Denver, the “mile-high city.” Thousands of people were proud to call it home. To me it was just another town.
I called Brittany as soon as we touched down. She was already at her house.
“Miss you already,” I said.
“Me too.”
As soon as we left the airport’s secure area — surprise, surprise — more reporters and photographers surrounded us. They hurled more stupid, humiliating questions at me, thrust more microphones in my face. Flanked by Wendell and Bruce, I pushed through the crowd, beyond tired and hating the band and everyone in it.
Our troupe scrambled into three limos.
“Hurry up!” Ross barked at our driver. “Get us to the Pepsi Center!”
Mom, Kim, Morrey, Rich, Carly, and Mick ended up in the car with me. As we raced through the streets, Ross tapped fingers on his knee, eyes flicking this way and that. Clearly he had a hundred things on his mind — all the concert details he’d have to check in a super hurry once we arrived at the arena.
No one spoke — until Mom’s cell phone rang. She glanced at the ID, then at me, “It’s Detective Furlow again.” She flipped her phone open. “Hi, it’s Rayne.”
I leaned close to hear his voice through the cell.
“I’m calling this time with not-so-good news,” he said. “Len Torret is out on bail.”
“Oh, no.”
“I know. We just couldn’t keep him. We still don’t have enough evidence to connect him to Tom’s death. However, he’s been warned not to get within five hundred feet of Shaley or any of your band members.”
Not enough evidence to connect Cat to the murder — that was an understatement. They didn’t have any evidence. And Cat knew it. Even from five hundred feet, he’d find a way to flaunt that fact in my face. For all I knew he’d show up here in Denver.
Good thing I was headed for the hotel soon.
I focused out the window. Buildings and streets and men and women rushed by. Who were all those people, and why were they in such a hurry? I drew my arms across my chest. Lately the world loomed so big and noisy and frightening. Like some rickety wooden roller coaster rocketing through a black tunnel. You couldn’t see what was coming next and didn’t know what you’d do when it did come.
I just wanted to get off.
Someone is always watching. That someone is Jesus. Carly’s words. Were they only from yesterday? They flashed into my brain and hung there.
Did I believe God watched the world?
I don’t know. I guess.
Always watching. Every time those words ring in your head, Shaley, don’t just think of the person in this world who wrote them. Think of God in heaven …
A new sorrow welled up in me, deep and almost indefinable. I felt like a little girl searching desperately for something vitally important but not even sure what it was.
Good grief. I needed sleep.
I leaned back and shut my eyes. I tried to shut out the thoughts, but Carly’s words glued themselves in my mind. The more I tried to fight them, the more they pulled at me.
Okay, Jesus. Are you watching me right now for real? If you are, could you help me through … everything? Because I’ve had it.