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That night in Santa Barbara, I was just a little more afraid of the dark than I had ever been. I sat in my hotel room and read a touching novel called Waiting by Ha Jin. I was waiting as well. I called home twice that night. I wasn’t sure if I was lonely, or still feeling guilty about missing Damon’s concert.
Or maybe Peter Westin had frightened me with his vampire stories and books, and the haunted look in his dark eyes. At any rate, I was taking vampires more seriously now that I had met him. Westin was a strange, eerie, unforgettable man. I had the feeling that I would meet, or at least talk to him again.
My inner fears didn’t go away that night, and not even with the first light of morning shining brightly over the Santa Ynez Mountains. Something strange and quite awful was happening. It involved twisted individuals, or maybe an underground cult. It probably had something to do with the vampire subculture.  But maybe it didn’t, and that was even more disturbing to think about. It would mean we were in a totally gray area with the investigation.
By seven-thirty in the morning, my rented sedan was easing into soupy gray fog, and then the morning traffic clog. I was singing a little Muddy Waters blues, which nicely matched my mood.  I left Santa Barbara and headed toward Fresno. I had another ‘expert’ to meet.
I drove for a couple of hours. I got on 166 at Santa Maria and continued east through the Sierra Madres until I reached Route 99.1 took it north. I was seeing California for the first time and liking most of what I saw. The topography was different to back East, and so were the colors.