Side Story #1 - Colt - Page 34

"Are you really so desperate for a drinking buddy that you'd hit up a total stranger like me?" said Colt. "No offense, but I find that a little hard to believe."

Malcolm's smile faded somewhat, and he scratched his head. "You think so? Guess I got a little excited, seeing an unfamiliar face for the first time in so long."

For some reason, Colt really didn't like this guy. But that wasn't so strange, he supposed. He didn't like most people. He allowed his eyes to fall upon the man's bulky arm. Those were indeed bandages under his sleeve. "What's the story there?"

Malcolm concealed his arm behind him a little, then put it back down at his side again. Judging by the expression on his face, he seemed surprised. "Noticed that, did you? Most folks haven't. Got a keen eye on you, fella."

Colt made no response.

"And you're the type to be suspicious of people, too," said Malcolm. "Might make a good cop. Oh, or perhaps you used to be one?"

Shit. That was sloppy of him, Colt realized. This guy had such a relaxed vibe to him that Colt had all but forgotten that Malcolm Beaumont was a policeman himself. Acting a bit dumb or airheaded was a classic tactic to get people to let down their guard when trying to pump them for information.

Colt felt like an idiot for not having seen through it sooner. Despite how suspicious he was of Malcolm, he somehow hadn't expected Malcolm to be suspicious of him, too. It made perfect sense, though, that a cop would be mindful of any new faces around town. Rex had done the same thing when Colt first arrived.

"I've done some private security work in the past," Colt said. That wasn't true, but it was part of his new identity here in Snider. "And I'm a father. Being suspicious comes naturally."

"I see, I see," said Malcolm.

Colt spotted some more bandage wraps in the man's shopping bag. For replacing the ones he was currently wearing, no doubt. A minor detail, perhaps, but it meant that Malcolm's injury was a significant one, not likely to heal very soon. "So what's the story, then? You hurt yourself, friend?"

"Oh, are we friends now? Already? If so, I must say, I'm pleasantly surprised. Seemed like you were givin' me a bit of the cold shoulder."

"And it seems like you're dodging questions."

Malcolm chortled. "So what if I am, huh? A man has a right to his privacy, don't he?"

Colt could manage a smile at that. "He certainly does. Though that's pretty hypocritical, comin' from Mr. Curious over here."

"Heh, fair enough. Tell you what. Join me for a drink, and we'll spill our guts to each other."

And for a moment, Colt was honestly tempted. If he didn't currently suspect Malcolm of being a murderer, he might've agreed. Hell, a part of him still thought it might be a good idea. Some killers were quite talkative, after all. Holding onto dark secrets like that wasn't easy for everyone.

But no. Colt resisted. "I appreciate the offer," he said, "but I think I'll have to decline. I'm not in the habit of drinking with people I don't know. I'm not even that much of a drinker in the first place, truth be told."

"Ah, that's a real shame. But I understand. And look, if you change your mind, I'll probably be over at Sam & Jenny's for the next few hours. Know where that is?"

"I do."

"Alright, then. See ya if I see ya." He gave Colt a wave and turned to leave.

Colt tensed, trying to think of some way to stall the man further without actually committing to anything, but mercifully, Bohwanox chose that moment to phase through the store's closed doors. Colt exhaled a quiet breath and tried to guide the reaper with his eyes. 'Follow that guy.'

Boh stopped just as he and Malcolm were passing one another. 'I gotcha.' Then he pursued Malcolm's leisurely walk out of the building.

Well, that was one less thing to worry about. For now, at least. It was better to just let Boh observe Malcolm for a while before actually engaging with the guy directly. Colt had the twins to think about. The less time they spent around murderers, the better.

Not counting himself, that was.

He was fully aware of his own hypocrisy in that regard, but he didn't really give a shit. He would be a hypocrite a thousand times over if it meant keeping the kids even a tiny bit safer.

Eventually, he got to the front of the line and finally managed to talk to Fred Millerman.

"Ah, Mr. Thompson," said Fred immediately upon seeing him. "Here for that stroller you ordered, no?"

Colt was a bit surprised that the man remembered him--and not just his name but also his order. They'd only spoken briefly a week ago, and it seemed like Fred had plenty of other customers to keep track of.

Maybe this was another symptom of being a suspicious outsider. Hmm.

"That's right," said Colt. "You got it?"

"Yes, sir, I do," said Fred, holding up an index finger. "Give me one minute." He turned around and went through a rear door, presumably to fetch the product in question from storage or some such area.

There were more people waiting in line behind Colt, but he didn't recognize any of them, and he wasn't feeling very chatty, at the moment.

Unfortunately, Bohwanox was.

'This Malcolm guy is awfully friendly,' came the reaper's private words.

'I noticed,' said Colt. 'Learn anything yet?'

'I only just started following him.'

'I know. I just figured you wouldn't be wasting my time unless you had something important to say. My mistake.'

'Wow. What crawled up your ass this morning?'

Colt made no response. A part of him knew that the reaper hadn't done anything to deserve that, but another, stronger part of him was too stubborn to apologize.