Page 81 of Mountain Man’s Mystic Touch

I move through the cash-heavy vendor lane and speak briefly with each business owner. None reports missing merchandise, unusual questions, or customers lingering near storage areas. One jewelry vendor remembers a woman asking yesterday whether unsold pieces remained overnight, but her description does not match the caller.

A photographer remembers the man.

“He kept getting into my shots,” she says. “Not posing. Just standing behind people.”

“Where?”

She scrolls through hundreds of festival photographs until she finds one taken near the lodge yesterday afternoon. A family smiles at the camera while holding cups of cider. Behind them, the man stands near the charity display.

He is watching a security employee. In the next image, his attention has targeted the firepit. The third catches him staring at the red banner and exterior door.

“Send me the originals.”

She transfers them to the secure number I provide. “Did he do something?”

“We’re trying to identify him.”

Her concern deepens, but she accepts the limited answer.

I forward the photographs to McCall. The man’s face is visible in profile, clearer than in any of our security footage. Facial recognition is not available to my company, but the deputies can circulate the image within their department and compare it with known offenders.

My phone vibrates again. This time, Wade’s name appears.

“We found their vehicle,” he says when I answer. “Silver sedan in overflow. The woman entered through the passenger side. Driver stayed below the camera angle.”

“Plate?”

“Obscured with mud, except the last two characters.”

“Convenient.”

“She got out of the sedan before making the call, but the car never left.”

“Where is it now?”

“Still in the lot.”

The information changes the situation.

“If it’s still there, she may be back inside.”

“Or the driver left on foot.”

“Put eyes on the vehicle. No approach. Send McCall the location.”

I turn toward the overflow lot, then stop. If the woman and the original man are watching our movement, sending multiple people toward the sedan will repeat the mistake they may have engineered earlier.

“Use one plainclothes employee,” I add. “Everyone else maintains position.”

“I’ll handle it.”

“No. You remain on cameras. Send Nina.”

Wade acknowledges the order. I continue toward the lodge instead of changing direction. Anyone watching will see the same patrol route I have followed for the last hour.

The festival begins closing at ten. Announcements direct visitors toward final purchases while vendors secure cash and smaller merchandise. My team escorts those carrying deposits to a locked room inside the lodge. Deputies increase their presence near the exits without blocking them.

At 10:18, Nina reports that the silver sedan remains in the overflow lot. The engine is cold. No one has approached it.