Side Story #1 - Colt - Page 46

He wondered if he shouldn't just leave. If this conversation continued on in the same manner, then Colt highly doubted that it would be able to provide him with much help with the investigation.

That, and he just wanted to get the fuck out of here.

But the damn cop in him wouldn't allow it. Maybe it was a waste of time, but that was what it meant to investigate just about anything. Following leads that were probably just dead ends. Trying not to let any details escape.

And if that meant listening to a pair of women crying their eyes out for the next half hour, then... well, he'd been stuck in worse positions, he supposed.

Which was exactly what happened.

Genevieve and Alice kept trading apologies and weeping together, barely ever saying anything beyond that. By the end, it was obvious as shit that there was something in Genevieve's past relationship with Rex that was bothering her immensely, but Alice hadn't been able to pull the details out of her for Colt--probably because Alice hadn't actually been trying to do that.

It was unfortunate, of course, since he felt like he'd wasted the whole damn morning, but Colt couldn't feel too bitter about it. Alice wasn't his co-conspirator or anything. She was clearly just concerned about Genevieve and didn't want to push the woman to talk about anything that she didn't want to.

Which was smart, in its own way. Alice was playing the long game, in other words. The slow and steady approach.

Colt could respect that. Maybe he wouldn't be the only member of the congregation to show up next weekend.

Wait. Dear goddess, was he actually planning to be here next weekend, too?

He supposed he was.

Damn.

Well, whatever. If Alice could get Genevieve to show up again, then maybe Colt would get another crack at her. He didn't see another way to reenter their conversation today, and continuing to eavesdrop seemed like it wasn't even going to be very helpful, either. No need to risk irritating them with his unwanted presence when the reward wouldn't be worth it, he figured.

He gathered the kids up and quietly slipped out of the chapel. He threw a last glance toward Alice, maybe hoping for a nod of acknowledgment at least, but she wasn't even looking at him.

That was fine. He headed back into town while he considered his next move. A decent meal sounded good. He didn't want to waste money when he didn't have to, but after enduring that whole scene, he felt like he deserved it. And he could chalk it up to familiarizing himself with the town more.

There was a nice little taco shop that he'd been wanting to try. So he did. And it wasn't bad.

As he was eating, he figured that he could probably still get something else accomplished before heading home again. It was only midday, after all.

He decided to check out the golf course that Fred told him about. He figured that even if Fred wasn't there today, it would still be useful to familiarize himself with the place a bit. Plus, he'd only ever gone golfing once, as part of a high school trip, so maybe a bit of practice wouldn't hurt. He was supposed to be making Fred believe that he was interested in the sport, after all.

However, Fred was there, better or worse. He was one of the first people Colt saw, in fact, greeting him at the rather extravagant entryway. The pristine white archways, perfectly cut grass, dirt-free concrete path, and expensive cars in the parking lot were all making Colt think twice about this visit Fred called out to him.

"Ah, Mr. Thompson! Welcome! Following up, just as you said you would, I see." The bloated scar on his face was slightly more concealed than usual thanks to the brim of his sports cap, and he offered Colt an energetic handshake.

The man was not alone, either.

"Mr. Thompson, was it? I don't believe I've had the pleasure."

"Nor I."

"Introduce us, Fred."

And Fred did so, not knowing how unnecessary it was. Thanks to his early recon work on Orden, Colt had known who all these men were for months.

Fred Millerman, John Davinworth, Phillip Richardson, and Nicholas Cree. These were the richest men in town. The big fish in this little pond. The only one missing, arguably, was the damn mayor, and even he probably couldn't hold much of a candle to the influence that these guys wielded, especially together.

Davinworth was the local real estate mogul. Colt learned that very early on, back when he'd considered trying to find a normal house to live in rather than the then-rundown cabin that belonged to his grandfather. Here and now, Colt felt like Davinworth was probably the one he wanted to be the most careful of, because that man probably knew every single new resident in Orden by name and street address. Except for Colt, of course.

Richardson was the owner of a trucking company that delivered all sorts of things in and out of the country but especially between Orden and Lagoroc. Colt had little doubt that it was Fred's relationship with this man that allowed his store called 'ANYTHING' to actually live up to its name.

Cree, though, was a little more mysterious. All Colt had managed to discover about him was that he'd supposedly made his fortune through investments, which was pretty vague. On the other hand, though, Lagoroc did have a famous stock exchange in the heart of the city, so maybe it wasn't that crazy.

Needless to say, Cot hadn't planned on encountering all these motherfuckers during this visit. And despite his best efforts, it seemed a bit late to gracefully extricate himself from this situation.

"You'll join us for a few rounds, won't you?" said John Davinworth with an unwelcome tinge of curiosity in his wrinkled face.

"Oh, uh, that's very kind of you to offer," said Colt, "but truth be told, I didn't even bring any clubs. I just came here to check out the facility."

"Nonsense!" said Davinworth. "You can share mine. It's no trouble at all."