Contents ( 83)
- Contents
- Author’s Note
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- Chapter 60
- Chapter 61
- Chapter 62
- Chapter 63
- Chapter 64
- Chapter 65
- Chapter 66
- Chapter 67
- Chapter 68
- Chapter 69
- Chapter 70
- Chapter 71
- Chapter 72
- Chapter 73
- Chapter 74
- Chapter 75
- Chapter 76
- Chapter 77
- Chapter 78
- Chapter 79
- Afterword
- About the Author
“Just a shadow,” the girl said.
He smiled. “Shadows’re left by somethin’. Or someone. Why don’t you talk to people in the crew who were here, Kathryn. Any convention center workers too. See what they have to say.”
“I could do that, Detective. But that’s more along the lines of canvassing. I’m sure the people with the crew and anybody else here would cooperate. I’m usually involved if there’s reason for a witness or suspect to be deceptive or if they can’t remember important facts.”
“And I sure hope we get somebody you can use those seminar skills of yours on, Kathryn. But until then, it’d be a big help if you’d see what the others have to say. Of course, don’t feel you have to.”
Seminar skills …
She’d been outmaneuvered. Given a necessary, but minor task to keep her out of their hair. The dog had been sniffing around for juicy scraps at the picnic and got tossed a dry bone instead.
“Be glad to,” Dance said. She pulled out her iPhone and got from Kayleigh the names of the people with the crew and convention center employees who were here yesterday, inputting them one by one.
The medical examiner arrived and approached the senior detective. They had a quiet conversation.
Dance called to Kayleigh, “I’ll see you later.” The young woman’s eyes looked so mournful it was hard to keep contact. Dance started up the aisle when the thought slammed her.
Jesus.
She turned back. “Kayleigh, last night? The caller only played one verse, right?”
“The first verse. And the chorus.”
“And it’s about a concert hall,” Dance said.
“Well, yeah, sort of. It’s kind of about being a public person. But it mentions a venue.”
“I don’t know who’s behind this,” Dance said, “but if it’s a stalker, like Edwin, I think he’s going to keep killing.”
“Oh, Kathryn,” Kayleigh whispered. “Again? He might hurt somebody else?”
Committing murder was rare among stalkers but in her years as a reporter, a jury consultant and a cop, Dance had learned that when it came to violent crime, an outlier could kill you just as dead as a perp who fell smack in the middle of the bell curve. “The basis for stalking is repetitive, obsessive behavior. I think we should assume he’s going to make more calls and more people will be at risk. I’d get a wire on Kayleigh’s phone. And let’s look at the other verses of that song and find out who or where he might attack again.”
Madigan asked, “But why would the perp do that? What’s in it for him?”
Dance replied, “I don’t know. Some stalkers are simply psychotic.”
“Sounds kinda far-fetched,” Madigan said. Mostly he seemed irritated that Dance had upset Kayleigh.
“I think it’s important.”
“Seems you do.” The chief detective took a call, listened and said to Kayleigh, “That was one of the patrols. They cruised past your house and didn’t see him or his car.”
“Where is he, where did he go?” Kayleigh sounded panicked.