Out in the hall, I heard a familiar voice. Brittany had arrived. I sprang to my feet, but felt pulled in two directions.
“My friend is here. Can I see her just a minute?”
Detective Furlow closed his notebook. “Go ahead, we’re done for now, Shaley.”
“You sure?” I glanced out the door. “I want to help all I can.”
Mom stood up. The detective did the same. He towered above me. “Don’t worry, I’ll be around. I’m going to be right here for a while, talking to your Mom.”
“Okay.” With a quick look at Mom, I scurried across the room and into the hallway. Brittany stood close to the door, whispering with Mick. She’d hung around with me enough back home to know our bodyguards.
“Brittany!”
She rushed at me. We hugged each other hard.
I pulled back and looked at her, starting to shake. The mere sight of her brought tears to my eyes. “You look great.” She’d cut new layers in her long blonde hair, and the makeup on her hazel eyes was perfect.
She scrutinized me through her thick, long lashes. “Are you okay? Carly told me what happened. I just can’t believe it.”
“I’m … yeah.” Words tangled in my head. So much to tell her. I didn’t know where to begin.
Pete Strickland reappeared up the hall, followed by Ed Husker, Rayne’s sound tech. They headed our direction. Great. More people. “Come on, Brittany.” I took her arm. “Let’s go somewhere to talk.”
I hauled her two suites down, Bruce heavy on our heels. We passed Wendell, standing guard at the suite next door, where the other band members and Ross had gathered. Wendell’s arms were folded, a tight T-shirt showing off his rocklike muscles. At five eleven, he’s the shortest of our bodyguards but intimidates me the most. His black hair, two inches long and gelled, stands straight up. His eyes are deep-set and hard. A long shiny scar runs the length of his chin.
Briefly, he nodded to me. I nodded back.
In the third suite, the atmosphere hung heavy and dark. Carly sat on a couch along with the two other backup singers.
I stopped just inside the door. “Is it okay if we just sit over there and talk?” I pointed to the front corner of the room.
“Sure,” Carly said. “Brittany, you remember Lois and Melissa?”
Lois is tall and skinny with short brown hair. Melissa is a large African American who sings like an angel but hardly says a word. Brittany had met them and all the other band members before at our house, but it had been a while since they’d seen each other.
“Yeah.” Brittany managed a smile. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Lois said. Melissa nodded.
Brittany and I sank onto the carpeted floor. Quickly I told her the details. Her eyes filled with tears. She took my hands in hers. “Shaley — “
Ross poked his head in the suite. His pudgy face was flushed. The large diamond ring on his right hand glittered in the overhead light as he gripped the doorpost. “Lois, Melissa, Carly, come on next door. We need to talk about the tour.” He flicked a look at Brittany and me, then disappeared. Carly gave us a tight smile as she and the other two women filed from the room.
Brittany bit her lip. “You think he’s going to stop the tour?”
Canceling would make Tom’s death doubly hard. Local promoters would have to be reimbursed their advance fees. Ticket sales would be paid back. Ross, Mom, the whole band, the technicians and roadies, everybody would be out a lot of money.
“I don’t think so.” My voice was tight. “I know Ross. He’ll be thinking about the bottom line. He’ll say we still have Marshall to do Mom’s hair and makeup. I don’t mean to say Ross is cold, but the fact is — it’s not like one of the band members is dead.”
Pain stabbed through me. The tour might physically be able to continue, but how could I manage the rest of it without Tom? Especially after Brittany left.
Brittany picked at the carpet. “It’ll be over for me for sure. When Mom hears this, she’ll want me on the next plane home. Count on it — I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”
My eyes widened. “Brittany, no! I need you here!” I hadn’t had time to think about it, but she was so right. Brittany’s mom was very strict. We’d had to beg her to let Brittany come in the first place.
“I know.” Brittany’s focus drifted over my shoulder, as if she saw something in the distance. Fear flicked across her face. Her mouth opened, then closed. She pressed her lips in the expression I knew all too well.
I leaned forward. “What is it?”
For as long as I’d known Brittany she’d had an uncanny ability to sense things. Not often, nor predictably. But when the sensing came, she always turned out to be right.
She shook her head.
“Come on, what?”
Brittany turned troubled eyes on mine. “I feel something.”
Her fear curled up in my stomach. “I know. Tell me what it is.”
She bit her lip, studying me. “I’ll just say this: we have to persuade Mom to let me stay.”