“About fifteen years ago.”
“Hmm. And how far away was the depot?”
“Probably within a two-hour drive of here.”
“In the mountains?”
“I think so, yes.”
“Was it in use? For example, as a shop or restaurant or event venue?”
“She’s pretty sure it was still in use.” It seemed unlikely that her father would have left a clue at an abandoned depot. He’d have had no assurance that it would still be standing when she began the hunt.
“It’s hard to know which of the depots might have been gray fifteen years ago. Many that are still in use have been repainted.” Melanie’s highlighter squeaked as she repeatedly marked the shinypaper. “These are the depots I can think of that fit your conditions.”
“Would it be possible to see pictures of these depots?” Luke asked.
Melanie gave him a long dose of eye contact. “I’d love to show you pictures.”
“Thanks,” Luke said.
Melanie seemed frozen by his attractiveness. “It really is so good to have you back.”
“Were you going to pull up pictures of the depots?” Finley prompted. To her own ears, she sounded jealous. Shewasjealous.
Why was she jealous?
Because she wanted Luke for herself.
What?
No. He was her employee.
“Pictures of depots?” Luke asked the woman.
“Yes. Of course.” Melanie typed something into a nearby computer, then turned its monitor to show them a photo of a green depot with white trim. “This is the depot in Holly Springs.”
Finley didn’t recognize it.
Melanie turned back to the computer.
Luke leaned close, bringing a tantalizing whiff of clean skin and leather. “Keep your hand on your necklace,” he whispered, “until you see one you recognize.”
She nodded.
Melanie, in an obvious bid to please Luke, brought up photo after photo.
Finley kept her fingers casually entwined with her long necklace. No. She didn’t recognize that one. Or that one. Or that one.
Melanie consulted the map again. “Could the depot have been constructed of grayish stone?”
Finley weighed the question. “Yes. Maybe.”
“They have one in Stone Mountain that’s under two hours from here, but it’s not in North Georgia.” Three more squeaks of herhighlighter. “The depot in Chickamauga also comes to mind. As does this one in Ringgold. They’re in the mountains, but they’re more than two hours away.” Again, she showed Finley a picture that didn’t ring a bell. Melanie’s fingers danced over the keyboard. “This is the stone depot in Chickamauga.”
At last, a faint memory buried in the sludge of passing years stirred. Finley didn’t clearly recall visiting this place with her dad. But the sight of itdidcause familiarity to echo within. She dropped her hand from her necklace.
“Do you think one of these might be the depot your friend described?” Melanie asked.
