you found her...refreshingly charming.”
He took a sip of his beer and glanced around the cabin. This was one of the reasons their “relationship” hadn’t lasted long. “So, how many people are up here on a daily basis since the commercial began?” he asked, changing the subject.
“It’s a small video production crew, bare bones and, no doubt, low budget. They’re still in preproduction right now and haven’t starting shooting much yet. I can give you a list of the players. Ainsley is still scouting locations. Gun is hard to please.”
“Gun?”
“Devon Gunderson, the producer-director. The rest of his crew he brought up from California with him. He’s only been in town a few weeks.”
If Ainsley’s stalker had been following her for months, then it couldn’t be any of the main crew or Gunderson, Sawyer thought. “I understand some locals have been hired?”
“You mean other than the teenagers I got to cook?” She nodded. “There’s Ted Carter, the wrangler, and Lance Roderick, security.”
“I’ve met Ted. I passed Roderick on the way in. That’s it?”
She nodded. “A few people come and go. As for security, you don’t really need more than someone to keep everyone out of the carnival equipment.”
He glanced toward the window. “I saw the Ferris wheel all the way from the bottom of the mountain,” he said as he watched the deliveryman wander over to talk to some older man working on the Tilt-A-Whirl. “I would imagine it attracts attention. Is it for the commercial?”
Kitzie nodded. “Gun wanted a carnival, so he hired some guy by the name of Ken Hale to haul it up here and get it going. From what I’ve heard, it’s the final shot of the commercial. It will be up and running in the next couple of days. But I doubt you’ll be here that long, once you save Ainsley from her...stalker.”
He could tell that she didn’t believe Ainsley was being stalked. What did she think—that the young woman had made it up to get attention? Probably. It was something Kitzie might have done herself. But she hadn’t seen how afraid Ainsley had been earlier.
Kitzie was letting her unreasonable jealousy get the better of her judgment. He felt a deep sense of regret at the way things had turned out between them as he put down his half-empty beer on the table and rose. “I’d ask about your undercover assignment—”
“It has nothing to do with Ainsley Hamilton or her stalker. Nor am I about to let you in on it. We both know how...involved you get in a case. I don’t want you in mine.”
He nodded. “I cared about you, Katherine. I still do.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Just not enough, though.”
He couldn’t argue that. “Thanks for keeping it quiet about my real reason for being here,” he said, even though she hadn’t promised. “I’m afraid whoever’s been stalking Ainsley is getting more...aggressive. Just between you and me, Ainsley had a near accident today while out scouting locations.”
“Let me guess,” she said with a laugh. “You saved her.”
Sawyer could see that there was nothing more to be said, so he did something he hated doing. He lied. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Sure it is,” she said.
“If you need my help—”
“I won’t.”
AINSLEY SPENT A busy afternoon with the director and the cameraman discussing the logistics of the next few locations. Gunderson was upset about not being able to use Box Canyon. His cameraman, a long-haired thirtysomething named T.K. Clark, suggested some ideas, while “Gun” made more demands of Ainsley to find something perfect. Fortunately, she hadn’t had time to think about earlier and how close she’d come to dying.
She was studying a local map for more ideas, when the woman who ran the cafeteria stopped next to her.
“You’re certainly burning the midnight oil,” Kitzie said. “Did you even have dinner?”
Ainsley was surprised, first, that Kitzie would even notice that she’d been missing at mealtime and, secondly, that the woman was talking to her at all. Since the project had begun, the attractive redhead had been anything but friendly.
“There’s a group getting together around a bonfire,” Kitzie said. “Come on. I heard there would be something to drink. You look like you could use one.”
“Thanks, but I’m not much of a drinker.”
“Well, I am,” the woman said, taking her arm. “And I need the company, so come on.”
For days Ainsley had wished for some female company since all of the crew she worked with were male. Growing up with five sisters, she missed girl talk. Not that she expected that with Kitzie. But she went along because of the woman’s insistence and, also, because she didn’t want to be alone tonight after what had happened in the canyon.
“So, where are you from?” the cafeteria manager asked as they walked toward the glow of a blaze some distance away.
“Beartooth, Montana,” she said and told her about growing up on the ranch with her five sisters and her father. She didn’t mention that she was the daughter of Republican presidential candidate Buckmaster Hamilton. Either Kitzie already knew that or didn’t put it together.
“Huh” was all the woman said when Ainsley finished. By then they had reached the bonfire where the crew had gathered. Even Gunderson had joined them. He stood on the other side of the blaze talking to Ken Hale, the owner of the carnival that would be the last shot before the commercial wrapped.
Hale was a big man with a round red face and a hearty laugh. He and Gunderson seemed to be in deep conversation before Gun, as everyone called him, moved away from the fire.
“I’ll get us something to drink,” Kitzie said, heading for the cooler someone had brought. “Don’t worry. I’m sure there is something nonalcoholic in there.”
* * *
DEVON GUNDERSON TOOK his drink and walked toward the meadow until he reached the Ferris wheel. He turned to look back at the old hotel and the cabins tucked in the pines on the mountainside behind it.
He wished Hale would get some of the rides going. Tonight he’d love to be sitting on the top of the Ferris wheel when the lights came on in the small town in the distance. He did his best thinking far and away from other people.
A splattering of laughter rose beyond the pines where the crew had gathered beside the creek. He could smell the smoke of the campfire drifting on the breeze as he sat down on the Ferris wheel seat. It rocked, creaking under his weight.
From the first time his father had taken him to a carnival he had been enchanted. The lights, the noise, the brittle cheapness of it. He even liked the carnies calling to him, determined to steal his last dime on some game he couldn’t possibly
