Page 63 of Mountain Man’s Mystic Touch

Loralee has been alone for forty-five minutes.

My team can handle the festival while I finish verifying the sighting. They do not need me checking a cabin camera between every conversation. I check it again anyway.

When I reach the cabin, the door is locked. Light glows through the windows, and the curtains remain open. I knock once.

“It’s me.”

The lock turns immediately.

Loralee stands on the other side wearing her boots and canvas bag. Her hair has been gathered into a loose knot, although several honey-blonde strands have escaped around her face. She looks steadier than she did before I left, but the bag over her shoulder tells me she has already made a decision.

“You’re planning to go somewhere.”

“I’m planning to return to the festival.”

I close my eyes for one second. “I have not yet agreed to that.”

“You don’t have to agree.”

“I’m your transportation.”

“That gives you control of the vehicle, not me.”

She steps back and allows me inside. The room still carries the scents of rosemary and lavender from whatever she did while alone. They mix with coffee and the remains of dinner, making the cabin feel less temporary than it did earlier.

I remove my jacket. “The man my employee saw was connected to a furniture vendor. He was not the person who photographed your booth.”

“So the original man is still out there.”

“Yes.”

“Did this one have a gun?”

“Not that we found.”

“Then nothing has changed.”

“Something has changed. We received a report that brought my team’s attention to the south parking area, away from other locations.”

“Do you believe that was intentional?”

“I don’t know.”

Loralee absorbs the answer without dismissing it. “Do you believe the festival should close?”

“No.”

“Do you believe the vendors should leave?”

“No.”

“Then take me back.”

“You collapsed less than three hours ago.”

“I rested. I grounded myself. I ate. The dizziness is gone.”

“That does not mean your energy has recovered.”