Myths, Murder & Love

Chapter 7

Thallia studied Maria. "What reason?"

Maria hesitated before giving a small shrug. "Olympia Springs has always been a little... private."

Thallia frowned. "Private enough to stay off the internet?"

Maria answered as though it were perfectly ordinary. "Private enough that people who live there prefer being found by the people who are supposed to find them."

A faint unease crawled across Thallia's skin.

Maria smiled as though she'd said nothing unusual.

Thallia raised an eyebrow. "That's not much of an answer."

Maria's smile faded into something more thoughtful. "It's the one my grandmother gave me."

That caught Thallia's attention. "Your grandmother knew Olympia Springs?"

Maria lowered her voice slightly. "Everybody who's been around southern Utah long enough knows about it. Most of us also know better than to go looking for it without a reason."

Thallia thought of Evalyn, the Stone House, and the strange gaps in everything she'd been able to find online.

Her curiosity pushed past the unease. "I have a reason."

Maria's gaze settled on her for a long moment. "Then you'll probably find it."

A chill moved across Thallia's skin despite the warmth of the lobby. "And if I didn't have a reason?"

Maria picked up her pen. "You'd probably drive right past the turn."

Thallia glanced toward the windows, as though the answer might be waiting beyond them. "Is the road that hard to see?"

Maria shook her head. "Not particularly."

Thallia looked back at her. "Then how do people miss it?"

Maria considered the question. "My grandfather used to say Olympia Springs doesn't hide from anyone. People just have a remarkable talent for overlooking things they aren't ready to see."

Thallia's reporter instincts stirred. "Your grandmother knew the town, and your grandfather talked about it. Have you ever been there?"

Maria gave a small nod. "A few times."

Thallia leaned closer to the counter. “What did you think of it?”

Maria smiled. "It's a town."

Thallia tipped her head, unconvinced. “That's evasive.”

Maria's smile widened. "You're a reporter, aren't you?"

Thallia blinked. "How did you know?"

Maria's smile turned knowing. “You've asked six questions since I handed you the key.”

Thallia laughed gently. "Fair."

Maria picked up her pen again. "Go see it yourself. You'll understand more that way."

Thallia waited for something more.

Instead, Maria glanced down at her paperwork. "Your room is twelve. Ice machine's around the corner."

That seemed to be the end of the conversation.

Her room smelled faintly of clean linen and lemon polish.

Nothing luxurious or fashionable. It was quiet, and that mattered more.

She dropped her suitcase onto the luggage rack and sat on the edge of the bed, letting the quiet settle around her. No phone demanded her attention. No Trevor waited for something from her.

Thallia closed her eyes and breathed out slowly as some of the tension left her shoulders.

Chicago felt very far away.

She was glad.

She showered, washed the hours of travel from her hair, then opened the suitcase Jenna had helped her pack.

Thallia reached for the turquoise dress Jenna had made only days earlier. The soft cotton felt cool beneath her fingers, and tonight it suited her mood better than anything else she'd brought.

The full tiered skirt fell below Thallia's knees, while the ivory peasant-style bodice rested wide across her shoulders.

It was feminine and romantic and even a little playful.

Exactly the sort of thing Trevor had convinced her wasn't professional enough.

Thallia held the dress against herself and felt a spark of defiance. "Trevor isn't here."

The words brought a smile to her face and she got dressed.

A braided chestnut belt settled around her waist. Matching ankle boots gave her enough heel to feel dressed without making walking miserable.

She let her hair dry loose, allowing the dark waves to fall over her shoulders and nearly to her waist.

Thallia looked at herself in the mirror.

Over the years, Thallia had learned to dress for the image she wanted to project. Competent, serious, always professional. Trevor had encouraged it, right down to preferring her hair pulled back when they went out because he thought it looked more sophisticated.

Tonight, she left it down.

She touched one of the curls beside her face. "What do you like?"

The question sounded strange spoken aloud. Thallia looked at the woman in the mirror.

Then she smiled. "This."

The answer surprised her with how easily it came.

She liked the dress. She liked her hair loose. She liked the boots Jenna had insisted would work with almost everything she'd packed.

They were small choices, but Thallia was beginning to realize how good it felt to make them without wondering what Trevor would think.

Trevor hadn't dictated everything she wore or every decision she'd made. Thallia wasn't going to give him that much credit. But little by little, she'd started checking her choices against his reactions before she checked them against her own.

She hadn't realized how often until now.

Thallia turned toward the mirror and watched the skirt move around her knees. She smiled at her reflection. "Definitely this."

Thallia lifted the lid from the hat box.

The wide-brimmed straw hat rested beneath a layer of tissue paper, its dark teal silk flower carefully protected. Tucked beside it was a small chestnut leather crossbody bag.

Thallia picked up the purse. She definitely hadn't packed that.

A folded note was tucked inside.

A MESSENGER BAG IS NOT A PURSE.

YOU'RE WELCOME.

LOVE, JENNA

Thallia laughed. "Of course you did."

The bag matched the braided belt and ankle boots almost perfectly. Jenna had planned the entire thing.

Thallia transferred her wallet, phone, and room key from the messenger bag, and headed for the front office.

Her stomach growled. "Excellent point."

She left the room and stopped at the front office. Maria was still behind the desk.

Thallia rested her hands on the counter. "Can I ask you something?"

Maria smiled. "Of course."

Thallia adjusted the strap of her new bag. "I'm starving, and I don't want tourist food."

Maria laughed. "That eliminates half of Main Street."

Thallia gave her an encouraging smile. "I have faith in you."

Maria leaned against the counter. "You want fancy?"

Thallia shook her head. “No.”

Maria tilted her head. “Do you want quiet?”

Thallia considered that. “Actually, I'd like a little life.”

Maria's smile widened. “Maybe a burger?”

Thallia grinned. “Now we're getting somewhere.”

Maria added, “And live music.”

Thallia's grin widened. “Even better.”

Maria pointed toward Main Street. “Then go to The Red Coyote. Couple blocks down. Dark wood, old sign out front. You can't miss it.”

Thallia tested the name aloud. "The Red Coyote."

Maria lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Locals go there. Tourists find it too, but we tolerate them.”

Thallia laughed. “How's the food?”

Maria gave her a knowing smile. “Order the burger.”

Thallia raised an eyebrow. “That good?”

Maria made a shooing motion. “Go.”

Thallia obeyed.

The evening air had cooled, though warmth 'continued to rise from the pavement.

Moab glowed beneath the last light of the day. Red cliffs beyond town had turned darker, their upper edges still catching gold from the setting sun while violet shadows gathered below.

Shops remained open. People wandered along the sidewalks in shorts, hiking clothes, dusty boots, and sun hats.

A Jeep rolled past coated in red dirt. Music drifted from an open patio across the street.

Thallia walked slowly. Not because she was lost, but because she wasn't in a hurry.

That alone felt strange.

She had spent years letting deadlines dictate her days, always rushing toward the next flight, interview, meeting, or assignment.

Tonight nobody expected her anywhere.

Thallia smiled as she walked. She could get used to this.

She reached the next block. A weathered wooden sign hung from heavy iron chains above a doorway. A painted coyote stretched across the center.

Beneath it were three words. THE RED COYOTE

Laughter and country music drifted through the open door, giving the place a warm, easy feeling that drew Thallia in. She adjusted the strap of her new purse and stepped inside.

The light changed immediately.

Amber lamps glowed against dark wood and stone walls. A three-man band played from a low platform near the back of the room. Conversations moved beneath the music, mixed with the clink of glasses and the sharp c***k of pool balls.

Locals occupied much of the bar, but tourists filled several tables.

Nobody paid much attention to the woman who had just walked through the door.

Thallia relaxed. Then she saw him.

A dark-haired man sat near the far end of the bar, dressed simply in dark jeans, brown boots, and a pale blue shirt with the sleeves folded below his elbows. One hand rested loosely around a glass of iced tea as he watched the room with quiet attention.

He wasn't smiling or doing anything to draw attention to himself. That only made him harder to ignore.

Someone beside him said something, and the man's mouth curved briefly before he answered. The expression softened the seriousness she'd noticed from across the room.

Then, as though he'd felt her watching him, his head turned.

His eyes met hers.

Thallia stopped walking.

A quick warmth moved through her, startling enough that she forgot for a moment where she'd been headed.

Even from across the room, she could see the unusual color of his eyes. Hazel, with green around the edges and warm gold near the center. He held her gaze without hesitation, and for several seconds, neither of them looked away.

Thallia broke the connection first and looked around for a table.

She could still feel his attention on her.

That was ridiculous. She was surrounded by people, music, conversation, and enough movement to keep anyone's attention occupied. Yet she had the distinct impression that the dark-haired stranger was watching her.

Thallia resisted the urge to look back.

She made it three steps towards a table, then she looked. His gaze was still on her.

This time, one corner of his mouth lifted.

Thallia's own smile appeared before she could stop it.

She picked the table at the edge of the dance floor and sat down, suddenly far more conscious of the fall of her hair down her back and the turquoise skirt moving around her legs.

She wasn't sixteen. A handsome man looking at her across a crowded bar shouldn't have been enough to make her pulse pick up.

It seemed thirty-two wasn't as different as she'd thought.

Thallia reached for the menu, but her attention wandered once more toward the far end of the bar.

The stranger had turned back to his iced tea. Thallia told herself she was relieved. The small stab of disappointment suggested otherwise.

Thallia had come to Utah looking for answers about Evalyn and Olympia Springs, but the man across the room stirred a different question.

Something about him felt familiar.

Not his face. She was certain they had never met.

It was the feeling that bothered her. A faint pull at the edge of her memory, carrying the same strange warmth she'd felt around the second man in her dream. The one surrounded by that inexplicable sense of justice.

Thallia's fingers held the menu a little tighter. Across the room, the stranger continued to watch her.

And this time, the dream didn't feel quite so much like a dream.