Tuesday, June 15th, 9:00 P.M.

Five minutes later Dean was hurrying back to his campsite. While darkness had descended the town was now a hubbub of activity. Dean paid little attention as his mind remained focused on his chore ahead as he tried to put aside the stiffness in his injured leg. As he rounded a corner, he spotted Fred O'Connor walking toward him.

"Where have you been?" Fred asked. "I've been looking all over. You'll never guess who's in town! Cynthia!"

Dean grabbed Fred's arm. "Do you know where she's staying?"

"No," Fred answered, surprised by Dean's manner. The two men continued walking past clusters of bikers. "I spotted her going into a restaurant. "I saw Winston too, ten minutes earlier. What the dickens is going on? What's he doing here?"

"It's a long story but I have to find Cynthia first-it's crucial."

"She's probably still at the café. It's right down the block. Did you find Byrne?" Dean didn't stop to answer as he broke into a jog with Fred hustling to keep up.

More bikers crowded the small luncheonette, amid happy carefree chatter, all but Cynthia Byrne who sat alone at a table near the back. She looked neither surprised nor pleased to see him.

"Why did you come here-to arrest me too?" There was anger in her voice, her eyes cast downward

"We have to talk," Dean said, taking the only other seat.

Fred caught up and stood next to them. "How did you know we were out here in Colorado?" he asked.

"I called police headquarters." She continued to look down at the table. "Then Randy told me about the bike magazine and how you'd been interested in it-how Jeff marked the information on this tour." She raised her eyes to meet Dean's. "Jeffrey's alive and he's here, isn't he? And you think I'm in this with him!"

"I know you're not involved but I think you're in danger. I want you to give me your motel room key and go stay with Fred."

"No, I won't! And you can't make me! I want to see him-look him in the eye! I should be afraid of him? That's nonsense! He should be more afraid I'll kill him than the other way around!"

"Trust me. Just give me your key. This whole business is almost over." A waitress neared them but beat a quick retreat when she heard their strained tones.

"Trust you? Like I trusted Jeffrey?" she snapped. "I want to see him! I have a right! I'm his wife!"

"Listen to David," Fred said, standing over the two. "He knows what he's doing-and he cares about you." His voice had a calming effect on Cynthia. She began to cry. The fury was replaced by an overwhelming sadness.




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