gave her an eerie vulnerable feeling she didn’t like. If only the man would show himself. She’d gladly confront him. But he was careful never to let her get a good look at him. All she’d gotten were glimpses of a shadowy figure wearing a dark-colored Western hat.
He also was careful never to appear when there were other people around. It was one reason she had mentioned it to only a few people. It made her sound unbalanced, since one moment he was there and the next he was gone as...as if he’d never existed.
It was enough to make a woman think she was losing her mind. Not Ainsley, though. She had too much common sense for that, she told herself and spurred her horse forward.
As she rode deeper in the canyon, she luxuriated in cool shadows that fell across her path. The day was getting warmer. But she knew from being born and raised in Montana that the weather could change in a heartbeat. That was one reason this commercial needed to be completed this week—before a storm blew in and snow began to fall and they all got stranded back in here.
The canyon was as lovely as she’d heard it was. One of the local girls hired to work in the kitchen had suggested it. With the sheer rock walls, a few scrub pines and the spring at the end of the canyon, it looked as Western as any part of Montana. Now all she had to do was talk Gunderson into taking a look.
Ainsley rolled her eyes thinking of the conversation she would have with him when she returned. Ahead, she could see where the box canyon ended in a wall of rock. Only one way out of here. Back the way she’d come.
She led her horse over to the rocks where a warm spring bubbled up. It was beautiful here, perfect. Gunderson would be a fool not to consider it. She groaned at even the thought of having to deal with him today. Just a few more days, she told herself. Then what?
The original company that hired her had another film crew wanting someone to scout locations for some winter scenes, but she’d declined the offer. She had to be home for election night. Her father wanted his family with him. She couldn’t help being excited for him. Of course he would win.
Then maybe whoever had been following her from town to town would quit shadowing her every move. At first she’d thought the man had to be a reporter. And yet he’d never tried to talk to her. If only she’d gotten a good look at his face. With a shiver, she reminded herself that he could be anyone, and she wouldn’t know it.
“Can you give me any kind of description?” the sheriff had asked after her father had insisted she talk to him.
“That’s just it. I can’t. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was imagining him. I’ll be somewhere, and I sense him watching me. I turn and catch movement as he drops back out of sight in a group of people or hidden in the darkness. One time I ran after him—”
“That’s a bad idea,” Frank had said.
Ainsley had laughed. “Tell me about it. I hadn’t gotten very far, when I came to my senses. I don’t think he’s dangerous, though. I almost feel like he thinks he needs to keep an eye on me. I know that sounds crazy.”
“No, it doesn’t. Have you seen him recently?” the sheriff had asked.
“A few days ago when I was in town, but now I’m staying out in the mountains at this closed resort.”
“At least there you should be safe.”
But she didn’t feel safe, she thought. Especially today when, unless she really was losing her mind, she sensed he had followed her into the canyon.
Her horse’s ears went up at the sound of the clatter of rocks underfoot was carried on the wind. She rubbed her horse’s neck as she looked back down the canyon. There were too many twists and turns for her to see very far.
“You heard it, too, didn’t you?” she whispered to the horse. “I wasn’t wrong. We aren’t alone, are we?”
Another clatter of rocks echoed through the canyon. Her horse’s head came up as the mare let out a whinny.
She’d definitely been followed. But this time, she was ready for him.
* * *
NEAR THE END of the mountain road, Sawyer rounded a curve, and the resort came into view. The huge old stone hotel looked abandoned, but behind it, he spotted a scattering of small equally old log cabins set against the mountainside. There were vehicles parked in front of all but one.
He’d stopped in town to get directions to the isolated resort. A woman at the general store had told him that the resort was closed, but some movie types were staying up there shooting commercials.
“At least that’s what they said they were doing,” she told him suspiciously. “I doubt any of theirs will be airing during the Super Bowl, from what I heard from the locals who got hired.” She’d eyed him openly. “You looking for work?”
“I heard the place is for sale,” he said noncommittally.
“It is. You thinking about buying it?”
He’d only smiled and thanked her for the directions.
Now, to the right of the hotel he saw a wide meadow where it appeared a carnival had been erected. None of the rides were moving, though, and he didn’t see anyone around. The rides had taken on an almost ghostly look out in the meadow so far from civilization. Strange, he thought as he drove on in.
There was only one car parked in front of the hotel. As he pulled up, he saw the license plate read: MURPH. As he got out of his pickup, a nondescript dark-haired man came out of the hotel. He had on a tan uniform shirt that read Security. He eyed Sawyer but said nothing.
Sawyer tipped his Stetson and limped up the stairs to the wide porch. The view of the mountain peaks surrounding the place was incredible. He couldn’t help taking in the breathtaking beauty of the area as he opened the huge, weathered wooden front door and stepped inside.
It was cool and dim in the old lobby. At one time, no expense had been spared to maintain this landmark hotel. But that was years ago. Times and tastes had changed. The carpet was as worn as the marble floors. He called out a tentative, “Hello?”
“In here,” came a female voice from a room off the lobby.
As he headed in that direction, he debated how to handle this. The door was slightly ajar. He tapped on it.
“It’s open,” called the female voice from inside. “Don’t be shy.”
He stuck his head in the doorway to see a woman sitting at a desk, her head down as she scribbled something on a scratch pad. “I’m looking for—”
“You’ve found her,” the woman said without glancing up. “Come on in.”
As he stepped in, she looked up and gave him an appraising once-over. “Not bad. Not bad at all.” She motioned in a circle with her hand. When he didn’t move, she said, “Turn. Let’s see your backside.”
“Pardon me?”
“Don’t pretend to be shy with me. I’ve seen more than my share. Turn around.”
Sawyer did as ordered, chuckling to himself as he heard her let out a low whistle. What kind of commercials were
