Free Murder at Granite Falls by Roxanne Rustand

clapboard church with its towering steeple and tall stained-glass windows along both sides of the sanctuary when she’d first come to town for her interview.
    But this was her first Sunday service here. She hardly knew anyone in town. Light rain was falling, so no one was standing around to visit on the sidewalk, and already she felt like an awkward outsider. But this is about You and me, God. Right? It isn’t a social occasion.
    Taking a fortifying breath, she pulled open the massive oak door and stepped into the small crowd of people chatting quietly just inside. Ahead, through an open set of double doors leading into the nave, a center aisle led to the altar, with oak pews on either side.
    “Ms. Randall!” Rachel, one of her students, sidestepped through the gathering with a middle-aged brunette in tow. “This is my mom, Ivy Graham.”
    “What a nice surprise,” Carrie murmured, offering her hand. “Rachel is a fine student. I’m so glad to have her in my class.”
    “She talks a lot about you.” Ivy smiled warmly. “There areseveral of your students who attend here, actually.” She craned her neck to search, then waved a hand toward a tall, barrel-chested man at the far end of the entryway. “There’s Garrett’s dad. Have you met him?”
    “Not yet. Is Noah here?”
    “Now, that’s hard to say. He’s such a quiet little guy—not that I blame him.” She craned her neck. “Ah—see over there, by the water fountain? There he is. And the redhead next to him is his aunt Linda Bates. She’s been living with her brother and Noah since Sheryl died.”
    As if they’d heard her words, Noah and his aunt both looked in her direction. Linda’s eyes widened when Noah tugged on her sleeve and whispered something, then the two of them hurried away from the entry toward a side exit.
    Oblivious to their departure, Ivy continued to survey the other churchgoers. “There’s Margaret, from down at the bank…and Oscar Nelson—he owns the drugstore. Oh, and there’s one of the deputies in town. Have you met Rick Peterson?”
    Surprised, Carrie looked across the room and caught sight of the tall, slender deputy. “Briefly.”
    Dressed in a white polo shirt and khaki slacks instead of his crisply starched uniform, he still wore a military aura of command. “He’s the older brother of one of my high school classmates.” She winked. “Come with me. It’s always nicer to visit with someone if he isn’t giving you a traffic ticket, don’t you think?”
    Carrie followed Ivy across the entryway. “We did meet, but it wasn’t over a traffic violation.”
    “Oh, that’s right.” Ivy’s hand flew to her mouth, a pink tinge climbing up her face. “There was some sort of…a domestic call, wasn’t it? I heard it on the scanner.”
    “You and everyone else in the county, apparently.” Carrie offered a wry smile. “But it wasn’t a domestic issue. I saw a prowler and called 911.”

    Clearly flustered, Ivy blushed a deeper pink. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to pry, or anything…I spend more time with my feet in my mouth than anyone I know.”
    The soft sweet strains of “Beautiful Savior” began, and the stragglers in the entryway all headed toward the pews. The deputy started to follow, until he glanced over at Ivy and turned back. “Mornin’, Ivy,” he said, his voice soft and warm.
    Until now, Carrie had only seen him in his terse cop mode, but if the man wasn’t carrying a torch for Rachel’s sweet mom, Carrie would be surprised.
    “Rick, I believe you two have met briefly once before, but under less pleasant circumstances. This is the new teacher in town, Carrie Randall,” Ivy whispered. “Carrie, this is Deputy Rick Peterson.” She looked between them and smiled, then backed away. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to join my mother and the kids.”
    When Ivy stepped away, the deputy pinned Carrie with a hard, searching look. “Are you still staying out at the Bradley place?”
    “I