When they got to Dean's office, he started pacing, Kirby doing the same in the opposite direction. Reid took a seat and watched. Any other time he might have found it amusing, but not now. Not with so much at stake. “What’s his name Mr Travers?”
“I’d like to say it’s something stupid and indicative of what he is, like Bubba Redneck, but its not. It’s Richard Jones.”
“Is he from around here?”
“No. He lives in the same city my father does. Colorado Springs to be exact.”
“Figures,” Kirby muttered.
“Why would he be here?” Reid asked.
Dean stopped pacing before answering. “Looking for me, to bring me back into the fold, as my father would put it.”
“Damn, you’re an adult, though I guess to people like them that probably doesn’t matter.” Kirby shook his head then frowned at Dean. “They don’t know where to find you?”
“Oh my father knows. But since I don’t answer his letters, or the phone when he calls, I suppose he decided to take the direct route. He getting old, well older, and wants me to start taking over the reins of his…his cult is what I call it.”
“That’s exactly what it is!” Kirby said forcefully.
“Mr Travers…” Reid started to say.
“Please, call me Dean.”
“Dean, then. Kirby told me what the two of you talked about last night, some of it anyway. Is there any way your father could have found out that you’re gay?”
“I don’t see how, but then…” Dean sighed. “I can’t state categorically that it would be impossible.”
“Okay, picture this scenario," Reid said. "He has reason to believe you might be. That would make him furious. But he doesn’t know for certain, so he sends Jones out here to spy on you. The man makes friends with Ms Westcott. Maybe only on the night she was killed, maybe earlier.”
“I’d guess earlier,” Kirby said. “That’s why she kept throwing herself at you, Dean. Testing to see if you’d respond.”
Reid nodded. “That makes sense. Did you tell her you wouldn’t be going to the club with the rest of the group, Dean?”
Dean thought back to the last time he’d seen her, trying to remember, then shook his head. “Honestly, I was so pissed I probably did, but it’s anyone’s guess.”
“Okay. Either way, she goes to the club, Jones shows up, and if we’re right, although of course we might not be, she tells him what went down between the two of you. To him that would be proof enough, as crazy as those people are.”
“But why kill her?”
“Now that’s a good question for which I haven’t figured out an answer,” Reid admitted.