Ross’s room was a suite even bigger than Mom’s, complete with a work area containing a large desk, fax, and multiple phone lines. We all crowded into that space, pulling chairs away from a rectangular table, pushing the couches and love seat into a haphazard circle. Brittany and I sat on two chairs as far back as possible.
I swear I could have cut the tension in that room with a knife.
Maybe most of it was mine.
Ross perched on the black desk chair, his short, heavy legs spread apart and belly hanging over his jeans. One strand of his scraggly brown hair hung in his face. He’d shot me a long look as Brittany and I entered. “Shaley, how you doing?”
Just great. I tossed him a tiny smile.
Kim and Morrey, Rayne’s drummer, sat together, holding hands. Morrey wore a plain white T-shirt, revealing his tattooed arms. His full lips were pressed together, dark hair in a ponytail. His face looked strained.
Rich, the bass player, was next to Mom on one couch. He leaned back with hands clasped behind his shaved head and knobby elbows sticking out. His casual pose turned my stomach. How could he look so relaxed in a meeting about Tom’s murder?
Stan, the lead guitarist, was pitched forward on the other couch, feet wide apart and black hands dangling between his knees. He frowned at the carpet, glancing up now and then as others walked in.
Bruce, Wendell, and Mick stood, leaving the seats for everyone else. Carly came with Melissa and Lois. She smiled at me and mouthed, “You okay?”
I hesitated, then nodded.
“Okay, let’s start.” Mom ran a hand through her hair. “First, all cell phones off. Not vibrate. Off. I don’t want this meeting interrupted.”
Everyone took out their phones and powered them down. Musical tones collided with each other, then the room fell silent.
Mom looked from one face to another, her gaze snagging on me. My eyes pleaded even then for her to say nothing. To just say we all needed to be careful, as Detective Furlow still didn’t have a firm suspect. That’s all she needed to reveal.
Please, Mom.
She held my eyes a moment longer. I could practically hear the wheels of decision turning in her head. Stan straightened, looking from her to me, questions in his expression.
Mom laid a hand at the back of her neck. “Some things happened today—involving Shaley.”
I slumped down in my seat. Briefly Mom told them about the delivered flower and photo with similar messages. She left out the detail of the white rose.
Rich twisted around to look at me in surprise. “Shaley, this is terrible. I’m so sorry.”
I lowered my eyes.
“I don’t know what all this means,” Mom said. “Maybe they’re just coincidences with Tom’s death. But the timing …”
Ross slapped his hands on his meaty thighs. “Whatever’s going on, we’re going to be watching Shaley extra carefully. Wendell, Bruce, Mick — she doesn’t go anywhere without being guarded. And that means so much as step out her hotel room door.”
Mick and Wendell nodded, faces unsmiling. Bruce said, “Yes, sir.”
I gripped my upper arms. Please, Mom, keep your word and don’t say anything about Tom’s wall.
Mom gave me a purposeful look. Her mouth tightened, blue eyes narrowing. And she blinked slowly. It was a look to say, I know what you’re thinking. And I’m not going to tell them.
My throat cinched up, tears of relief biting my eyes.
The meeting went on for another hour, people venting opinions over who killed Tom. Morrey insisted it had to be a local roadie. “Somebody got through that back door, that’s all there is to it.” He rubbed the Superman tattoo on his upper left arm. “If I were the detective, I’d be questioning the local guard posted at that door real hard. Maybe he let someone through.”
“Or what about any fan who wanted to get backstage?” Rich spread his hands. “Maybe one of the inside security people let the guy through.”
“Who says it’s a guy?” Ross raised his eyebrows. Carly looked at him askance. He shrugged. “I’m just saying — we don’t know.”
Rich wagged his head. “Guy, girl. Either way, that means a mere thirty thousand people attending the concert are suspects.”
“Maybe Tom was into something we don’t know about,” Stan said. “Like drugs. Someone could have killed him over that.”
No way, Tom hated drugs. I shot Stan a disgusted look.
“Or maybe he knew something he shouldn’t know.” Morrey scuffed a sneakered foot against the carpet. “I’ve seen that happen before. Remember Stephen Restler who played with Ace? He was going to testify against some gang member and was shot before the trial started.”
Kim stuck a hand in her hair. “Did Tom gamble? Owe somebody too much money?”
No, he didn’t gamble.
I pressed my legs together, teeth clenched. What was wrong with everybody? Didn’t they know Tom better than that?
Shaley—you didn’t know him either.
The thought hit me like a brick. I pushed back against the chair, feeling sick all over again. True, I didn’t know him like I’d thought. What other secrets had Tom kept from me? Maybe he did do drugs. Gamble. Hang out with violent people.
My eyes flicked from one face to another — to the people I thought I knew so well. What were they hiding from me? From the rest of us?
What if one of them was the murderer?
Revulsion shot up my spine. No, I couldn’t believe that.
Kim blew out air. “You know, Tom might have —”
“Stop it!” I shoved up from the chair. “Stop it, all of you! You don’t know what you’re saying. There wasn’t anything wrong with Tom — there wasn’t.”
My chin quivered. No. I did not want anyone to see me cry.
“Shaley.” Mom stood up. “We didn’t mean —”
“I don’t want to hear it. I just — I’m leaving.” Shuddering a breath, I stalked across the room. Behind me, I heard the rustle of Brittany pushing to her feet.
Mick strode to the door, opened it, and checked in the hallway. “Okay.” He motioned me out, his expression a total poker face.
I flounced from the room, not looking back. Brittany followed.
Mick escorted us down the hall, took my key card and slid it into the lock. Inside our room, he checked around the beds and in the bathroom before pronouncing it safe.
When he left, I collapsed on my bed, feeling numb.
Thank goodness Brittany was with me. I wouldn’t want to face this night alone.
By sheer habit, Brittany pulled out her cell phone and turned it on.
She groaned. “Oh, no. I have a message from Mom.”