It didn’t take long for Zeke to return with their drinks. Homemade of course. Colby sniffed his like it was poison. “Seriously, Colby, you need to lighten up. I figured L.A. would have done you some good. Must have been all those years as a cop. It’s gotten you all wound up. Come on, follow me. I want to show you something.”
Dylan led them out, down to the second-floor hallway, around a corner and then pointed. “What do you think?” The archways were curved, all cast plaster but painted to look like redwood. At the far west end of the hallway were three stained-glass windows with geometric and organic designs. “I’m thinking of having my bed right below that window. I like being close to the stained glass, gives me a sense that I’m close to the almighty.”
“The almighty? Dylan, when have you ever been religious?”
“Uh,” he pulled a face. “I guess you could say since I stepped in this place. It’s like a damn monastery, a work of art, almost like Picasso or da Vinci shot their load all over this place.”
“Thank you for that visual.” Colby rolled his eyes.
“And you know what?”
“What?”
“It actually feels like home.” He took another hit of his cigar. They went to the west end and sat on the sofa below the stained-glass window. Colby took a swig of his beer and set it on the side table, taking in the room. People flowed in and out, all of them wide-eyed with wonder. He figured most were there to tour the place as much as they were for the party.
“By the way, where’s your shadow?” Dylan asked.
“What?”
“Kane.”
“Oh, he’s with Miriam. He’s taken a real liking to that girl. Besides, I think Kane has gotten a little tired of seeing us two.”
“I dunno. I think you make a nice couple. You should move in here. Lots of room.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s happening.”
“Didn’t think so but had to ask if only to see your face.” He laughed and took a swig. He sighed. “Makes you wonder how long this will all last,” Dylan said.
“Have your doubts, do you, brother?”
“Why do you think I’m throwing a party now? Who knows what tomorrow brings. We could all be in the ground before day turns into night.”
Colby frowned. “You know something I don’t?”
“No, it’s just with losing Lincoln, and dad, and…” he trailed off, his head dipping. Gone was the jovial, upbeat demeanor. He and Lincoln were close. Really tight.
“Dylan, that could have happened to anyone. It could have been you.”
“Some days I wish it was me.” He blew out his cheeks. “I sure know how to kill the mood, don’t I?”
Colby shrugged.
“What about the Stricklands? Any sign of Hank?”
“No, we haven’t seen them in months. I don’t expect we will,” Colby replied.
“I wouldn’t count on that now. Alby’s out.”
“Alby’s out? Did they release him?”
Dylan stubbed out his cigar, smoke wafted around his hand.
“Not from what I heard. He’s on the loose. Seems he was meant to be transferred south to a state prison. Him and twenty-nine other inmates, the worst in Humboldt. They found the bus south of Benbow. Empty. Tires blown. Correctional officers dead.”
“Damn,” Alicia said, nursing her bottle of beer and peeling away at the label on the side. “You think he’ll head back to the farm?”
Colby nodded. “For sure.” He looked at Dylan. “Who told you?”
“It was a local. Someone passed on the message. They figured I’d want to know with him being our uncle and all.”
“Mother know about this?”
“Haven’t seen her to ask.”
Colby nodded, then got up and headed for the stairs.
“Where you going?” he asked.
“To find Alby.”
“Colby. Wait. I’m sure he’ll show up. Stay. Enjoy the party.”
“I wish I could,” he said, his mind bothered by what he imagined the conversation would be like between Alby and his mother. He’d visited him while he was inside. Asked him about the gold. He’d made it clear in no uncertain terms that it was his. It didn’t belong to his mother. He wasn’t storing it for her like she said. And he looked disturbed when Colby told him that she said it was hers. Even more shocked when he dropped the news that she was responsible for the death of Ryland, a death that had led to the murder of his father, Alby’s brother Bruce Riker. He felt he deserved the truth and she sure as hell wouldn’t give it. It wasn’t her way. Even his sudden incarceration seemed dubious to Colby. It was almost like Martha wanted Alby out of the way. Behind bars he couldn’t retaliate or make use of the gold. After Alby was put in the can for a triple homicide, Colby didn’t expect him to see the light of day. Now that he was out, there was no doubt in his mind Alby would head back to the farm and without any of the family there to intervene, he could only imagine what would happen to her.
Colby hurried down the stairs, taking two at a time, his shoulder slammed into several people. “Hey. Mind where you’re going.”
“Sorry, coming through.”
“Colby. Hold up,” Alicia said, trying to catch up. “What’s the hurry?”
“I can’t explain. I just need to go. You can stay. I’ll be back later.”
“Colby.”
He didn’t wait. As much as he felt his mother deserved whatever was coming, like Jessie, like all of them, he still had this overshadowing guilt from his youth that he was responsible. It was messed up, but maybe that’s why he risked his life the day she was about to be executed.
He made it to the ground floor, and was elbowing his way through the crowd when
