Mel wondered what could possibly be holding him back. Was it his experience with Bastian’s Gallery? Perhaps they had promised him publicity and it had somehow gone all wrong. There was that hint of gossip she’d heard; something about an affair with a sales associate who had disappeared and missing money... Her eyes widened as a thought occurred to her. Had Ryne flown into a rage, murdered the woman and was now hiding out? It certainly would explain his reticence!
Forcing herself to rein in her imagination, she tried to consider her theory with calm logic. He wasn’t eager for an interview, but that didn’t make him a criminal. The woman was missing, but maybe she’d run off with the money to some tropical island. And Ryne was considering an interview not flat-out refusing. Surely, a murderer would have said no right away.
Feeling relieved that her wild imaginings were, in all likelihood, just that, she climbed out of the car and wandered over to the edge of the cabin where she stared at the forest beyond. It was frustrating, having to wait—especially since patience wasn’t her strong suit, but grinding her teeth and getting all in a stir would serve no purpose. Willing herself to relax, she inhaled deeply, letting the crisp early spring air invade her lungs. Taylor was getting under her skin and he wasn’t even here; that would never do. She needed to calm down and take things one step at a time. There was no firm time line. Just because she, herself, had decided on a week in Stump River, didn’t mean it couldn’t take longer. Aldrich said Greyson would allow her up to a year to complete the task if need be. Maybe Greyson knew something about Taylor already—such as the fact that he was shy and didn’t like interviews. That would explain things a bit.
Leaning against the side of the cabin, Mel tried to resign herself to the idea that she would probably be here longer than she thought. She consoled herself with the fact that it didn’t really matter—well except for the lack of decent latte. No one was waiting for her in Chicago. She had quit both of her waitressing jobs and paid her rent for the next month. Maybe she should look on her time here as a vacation. Aldrich couldn’t complain if she had nothing in particular to report. Having to wait for Taylor’s decision wasn’t her fault.
Closing her eyes, she made herself focus on the sensation of the warm sun beating down on her. After a long, snowy winter it felt good to absorb the rays. By the time summer came, she’d be back in Chicago with waves of blistering heat bouncing off the pavement and everyone would be worrying about the UV levels. See? Here was something positive. For this moment in time, she could just enjoy the sun.
With her eyes closed, her other senses heightened; the solid wood of the cabin behind her, the slight breeze that caused her hair to brush against her cheek. In the distance, birds were twittering and an occasional squirrel chattered. Water steadily dripped off the edge of the roof and hit the ground in a dull rhythm as the remaining snow, trapped in the eaves troughs, melted.
She could feel the coiled tension unwinding from her shoulders and her jaw. Why had she allowed herself to get so upset over Taylor? It didn’t really matter if he took his time making his decision. As long as he eventually agreed, that was all that counted.
Mel gave a little chuckle. As a matter of fact, the longer he took the better. It meant more down time for her. She could do some writing; put some polish on articles she wanted to submit for publishing. Maybe she’d even get a repeat of last night’s dream—now that was something to look forward to.
Pushing off from the wall, she glanced down and noticed a few bits of green poking out of the ground. She frowned, not being a gardening expert, and wondered what might be growing this early in the spring. Crocus maybe? She bent down to take a closer look and then nearly fell back in surprise. Large paw prints were evident in the mud right under her bedroom window. Even more surprising were two sets of large human foot prints—just two. One set was facing towards the cabin, and the other was facing away. Mel stood and studied the surrounding ground carefully. There were no human prints leading to her cabin, nor away. How could that be? The ground was soft and even her slight weight was leaving indentations in the soil.
Stepping back, she studied the roof line, the location of the porch, and the walls of the cabin. Could someone have come down off the roof? Possibly, but how did they get up there? It was quite high and she saw no sign of a ladder. Technically, she supposed a very determined person could even have stood on the porch and then scrambled to the window without touching the ground. The cracks and crevices between the logs would provide toe and finger holds, but why would anyone go to all that trouble? It made no sense. And why were they outside her bedroom window?