Had any trouble out here before?”
“I just moved in Sunday afternoon and thought I had a prowler last night, as well. This is the first I’ve actually seen him.”
“You surely haven’t had enough time to make any enemies