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Contents ( 83)
  1. Contents
  2. Author’s Note
  3. Chapter 1
  4. Chapter 2
  5. Chapter 3
  6. Chapter 4
  7. Chapter 5
  8. Chapter 6
  9. Chapter 7
  10. Chapter 8
  11. Chapter 9
  12. Chapter 10
  13. Chapter 11
  14. Chapter 12
  15. Chapter 13
  16. Chapter 14
  17. Chapter 15
  18. Chapter 16
  19. Chapter 17
  20. Chapter 18
  21. Chapter 19
  22. Chapter 20
  23. Chapter 21
  24. Chapter 22
  25. Chapter 23
  26. Chapter 24
  27. Chapter 25
  28. Chapter 26
  29. Chapter 27
  30. Chapter 28
  31. Chapter 29
  32. Chapter 30
  33. Chapter 31
  34. Chapter 32
  35. Chapter 33
  36. Chapter 34
  37. Chapter 35
  38. Chapter 36
  39. Chapter 37
  40. Chapter 38
  41. Chapter 39
  42. Chapter 40
  43. Chapter 41
  44. Chapter 42
  45. Chapter 43
  46. Chapter 44
  47. Chapter 45
  48. Chapter 46
  49. Chapter 47
  50. Chapter 48
  51. Chapter 49
  52. Chapter 50
  53. Chapter 51
  54. Chapter 52
  55. Chapter 53
  56. Chapter 54
  57. Chapter 55
  58. Chapter 56
  59. Chapter 57
  60. Chapter 58
  61. Chapter 59
  62. Chapter 60
  63. Chapter 61
  64. Chapter 62
  65. Chapter 63
  66. Chapter 64
  67. Chapter 65
  68. Chapter 66
  69. Chapter 67
  70. Chapter 68
  71. Chapter 69
  72. Chapter 70
  73. Chapter 71
  74. Chapter 72
  75. Chapter 73
  76. Chapter 74
  77. Chapter 75
  78. Chapter 76
  79. Chapter 77
  80. Chapter 78
  81. Chapter 79
  82. Afterword
  83. About the Author

—ESKayleighfan

Just chill Edwin. there’s room for more than one fan.

—Musiqueman3468

yeah come on, he won a contest, whats the big deal? I’m happy for him. he gets to have LUNCH with Kayleigh!!!!!

—Suzi09091

He doesn’t deserve it. Other people do. That’s my point.

—ESKayleighfan

Kayleigh came back on the line with Gerber’s number. Dance jotted it down. “Thanks. We’re doing everything we can. I’ll call you back.”

She called Sam Gerber and got voicemail. It was a local area code and exchange so maybe not a mobile. She left an urgent message.

“He lives in Madera,” Madigan said. “I’ll get a car to his house. If we’re lucky he may not have left yet.”

“The road,” Dance mused. “Let’s assume Edwin’s going to try something on the route from Madera here.”

She realized that, despite Sally Docking’s report and the ambiguous evidence otherwise, she was making the assumption that Edwin was the killer. Still, she couldn’t help herself and she continued to scroll through the fan site, trying to put herself into the young man’s troubled mind.

WHAT SHE WANTED most was for Kayleigh to love her.

Sheri Towne knew she started from a disadvantage, of course. No, she wasn’t like Wife Number Three—the Child, as Sheri cattily thought of her, or Number Two, the Tarot Card Reader.

Yet Sheri was a lot younger than Bishop and in her own opinion didn’t bring a lot to the table. She was insecure and knew she was worlds away from Margaret, the strong woman who was Kayleigh’s and Suellyn’s mother. Sheri knew about her not because anyone in the Towne family talked about Margaret in front of her, least of all Bishop, but because she’d listened to and memorized all of Kayleigh’s songs; many of the early ones were about her mother.

Despite the tension, though, Sheri liked Kayleigh a lot, independent of being her stepmother, and she liked Suellyn and her husband, Roberto, and Mary-Gordon too. Oh, what a cute kid! Just the sort of child she wished she’d had, whom she would have had, if life had gone just a bit differently.

Sheri wanted badly to fit in. She loved Bishop, loved the odd mix of his power and his neediness, loved his talent—brilliant in the past and still glimmering now. (And maybe it would blossom again in the future; he talked sometimes about returning to performing. This was a secret that he’d shared with no one but her.)

Still, her connection with her new husband wouldn’t be complete if she couldn’t form a real relationship with Kayleigh. And not that superficial cordiality.

Hey there, Sheri, how ya doing? You have a good day now. Take care.

Hell. To Kayleigh, I’m like the most anonymous fan she sees at a concert.

She finally turned off the long drive from their house on the route to the highway. The car bounded along; the road, though paved, wasn’t much better than gravel.

And yet, maybe, just maybe, things could change. There’d been crumbs of hope. Kayleigh’s sending Sheri the occasional greeting card. A present on her birthday. And then a half hour ago she’d gotten an email from Kayleigh saying when she came to the luncheon, could she bring a couple of dozen of her CDs from Bishop’s house as giveaways to fans? Kayleigh’d forgotten them.