Xo

felt unclean from the imperious, invasive attitude of the posters—as if the entertainers and celebrities that were the objects of their interest were simply fodder for amusement and self-gratification.
    It was as if the more successful you were at pleasing the populace, the more they felt entitled to suck your soul from your body.
    Crystal Stanning took a phone call. Dance paid no attention to her until she noticed the deputy’s shoulders rise and her brow furrow—a configuration often signaling bad, or at least perplexing, news. “You sure?” she asked.
    By now the others in the room were watching her.
    She disconnected, grimacing. “That was my husband. He took Taylor,that’s our son, to football practice, the early one before school starts? And, it was weird. I told him about the song the perp’s playing, Kayleigh’s song? And he said somebody got into the PA system at the high school field and rigged the tape player so the third verse played over and over.”
    “Oh, hell,” Madigan muttered. “He’s not using the phones.”
    Thinking ahead of them once again.
    And what were the clues in the lyrics? Dance looked over the sheet that Harutyun had printed.
    One night there’s a call, and at first you don’t know
    What the troopers are saying from the side of the road.
    Then you see in an instant that your whole life has changed.
    Everything gone, all the plans rearranged.
     
    Dance did a double take at the verse, which spoke to her personally—thinking about the death of her husband. A trooper’s call was how she’d learned of the accident.
    Then she forced the thought away.
    Where did the perp have in mind for attacking next? Somewhere by a roadside?
    A glance at the map of the Madera-Fresno area revealed what had to be a thousand miles of roads.
    Another thought occurred to her: the assault on Bobby Prescott and on the file sharer followed closely on the calls to Kayleigh; they had perhaps an hour or so to identify and save the next victim.

 
     

Chapter 33
    MADIGAN SAID, “REMEMBER, ‘road’ could mean more than just a highway.”
    Dance nodded. “Road crew. Like Bobby. Let’s call them. I told them to be careful but we ought to let them know he’s played another song. And Alicia Sessions. At the Cowboy Saloon I could see Edwin didn’t like her any more than he did Bobby.”
    She opened her notebook and displayed the numbers she had for everyone in the crew. Dance, Harutyun and Stanning notified them all. Half of the crew were at the convention center; the other half at the luncheon venue, being held at a nice country club in the northern part of town. Kayleigh would be singing a few songs so they’d set up a small performing space. Tye Slocum was en route to the venue, but Dance alerted him about the danger. Alicia, it seemed, had run out of gas on the way to Kayleigh’s luncheon but was safe. She was waiting in a coffee shop for a service truck.
    Dance bent toward the screen and was reading through one of Kayleigh’s unofficial sites, which gave details of the luncheon. A lot of posters wished they could have gotten tickets but they’d sold out quickly.
    Madigan was speaking into his phone, “Come on, how hard is it? The fucking car is a mile long! And goddamn bright red.” He glanced at the others with a shrug, meaning the snake remained invisible.
    Dance called Kayleigh, who’d just arrived at the luncheon, on the singer’s new mobile number and told her of the possible threat.
    “No! Not again. Are you sure?”
    “Afraid we are. We haven’t said anything to the press about using the song verses as announcements so we have to assume it’s really a threat. Where are your sister and niece?”
    “They’re at home with Daddy and Sheri.”
    “Darthur’s with you?”
    “Yes. And there’re about a dozen people here now. We’re expecting a hundred or so. There’s lots of security. You need a ticket to get in.”
    Dance continued to read the screen; an idea occurred to her. “Kayleigh, this fan of the month. Who is it?”
    “I think his name’s … hold on. Sam Gerber. Do you think he’s in danger? Oh, Kathryn, what are we going to do?”
    “So he’s not there?”
    “No, we don’t get started for another forty-five minutes or so. I came early for a sound check. Should we call him?”
    “Do you have his number?”
    “I’ll find it.”
    As she waited, Dance looked down and her eyes caught a series of posts on the fan site. They’d been made just that