Dean had just gotten out of the shower when he heard a phone ring. It took him a moment to realize it had to be the room phone, as Kirby had forgotten to return his. He hesitated answering, but Kirby had only said no outgoing calls. As he crossed the room he wondered if it might actually be Kirby and picked up the receiver in anticipation.
“Hey, boy-fucking fag, we ain’t done with you yet,” a rough voice said. “That was just a taste of what happens to people who go against the CVA. Turn around.”
A frightened breath hissed through Dean’s teeth. “Why?”
“Turn around at look at the door, faggot.” The caller hung up.
Dean turned slowly. On the floor in front of the door was a folded slip of paper. He bent to pick it up, holding it by one corner as if it was going to bite him. It fell open to reveal a crude sketch of a man screwing a very young, very terrified boy. The man’s face wore a lewd smile and horns sprang from his forehead. Below the picture, in large, ill-formed letters was a message. “You will suffer for your sins and then burn in hell.” It was signed, “Friends of the CVA.”
“And so it continues,” Dean muttered, his voice tight with a mix of fear and anger. He dropped the paper on the desk then went to the phone. When Kirby answered Dean said, “They know I’m here.”
* * * *
“So much for good security,” Kirby growled as he drove away from the hotel.
“You know someone probably followed us there, and since they didn’t do anything overt, the security people wouldn’t have noticed them. Hell, for all we know it could have been Jones. He could be staying there himself.”
Kirby glanced at Dean and nodded. “Good point, although if he is he’s using an alias. As soon as we get to the station house I’ll send someone back with a picture of him.”
Dean snorted. “If it was him he’ll be long gone by now.”
“Still, it would be a good idea to find out.”
“True.” Dean yawned. “You going to put me in a jail cell so I can get some sleep?”
“Might,” Kirby replied with a straight face.
“You know, right now, I really wouldn’t give a damn if you did. At least I wouldn’t get more threatening phone calls. Speaking of which, may I have my phone back?”
“What? Oh yeah, sure, except right now it’s sitting on my desk at home. By the way, the only calls you got were from a couple of TV stations and the newspaper, all wanting to do interviews with you. Oh, and one from your father.”
Dean was so tired he couldn’t work up any real emotions on hearing about his father. “Did he leave a message?”
“Just that he would call again.”
“Something to look forward to.”
“Or not,” Kirby said with a brief chuckle as he made the turn into the station house parking lot.
Once they were in the squad room, Kirby left Dean at his desk while he took the note from the CVA down the hall to be examined. When he returned he paused at the door, smiling. Dean was sound asleep, his arms resting on the desk, cradling his head. Now what do I do with you? he wondered. "Duh, stupid," he muttered seconds later. He made a call, ignoring Carrie’s sleepy grumbling when she answered. “Kirby here. Any chance you can put your brother up for the night, or know someone who’d be willing to?”
The surprise and worry was evident in her voice when she asked what had happened. After he explained she instantly told him to bring her brother to Jim’s place as that’s where she was, reeling off the address when Kirby asked.
He thanked her, hung up, and walked over to Dean, shaking his shoulder gently.
“Wha’?” Dean said. He sat up, glanced around for a second to figure out where he was, and then looked up at Kirby. “Sorry.”
“For what? You’re exhausted. Come on, I’m taking you to Jim’s. He’ll put you up for the night, or what’s left of it. Carrie’s orders,” he added when Dean started to protest. “She’s there too.”
Dean smiled slightly as he stood, murmuring, “Of course she is.”