Page 98 of Mountain Man’s Mystic Touch

Deputy Carver moves closer. “A diversion.”

“Maybe.” I look across the lodge.

Emergency lights cast a dull glow over the white-covered displays. The red banner hangs above the glass doors, bright even in the dimness. Somewhere beyond them are the cinnamon vendor, the cider station, and a festival waiting for morning.

All the pieces from my vision.

“We’ve concentrated nearly everyone here and along the north boundary,” I say. “What did we leave unprotected?”

Rocco pulls out his radio. “Grant, get two people to the south parking area. Morales, check the west service gate and every vehicle remaining inside the perimeter. No one searches alone.”

The lodge fills with movement. Grant speaks into his phone while Deputy Carver relays instructions through his radio. Rocco remains beside me, his attention shifting among the doors, windows, and shadowed spaces beneath the display tables.

“You need to close the festival,” I say.

“The decision belongs to the organizers and sheriff’s department.”

“What do you recommend?”

His gaze returns to mine. “Closure until we identify the threat.”

I hear what he does not say. Canceling the festival will cost vendors money and bring disappointment to families who planned their weekend around it. Organizers will resist unless presented with evidence of immediate danger.

A missing tarot card and hidden camera may not be enough.

The event coordinator enters through the rear hall wearing a coat over her pajamas, her hair hastily tied away from her face. She listens as Deputy Carver describes the break-in and observation point. Something in her features alters from confusion to alarm. But when Rocco recommends closure, something defensive enters her posture.

“We have thousands of visitors expected tomorrow,” she says. “Vendors have traveled from several states. We can’t cancel based on a trail camera and a card.”

“Someone entered secured grounds and targeted a specific vendor,” Rocco says. “The camera was positioned to record security movement.”

“Hunters use that land.”

“Not during an active festival, and not with the lens aimed at your vendor rows.”

She looks toward Carver. “Do you believe people are in immediate danger?”

“We’re still assessing that.”

It is the kind of answer meant to remain accurate even if everything goes wrong.

The coordinator rubs both hands over her face. “Could we delay opening?”

“For how long?” Rocco asks.

“Until noon. That gives law enforcement time to search.”

“A delay is better than opening at nine, but I won’t recommend admitting anyone until every structure, vehicle, and service route has been cleared.”

“I’ll notify the vendors,” she says. “We’ll make the public announcement in the morning.”

Rocco stops her before she reaches the hall. “No social media post yet.”

She turns.

“If the person responsible is monitoring the festival accounts, announcing the delay tells him what his actions accomplished.”

The coordinator nods reluctantly and disappears toward the office.