Free Rendezvous with Hymera by Melinda De Ross

wasn’t just a mistake, an inaccurate perception. The old man was puffing on, gazing absently – or so it seemed – to the lake.
    Rose interrupted her reverie of speculation.
    “I might,” she said. “The figure looks familiar, she has something unique... I’m not absolutely sure, but I think maybe she had stayed here some time ago. Maybe a little more time. If you could show me a photo, I could give a more definite answer.”
    She looked at her with incisive curiosity.
    “Who is this woman? And why are you asking me about her?”
    Clara hesitated a fraction of a second, but Colin intervened in the discussion.
    “Clara thinks she saw here someone who looked approximately like that,” he said, indicating the coal-made image, “about two days ago. We thought it could be an ex-tenant,” he added, on a deliberately indifferent tone.
    “Did you make this?” the old lady asked him.
    “Yes.”
    “You’re good. Very good,” she remarked, continuing to analyze the drawing. “She seems familiar,” she repeated, “but what would anyone do here without my knowing?”
    “Good question,” he replied.
    “Rose,” said Clara, “if I’d ask you to give me a list with your tenants in the last...” She stopped, putting a hand to her forehead, as if remembering something. “How long have you had this place?”
    “For about three years, since my man had the nerve to die, leaving me all alone.”
    Despite the inadequate joke, for a moment, the old woman’s eyes darkened with traces of unspilled tears and painful memories. Blinking rapidly, she refocused her attention on the youths, regaining her brisk tone:
    “What about that list? Why do you need it?”
    “We still don’t know if we need it...”
    Suddenly, Clara’s face brightened.
    “If you have an internet connection, it means you’ve got a computer upstairs, right?” she said, and after Rose nodded, continued, “Don’t you also have a computerized database with the tenants list?” Clara asked hopefully, thinking of the huge register book in which she herself had scrawled her signature only three days before. “It would ease our searches a lot.”
    “There’s nothing safer than paper, especially since some things could be erased by accidentally pressing some keys,” answered Rose, still watching her above the eyeglasses with amused suspicion.
    “You still haven’t told me why you need my tenants list.”
    Clara gazed at her meditatively, then consulted her watch.
    “I’ll tell you when we get back,” she said and, taking Colin’s hand, headed to the parking lot, on the run, saluting Mr. Garcia, who had remained withdrawn and silent.
    They got into Colin’s car and started toward the city.
    “Do you think it’s wise to tell Rose about it?” he asked.
    “I don’t see what harm it could do. Besides, there’s no other way we can obtain that list. By the way, what the hell do we do next?”
    He smiled.
    “For now, we’re going to the newspaper where I work. With a bit of luck, we might still find Nicholas. He’s one of my colleagues, who has long-time connections in every important institution, including the men of the law. He could get us a list with the missing persons in this area in the last period. Let’s say, three years, since Rose has bought the cottages. Then we compare the names on Rose’s list with the ones on the list Nick gives us and we see if there’s a common one.”
    Clara muttered:
    “Do you realize what this means?! There probably are hundreds of names and if there aren’t any which coincide, we’re digging in vain,” she said, gesturing with the sketch in her hand.
    Colin seemed extremely calm, at least judging by the tone of his voice.
    “Small steps, my love. Even a ten thousand miles road begins with the first step.”
     
    ***
     
    Although it was almost four o’clock, the office was buzzing with activity. Desks covered with papers, the monotonous purring of computers, the sounds of printers, and editors,