Page 105 of Mountain Man’s Mystic Touch

I scan the ridges surrounding the parking area.

The trail camera is already in police custody.

This photograph came from somewhere else.

“He’s still here,” I say.

Chapter 20

Loralee

“He’s still here.” Rocco’s words change everyone around us.

Deputy Carver reaches for his radio. Grant turns toward the ridge while two security employees move closer to the event coordinator. Even the bomb technician looks up from the monitor, his attention diverted beyond the lodge.

Another response. Another scramble for the man watching us to evaluate.

“Stop,” I say.

No one listens except Rocco. He turns toward me. “What?”

“This is what he wants.”

Carver continues issuing orders, sending deputies toward the tree line. Rocco raises one hand, and Grant immediately signals his employees to remain where they are.

I hold up my phone. “He sent this because he wants to see us react.”

“He also revealed that he has a view of this parking area,” Rocco says.

“Yes, but he already knows you understand that. The message isn’t information. It’s bait.”

Rocco looks at the photograph again.

Everyone visible in it is looking toward the lodge or the equipment road. The image appears to have been taken from above, but I can’t tell whether the height comes from a ridge, a building, or another camera mounted in a tree.

“You keep seeing what I want you to see,” I read aloud. “He wants us searching where he directs us.”

Rocco studies the screen, enlarging one section and then another. “Carver, call your deputies back from the north side. Quietly. No lights.”

The deputy lowers his radio. “You have another location?”

“Not yet.”

Rocco sends the photograph to himself, then opens it on his larger screen. He crouches beside the hood of his truck, using the metal surface to steady the phone while he examines the image.

I stand beside him. “What are you looking for?”

“What he could see.”

The red banner appears through the lodge doors. The bomb squad vehicle blocks part of the main path, and beyond it, several booths form a descending line toward the cider station. My own booth is hidden by the lodge corner.

Rocco enlarges the nearest security light. “The photograph was taken through glass.”

I lean closer. A faint double reflection surrounds the bright fixture.

“Could it be another camera?”

“Possibly, but the image quality is too good for the devices we found. This came from a phone.”