Ryan speared the last of his pasta with his fork. “I got an update this morning. No change. I’d pay money to know what he and Parker talked about.”
Katie had heard the news about Parker’s disappearance from Jack Devon at the hotel. The cook and a few others were already speculating Floyd had to be involved. Although, if you talked to one of the Bradley brothers, you were more likely to hear the Mothman was responsible. Someone had even started a rumor the “spaceman” Parker had been in communication with for the last two years had broken him out of West Central.
According to Floyd, the alien even had a name—Indrid Cold. Floyd told Shawn Preech, who’d told Martin Ward, who’d told Jack that his kid had drawn a life-size picture of the UFOnaut—what Parker called him—and taped it to his wall at the hospital. Katie had a feeling it wouldn’t be long before Cold was blamed for everything from stirring up the Mothman to the dog disappearances, cattle deaths, and the glut of “star shit” in Chester Wilson’s farm field.
Sighing, she rubbed two fingers against her temple. Lately, there were too many bizarre happenings to track. Toss in the fact she’d only recently remembered she’d been witness to a UFO, and what more was likely to materialize? “What about the license plate number I gave you?” At least that was something concrete.
“Sorry.” Looking uncomfortable, Ryan set his fork aside. “It came back without a match.”
“But I know I got it right.” Her eyesight was good, and despite the darkness, she’d seen the van clearly. This time she’d even gotten the make and model.
“It’s not that I don’t believe you, but the DMV says it doesn’t exist. The plate was probably doctored.”
“Great. Now what?” Disgusted, she slumped in her chair. “If Lyle is playing games, I wish he’d quit creeping around and own up to them. I’m worried about Sam.”
“I know. I am too.” He hesitated a moment. “I did some fishing around today and drove over to Darrell’s place.”
“Oh?” A flicker of warmth passed through her. Maybe the plate was a dead end, but Ryan hadn’t dropped the idea entirely. She was touched he’d go to the extra trouble. Best not to dwell on how touched. “What did Darrell say?”
Ryan frowned. “Nothing I didn’t expect. He denied knowing Lyle was in town. Said he hadn’t seen or heard from him.”
“Do you believe him?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. He didn’t seem like he was lying, but it’s hard to say. I told him to get in touch with me if Lyle showed up. He seemed okay with that, then asked about the dog disappearances. He’s been talking to Shawn and Suzanne Preech.” He shot her a glance that seemed to suggest she might not be overly fond of Suzanne.
It was hard to warm up to someone who hadn’t outgrown the high school mentality of slinging mud behind your back.
Katie kept her expression neutral. “I heard their dog, Duke, disappeared.”
Ryan nodded. “Darrell said he saw some kind of weird light in the sky the night Duke took off. He seemed more interested in that than Lyle.” He shook his head. “There’s too much weird shi—stuff going around town these days.”
His swift correction made her smile. It was sweet he tried to temper his language for her.
“I want to show you the note I found. It’s pretty weird too. But first I want to clean up the kitchen.” She stood, picking up her plate. “Why don’t you watch TV in the living room until I’m done?”
“I’ll help.” Ryan began gathering the silverware.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t, but I don’t mind. I’m used to helping my mom.”
She followed him into the kitchen, both of them carting dishware. “How is your mom doing?”
“Really good these days.” Ryan set the flatware in the sink.
Mrs. Flynn lived with him in the family home, the property located beside Eve’s. Last year through “conversations” Mrs. Flynn had with Ryan’s dead sister, Maggie, she’d been able to tell them where to find Wendy’s remains. Katie didn’t know Ryan’s mother well, but was forever grateful for her part in bringing Wendy’s killer to justice.
“The difference in her behavior from last year to now is night and day,” Ryan continued. “My mom’s no longer hung up on the past and Maggie’s death. I could move out and get my own place, but she says the house is too big for her.”
Katie had no such issues, her two bedroom rancher just over eleven hundred square feet. On the small side, it was enough for her and Sam, and the mortgage was manageable.
They continued to chat while they cleaned up the kitchen, then retreated to the living room with coffee and apple pie. Katie waited until Ryan had finished his dessert before retrieving the scrap of paper she’d found in her jacket. Sitting next to him on the couch, she passed him the slip.
“What do you make of this? I certainly didn’t write it.”
Ryan took the paper, frowning at an indecipherable scrawl of numbers. He flipped it over once, then dropped the scrap on the coffee table with the writing face-up. “It looks like gibberish.”
“Jerome must have written it. Probably when he was with Parker at West Central.” That was important.
“Maybe.” Ryan took a moment to kick the thought around. “You gave Jerome your jacket because he was cold?”
“Yes.” Something niggled at the back of her mind. Swinging to face him, she bumped her knee against his. “Now that I think of it, he never actually said ‘I’m cold.’ He just kept repeating the word ‘cold.’” She paused before leapfrogging ahead. “And he’d just come from seeing Parker….”
“Who we know talked about Indrid Cold.” Ryan finished the thought.