Chapter 77

Saturday, December 28

8:00 P.M.

Yumi

Scared speechless, Yumi watched the silhouette of the stagehand calmly lower the weapon and push it into the drill holster on his belt, then begin to turn toward her. She dropped to the floor behind the prop table and scooted underneath. A pair of black-clad legs approached, stopped briefly while something thunked onto the table right above her head, then continued walking toward the stairs that led to the dressing rooms.

Shaking, she pulled her phone from her pocket to call Kenji, then realized that by the time he arrived, the gunman would have disappeared into the warren of rooms below. In his staff jacket and black knit cap, unless she kept him in sight, he’d blend in with the rest of the backstage crew. He’d walk away, his identity unknown, if she didn’t follow him and get a good look at his face, or even better, snap a picture with her phone.

She scrambled out from under the prop table and ran after the dark figure, but halfway down the stairs encountered an oncoming wave of artists, stylists, and staff streaming out of the dressing rooms to see what all the excitement was about.

Fighting her way against the tide, she finally turned the corner into the hallway below and spotted the stagehand’s black knit cap bobbing in the crowd ahead, making his unhurried way against the flow, heading nonchalantly toward freedom. She tried to close the gap, but it was impossible in the crowd of would-be rubberneckers.

At least he couldn’t move any faster than she could. She used the opportunity to get word to Kenji. Glancing between her phone and the knit cap ahead to make sure he didn’t peel off into a dressing room, she typed, I saw everything. Following shooter. Downstairs. Hurry. Send.

She looked up. No black knit cap. Damn. Where had he gone?

The crowd between her and the exit had thinned. Had he escaped?

She ran to the side door and yanked it open.