“Who’s the victim?” Kayleigh asked breathlessly.

“We don’t know. It could be more than one. But because of the fire they couldn’t get a good look inside.”

“But where’s Alicia? And Tye?” Kayleigh called and got through to both of them. All the rest of the crew were accounted for too, Kayleigh reported after speaking to Tye Slocum. “Jesus. Alicia was out riding her horse. And Tye? He was picking up extra guitar strings. We’ve got a thousand in the truck. Why did he need to do that? Drives me crazy.”

The congressman and his entourage looked uneasy and Davis seemed to be thinking that a visit at this moment had not been a good idea. He said, “We’ve got some campaigning to do. Sorry to have bothered you.”

“Not at all.” It was Bishop, not Kayleigh, who made this comment.

Davis reiterated that he’d help out however he could. He’d see her at the concert.

“I’m not—” She fell silent, looking at her father, who gave no reaction. “Hey, thanks for your support.”

“Hope I can say the same to you on Election Day.”

Peter Simesky, the aide, stepped up to Dance once more. He shook her hand. “You have my card. If there’s anything else you need, please, just let me know.”

Kinesics is a skill that doesn’t shut off when you leave the office. The instant he’d made eye contact with her earlier, she knew that Simesky wanted to get to know her better, if circumstances allowed. She gave him credit: He wore no wedding ring and his first glance had been at her left hand; he might very well be one of those men who was not interested in an extramarital affair.

He also exuded a comfortable but not blunt self-confidence. He wasn’t put off by the two inches of height she had on him or abashed about his small frame and thinning hair (ironically her present romantic partner, Jon Boling, shared those attributes). But with Kathryn Dance’s complicated personal life, there was no room or inclination for expansion.

She nodded politely to Simesky and made sure the handshake was brief and professional. She couldn’t tell if he got the message.

Then Davis, followed by Simesky and Myra Babbage, left the house and made their way to the SUV. The security man opened the doors for them. In a minute they were speeding down the dirt and gravel driveway.

Then Kayleigh’s eyes flashed in shock and she began to cry. “Wait, he burned them?” she whispered.

“That’s right.”

“No, no! This’s my fault too!” Her shoulders rose, jaw tight. She angrily wiped away tears. “My song! He’s using another one of my songs.”

Dance pointed out, “The crime scene’s by the river, just like the second verse.”

“No, the fire! First Bobby and now these other people. Edwin sent me an email, well, a bunch of them, saying how much he liked my song ‘Fire and Flame.’”

She picked up the CD of Your Shadow and showed Dance the liner notes.