Monday, June 14th 7:00 A.M.

It was warmer on Monday and Dean was pleased his body felt better than he expected. After a misty sunrise, a plateful of pan­cakes and the first ten miles, his legs hit a nice smooth cadence. All would have been peace with the world if his mind hadn't remained doggedly fixed on his search for Jeffrey Byrne. Time sped by and he was surprised how quickly he pulled into the first rest stop and spotted Fred O'Connor working on a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin. Dean could tell by the look on Fred's face that the news wasn't good.

"I found our friend, number 1368," the old man said glumly, wiping his face. Dean looked at his stepfather as he unfastened his helmet, waiting for him to continue. "He's about 19 years old and built like a Greek god. It didn't take him long to hit the rest area- he was one of the first riders, a regular Greg LeMonde. I spotted the number right away and as soon as I saw him I knew danged well it wasn't Byrne. I went over and started chatting with the guy. It seems he was in Europe someplace and didn't sign up for the tour in advance so he stopped by Cortez just to see if he could pick up a last minute cancellation. He bumped into this guy who said he had a friend who couldn't make the tour and the Greek god could take the friend's place."

"P. Corbin," Dean said disgustedly and then thought out loud. "If he was here, that means there's a good chance he's still in the tour. Maybe he signed up under a second name when he found out someone had been asking about him in Scranton."

"Makes sense to me," Fred answered.

Dean set down his bike and began to pace. "Could you get a description?"

"I had to be cozy-like-didn't want to press the guy. I did find out he was an older man, whatever that means to a teenager. He didn't know a name or a number but the fellow had black hair. If it comes down to it and we need an ID later in the week, I can locate the Greek god guy and show him the picture, but I didn't want to take the chance this early. He did say the guy is camping-he was hauling a tent and stuff. The kid offered him money for the regis­tration but the man said that was Corbin's bad luck and wouldn't take it. He was happy to help the kid out."

"Sounds like good old St. Jeffrey, always there with a helping hand," Dean muttered.




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