Unforgettable. Molly Rice

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      “Let’s just say I find that no answer at all. Since when do we ostracize tourists?”

      “Tourists!” Mayor Hunter’s tone reverberated with derision.

      Derek turned to him. “You think Ms. Millman is here for something other than a holiday? What?”

      The mayor shrugged. A sly look crossed his face. “Maybe she’s been sent to get some dirt on us so MacroData decides this isn’t a good place to build their new plant.”

      Derek frowned. “What kind of dirt?”

      The elderly man shrugged again. “Who knows? This is a fair-size county. Any of the other towns could have an administration that’s not quite up to scrutiny. They’d probably love to make us look bad.”

      Derek looked at Bob Hunter, the mayor’s brother and publisher of the local newspaper. “This is what’s bothering you, too, Bob?”

      But before Bob could answer, his wife, Isabelle, spoke up. “It doesn’t matter what we think, Derek. The point is that we know nothing about this girl and we can’t afford to take any chances at this time. We need that plant badly, as I’m sure you know. We’re already losing too many young people from the area due to the shortage of jobs.”

      For some reason, Derek was having trouble believing any of what he was hearing. He knew they were right about the county needing the economic boost of new industry. But these four elderly citizens, the elite of Hunter’s Bay, had not reacted so much upon hearing of the stranger in town as to hearing her name. Derek rubbed his forehead, trying to tie in the name Millman with anyone he knew or had ever heard of. He drew a blank.

      “I’m going to warn you all, now. I want you to stay away from Stacy Millman and that includes your little welcoming committee descending upon the hospital. We don’t know if she’s on her way elsewhere or planning to visit but I won’t have you harassing her, whatever her reason for being here.”

      The others got to their feet, all four wearing identical expressions of belligerence. They might, or might not, obey his edict but it was clear they didn’t like the fact he’d issued it.

      When they’d left the office, he pulled his notebook out of his jacket pocket and reread the words he’d jotted down just after leaving Stacy Millman’s room.

      What on earth could she have meant about the sign? “I knew it was going to get knocked down long before I ever got here.”

      There was certainly a mystery there. But somehow it didn’t support the fear the Hunters had expressed, that Stacy Millman was some kind of spy. Not that he could entirely exclude that premise. As a lawman he’d learned to play devil’s advocate before taking sides. This looked to be one of those situations.

      His mind wandered back to when he’d found her in her car at the side of the road. A strange accident. She was unconscious and her head was bent at an awkward angle. But there were no other cars or signs of traffic, no damage to her vehicle. As he’d told her earlier, his deputy had had no trouble driving it to the hospital, where he’d left it in the parking lot.

      Could a deer have crossed her path unexpectedly, causing her to step on the brake so violently as to give her whiplash?

      Clearly there were a few more questions she could answer for him. He thought about the way she’d looked, lying in that bed, her hair a fire flash against the white pillowcase. He’d sensed, even before she opened her eyes, that they would be that wonderful heather green color. He couldn’t detect any makeup on her face, but her skin was flawless and her cheeks just slightly flushed to a sort of apricot color.

      A most alluring woman. But the question was, was she a spy for one of the other counties in the state who were hoping MacroData would build there instead—or an innocent traveler who’d had the misfortune of ending up in a town populated by a bunch of hardheaded, paranoid old folks?

      He got to his feet, flipping the notebook closed and returning it to his pocket. Whatever had motivated her visit, he was looking forward to another session at her bedside.

      “Going back over to the hospital, Jed,” he told the deputy on dispatch duty as he passed through the outer office. “Should be back in thirty.”

      “Take your time, boss,” Jed Marek called out as he shot another alien plane down on the monitor of his computer.

      Derek laughed and went out to where his car was parked at an angle in front of the sheriff’s building. As big as the county was, there just wasn’t enough crime to keep his men busy most days. They had their busier times, like Halloween, when the kids from both towns and farms went a little nutso, but in the spring, most people were planting and didn’t have time to look for trouble. Every now and then an escapee from one of the prisons closer to the Twin Cities made it downriver, but with the help of the state troopers, the convicts had always been caught and taken back. The river, itself, had spewed up a couple of bodies in Derek’s time, but it was soon proven that they had drifted downstream from out of his jurisdiction. Not a pretty sight, those bodies, but ultimately not his business, either.

      He waved at Pam Rocca. She waved back and continued sweeping the steps up to the broad veranda that fronted the Hunter’s Bay Inn. A gorgeous-looking woman, that Pam, and a great cook. Not for the first time he wondered why she’d never married and why she’d choose to stay in a small town where there really wasn’t much action, at least during the off-season. She was good company. A couple of nights a week, when he’d worked the late shift, he’d gone over to the inn to have a nightcap with her. She was a good friend.

      Too bad she was ten years his senior. For that matter, there weren’t many women his own age around anymore. Most of those he’d grown up and gone to school with had moved to the Cities or out of state if they hadn’t married someone else. Which proved what the Hunter family had argued in his office.

      He turned the wheel to the left with one finger and drove up onto the blacktop in front of the hospital’s main entrance, parked and got out.

      Dr. Farbish was just coming out of the front doors.

      “How’s our patient, Doc?” Derek called out.

      Matthew Farbish shook his head and ran his hand across the back of his neck. “She’s not our patient anymore, Sheriff.”

      “What? What happened?”

      The doctor shrugged. “Checked herself out. Said she was fine and I couldn’t find any reason to keep her.”

      Derek was surprised at the degree of disappointment that shot through him. “Do you know where she was headed?”

      “Nope. She gave her home address as New York City, but I got the impression she wasn’t headed back home.”

      “Yeah, well, I guess she had a right to move on if she wasn’t badly hurt.”

      Derek slid behind the wheel and backed out of the parking space. Was he disappointed because he’d thought he had something to occupy him in his professional capacity? If that was so, maybe he’d better start reconsidering offers he’d had from both the Ramsey County sheriff’s department and the Minneapolis police department. If it was action he craved, what was keeping him in his hometown, where he was more a СКАЧАТЬ