Through her rear-view mirror, Mel could see a general store, which seemed to be the main hub of activity at the moment; several people entered and exited even as she watched. It also had signs indicating it was the location of the post office and the catalogue order store as well. A hand painted sign pointed to the rear and proclaimed unisex hair designs were available around the back.
Light traffic moved up and down the street, which sported the grand total of one traffic light. Chuckling, Mel noted a dog sitting patiently on the curb as if waiting for the light to change colour. Sure enough, when the signal turned green, the canine stood and went on its way. A few pedestrians were also crossing the road, though they were less law abiding than the dog and unabashedly jaywalked across the town’s main thoroughfare. At least one person slowed their pace and took a moment to look her way, apparently realising that her vehicle wasn’t a local one and hence someone new must be in town.
Welcome to Stump River, she muttered. A place where everybody knows your name. The idea of such a small community made her vaguely uncomfortable, but on the other hand, it would probably help in her search for Taylor. If the man had lived here for more than a week, the locals probably knew all of his life history.
With this thought in mind, she bravely climbed out of her car and headed towards the building beside her. It was the home of the Stump River Gazette. Hopefully, the local reporter would know exactly where Taylor lived. Perhaps, someone there would also be instrumental in helping her locate a place to stay overnight. She crossed her fingers, praying that there were rooms to rent locally, not looking forward to the idea of travelling that so-called road every day for the next week or so while she conducted her interviews.
A bell jingled merrily as she entered the small building housing the inner workings of the Gazette. The scent of newsprint and old coffee hit her as soon as she stepped inside. A brief look around the room indicated that it was a stereotypical small town newspaper. Past articles were pinned to the wall along with posters for free kittens and an upcoming fundraiser. Three wooden chairs sat waiting for someone to sit in them and a tired philodendron graced the corner near an ancient cast iron heater. Midway across the room, an old laminate counter divided the work area from the customer service zone. Behind it, a middle-aged woman sat frowning at a computer screen, the piece of technology rather at odds with its surroundings. A short distance from the computer station, a man of similar age was engaged in a conversation on the phone, occasionally jotting notes as he nodded at something the caller must have said. He glanced Mel’s way and raised a finger, indicating he would just be a moment.
Mel leaned against the counter and waited patiently for the man to finish his business. It was a short wait and soon he was strolling over to talk to her.
“Good morning, ma’am. How can I help you?”
“Hello. My name is Melody Greene. I’m looking for Ryne Taylor and I was wondering if you’d be able to tell me where to find him?”
“Ryne, eh?” The man rubbed his chin thoughtfully and Mel absentmindedly noted how the overhead lighting shone off his mostly balding head, the shiny area being surrounded by a greying fringe. “Well, it’s Saturday so he won’t be in town today. His place is about ten miles away, on Stump Line. Are you familiar with the area?”
“No. It’s my first time to Stump River.”
“I thought so, since I couldn’t recall having seen you before. My name’s Josh Kennedy, by the way.” He reached across the counter and they shook hands. His grip was firm and friendly, a polite smile gracing his pleasant face.
“Pleased to meet you. Is Taylor’s place hard to find?”
“Well, it’s set back in the woods and the driveway is easy to miss if you aren’t looking for it. Is he expecting you?”
“No, not really. It’s a surprise.” Mel felt it best to keep her cards close to her chest for the time being in case these people were as inclined to keep her away from her goal, as Elise and her fellow townsfolk had been.
“Uh-huh.” Josh looked her up and down as if he knew something.
Mel swore his eyes lingered on her waist and she felt herself blushing. The man obviously thought she was an abandoned girlfriend—possibly even a pregnant, abandoned girl friend—looking to find Ryne. It made her wonder about the photographer. Maybe he wasn’t seventy and pot-bellied, after all. Could the term ‘playboy’ suit him instead?
“Well, I can draw you a map, but I’ll warn you. Ryne and his friends aren’t overly fond of visitors to their house. They have no trespassing signs posted all over the place.”