“Is his one of the businesses that might be hiring?” I asked.
“He might be.” Inla ran her tusks across her upper lip. “He needs someone who appreciates good craftsmanship and isn’t afraid of hard work. Someone who might understand that the best art comes from the heart.”
I finished filling out the application and handed it back to her. “I’d love to meet him if you think he might have something.”
“I think that could be arranged.” Inla tucked the clipboard under her arm. “He’s holding a pottery demonstration this afternoon at his barn. Why don’t you stop by? Then you could see what he might be offering without feeling pressured.”
She gave me directions, along with a business card for the town’s only hotel, located on the upper floors of the saloon. The rates were reasonable, and more importantly, it said they took cash. Cash was hard to track.
I could walk; it was only a few doors down.
“Thank you.” A touch of hope stirred in my chest for the first time in weeks. Maybe this could work. Maybe I really could disappear into this strange little town and build something new.
As I turned, Aunt Inla caught my arm. “You should park your vehicle in the alley behind the store.” She nodded toward the back of the building. “We like to keep Main Street free of modern conveniences.”
That made sense.
I drove around back, my tires crunching on the loose gravel. Before stepping out, I scanned the quiet alley, a habit born of necessity rather than paranoia. The emptiness felt both like a blessing and a threat. After locking the car, I tugged my bag higher on my shoulder and rounded the end of the main street.
The boardwalk forced me into the stream of tourists with their fresh-from-the-store Western gear and phones snapping images. I kept my pace steady as I wove through them. The crowd offered anonymity, and it was true that there was safety in numbers, but being among so many bodies made my neck prickle. Anyone could be watching. Anyone could be a few steps behind, hidden by the sea of strangers. I couldn’t scan faces effectively, couldn’t track movement in my peripheral vision with so many people shuffling around me.
The Red Fang Saloon loomed ahead, its weathered sign creaking in the breeze. I quickened my steps and was grateful when I’d passed through the swinging doors and stepped inside the cool interior that was much less crowded than the main street.
Check-in took no time at all and the orc with a nametag saying Greel didn’t ask any personal questions.
He pointed to the stairs in the back left part of the big open room full of small tables with only a few people sitting, dining, or drinking.
I made my way along the side of the room and up the stairs, taking the hall at the end. Only after I’d stepped inside and locked the door did some of my tension ease. Alone. No one watching.
Hidden? We’d soon see.
The hotel room was nicer than I’d expected. Clean and well-furnished with a huge bed, a small table, and a desk with a comfortable chair parked in front of a window overlooking the town. Plus an attached bathroom with an authentic-appearing claw-footed tub I ached to fill with hot water and sink into. I’d never leave it. I paid for three nights up front and carried my single suitcase inside. Everything else I owned was still in the car, but I wouldn’t need those things here unless I chose to stay.I’d learned to travel light. Possessions weighed you down when you needed to run.
I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out my phone, staring at the black screen. No missed calls, which was good. They may not have discovered my new number yet. But they would, eventually. They always did.
When the phone rang in my hands, I nearly dropped it. Unknown number. My heart stopped.
Had they found me already?
The phone kept ringing, the sound too loud in the small room. I should answer it. It could be innocent, maybe someone from the hotel or even Aunt Inla. My hands shook as I stared at the screen, and every instinct I’d developed over the past two years screamed danger.
The ringing stopped. A moment later, a voicemail notification appeared.
I didn’t check it. Instead, I turned the phone off and shoved it into my purse. If someone was looking for me, they’d have to work harder than a simple phone call.
But the damage was done. The fragile sense of safety I’d been building crumbled, replaced by the familiar bulge of fear in my belly.
I wasn’t safe. I might never be safe again.
I forced myself to take deep breaths. Think logically. It could’ve been anyone, even a wrong number. Just because I was paranoid didn’t mean they’d tracked me down. Yet.
The pottery demonstration was in an hour. I could go, meet this Hail person, maybe even sound him out about a job. Or I could get back in my car and keep running.
I looked around the hotel room with its pretty gingham curtains and polished, wide-plank floor. This place was nicer than any room I’d had in weeks. It was a place to sleep, a chanceto catch my breath. Maybe even a chance to belong somewhere for the first time in forever.
I wasn’t ready to give that up.
I grabbed my purse and headed for the door.
