Run to Me by Diane Hester Page B

– and now the questions were surfacing again.
    Shyler hadbeen tense and withdrawn at her visit, a fact he could conceivably attribute to the stress of the procedure. But what if, as he had briefly sensed, it was due to something more than that? She’d had no money to pay for her visit, presumably because she didn’t work. Was that because she couldn’t find a job or didn’t want the exposure of one?
    If Shyler had lied about why she hadn’t given her details,it cast these facts in a totally different light. Each on its own was hardly suspicious, but taken all together –
    ‘Just about ready to close up, Doc, if you’re wantin’ something.’
    ‘Thanks, Bill,’ he said to the Grizzly Adams clone behind the counter. ‘I’ll just be a minute.’
    The store was a relic from a different era. Bare wood floor, glass-topped counters and a cash register that belongedin a museum. Barrels and crates displayed many items. Iron rakes stood beside fishing rods and brooms, kerosene lamps hung with coils of garden hose. If the store had been in Quincy Market it would have been labelled environmentally trendy. Here it was simply that things had never changed.
    Chase walked the aisles collecting the items on his father’s list. He was just heading back to the counterwhen a familiar object caught his eye.
    He picked it up. A white-tailed deer, carved with distinctive needle-fine gouges to depict its fur. Around him he saw others now, their style too similar to be anyone else’s.
    ‘Bill, do you know the woman who does these carvings?’
    The man looked up from sweeping the floor. ‘Shyler? Sure do. Comes in regular every other month. Makes all them feeders andmailboxes, too.’
    Chase turned to where he had nodded. Displayed on a table in front of the window was an assortment of handmade wooden items. Picture frames of rough-cut pine. Mailboxes that looked like colonial mansions. Platform feeders with the silhouettes of birds carved into the rims.
    ‘You wouldn’t happen to know where she lives, would you?’ Chase called over.
    ‘Sorry, Doc, couldn’t tellya.’
    He picked up a log cabin made of birch twigs. Its cedar roof shingles appeared to have been cut and attached individually. ‘Do you know her well? Know much about her?’
    ‘I know her stuff’s real popular with tourists.’
    ‘Does she live with anyone that you know of?’
    ‘Never said. Lady keeps pretty much to herself.’
    ‘Well, has she ever come in the store with anyone?’
    ‘Not that I’ve seen.’Bill stopped sweeping and leaned on the broom. ‘Now you mention it, I’ve never seen her anywhere else.’
    ‘So she just comes in here every other month, you pay for her delivery and she leaves.’
    ‘Oh, no, we barter. I keep a tally of how much she’s sold and she picks out groceries for that amount.’
    Chase put the cabin back on the table. Bartering again. No cheque – no bank account or ID required.

    ‘’Course, this time o’ year she falls behind some.’ Bill stood before him, having swept his way closer.
    ‘Falls behind?’
    ‘Not as many vacationers coming through town to buy her stuff.’ The old man shrugged. ‘Pretty lady. I let her run up a bit of a tab.’
    The old man’s gaze lingered this time – the scrutiny of the local for the town newcomer.
    ‘Guess it seems odd, me asking all these questionsabout her.’
    ‘Don’t seem funny at all, Doc. Figure a respectable fella like you must have their reasons.’
    Chase sighed as the man walked away. All right, so maybe he was worrying over nothing. Elaine could be wrong about Shyler deliberately withholding her details and the other issues surrounding the woman could be perfectly innocent.
    He picked up a crow from the table of carvings and smiledat a sudden realisation – he’d probably have asked the same questions anyway. The simple truth was he was interested. And not in an entirely professional sense. Chase Raymond Hadley, who’d never done an irrational thing in