Maybe you can recover from some things, Sam. Maybe you can.

Hartman’s drummer appeared in the doorway, smiled at the kids, then said, “Let’s play.”

Hartman gave the children a thumbs-up. “You got your chops down, both of you. Next time I’m in town, we’ll work up some tunes, I’ll get you out onstage with me.”

“No way!” Wes said.

“Sure.”

“Excellent!”

Maggie frowned, considering something. “Can I cover a Patsy Cline song?”

Dance said, “Mags, why don’t you sing a Neil Hartman?”

The singer laughed. “I think Ms. Cline would be honored. We’ll make it happen.”

“Hey, gang, let’s head to our seats.”

“Bye, Mr. Hartman. Thanks.”

Wes handed over the guitar and, looking at his phone, headed toward the door.

“Young man.”

“Thanks.”

“Say hi to Kayleigh for us.”

They left the green room and walked into the theater itself, which was filling up. There were about eight hundred people here, Dance estimated.

Years ago, she had dreamed of being a musician, appearing in halls like this. She tried and tried, but however hard she worked, there came the point when her skill just didn’t make the final bump into the professional world. She left that life behind. There came advanced degrees, a stint as a jury consultant, offering her kinesic skills commercially, then law enforcement. A wonderful job, a challenging job… And yet, what she wouldn’t have given to have had the talent to make places like this her home.

But then that nostalgia faded as the cop within her resurfaced. Dance was, of course, aware that she was in a crowded venue that would be a perfect target for their unsub at-large. He was surely a hundred miles away by now. But just because Otto Grant had said he’d gotten sufficient revenge didn’t mean he hadn’t had his man set up a whopper of a finale. On the way back from Grant’s shack, she’d arranged for a full sweep of the concert hall and for police to be stationed at each exit door.

Even now she remained vigilant. She noted the location of the exits and fire hoses and extinguishers. She noted no potential sniper nests. And checked that the red lights on the security cameras glowed healthily and, because these models didn’t sport lights, unlike the one in the hospital elevator, she checked for emergency lighting; there were a dozen halogens that would turn the place to bright noon in the event of trouble.

Finally, confident of their security, Kathryn Dance sat back, crossed her legs and enjoyed the exhilaration that always accompanies dimming lights in a concert hall.

Chapter 80

Antioch March was enjoying another pineapple juice and studying the TV screen in the Cedar Hills Inn.

The hotel was so posh that it featured a very special television—one with 4K resolution. This was known as ultra-high-definition video. The clarity was nearly double the current standard: 1920 wide by 1080 high.

It was ethereal, the depth of the imagery.

He was presently watching an underwater video, shot in 4K, flowing from his computer, via HDMI cable, onto the fifty-four-inch screen.