by Lori Whitwam
“So have I,” Joey said. “But he would’ve been on the bus too, if the bomb had gone off where it was supposed to.”
“If he knew when it was going to happen, he could’ve been in the back lounge. He usually sleeps there, anyway. It would’ve gone a long way to make him look like a victim.” Seth hated the thought, but he didn’t have a lot of names on the list to work with. “That leaves Danny and Andy.”
“We haven’t known them long. But what the hell could you have done to make one of them want to kill you?” Joey asked.
“I’m sure I’ve pissed off a lot of people a lot faster,” Seth said. “But what if one of them has a mad-on for something from before they worked for us?”
Marshall disagreed. “What are you sayin’, man? Danny or Andy hired onto the crew so they could take you out? Wouldn’t it be simpler just to walk up to you in the street and shoot you?” He was a straightforward thinking kind of guy.
“It would, but trying to kill somebody in the first place isn’t real rational,” Seth pointed out.
Joey weighed in. “I think it’s a reach. But they are the newest guys on the crew, and loyalty like we have takes time. What if somebody came to one of them, offered them a bunch of money to be their guy on the inside? You know, feed them information, maybe do some of the dirty work?”
Seth had to admit he hadn’t thought of that. He was more grateful than ever for Joey’s steady, focused presence. “I think I’ll talk to Mouse, see what he knows about Andy’s background. He spends more time with him than the rest of us do.” He gave Joey an affectionate rap on the shoulder. “Hey, I hate I wrecked your vacation, but I knew you’d help keep my head on straight.”
Joey rapped him back. “That’s what brothers do.”
Marshall drained his coffee cup. He was definitely starting to look human again. He might shut down the bars, but he recovered quickly. “So, what’s the plan? We going straight to Abby’s?”
“Pretty soon. I want to go across the street and get some supplies. Stale bagels for breakfast ain’t cutting it, and it turns out Abby’s allergic to shopping.”
“Breakfast in bed, maybe?” Joey teased. “Ain’t that sweet? And how fun is it to have a front row seat to see you turn all tamed and domestic?”
“Nothing tame about it, that’s for damned sure,” Seth said. He didn’t see the need to mention he made her coffee and fed the not-her-dog. “If y’all want to go throw your stuff in the car, I’ll meet you there. I’m going across the street to the bakery.”
The plan met with approval, and they parted ways on the sidewalk. When he arrived at the bakery, he paused at the window display, debating the merits of bagels versus croissants. Hadn’t Abby said something about liking croissants? He’d just decided to get some of each and was reaching for the door handle when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and took an instinctive step back when he recognized Pam, the girl who’d managed to piss Abby off so thoroughly.
“Seth, thank goodness! I have to talk to you.” She had her hair in a ponytail strung through the back of a baseball cap, and wore a Historic Downtown Emporia t-shirt. He surmised evading law enforcement required wardrobe replenishment in any way possible.
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea. Aren’t you supposed to be back in Iowa right now?”
Pam seemed nervous and her eyes were slightly unfocused. Seth wondered if it was a case of medication in serious need of a dosage adjustment. “Yes, but I couldn’t go. When I found out someone was trying to kill you, I had to stay.” She reached out and fingered one of the silver charms around his neck, which he didn’t like one bit. He eased back another half step. She brought the finger that had touched the charm to her lips, looking back to Seth. “I care about you, and you needed me here. I found out something you need to know.”
There was no doubt in his mind Pam was off her rocker, and talking to her might encourage her inappropriate and disturbing behavior. But if there was even the slightest chance she had information that could help him determine why he was the target of someone’s homicidal urges, he had to take it. “Okay, fine.” He pointed to the pair of small café-style tables. “Have a seat.”
Pam sat and plucked a napkin from the chrome dispenser on the table and began twisting it in her fingers. “I hoped I’d see you in town today. I don’t have a car, so I couldn’t come find you. And I know she wouldn’t let me talk to you.”
Seth pulled out a chair and sat across from her. “There’s the first thing we need to discuss. You have to back off Abby.”
Pam looked down at the mangled napkin in her hands. “Maybe. But you’re so special, you know? She’s nobody.”
“She’s with me. So you’re going to have to deal with it.” He hoped it wasn’t a mistake to be so direct with someone who didn’t have both oars in the water, but he wasn’t going to spend all day with this girl.
“You mean, like, you’re with her permanently?”
“Yeah. Permanently.” If he had anything to say about it.
“Oh.” She made the word sound almost like a question, as if she weren’t sure she believed him. “Um, tell her I’m sorry about her car.”
“I’ll do that.” He propped his elbows on the table and folded his arms. “Now, what did you need to tell me?”
She abandoned the first tattered napkin and pulled a fresh victim from the dispenser. “I saw somebody yesterday. He’s not supposed to still be here. He’s around all the time, but he shouldn’t be here now. I thought you should know.”
She wasn’t making a lot of sense. Maybe he should’ve let her tell him what was on her mind first, before telling her about Abby. Either she was getting farther and farther away from her last dose, or hearing him spell out he and Abby were together had scattered her thoughts even more. “Who’s still here, Pam?” He congratulated himself for managing to sound so patient.
“You know. Drew.” Her head bobbed, as if she were confirming to herself she’d relayed the information correctly.
“Drew?” So, the son of a bitch was in town.
“Uh-huh. Stacy’s brother.”
The blood ran cold in Seth’s veins. “Stacy’s brother? Drew?” Sure, he knew she had a brother, but she hadn’t seen him in years. Had he even known the guy’s name? He couldn’t remember if Stacy had ever told him. Anything that happened before her parents died in a car accident when she was eighteen had been almost totally off-limits.
“You didn’t know he was Stacy’s brother? Funny.” Her voice was distant, and even though she was looking right at him, it felt like she was talking to someone in her own head. Maybe she was.
“No, I didn’t. How did you know?”
Pam sat up straighter and seemed to make an effort to organize her thoughts. “After Stacy went away, I kept track of her. I was glad she was gone, and if she was busy somewhere else, I knew she wasn’t coming back.”
“How did you keep track of her?” And why hadn’t it ever crossed any of their minds to check on her?
“Oh, it was easy. I’d Google her. Sometimes she’d turn up in a story or blog about the guy she was with. The one in Darknoise.”
“You know she’s dead, right?”
Pam nodded, not altogether sadly. “Yeah. I found out a few weeks after it happened. I saw a story about it online and there was a picture from a memorial service. There was this guy in the picture, and it said it was her brother, Drew.”
Unbelievable. His stalker had come up with the grand prize. His ex-girlfriend’s estranged brother was a frustrated songwriter, and perhaps because he knew his sister was traveling with Dead End Road he noticed the band and became fixated. This led to the copyright lawsuit. When he lost the lawsuit and his sister in the same year, he evidently went off the deep end.
“Okay, Pam. Great information, and it really helps a lot.”
She smiled brightly. “I’m glad. After I saw the picture, I noticed that guy whenever I came to a concert. Maybe he was there before, but I didn’t pay attention. I, um…most
ly at the shows I’m looking at you.”
He’d been almost pleased with Pam a few seconds ago, but her last comment had creeped him out all over again. Too bad the conversation wasn’t quite over. “Where have you seen Drew? When?”
“I saw him early yesterday morning. He was putting gas in a car, and he was all wet, like he’d slept outside or something. But if he had a car, he could sleep there, right? I don’t know why he was wet.” Her head tilted as she tried to puzzle out this inconsistency.
“Was it the only time you saw him?” If he was gassing up a car, maybe he’d been on his way out of town.
“No, I saw him again last night. I couldn’t sleep, so I went over to the park. I saw him cross the street over on the other side. I was going to follow him, but he jumped in his car and drove off before I could get close.” Seth noticed in addition to being glazed and unfocused, her eyes were terribly bloodshot. In light of her comment about not sleeping, he wondered if she’d been roaming around Emporia every night like some sort of ghoul. As his dad would say, crazy as a shithouse mouse.
Seth stood. He had to call Kincaid. “I’m glad you told me. It’s a huge help.”
“That’s all I wanted to do. Help you.”
“You did. We know who we need to look for, so the police can take over.”
Pam looked up at him from under her lashes. “When are you leaving?”
“Soon.” Shit. He couldn’t decide if Pam should get free tickets to all their shows for life or a restraining order.
“Maybe I’ll go home, then.”
Seth nodded in what he hoped was an encouraging manner. “I’ll tell the guy in charge of the investigation what you told me. But you should go by the police station and tell them in person. That would be really great.” He pointed up the street. “It’s about three blocks over there.” He hoped her desire to “help” would last long enough to reach the station, but he’d damned sure tell Kincaid where she was so they could track her down if she didn’t appear as promised.
“I’ll go. If you’re sure you’ll be all right.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He managed to keep Pam from following him into the bakery, nudging her in the direction of the police station. When he came out with his bagels and croissants, she was nowhere to be seen. He hurried over to the motel parking lot and found Joey and Marshall leaning on their rental car. Marsh turned to open the back door, while Joey walked toward Seth, dragging his fingers through his mop of blond curls.
“What took you so long?” Joey asked, taking one of the bakery boxes.
“I ran into our friend Pam outside the bakery.”
“No way. So she did come back here.”
“She did.” He thought he could still smell a bit of residual psychosis in the air. “At first, she had the hair standing up on the back of my neck, but it turned out she had something really interesting to tell me.” He put the box on the back seat and told them what Pam said. By the time he was finished, their mouths were hanging open in shock.
“Un-fucking-believable,” Marshall said succinctly.
“No doubt. So the first thing I have to do is call Kincaid. If Drew Purcell is still around, they should be able to find him.” He couldn’t wait to tell Abby.
Seth pulled out his phone and dug the agent’s card from his wallet. He was put through immediately, and told him Pam was still in Emporia, as well as someone else who wasn’t supposed to be.
“Pam Gresak figured out Purcell was the dead girl’s brother. Amazing,” was Kincaid’s gruff reply. “I’ll get Chief LeFevre to check around town, see if we can figure out where he’s staying. You still need to be on your guard, though. If he’s hiding out somewhere, maybe holed up in a vacant cabin, we might not get our hands on him right away. After failing twice he’s probably rattled. Might do anything.”
“I know, and we will. Can you e-mail me one of those pictures of Purcell? I want Abby to know what he looks like.”
Kincaid said he’d do that, thanked Seth, and hung up abruptly. Seth thought the man wasn’t thrilled an unstable vandal and the intended victim had been the source of valuable information.
Seth turned to his friends and grinned. “All right, guys, let’s hit the road. We have some music to play.”
Chapter Eighteen
Abby
Abby parked the Jeep beside the white rental car in her driveway. She was relieved her friend was taking the relationship implosion so well. There was no sign of last night’s tears, and she wore a cheerful floral print top and hot pink Capri pants. She’d chattered nonstop during the whole drive, and hadn’t mentioned Craig once.
Before they got to the side door, Abby heard the sound of guitars. These guys didn’t waste any time, did they?
“I’m so glad you decided to do this today,” Molly said.
Abby pushed the door open. “Everything’s been so crazy lately. This felt like a nice, normal thing to do.”
They entered the living room and found the three musicians spread out on the couch. Seth and Marshall had their guitars, and Joey leaned forward on his elbows, listening intently. When Seth saw her, he put down the Gibson and stood. “Take five, guys,” he said, crossing the room to enfold Abby in his arms. “Missed you,” he murmured.
“You too,” she said. When they parted, she stepped over to Molly and put an arm around her shoulder. “Everybody, this is my best friend, Molly Lanier. Molly, you can probably figure out who’s who, but the big guy with the guitar is Marshall Rogerson, and the one looking like he’d kick somebody in the head for a pair of drumsticks is Joey Garvin. Seth, you probably already know too much about.”
Joey and Marshall both rose and came over, making all the polite nice-to-meet-you greetings, though Abby noticed Marsh held Molly’s hand a bit longer than was customary when he said hello. Should she be concerned? Probably not. Who was she, after all, to be suspicious of sudden chemistry?
Introductions complete, Joey bounded toward Abby and planted a noisy kiss on her cheek. “You, sweetheart, are a goddess!”
Laughing, Abby patted him on the chest. “Nice to hear, but hardly true.”
“It’s a fact. I absolutely do not want any details, but whatever you did to get Seth to start pulling songs out of his head again is a miracle.”
Abby started to object, but Seth interrupted her. “She doesn’t want to take any credit, but she’s just being bashful. We’re going to have all the material written for the new CD before we go back out on the road.”
Joey went back to the couch. “See, what did I tell you? Miracle.”
“We might even be able to get a few tracks down over the summer, if we can get the studio in between gigs,” Seth said.
Abby tossed her purse on the end table. “I hope Caroline’s not mad at me. I never did get around to calling her.”
“She knows you’ve been busy,” Joey said.
She promised herself she’d call Caroline tomorrow. “Before you guys get back to work, how about you get the beer out of the car?”
Joey and Marshall went out to the Jeep, and Seth took Abby aside. “I have some things to tell you, but I want to wait until I get an e-mail I’m expecting. I’ll check again in a few minutes, and if it’s not there, we’ll talk anyway.”
Abby nodded. While the beer was retrieved and placed in the refrigerator, she and Molly settled on the floor by the coffee table with bottles of hard lemonade. It was fascinating to watch these guys flesh out a new song. She jumped in from time to time with suggestions for the lyrics, but she mainly enjoyed listening to their thought process. They were going over the song about Cujo’s demise, and Marshall said, “Pete’s going to want a heavy bass line in this part.”
“He can have it,” Seth said, nodding. “But it’s going to have to trail off before the tempo change in the bridge.”
“I should come in with some kick for the transition to the chorus,” Joey added.
Seth wrote something in his notebook. “Do it, but take it easy on the cymbal.
I want a deep, solid beat there.”
“No problem. Damn, I can’t wait to get my hands on my drums.” Apparently there was nothing worse than a frustrated drummer.
Their lemonades empty, Abby and Molly went to the kitchen for more. “Oh, wow, he is gorgeous,” Molly said.
Abby peered through the serving window at Seth. “He sure is. And you should’ve seen him on my motorcycle yesterday. I think my brain short-circuited for a few minutes.”
“What? No,” Molly said, shaking her head and setting her long, blonde ringlets swaying. “Well, yes, Seth is gorgeous. But I was talking about Marshall.”
Oh. Of course she was. Abby smiled. “If you like the shaved-headed, goateed, tall, dark, tattooed musician type who really needs a shirt with sleeves.”
“I didn’t think I did, but all of a sudden it’s my new favorite thing.”
“Just be careful, okay? Your head’s probably still spinning.”
Molly’s perfectly shaped eyebrows rose. “Mine? What about yours, Miss Whirlwind Romance?”
Abby ducked her head sheepishly, chuckling. “Guess I don’t have much room to talk, huh?”
“No, you don’t,” Molly said, twisting the cap off her lemonade. “But, Abs, I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. I know there’s not some universal flowchart for how long it takes to fall for somebody.” She put the cap in the trash under the sink, and sipped at the frosty bottle. “But I wouldn’t be your friend if I didn’t ask…are you sure? Do you really think he’s the one?”
Abby took a long pull from her own bottle before answering. “Is it ever possible to be sure about something like this?”
Her friend made a thoughtful humming sound. “Probably not. I suppose the question is whether this is about Seth or the musician you’ve been crushing on for, like, five years now.”
Abby tilted her head, seeing Molly in a different light than the girl with the habit of always choosing the worst possible guys. “You know, you’re one of the few people who realizes how different those two men are.” She noticed condensation was trickling up her wrist, and grabbed a tea towel to wipe her hand and the bottle. “One thing I do know for sure is this is all about Seth Caldwell. I don’t think I’ve really seen Seth the Musician, the one I thought I knew, other than at the concert Friday night.”
