Jeffery Deaver - XO

“The crew’s at the convention center now,” Kayleigh said, then added, “The band’s in Nashville still, finishing up some studio work for our new album. They won’t be here till Thursday or Friday.”

That was good news. Fewer potential victims to worry about. Fewer suspects too.

Dance added, “Finally, there’s the Hinckley scenario. Killing someone of some notoriety to impress Kayleigh.”

She reminded them that John Hinckley, Jr., was obsessed with Jodie Foster. “He figured that by assassinating Ronald Reagan he’d be linked forever to the actress.”

“And they are,” Harutyun observed. “In a sick way, he accomplished his goal.”

Madigan said, “I’ve talked to Edwin. You have too. He doesn’t seem like a psycho. How could he possibly think killing people is going to get him closer to Kayleigh?”

“Oh, he doesn’t think about it. Not on a conscious level. Even if Edwin seems functional on the surface, there’s more at work. Remember, it’s his reality, not ours.”

Madigan: “I’ve ordered a box on Kayleigh’s phone and the service provider’s security unit is on standby. And we’re still on those numbers of the other mobiles he bought in Burlingame. So if he calls again from any of those phones or even powers ’em up we can get a car there fast.”

“Good.”

Harutyun said to Kayleigh, “Kathryn asked me to look into the verses of the song, the one that was played to you the other night.” He passed out copies to everyone in the room. “I’ve been trying to think of where he might be planning an attack but can’t come up with much.”

So he had taken her request seriously. She nodded her thanks.

Your Shadow

“I don’t know if he’s going to keep going with that song or find a different one. Or give up on the idea altogether.”

Kayleigh took her glasses off and cleaned them on her sweatshirt. “I’ll bet he’d use ‘Your Shadow.’ He thought it was the best song ever written.”

Miguel Lopez looked over the lyrics. “You read it one way, it’s a love song, looking out for somebody. Could be a lover or even a parent or friend. But from a stalker’s point of view, it’s pretty creepy.”

Dance focused on the second verse. “A river.”

Madigan gave a brief laugh. “We got plenty of those around here.”

Harutyun pointed out, “Some dry beds, some with water. Could be anywhere.”

Dance summarized, “I’ll be talking to the crew at the hall. Detective Harutyun is getting information about Bobby’s past and Detective Lopez is tracking down Edwin’s former girlfriend, Sally.”

Madigan regarded the song lyrics. “And I’ll tell patrol officers to pay special attention to riversides, the public areas primarily, and ones out of view of any roads.”

“Good.”

Alicia gave the first smile Dance could recall seeing on the tough woman’s face. “But I guess the good news is that Kayleigh’s not at risk, if he’s that much in love with her.”

“That’s true. But only for a time. Remember his separation from reality? He’s been in the courting stage for a while.” She turned to Kayleigh. “Probably since he heard the first song that drew him to you, or saw you in concert or on TV. To him that was your first date and you’ve been going out ever since.”

“Date?” Crystal Stanning asked.

“At the moment he’s still under the illusion that you care for him. You’ve been brainwashed, he thinks. At some point, though, he’ll see your behavior as if you’re breaking up with him.

“And when that happens, he’ll become simple obsessional. Like spurned husbands or lovers. They’re the dangerous stalkers. It could happen in an instant. He’ll snap. He’ll want revenge.” Dance debated but decided there was no point in sugarcoating her assessment. “Or he’ll just want to kill you so nobody else can have you.”

THE CONVENTION CENTER had been sanitized.

Kathryn Dance wasn’t cynical about the world of business-she’d been a consultant and journalist. And music at Kayleigh Towne’s level was a very serious business indeed, so she wasn’t surprised that the crime scene had been cleaned as quickly as possible, all traces of the death removed, to make sure the concert could proceed as planned.

Dance had prepared herself for the smell; nothing lingers like the odor of burned hair and flesh, but whatever commercial forensic cleaning operation Madigan or Charlie Shean used had done a bang-up job. The perfume was of Lysol and, of all things, cinnamon.

Kayleigh was blocking out stage directions for the show-what she’d been doing when the light fell. Tye Slocum, the guitar technician, was temporarily chief roadie, until Alicia could fill the job with a pro; they needed someone who not only knew equipment but could mix sound at the console, as complicated as an airplane’s cockpit. The quiet, heavyset young man was distracted and not particularly confident but trying to rise to the occasion. There were, of course, hundreds of decisions to be made. Sweating, he kept glancing at Kayleigh for direction, which she provided, along with smiles and nods of encouragement, though she was clearly distracted to be near the place where her friend had died.

With Kayleigh’s okay, Dance called Tye over and explained what she needed-to speak to all of the crew. He rounded them up-ranging from their early twenties to forties and physically fit, thanks probably to the demanding nature of their jobs. Dance spoke to them in the scuffed, black-painted wings of the hall.

She noted great camaraderie among them and Kayleigh-the whole operation was like a big family-but no one stood out as approaching Bobby’s level of closeness to Kayleigh, and therefore an obvious threat to Edwin. Of any of them, Tye was the one who seemed to know Kayleigh best but she felt merely a brotherly kind of affection, she’d deduced from the singer’s body language when speaking to him.

Nor did Dance sense that any of them might have a motive to kill Bobby Prescott-another reason for her mission here, though she hadn’t stressed that to Kayleigh.

The only one Dance didn’t interview was Alicia. She’d been here at the convention center earlier when Dance arrived, standing outside beside a Ford F150 pickup with a trailer hitch on the back and a bumper sticker that announced: I ♥ MY QUARTER HORSE