Chapter 14

“Chessie, make sure you set yourself directly in front of the second set of risers.” I nodded as she shifted her position. “Does that look good to you, Devlyn?”

I looked out into the audience and cupped a hand over my eyes in an attempt to locate his position in the back of the theater.

“It looks good from here, Paige,” Larry yelled. “If you’re happy with it, we should start running the program. We only have thirty minutes to work out any problems before tomorrow’s preliminary competition.”

“Let’s run it,” I yelled back, pushing my annoyance at being ignored by Devlyn into the background. If he wanted to be unprofessional, so be it. I, for one, was going to do my job. “Places, everyone. Megan . . .”

She turned and looked at me. I could tell she was still struggling vocally, but I could also see how badly she wanted to do this rehearsal. If I pulled her in favor of her sister, I had a feeling she would fall apart. Not something I wanted for her in this last rehearsal of her senior year.

“You can dance the numbers, but I don’t want you to sing,” I said. Megan’s mouth spread into a delighted smile as she nodded and took her position. “Claire?”

“I’m back here.”

Claire stood up from her seat in the middle of the house. “Could you stand in the wings and sing Megan’s part? It’ll help me determine if we have the right balance between the choir and the band.”

Claire hurried down the aisle and climbed the stairs to the stage. By the time she was standing next to one of the curtain legs, the choir was in their opening poses, ready to go. I hopped down from the stage and stood in the front row as Jim raised his baton. The band lifted their instruments. Their hats sparkled in the stage lights. Jim counted off the tempo and motioned for the music to start.

The opening notes filled the theater. The kids began to twirl. I watched as they sang, shimmied, and strutted through the first song. Then the second. Finally, they performed the lifts of the last number and hit their final poses. Breathing hard, they waited for the band to cut off before dropping their positions and looking to me for what I thought.

Not perfect, but not bad. Exactly what a dress rehearsal should be. Performing in front of an audience always provided an adrenaline burst that gave the choir more energy and spark. If they sang this well tomorrow, there was no doubt in my mind that Music in Motion would make the finals on Friday. Unless, of course, Christine told the judges to score us down. I could only hope that either Millie worked her magic or I managed to single out the costume culprit before then.

“Everything looks good.” I checked the clock on my cell phone. We still had fifteen minutes of rehearsal time. Good. We needed another run. This time with Megan’s understudy. “We’re going to go through the program one more time. Megan, could you take a seat? I want Claire to run it just in case.”

Megan’s shoulders slumped as she walked to the escape stairs. Claire took her sister’s place on the stage next to Megan’s partner. Her face was a mask of determination when I yelled for Jim to cue the band.

As always, Claire performed her dance steps flawlessly. In that area, she was more gifted than her sister. No matter how many dance classes Megan took, she still wasn’t confident in that area of performance. I hoped Megan would find the confidence she needed when she went away to college. The one thing she didn’t need help with, however, was letting her personality shine through when she was onstage. Megan’s smile and bubbly nature were huge assets for our team. Her sister—well, I’d been working on Claire’s facial expressions. The good news was she no longer looked as if she wanted to kill her dance partner. The bad news was that smile I’d finally convinced her to wear looked slightly unhinged. With luck, Megan would be able to go on tomorrow. If not, I only hoped some of the judges found the deranged look appealing.

When the music ended, I climbed back onto the stage. Larry and Megan followed. I waited a minute to see whether Devlyn would join us. When I didn’t see him walking down the theater aisles toward the front of the house, I turned back to the kids. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow shift in the wings stage right. Had Devlyn gone backstage? Nope. Devlyn was in the middle of the house, standing with his arms crossed. Huh.

I stopped closer to the stage-right wing and squinted into the dimness beyond the curtain legs. There. Someone was back there, watching us from backstage. The fly rail was on the other side along with the security guard, so I knew it wasn’t him moving from behind the leg to the exit.

Drat. He was gone. Oh well.

Turning, I said, “Our program is in great shape.” Relieved smiles spread across the team’s faces as they gave one another high fives and whispered excited comments.

Holding up my hand for silence, I continued. “But, we have some little things I’d like to iron out tonight after dinner. Claire—I’d like you and your partner to run the transition into the second lift a few times. It looks a little awkward. Also, Chessie, on the third song you and Eric looked like you had some trouble making it to the other side of the stage in time to start the second verse. What happened?”

As the band began putting away their instruments, Chessie and Eric talked about the traffic pattern problem they had.

“Okay,” I said, “we’ll take a look at that back at the hotel. The bus will be leaving in thirty minutes from the front of the theater.” From what I’d heard, the police had given the okay for people to use the loading docks, but the one on our side of the theater had yet to be repaired. At least that was the excuse I was using for having the kids load and unload the buses up front. Truth was, I didn’t want them wandering around the area where LuAnn Freeman had been killed. And face it, I wasn’t all that interested in seeing where I’d tried and failed to save her again anytime soon.

The clang of the theater doors opening announced the next team’s arrival. I saw Donna Hilty in her white cowboy boots sauntering down the aisle toward us and told my team that it was time to vacate the stage. It was Donna’s team’s turn. And I was curious to see how they’d perform.

“I’d like everyone to help the band carry their instruments and store them in my room. You’ll then have time to rest—and when I say rest I mean it—before dinner. Once dinner is over, we’ll run things one last time.”

Under Jim’s direction, the kids worked fast to get the instrument cases off the stage and move them to the front of the lobby. Larry promised to keep an eye on both the instruments and the students as they waited for the bus to arrive, which left me free to duck back into the theater and watch from the back as Donna’s team took the stage.

They had rearranged the risers so that their band was situated on stage right. The instrumentalists were talented. The singers even more so. The dancing . . . Well, unless the choreography got more complicated in the next two songs, I wasn’t worried about them outscoring us.

From my spot in the back, I watched as Donna called a halt to the performance, fixed a spacing issue, and told the kids to reset and do it again. They ran the number a second time. Another stop and fix. Then a third. Donna sounded more disinterested with every correction, and each time through, I noticed the kids making more mistakes than the last. The students’ smiles were tense as they went through it a fourth time. I glanced at my watch. Only ten more minutes until the next team arrived. They’d have to run the three required songs straight through if Donna planned on giving her kids the chance to rehearse all the numbers onstage.

“Let’s stop here.”

So much for getting the opportunity to dance and sing through all the numbers. Shoulders tensed and hands clenched as Donna picked apart the routine, shifted positions, and made the kids run the number again. They barely had a chance to execute the first sixteen bars (which now looked stiff and riddled with missteps) before Donna yelled hold and started reworking the staging again.

My heart went out to the teens. I desperately wanted to ask Donna what she thought she was accomplishing with this rehearsal. If this practice had been held a week ago, I might understand picking the steps apart until it was perfect. But the competition was tomorrow. I hadn’t been doing this job long, but my years of performing had taught me that changing too many things could confuse the singers onstage.

As a professional, I was used to a show changing and evolving through previews and even through the early weeks of performance. But once the steps were set, the only changes made were to polish numbers that had gotten a little sloppy or rework something to accommodate a new actor taking over a role. Students at this level didn’t have the experience to deal with these kinds of changes mere hours before one of the biggest performances of their lives. More important, all of these changes and criticism were taking a very large chomp out of the students’ confidence. One of the most important ingredients in a great performance was confidence. A performer who felt secure in the material and his or her execution of it had more fun. If the singers onstage had fun, the audience did, too. When performers looked tense or uncertain, the audience felt it. Donna should know that.

Two girls bumped into each other. An exasperated Donna called a halt again, making one thing very clear—this team was in serious trouble.

“Scoping out the competition?”

The sound of the baritone voice made me jump. I turned to see Scott Paris standing five feet away. So intent had I been on what was happening onstage, I’d missed hearing him come in. But I was glad he had.

“Actually,” I said, turning away from the stage where the students were finally taking positions for the second number, “I was looking for you.”

“Me?” Scott laughed. “My team doesn’t rehearse for another hour. You should have checked the schedule.”

“I did.” At least, I had earlier. Since Scott was one of the few teachers I’d met, I’d noticed that his team was scheduled several slots after mine. “But I figured since you came to watch our rehearsal, you were probably doing the same for everyone.”

Scott’s smile disappeared. “You’re mistaken. I wasn’t in the theater for your rehearsal.”

“Not in the house. I saw you backstage.” Before Scott could lie again, I added, “I guessed that you didn’t want me to think you were spying on my team, which is why you left while I was giving notes instead of waiting until the rehearsal was finished. Unless, of course, there was another reason you were hanging around in the shadows.”

Scott stiffened. The theater door that led to the aisle behind him clanged open. A new group raced in as Scott said, “You can’t possibly be implying what I think you are. I always knew Christine’s judgment was flawed. First she teamed up with LuAnn. Now you. Christine might have wanted to cut the strings that LuAnn had attached, but at least she was able to deliver on her promise. You’re not the private investigator the press releases Christine sent to the media make you out to be. If you were, you’d know I’m not the one behind the lights falling or the destroyed costumes. I mean, why would I destroy my own team’s chances of winning this contest?”

“You wouldn’t.”

Scott ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh. “Well, at least you understand that I’m not insane enough to spend my time slicing and dicing fabric.”

“Oh, I think that’s exactly how you spent your time yesterday morning.” I smiled as the new team reconfigured the risers. “It’s the only way to explain how your costumes were ripped on the seam and easily repaired while everyone else’s were a total loss. You were smart to include your own team’s attire in the attack, but not smart enough.”

Okay, maybe goading Scott and tipping my hand wasn’t the best option, but I’d had it up to my eyeballs with men today. I couldn’t help myself. Satisfied my words had hit their mark, I turned to leave.

Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. A hand grabbed my arm and yanked me backward. I stumbled and tried to pull away, but Scott had a viselike grip and wasn’t letting go. His face was red, and the vein in his neck looked ready to pop. Fear streaked through me even as the voices coming from the stage told me I had nothing to worry about. Scott might be angry, but he wouldn’t do anything in front of two dozen or more witnesses. Right?

Scott’s fingers dug deep into my forearm. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but if you repeat these unfounded suspicions to Christine, you’ll be sorry. I suggest you worry about your own team and I’ll worry about mine. Otherwise, I might have to start paying more attention to your team. And I’m pretty sure you won’t like what happens then.”

With one last glare, he let go of my arm and stalked down the row to the aisle. As I watched him go, I couldn’t help wondering at the expression I saw as he stormed toward the exit door. I expected anger. Instead, there was fear.