“He’s sure that the longer he’s out, the more he’ll lose his skill and sense of timing, and after his legal expenses last year he wants to get back on solid financial ground. But the docs say another head injury—even minor—could result in permanent disabilities. The same with his back—it’s weaker now, and causes him a lot of pain. Even if he uses a brace, he could damage it further if he goes back to bronc riding.”
“Then it’s crazy to take the risk.”
“But try to talk him out of it,” Penny retorted. “I sure have.”
Carrie nodded. “I dealt with Billy long enough to know it didn’t do much good. Only in his case, he never did do all that well and the entire venture kept us in the red, year after next. He was always sure the pot of gold was right around the corner and wouldn’t quit. In his case, I think it was more of a Peter Pan syndrome.”
“Not all cowboys are like that.”
Carrie tried for a smile. “I know. For most, it’s a professional sport and they work as hard at it as any athlete. But Billy wanted the life of irresponsibility and being able to take off with his carefree buddies for months on end. And it wasn’t just that. Whenever he was off chasing his dreams, my heart would nearly stop whenever the phone rang. I was so afraid I’d hear that he’d been badly injured. Or killed. I could never go through that again.”
Penny nodded. “I love rodeo. I used to be a barrel racer, before my parents lost the ranch, so I have nothing against the sport. But Logan pursues it because of his stubborn sense of
responsibility, and apparently Billy pursued it so he wouldn’t have to grow up. Both of them would have been better off if they’d just stayed home.”
FIFTEEN
O
n Tuesday afternoon, Carrie showed up for work as usual at one o’clock. After glancing into the office, she spied Logan and Penny by the boathouse and waved.
Logan watched her as she sauntered over. The cuffs of her bright red, open collared shirt were rolled back, and with her slim white jeans she looked as pretty and fresh as the bright poppies growing near the river’s edge, though the signs of strain still showed in her sad eyes. No wonder, with the murder of her ex-husband still unresolved.
“Hey, guys. How is everything?”
Penny glanced at Logan, then shook her head. “I guess you’ve got a day off. We had four groups cancel today…plus eight individual reservations. We have just one float that’s half-full, Logan will be guiding a group of fly fishermen from Ohio on Wednesday. We hope.”
Carrie’s eyes widened. “Yesterday there was just one cancellation.”
“Right—so I guess the first two weeks after the murder were slower, but now the word must be starting to spread. I suppose tourists stop at a gas station or gift shop or café on their way up here, hear the latest news in Granite Falls, and decide to pull out.” Penny scooped a mass of auburn curls away from her face. “We went through this last year, too, and business
was slow all year. Obviously, any association with murder is a major turnoff, and I don’t blame them.”
“I just don’t understand any of this,” Carrie said glumly, staring out at the river. “Why was Billy out here that Friday night, when I’d already made it clear that I wouldn’t give him any money? He was obviously intimidated by Logan, so why would he risk another encounter? And why would anyone kill him? He had his faults, but…”
“Maybe the BCI investigators will turn up something,” Penny said. “I heard that they’ve questioned the people who saw us with Billy in town. And surely they’ve traced his footsteps back to wherever he came from before he arrived in town, right?”
“I hope so. And what about any suspects? Surely there must be others besides us.”
“If there were, we’d be the last ones privy to
that
news. Believe me.”
“I still wonder about Dante. No matter what you say, owning guns, his military background and having significant mental issues make him suspicious in my book.”
Penny nodded slowly. “Yet he’s never been in trouble around here, and there’d be the question of motive. When would he have ever had any interaction with Billy?”
“Does he has PTSD? Would he try to defend his territory?”
“PTSD, yes. Would he go into crazy defense mode? I don’t know.”
“If it isn’t him, who else would do it?” Carrie’s voice trembled. “Who could be so motivated that they’d pull a trigger
twice?
”
“Other than you and I?” Logan held back a bitter laugh, remembering how public opinion had surged against him last year. “We’re probably the key suspects to everyone around here. You, as the frightened ex-wife, and me with my supposed history of violence.”
“People were still talking about Billy’s murder at church Sunday, but they weren’t blaming you. There was more concern about the fact that a killer is still on the loose. Who knows—he might still be in the area, looking for another victim.”
He felt a flicker of surprise at that, and apparently she noticed because a smile touched the corners of her mouth.
“The pastor even reminded everyone to avoid judgment as part of his sermon.” Carrie tipped her head and gave him a curious look. “You don’t attend church at all?”
“Sometimes. Penny and I grew up in a church-going family. We had to be there rain or shine, or my dad needed a good reason why. But she goes now and I don’t…much.”
“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”
He thought back over his life, sorting through the twists and turns, the unanswered prayers. The terrible injustice of Janie’s death and the loss of the perfect life they could have had together. His mother’s suffering while she battled cancer. The death of a rodeo buddy when a split-second difference could have made all the difference.
Too many other events to count.
“I guess I just fell away. A few years ago I got involved with Cowboys for Christ on the rodeo circuit, and it felt like I was coming home to what was real,” he admitted. “But then last year…”
“A lot of people cling to their faith during hard times,” Carrie said gently. “They don’t walk away.”
“I didn’t intend to. But emotions ran high around here. Just arriving at church set people off, and it was pretty clear that a lot of them felt uncomfortable having someone like me in their midst. Maybe God can forgive, but the good people of Granite Falls are better at making snap judgments and clinging to them no matter what the facts are.”
“Maybe you
think
that. But that isn’t how it is—at least not now.”
“Though the longer it takes for an arrest, the more time people have time to think.”
“But as they get to know you better, they’ll
see
that you aren’t the kind of guy who could hurt anyone, Logan.”
“Right.”
She frowned at him. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to sit back and wait for answers.”
“Neither do I.”
“So what do you think about Dante?”
“I’m going to find him—or at least try. I don’t think he did it, but he does have an uncanny awareness about what goes on in these mountains. He’s too wary to ever come forward with information. If the investigators questioned him I doubt he would’ve said a word to them. But maybe he saw or heard something that might help.”
She nodded decisively. “I want to come, too.”
“No. It’s rugged out there. I might end up having to stay out several nights, just trying to find him.”
“What you’re really saying is that you don’t think I can keep up.”
She had such a competitive gleam in her eyes that he had to choke back a laugh. “Well…”
“If I fall behind, don’t worry about it. I can handle myself out here. But I have a lot at stake, too, and I
need
to be doing something. Please, let me come along.”
By midafternoon they’d reached a crumbling cabin upriver where Dante often holed up for the winter. It was empty, its sagging door wide-open to any wildlife that might wander by, and there were cans of food on the bowed wooden shelves along one wall. A dirty, battered tin plate and utensils sat in a washtub on a counter that apparently sufficed as a kitchen. Through an open doorway into the back of the cabin, she could see a swaybacked bed piled with moth-eaten blankets.
“This guy knows the woods,” Carrie said. “He’d never leave his door wide-open and food residue around to lure the bears. He must have left in a hurry.”
Logan surveyed the interior of the cabin. “And maybe he didn’t plan to come back. I don’t see any weapons, his axe or a saw in here. Essential things for survival.” He nodded toward a row of empty pegs next to the door. “His heavy coats are gone, too.”
“Maybe he did see something he shouldn’t have.”
Carrie stepped outside and studied the ground. Large, indistinct footsteps milled all around the campsite. Soft-edged tracks, maybe from worn-out sneakers or aged boots that were nearly worn through. But here and there she saw smaller tracks with crisp, sharp edges. Tracks in places she and Logan hadn’t crossed.
“Take a look at this,” she called out. “I think someone else was here.”
He hunkered down to take a look. “Looks like newer, hard-soled oxfords or loafers. Definitely not sneakers or the heavy lugs on hiking boots.”
“I’d guess maybe the sheriff and his deputies were out here to find him. Either they nabbed him and took him in for questioning again, or he slipped out into the woods. He would’ve heard them coming through the brush, though. There’s not even a good path leading up here.”
Logan looked at her with a wry smile of admiration. “I guess you
have
spent time in the mountains.”
“A little. So where does Dante go when he isn’t here?”
“There are abandoned cabins scattered here and there. There’s little left of most of them—maybe not even a roof. Some, probably only Dante knows about because they’re hidden so well.” He frowned. “And there are caves. Maybe a half-dozen along Wolf River, and more when you get higher up into the
mountains. It will take days to reach even half of the ones I know about. I can get you back down to the raft office, first.”
“We’ve got a good seven hours of daylight. We can separate and cover more ground, if you tell me where to start.”
“I don’t like the thought of you being out here alone. It isn’t only Dante who might be out here.”
She waved a hand dismissively, then lifted her cell phone from the clip at her waist and checked the screen. “Two bars. Do you have yours along? We can keep in contact this way.”
“No. Let’s cover the river together. If we don’t find him, then we can hit the upper elevations first thing tomorrow.”
“I teach in the morning.” Which was probably why he’d come up with the plan. “But I’m done at noon. If we use the GPS units I saw in the office, you could send me your coordinates, and I could catch up.”
He did a double take, then grinned—the first brief flash of humor he’d shown since Billy’s death. “And here I thought you were a townie, when you first showed up.”
“Never underestimate a gal you don’t know,” she said archly.
“I guess not.” His appreciative expression warmed as he studied her, reminding her of that exquisitely gentle kiss and the wonderful sensation she felt in his embrace. It now seemed like a lifetime ago, with all that had happened in the past few weeks.
She firmly set aside her thoughts. “Let’s get going. I really want to check out those caves while we still have daylight.”
There was no sign of Dante in any of the caves within four or five miles of his cabin. Logan and Carrie made it back to the rafting office at dusk, and found Penny waiting for them, pacing the area outside the boathouse.
“Where have you two been?” she exclaimed. “I’ve been terrified that something happened to you, too.”
Logan tousled her hair, and she ducked back, swatting at his hand. “We were searching for Dante all this time.”
“Any luck?”
“We checked the caves, but didn’t find even a hint that he’s been there. Of course, he’s always been careful to cover his tracks—even if no one is looking for him.”
“Some people say he must’ve been in covert operations during Vietnam.”
“Which makes it all the harder to track him down, unfortunately.”
Penny bit her lower lip. “The sheriff and one of his deputies were here this afternoon. They weren’t very happy to find that you two weren’t here.”
“Neither of us have been charged, the last I heard,” Logan said drily. “So what did they want?”
“They were really insistent about finding out where you were, for starters. I think they seemed suspicious about you both not only being in cahoots, but thinking that you might decide to flee the country or something.”
“If they think that, they’re less intelligent than I thought.”
“But it worries me that they’d even
consider
the possibility that either of you had anything to do with Billy’s death. How could they? You have a solid alibi, with Aunt Betty and me. And I don’t believe for a minute that Carrie could’ve pulled the trigger.”
“Well, they won’t find any evidence proving it, because there isn’t any. So what else did they want?”
“They wouldn’t say. But,” Penny added, “I do have a good idea about what’s going on, thanks to the local grapevine.”
“Gossip.”
“Not exactly. I’ve heard that the deputies and the BCI have been investigating a number of leads since Billy died, but they still don’t have any good suspects.”
Carrie shivered. “Which means they’re no closer to getting the killer off the street.”
“But it’s worse.” Penny swallowed hard. “I’ve had some phone calls from several of the people who were around when Billy confronted Carrie after the movie. They’ve all been questioned extensively down at the sheriff’s office about what happened.”
“That isn’t a surprise, I guess.” Logan rested a hand on Carrie’s shoulder, knowing the murder and uncertainties afterward had to be weighing heavily on her heart. Wishing he could lift her burden.
“But most of them have been brought in a second time, now,” Penny continued. “And the thing is, none of those people were close enough to hear Billy’s demands, or to hear his threatening manner. And they couldn’t have seen the rough way he grabbed Carrie’s hand.”