I’m sitting in the office with the latest financial spreadsheet. One thing they never talk about on the television crime shows is the amount of time law enforcement spends with bureaucratic paperwork. The best sheriff is not the quickest draw; the best sheriff is the one who can stay within a budget, not work her staff to death, and be a good servant to her constituents.
The dispatcher comes bounding in the door his face flushed with excitement.
“Sheriff? A body. They found a body out at the Grandgeorge Place. They think it’s Jimmy Crea’s wife.”
It takes me exactly twelve minutes to reach the Grandgeorge driveway. In the distance, I see large pillars supporting the roof of the graying mansion. The coloring of the house changes as I speed down the graveled drive. First, in the sun’s glare, the house is an eye-aching white, then as I pass through the mottled shade of tall pines, it turns a shadowy gray.
I ease up on the accelerator. If my information is correct, all the power and speed in my car won’t help Joanie Crea now.
The house stands three stories high with a sloping gabled roof supported by Doric columns. One of the third-story windows is boarded shut, and another has a gaping hole in it. A wing juts to the right, ending in an unfinished three-car garage. Paint has peeled everywhere, leaving great sections of exposed weathered boards.
Tall grass surrounds the house, some reaching as high as the porch. A row of scraggly rosebushes scrape against the edge of the house in the scorching breeze. A few delicate pink buds cling to the ends of the thorny shoots like survivors of a shipwreck.
I pull into the U-shaped turnaround in front of the house, switch off the car, and sit still for a moment studying the crumbling mansion. What secrets does it hold? What will I find?
A woman sits on the top step with her head between her knees. I walk up to her.
“Are you all right?”
“Just a little faint,” the woman whispers.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
The woman looks up at me. Her eyes are sea green, a perfect match for her red hair. Her face, so pale that it appears translucent, betrays a deep fear.
She knows something that she doesn’t want to tell.
At this moment, as I stand in front of this house of despair, I wonder what I will find.
THE PINES WERE WATCHING – A “Sheriff Red” Mystery, Book 2
Genre: Traditional Mystery
Release: September 2025
Format: Print, Digital, Audio
Amazon | Bookshop.org
The pines are watching, the shadows are creeping closer, and no one—not even the sheriff—is safe from the secrets of the Northwoods.
When Joanie Crea is found strangled on the grounds of the crumbling Grandgeorge estate, Sheriff Red Hammergren faces a chilling mystery as dark as the dense forest surrounding the crime scene. All eyes turn to Derek Grandgeorge, the reclusive heir with a penchant for wearing a green jacket—even in the sweltering Minnesota summer.
But soon, a second body surfaces—a victim found with Joanie’s house key shoved into their mouth.
The gruesome discovery sends a shiver of dread through the tight-knit community. The key isn’t just evidence—it’s a macabre message from a killer who’s growing bolder and more brazen with each passing day. As the oppressive summer heat bears down and the shadows deepen, Red glimpses unsettling flashes of green at the edge of her vision. With a cunning murderer on the loose and the town spiraling into panic, Red must unravel the connection between the victims…before she becomes the final piece in the killer’s twisted game.
About the author
Linda Norlander is the author of The Pines Were Watching, the second Sheriff Red Mystery. Additionally, she has two other mystery series—A Cabin by the Lake Mysteries and Liza and Mrs. Wilkens Mysteries. All are set in Minnesota. Norlander has published award winning short stories, op-ed pieces and short humor. Her most recent short story was featured in the Malice Domestic anthology Mystery Most Devious. Before taking up the pen to write murder mysteries, she worked in end-of-life care and hospice. Norlander resides in Seattle.