“Yes, possibly, though women too. Stalkers are extremely jealous. Remember, they have a very skewed sense of reality—even casual friends could be perceived as threats.” Then she eyed the young singer again. “But you’re not seeing anyone now?”

“No.”

“Also, a stalker’s likely to target anybody who’s a threat to you, or even offended you. He’s taking real seriously his role as a protector; I could see that yesterday. Can you think of any enemies you might have that he’d know about?”

Kayleigh looked around. “Not really.”

Alicia said, “She’s a good girl. She doesn’t get into cat fights with other artists.”

Dance continued, “Well, keep in mind, he could also consider going after critics who’d dissed you. Or fans who were critical of your work. Then, next, he could target anyone he saw as keeping you two apart.”

“Like Darthur?”

“Yes, him. But it could also be your lawyers.” She glanced at Alicia. “Or you. You seem very protective of her.”

The broad-shouldered woman shrugged. “Somebody’s got to be.”

A sentence with many possible implications.

“And it could also be us. The police. Truly obsessive stalkers have a different sense of right and wrong. In extreme obsession cases, the stalker’s murdering a policeman is no worse than killing a fly.”

“My family? The crew?”

“Generally, family and nonromantic friends are only at risk if they try to protect the object from the stalker, though we’re not dealing with hard-and-fast rules. Stalkers’re unpredictable. I talked to some of the crew about what they’d seen yesterday but I think I should interview all of them. Assess if they’re at risk.”

Or potential perps, Dance thought, but didn’t say aloud.

“The crew’s at the convention center now,” Kayleigh said, then added, “The band’s in Nashville still, finishing up some studio work for our new album. They won’t be here till Thursday or Friday.”

That was good news. Fewer potential victims to worry about. Fewer suspects too.

Dance added, “Finally, there’s the Hinckley scenario. Killing someone of some notoriety to impress Kayleigh.”

She reminded them that John Hinckley, Jr., was obsessed with Jodie Foster. “He figured that by assassinating Ronald Reagan he’d be linked forever to the actress.”

“And they are,” Harutyun observed. “In a sick way, he accomplished his goal.”

Madigan said, “I’ve talked to Edwin. You have too. He doesn’t seem like a psycho. How could he possibly think killing people is going to get him closer to Kayleigh?”

“Oh, he doesn’t think about it. Not on a conscious level. Even if Edwin seems functional on the surface, there’s more at work. Remember, it’s his reality, not ours.”

Madigan: “I’ve ordered a box on Kayleigh’s phone and the service provider’s security unit is on standby. And we’re still on those numbers of the other mobiles he bought in Burlingame. So if he calls again from any of those phones or even powers ’em up we can get a car there fast.”

“Good.”

Harutyun said to Kayleigh, “Kathryn asked me to look into the verses of the song, the one that was played to you the other night.” He passed out copies to everyone in the room. “I’ve been trying to think of where he might be planning an attack but can’t come up with much.”