Loe raamatut: «Murder At Granite Falls»
Carrie 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 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 a shaking finger onto the keypad of the phone to end the call. He’d been watching her….
ROXANNE RUSTAND
lives in the country with her husband and a menagerie of pets, many of whom find their way into her books. She works part-time as a registered dietitian at a psychiatric facility, but otherwise you’ll find her writing at home in her jammies, surrounded by three dogs begging for treats, or out in the barn with the horses. Her favorite time of all is when her kids are home—though all three are now busy with college and jobs.
This is her twenty-fifth novel. RT Book Reviews nominated her for a Career Achievement Award in 2005, and she won the magazine’s award for Best Superromance of 2006.
She loves to hear from readers! Her snail-mail address is P.O. Box 2550, Cedar Rapids, Iowa, 52406-2550. You can also contact her at: www.roxannerustand.com, www.shoutlife.com/roxannerustand, or at her blog, where readers and writers talk about their pets: www.roxannerustand.blogspot.com.
Murder at Granite Falls
Roxanne Rustand
Even though I walk through the valley of the
shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou are
with me, Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
—Psalms 23:4
With love to my dear mother, Arline,
and brother Glen; and to Larry, who has been
so supportive during my writing journey.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
LETTER TO READER
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
Tightening her grip on the steering wheel, Carrie Randall glanced again in her rearview mirror. The vehicle was still behind her. Billy? It couldn’t be. She’d been so very, very careful.
She’d caught a better glimpse of the car while negotiating a set of hairpin turns at a higher elevation. Not close enough to identify the make and model. But close enough to be fairly certain it was the same one that had tailed her for the past two hours.
She palmed her cell phone, checking the number of reception bars on the screen. Zero. No surprise in this isolated part of the Montana Rockies, where bears probably outnumbered the two-footed residents three-to-one.
She frowned at the odometer. Ten miles to the town of Granite Falls. The lane leading to her new home should be coming up in less than a mile. But if her ex-husband was following her, the last thing she wanted was to lead him right to her door.
An earsplitting yowl erupted from the cage on the seat behind her, followed by the frantic scrabbling of paws. “It’s okay, Harley. Just hang on.”
She stepped on the gas and rocketed past the little gravel lane that wound into the pines off to the left. Then she headed straight for town.
Granite Falls was as picturesque as its tourism website claimed.
The mountain highway widened into a charming six-block-long main street flanked on both sides by historic storefronts, boardwalks and hitching rails straight out of an old Western movie. The center of town was filled with upscale shops and quaint restaurants geared to the tourist trade, while the dusty pickups nosed up to the feed store and café on the far edge of town revealed where the locals gathered. Would that be a safe place to stop?
A maroon Lawler County sheriff’s deputy patrol car parked face-out in front of the café made her decision easy.
She checked in her rearview mirror once more, turned sharply into the parking lot and pulled up along the cruiser. Over her shoulder, she saw the dark sedan slow down, then speed past. Good riddance.
If she lingered in town long enough, the driver might give up, or get careless and not see her leave. Though if it was Billy, he’d be back, restraining order or not. “Howdy, ma’am.”
She turned to find a burly deputy behind her, a foam coffee cup in his hand, waiting to get into his car. The silver name badge pinned to his khaki uniform breast pocket identified him as Vance Munson.
Perhaps in his late thirties, he’d probably been hot stuff in high school in an Elvis sort of way, until he’d put on some years and packed on an extra fifty pounds. With an affable smile on his face, a rumpled uniform and a cellophane bag of cookies in his hand, he reminded her of a genial teddy bear.
“Sorry.” She stepped back to give him space. “I…was a little distracted. I thought someone was following me on the highway.”
The deputy’s full lips quirked into a smile. “You’ll find a lot of tourists in these parts, headin’ into town just like yourself. No cause for worry.”
“I’m actually moving here.” She extended her arm, and he juggled his coffee cup into his other hand to accept the handshake. “Carrie Randall.”
He rocked back on his heels, taking her measure. “Welcome, then.”
“A dark sedan followed me for the past hundred miles then right into town.” She looked up the empty Main Street. “Though I couldn’t tell you the license plate or even the make of the car.”
“Like I said, you’ll find a lot of travelers out here on long trips. Destinations are few and far between. People go sightseeing, and you might run into the same folks time and again. No call for worry.”
She eyed a family coming out of the café and lowered her voice. “I had to file a restraining order against my ex-husband last year.”
Munson’s gaze sharpened. “Well, now,” he drawled. “That might be a calf of a different color. He knows you’re moving here?”
“I certainly didn’t tell him. I hear he’s following a rodeo circuit down in the Southwest this summer. But…”
“But you aren’t sure.” Munson tipped his head toward the center of town. “Ma’am, you can find the county courthouse just four blocks west of here. You might want to file here, as well.”
“Well…”
“It’s for your own good.” He gave her a warm, encouraging smile. “Where are you staying? I can pass the word along. We like to keep an eye on things around here.”
Billy had dropped out of sight during the past year, while she stayed with her protective brother, Trace. During that time, she’d felt safe from Billy’s volatile temper, which had escalated ever since their divorce.
Now, she just wanted to start life fresh, with none of those old reminders. No looking over her shoulder. And no rumors filtering out about her being another one of those women who had fallen for charm and flash and ended up in an abusive relationship with an unfaithful man. In small towns like this one, idle talk by one of Lawler County’s finest would reach the local grapevine and she’d be branded forever. “I—I’ll be fine.”
A flicker of annoyance crossed Munson’s expression. “Too many women fail to ask for help, ma’am, and the results can be mighty sad. Our sheriff’s department will do whatever it can to assist you, but you have to cooperate.”
She sighed. “I have a summer lease on an upstairs apartment out at Wolf River Rafting Company.”
“The Bradleys,” he said, his mouth twisting with a hint of distaste.
He’d settled his aviator shades into place, but from his long silence and the muscle ticking along his jaw, she guessed that the deputy didn’t approve. “Is there something I should know?”
“Just…watch your step out there.” He hesitated, as if he wanted to say more, but then he shook his head. “And don’t ever forget to lock your doors.”
With Vance Munson’s words still playing through her thoughts, Carrie felt a shiver of unease as she stepped out of her aging silver Tahoe and shielded her eyes against the setting sun.
Sure enough, Wolf River Rafting Company was emblazoned in gilt letters on a sign over the door of the two-story log building overlooking the river and on the smaller, matching building next to the riverbank.
This would be her home for the next three months, and she’d been lucky to find it through a chance discovery on the internet, though as she surveyed the area, a chill worked its way down her spine. The small clearing was bounded on one side by river, on the other three by impenetrable pine forest, and to the west the massive, snowcapped Rockies loomed high along the horizon.
She should’ve expected a Montana Rockies rafting company would be located in an isolated place offering good access to a river, but she could see nothing else close by. Not a store, not a resort. Not even a cabin. And it was a good half mile off the highway, well out of sight of any passing traffic.
Which meant she’d probably be totally alone come nightfall. Vulnerable.
Was that why the deputy had seemed hesitant about her moving out here? The tense knot in her stomach started to relax. Maybe that was it—he hadn’t been hinting at any concern about the Bradleys. He just thought this place would be terribly isolated for a woman living by herself.
Though right now, cheerful pandemonium reigned. A jumble of dirt bikes had been ditched against the trees by a group of mud-streaked boys fishing along the shore. They were fairly bursting with energy, jostling each other and teasing, and then one fell in the water and the rest laughed uproariously when he emerged.
Carrie smiled, remembering the exquisite patience and silence of fly-fishing with Trace. Any fish within a hundred yards of these kids had probably long since skedaddled.
To the right, a couple of eight-man white-water rafts were pulled up on the grass. Down at the river’s edge, a dozen silver-haired women chattered on the rocky bank next to a massive rubber raft—a twenty-footer, probably—with inflated tubular sides. The customers were fumbling with the fastenings of their bulky orange life vests while a tall, younger woman moved among them, redirecting wayward straps and snugging the vests into position. Occasionally, she darted into the log boathouse to fetch a different size.
The scene brought back happy memories of the river guiding job Carrie had held through college. It all seemed so normal. So safe.
The woman in charge studied her for a split second, then hiked her thumb toward the building. “Logan’s inside,” she shouted.
Carrie nodded, hit the lock button on her key chain out of habit, and picked her way across the river rock.
At the corner of the building she abruptly came face-to-chest with a man in a faded Denver Broncos T-shirt and khaki cargo shorts.
He caught her upper arms with his strong hands, steadied her, then released his grip. “Kayak rental?”
At his touch, an expected sense of awareness warmed her heart, and she quelled a sudden flash of panic. Her immediate instinct was to run.
After a heartbeat, she managed a smile and looked up into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen this side of Paul Newman on the silver screen. Oh, my.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, catching her breath.
“My fault.”
“I—I’m Carrie Randall. I’m here about the apartment.”
His face registered a flash of surprise, and from his quick, searching look, she knew he was probably thinking she was some harebrained city gal, way out of her element.
“Well, then,” he drawled as he tipped his head toward an open staircase on the side of the building. “Let’s do the tour. I’m Logan Bradley, by the way.”
His face was lean and tan, with a strong jaw and a shock of near-black hair tumbling over his forehead that made him look as though he belonged on some back lot in Hollywood, not here in the middle of nowhere.
He offered his hand for a brief shake, the warmth of his fingers settling in the vicinity of her heart and setting off alarm bells that she would not ignore. Charmer…charmer…
She blinked and abruptly jerked her hand back.
This instant, blinding reaction was exactly what had drawn her to Billy, and the emotional wreckage from their divorce was still too painful to bear.
Though fortunately, her concerns about that dark sedan appeared to be unfounded. Deputy Munson had probably been right about it belonging to some vacationer following the same long, long highway on the way to Granite Falls. No one had been lying in wait when she left town. No one had followed her here. Thank You, Lord.
Logan frowned at her. By now, he had to figure she was not only a city slicker, but a fruitcake to boot, if she could barely shake his hand. He was probably even having serious second thoughts about accepting his new lodger.
Not a good thing.
If he changed his mind, the newest teacher in Granite Falls would be sleeping in her Tahoe during summer term, because there was literally nowhere else in the area that wasn’t priced for the affluent tourist trade. Isolated or not, this was her one shot for a roof over her head this summer, and she had no other choice.
“The apartment?” she prodded, pinning on her brightest smile.
He seemed to shake off his thoughts, and with a long sigh he led the way up a rustic outside stairway to a balcony that ran the length of the building.
Two doors, one at either end, stood open to the warm afternoon sun reflecting off the river. Between them, six double-hung windows were raised to catch the soft, pine-scented breeze.
He tipped his head toward the woman now shepherding the flock of older women into the raft. “My sister, Penny, is the assistant manager here. She lives in town, but she’s out here almost every day.” He cracked a lopsided smile. “She came up and aired your place out this morning and checked for spiders and mice, just so you wouldn’t have any surprises.”
Given the intent gleam in his eyes, she wondered if he was hoping she’d just head straight back to town. He couldn’t know that a few little guests were the least of her worries.
She lifted a shoulder. “Not a problem. I’ve got Harley with me.”
His thick, dark lashes—it was so unfair, when a guy was blessed with what she couldn’t even manage with mascara—lowered as he gave her a narrowed look. “Harley?”
She waved an airy hand at him as she passed and stepped into the apartment. “He’ll dispatch anything that moves, believe me.”
At least it was true for small vermin. If her raggedy old tomcat could handle the two-legged kind, she’d feel a whole lot safer.
Logan ushered her into the apartment and she caught her breath in delight as she stepped inside.
The photos on the internet realty listing hadn’t done justice to the feeling of being up in the treetops, with the pine paneled walls and abundance of sunshine pouring in the windows.
A bright crazy quilt hung on the wall above a ruby plush sofa and two matching upholstered chairs perfect for curling up with a good book. The L-shaped kitchen offered ample counter space with gleaming stainless-steel appliances that looked almost new. A gold, ruby and forest-green area rug warmed the hardwood floors.
“This is absolutely lovely. I wasn’t expecting it to be so nice.”
A half smile briefly touched Logan’s mouth. “Penny probably had a little too much fun with this. You have it for the summer, then a group of skiers has reserved it for over the winter. After that, she plans to live here during the tourist season every summer.”
Again, that little frisson of worry started to tie Carrie’s stomach into a knot. “So you don’t live on the property, either?”
“Penny stays with our great-aunt in town and I have an old cabin a quarter mile upriver. At least one of us is here from sunrise until dark…most days. Though I’m on the road at times, as well.”
“Sounds like a busy schedule.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Penny and I are just getting the raft business going again after a few…setbacks last year. Eventually, she’ll manage it and I’ll start adding an outfitting business for trips up into the mountains.”
She nodded, hiding her dismay at his words. She would be alone here.
Though no one knew exactly where she’d moved, except for her brother and his fiancée, and she’d carefully kept his ranch as her cell phone and credit card billing address since she could pay her bills online. With that and no home ownership records to trace, it would be hard for Billy or anyone else from her past to find her.
Surely everything would be fine.
But still, as she followed Logan down the stairs to go after her luggage, she started to pray.
“So what do you think?” Penny’s mouth twitched as she looked up at the top floor of the building, where their new tenant was busily sweeping off the balcony. “Will the new teacher last out here?”
Logan snorted. “My guess? Not even as long as the past two tenants.”
“I don’t know…she sounded pretty desperate for a place to rent over the summer.”
“That’s what the others said. A little problem with bears in the trash cans at night and a few wolf howls sent them both packing in a hurry. I gave her our cell phone numbers to call, in case she gets spooked about something.”
His gaze strayed to the petite woman wielding the broom. She had to be a good six inches shorter than Penny’s five foot eight, and with that gleaming cap of short mahogany hair and those sparkling hazel eyes, she looked like an energetic pixie. When she’d mentioned that she had some guy named Harley with her, he’d even felt a flash of serious disappointment that she was committed to someone…
Until he’d discovered that Harley was probably the most battered, disreputable cat he’d ever seen.
“I’m not a betting man, but I’ll give her two days, tops. When we ran into each other at the corner of the building she was as skittish as a week-old filly.”
“Must have been all of your charisma,” Penny teased.
“Or maybe she heard the rumors and believes them. I hope not—we’ll need her rent money if we have a slow summer like the last one.”
Penny’s smile faded. “That won’t happen. Things have died down around here, haven’t they?”
“We can hope.” He lifted a shoulder. “I just want everything in place for you here so I can get back on the road as soon as possible.”
She paled. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Your doctor said—”
“I won’t take chances.” He ruffled the top of her wavy russet mane, which had long since escaped her attempts at a ponytail, just as he had when they were kids growing up on a ranch.
She batted his hand away. “And you think riding saddle broncs isn’t taking a chance?”
“If I don’t pay off those short-term loans from last year, we could lose this place. I’ve got to go.”
“We’ll figure out something. It isn’t worth it, Logan.”
“But you own a quarter of this business and you’ll go down if I do. I can’t let that happen.”
She nudged him in the ribs and made a face. “I think it’s an excuse to leave town and not enjoy that lovely cabin any longer.”
He laughed at that. “I’m getting to know the mice on a first-name basis. You can move into the spare room any time you want—they’d love to meet you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Great offer. I’ll think about it awhile longer, though.”
“At least you’re staying with Aunt Betty. I think she actually has a furnace there, if I’m not mistaken. And plumbing that works. All the time.”
“She already asked you to move in, too. There’s plenty of room.”
At the thought of all the lace and frills in Betty’s house, Logan shuddered. The second guest room was done in lilac and pink, with an explosion of flowers on the wallpaper, and though Betty was a sweetheart, she loved to hover and fuss.
“I’m fine with where I’m at for now. All I need is to get back on the circuit for the rest of this season and then the next, draw good broncs at every rodeo, and not part ways with any of them until the eight-second buzzer. Then I promise I’ll quit for good.”
They both fell silent for a moment, and he knew they were thinking about the same thing—the accusations and ensuing trial that had nearly ruined Logan’s reputation and the beginnings of their rafting company last year.
The legal costs had taken his savings, but at least he’d had good representation. Without it, he would’ve been behind bars…maybe for the rest of his life.
“I’m going to hold you to that promise,” she murmured. “If it means throwing you in the boathouse and tossing away the key.”
“I’d sure be a lot of use in there.”
“Speaking of that, I had a really good group today. Those Red Hat ladies are the best.” Penny blew a stray wisp of hair out of her eyes. “And we’ve already got some reservations booked well into June, so we’ve got a good start on the season. I think the new website has helped a lot.”
“Agreed.”
“We’ll be fine, Logan.” She rested a hand on his forearm. “People will forget about what happened. They’ll realize you couldn’t possibly be capable of hurting anyone.”
“Maybe.” He steeled himself, waiting for one of her platitudes about turning his burdens over to God, but she’d probably given up on trying to convince him. He hoped so.
Up on the outside balcony, Carrie stood at the door to her apartment. “Thanks again for helping move my things in,” she called out.
Logan lifted a hand in reply, and she waved as she turned to go back inside.
There were good reasons for getting back on the road, and now a new one had just moved into the apartment above the rafting office.
Sweet, perky, with an infectious smile and an endearing hint of vulnerability, Carrie reminded him of Janie, the love of his life through high school and college, and he could almost envy the kids who were going to be in Carrie’s classroom every day.
Penny followed his glance at the balcony, then angled an amused smile at him. “This is sure going to be an interesting summer.”
He leveled an impatient look at her. “Don’t you have something important to do?”
“Nope. Seriously, it’s time you got on with your life. Just because things didn’t work out with Lorena shouldn’t be reason to end up a hermit.”
“A hermit,” he retorted.
“Well, nearly.” Penny’s eyes danced. “You’re already thirty-three, so old age is just around the corner. It’s time to move on.”
Even after two years, Penny wanted to comfort him over the failed relationship with his longtime girlfriend, but long before that—when Penny had been too young to fully understand what was going on—he’d had a far bigger loss. Part of him had died with Janie the day a semi T-boned her car, and he’d never been the same.
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.”
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