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“She was sure it was the same person, each time?”
“Apparently.”
“When did she tell you this?”
“Uh,” Hoyt tips up his newsboy cap and scratches his white hair. “A few months ago. Never brought it up again. I also noticed someone walking around the neighborhood recently. It stuck out to me because they were alone and wearing white—not jogging clothes or whatever. That’s all I could tell, and no, before you ask, I don’t know if it was a man or a woman. Could’ve been anything really.”
I frown at Kellan, then focus back on Hoyt. “Mr. Hoyt?—”
“Amos.”
Jesus. “Amos, why didn’t you tell me all this last night?”
“I didn’t remember.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Kellan glares at me.
Hoyt stares at me for a minute, like he’s assessing me, then seems to decide something. “She told me not to tell anyone, ever.”
“Not to tell anyone that she thought someone was following her?”
“Right.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. But I’m a loyal man, in life or death. Kellan understands this.”
Hoyt holds Kellan’s gaze for a moment and I feel like I’m out of the loop.
Kellan dips his chin. “Thank you for the information, Amos. Is there anything else?”
“No.”
“Okay, if you do think of anything else,” he pulls a card from his pocket, “please call me immediately.”
“You have my card, too,” I blurt like a petulant child.
Amos nods. “I’ll walk you two out.”
“Why the hell wouldn’t Alyssa want anyone to know that she thought she was being followed?” I hiss as we step onto the sidewalk and out of earshot. “That makes no sense. Right?”
When Kellan doesn’t answer, I slap his bicep. “Hello? Kellan?”
“I’m thinking, hang on.”
I make it three more steps before hitting him again. “Talk. I feel like I’m about to explode. What are you thinking?”
“One of the assumptions we have is that Alyssa’s eyes were X’d out because she saw or did something she wasn’t supposed to, right? So, if she reported that she was being followed—or if Hoyt did for her—then that means that cops would come to her house and ask questions. And that means there would be attention on the Kaing household.”
“Meaning, whatever secrets she has, or whatever she’s hiding, might come to light.”
“Right. And that secret might have gotten her killed.”
We walk a few minutes in silence, mentally rolling over this new information.
“I can’t believe he didn’t tell me this when I interviewed him,” I grumble.
