Why would he rent a house to attend a single concert?

“No, you wanted to stalk Kayleigh,” Bobby blurted. “The lawyers warned you about that.”

Lawyers? Dance wondered.

Edwin looked around the table. The smile dimmed. “I think all of you … how you’re acting is upsetting Kayleigh.” He said to her, “I’m sorry about that. I know what you’re up against. But don’t worry, it’ll all work out.” He walked to the door, paused and turned back. “And goodbye to you too, Agent Dance. God bless you for the sacrifices you make for the people of this state.”

Chapter 4

WHEN DANCE SAID, “Tell me,” they did. All of them.

At once.

And only after she reined in the intersecting narratives did she begin to grasp the whole picture. Last winter a fan had become convinced that Kayleigh’s automated form letters and emails, signed “XO, Kayleigh,” hugs and kisses, were to be taken personally. Because the songs had meant so much to him, perfectly expressing how he felt about life, he’d told himself that they were soul mates. He began a barrage of correspondence—email, Facebook and Twitter posts, handwritten letters—and he’d sent her presents.

Advised to ignore him, Kayleigh and her assistants stopped responding, except to send back any gifts, unopened, but Edwin Sharp nonetheless persisted, apparently believing that her father and handlers felt threatened by the connection between him and Kayleigh and wanted to keep them apart.

He was told to stop, dozens of times. The law firm representing Kayleigh and her father threatened him with civil action and referral to the police if he didn’t cease and desist.

But he hadn’t.

“It’s been so creepy,” Kayleigh now said, her voice breaking. She took a sip of tea from a new glass the bartender had brought her when he’d come to mop up the spill. “He’d want a strand of hair, a fingernail clipping, a piece of paper I’d kissed, with my lipstick on it. He’d take pictures of me in places where I’d never seen him. Backstage or in parking lots.”

Dance said, “That’s the thing about a crime like this. You never quite know where the stalker is. Maybe miles away. Maybe outside your window.”

Kayleigh continued, “And the mail! Hundreds of letters and email messages. I’d change my email address and a few hours later he’d have the new one.”

“Do you think he had anything to do with the light that fell?” Dance asked.

Kayleigh said she thought she’d seen some “weird” things that morning at the convention center, maybe shadows moving, maybe not. She hadn’t seen an actual person.

Alicia Sessions was more certain. “I saw something too, I’m sure.” She shrugged her broad shoulders, offering hints of tattoos largely hidden under the cloth. “Nothing specific, though. No face or body.”

The band wasn’t in town yet and the rest of the crew had been outside when they thought they’d seen the shadowy figure. Bobby hadn’t seen anything other than the strip light starting to fall.