Unforgettable

She looked confused and Derek told her that the Hunters had feared she’d been sent to find reasons why Hunter’s Bay should not be the location for the new MacroData plant.

Now she was really perplexed, and she said so.

Derek explained in detail. “At one time, Hunter Manufacturing was a thriving industry, employing people from all over Wabasha County. In the seventies they had a big government contract, but when the war in Vietnam came to an end, and the country went into a recession, the company folded, putting a lot of people out of work.” He ran his hand through his hair and sighed heavily. “Since then the area has largely depended on tourism—which in this part of the country only lasts from June through early fall when the leaves change color—and anybody who works in manufacturing, and is lucky enough to have a job, has to commute the long distance to the Cities.

“Now we have a chance to recoup. MacroData has targeted the old HM compound for their new plant and if it goes through, all of the county will benefit.”

“And the Hunters think I’ve got something to do with all that? That I’m here to throw a clinker in the works?”

“That’s what they’re saying.”

“But you don’t believe it, do you?”

He leveled a searching look at her. “Stacy, this town means everything to me, and I’m totally committed to the welfare of everyone who lives here.” He shrugged. “Your story is certainly a far cry from what the Hunters suspect. But to tell you the truth, both their fears and your strange tale raise a lot of doubts in my mind.”

“Such as?”

“Well, I admit I can’t see you as an industrial spy. But on the other hand, I don’t hold much with occult stories, and your tale of involuntary painting and ESP dreams doesn’t convince me, either.” He was momentarily distracted by the sight of Mavis coming around the counter. He waved at the waitress and then turned back to Stacy. “No, what I think is that the Hunters are either suffering from mass senility or they’re outright lying, and you... Well, let’s just say I’m reserving judgment until I can get one of you to tell me the whole truth.”

Stacy stared at him, mouth slightly agape. “You still think I’m lying, that I made up such an absurd story?”

Derek chuckled. “At least we both agree it was absurd.”

Exasperation didn’t deter her. She made a face at him and said, “Then I suppose you won’t want to help me unravel my little mystery.”

“Help you how?”

“You know everyone in this town. Maybe you could ask around, find out if anyone remembers my parents.”

He was about to answer when Mavis approached them, coffeepot in hand, menus tucked under her arm.

“Morning, Derek, miss. Breakfast?” She set a menu in front of each of them.

“I had mine earlier over at the truck stop,” Derek said, “but maybe Ms. Millman would care for something.”

Derek watched Mavis’s face but she seemed to have no reaction to Stacy’s name. She nodded when Stacy ordered buttered toast and turned to the back counter to pop bread in the toaster.

“I’ve got to be getting back to my office,” Derek said as he got up from his stool. He handed Stacy his newspaper. “Here, something to read with your breakfast.”

“What about it, Sheriff, are you going to ask around for me?”

Derek nodded toward Mavis. “I just did. Mavis knows everybody in town and she didn’t react to your name at all.”

Stacy stared after him as he strode out of the drugstore, grabbing his Stetson off the hat rack on his way out the door. “Jerk!”

“Not so,” Mavis said, putting a plate with toast down in front of Stacy with a bang. “That’s just about the nicest young man hereabouts.”

She started to turn away, then added, “And if I were you, in a strange town, where nobody wants you, I’d watch my step, miss.”

The toast fell from Stacy’s hand as she stared at the woman and gasped, “You’re threatening me! You do know who I am.”

The older woman shook her head. “I don’t know nuthin’. I just know we don’t take to strangers here excepting for tourists and you sure ain’t that!”

Before Stacy could retort, Mavis stamped away, going to the other end of the fountain to busy herself with preparations for the little bit of lunch business the locals provided.

Stacy sensed she wasn’t going to get any information out of Mavis, but her spirits lifted as she realized the woman’s threat had proven she had known the Millmans and that there was a conspiracy afoot to keep Stacy from learning anything about them. She could tell Derek about this and he’d have to believe her now.

She threw a five-dollar bill on the counter and left the drugstore, exhilaration canceling her dread of the fog.

She was almost halfway across the street when the headlamps of a car broke through the fog, just a few feet to her right, and then picked up speed and headed straight for her.

Chapter Four

It wasn’t until the sounds of screaming and screeching tires penetrated her mind that Stacy realized the screams were coming from her own throat and that she had acted on impulse and jumped away from the oncoming car. She lay on the pavement, her arms protectively curved over her head, and began to sob hysterically.

When she felt the hands prying at her arms, she screamed again and fought off her assailant.

“Stacy, for God’s sake, stop that screaming and let me see if you’re hurt.”

For a moment, when she recognized Derek’s voice, she wanted to rush into his arms for comfort and safety. But suspicion came rapidly.

“You tried to kill me!” she shouted.

“Are you nuts?” he shouted in return, “I heard your screams and came to find out what happened.”

“And you just happened to be in the neighborhood.”

Derek fought for calm. “I was in front of my building, not ten feet from here. I heard your screams and came running.”

“T-ten f-feet?”

Derek recognized the teeth-chattering as a symptom of shock. He knelt beside Stacy and took off his jacket. “Here, you’re chilled. Let me get you over to my office and give you a hot drink.”

She let him guide her through the fog because she felt helpless to do otherwise. Somewhere out there in the eerie grayness that covered everything was someone who had been determined to run her down. Someone who would probably try again.

She stammered her fear of that as Derek poured hot water over a tea bag in a pottery mug in the small kitchen behind the sheriff’s office.

“No way,” Derek said, generously spooning sugar into the tea. “If someone were deliberately trying to kill you, they’d have turned around and made a second try. No...” he shook his head and handed her the mug. “It was probably more likely that the driver couldn’t see you in time in all that fog.”

“Then why didn’t he—or she—stop to find out if I was all right?”

Derek shrugged, a gesture Stacy was beginning to recognize as one of his personal mannerisms.

“Might have been a kid who didn’t want to run up against the cops, or a driver without the required insurance.”

“Why don’t you ever believe me?”

“Why would anyone in this town want you dead?”