The Colors of Hate - 33

Dean immediately got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“Probably not. He’s still here, somewhere.”

“You’re certain? What if he used an alias to leave the city? Or… or drove… or something.”

“He used his own name when he flew in. That’s not to say he couldn’t have an alias for emergencies that he used to leave, but we printed up photos of him and had them taken around to the airlines. No one recognized him—at least not as someone heading to Colorado.”

“What about… anywhere else?”

“We’re a small city, Dean, there aren’t that many airlines to check. He hasn’t flown out since Ms Westcott’s murder.”

“Rental car?” Dean asked, grasping at straws.

“Again, the same thing, no one recognized his picture.”

“Damn it! Why’s he still here? Why isn’t he back there reporting in to my father?”

“I think you know the answer.”

“No I don’t, Kirby. I mean, if he was going to try to drag me back home with him, wouldn’t he have done that already? He’s had time.” Dean’s voice rose in panic.

“Calm down.”

Dean took a deep breath then chuckled morosely. “Damn, I’m twenty-six and still acting like a scared kid.”

“I hate to say it, but I suspect you have reason to be scared. As to why he’s still hanging around? From what Mrs Nester told us, he and Ms Westcott were arguing when she saw them. To my way of thinking that might mean she didn’t tell him what he wanted to know about you.”

“How could she? She didn’t know.”

“True, but he didn’t know that, or perhaps didn’t believe her, so he got angry, hit her, and left.”

“And might go after someone else to try to find out.”

“That or just keep hanging around watching you, until you do something to confirm his suspicions. Given the length of time, and the fact he hasn’t contacted you, we can pretty well bet your father did not send him out here to bring you home so you could take over the cult.”

Dean laughed softly. “I could always go public. That would throw a spanner in a lot of works.”

“Not a good idea. I’d like to see you stay alive.”

“Me too.” Dean hesitated, afraid to ask, but he did anyway. “Would you really?”

“Like you alive? Damned straight! Okay, perhaps not the best way to put it, all things considered.”

“Not really,” Dean agreed, chuckling. “All right, so what now?”

“Depends. If you mean as far as keeping you out of his clutches, we should talk about it, but not over the phone. If you mean ‘It’s late, I’m hungry, how about I meet you for supper somewhere’ I’m all for that.”

“Maybe… both?”

“Do you know where The Chop House is?”

Dean smiled. It was one of his favorite small restaurants. “Yes.”

“Good. I’ll meet you there in, say, half an hour?”

“I’ll be there, and on time for once.”

Kirby laughed. “Now that would be a first. Okay, see you then.”