Until that moment, I'd assumed Laura was dead. There was a horrible ashen tint to her cold skin, and there was so much blood. Looking more closely at her, I could now see the slight rise and fall of her chest. Simpson's words rang in my head…Gunshot wound…God, someone shot Laura. Could it have been Parker's killer? The only way to find out who shot her was to keep her alive. I could already hear sirens approaching in the distance, and I hoped they could get her to the hospital in time.
My nose wrinkled again. An odd scent lingered in the air around us, growing fainter by the second in the pouring rain. It wasn't acrid like gun smoke, or sour like the garbage in the dumpster next to us. I recognized it—the same scent I'd picked up as I passed Kat's office.
Officer Simpson crouched beside Laura, applying pressure to her wound to try and stop the bleeding. He looked up and considered the three of us: Kat was still huddled on the ground, hugging her knees and sobbing. I had sat back against a garbage bag and was staring wide-eyed at Laura. Tony moved to my side and absently patted my shoulder as he watched the officer. "Can one of you explain what happened here?" Simpson asked, glaring.
It was Kat who answered him. "I found her," she said, her voice shaking. "I left my cell phone in my car and ran out to the back parking lot to get it. No one was back here when I came outside, and I was only over there for a few minutes. I never heard a gunshot or anything, but I was so far away, and the rain was coming down so hard I couldn't hear much of anything other than the storm. When I came back to the door, Laura was here on the ground."
Simpson narrowed his eyes, and he shifted his gaze back to Tony and me. "And what about you two?" he asked, his tone suspicious.
Shit. We hadn't thought of an excuse for why we were in the hallway. As I wracked my brain for something to say, Tony saved the day by answering for me. "Amelia and I were headed to her office, just down this hallway," he said, pointing to the back door.
"That's right," I chimed in, thinking fast. "We were in the Dungeon for Bobby's show, and I told Tony I'd get him some passes for this Friday out of my desk to give his mother. She's a huge fan."
"Mom's birthday is next week, and I wanted to surprise her—but the show sold out so quickly that I missed out on buying tickets. Ame mentioned she had saved a few extras in her desk and said she'd give me a pair," Tony said easily. I wondered if his mother's birthday was really the following week, or if he was just that good at lying on the fly. I was relieved that I actually did have few pairs of extra tickets in my desk drawer—in case Simpson wanted proof. Tony and I made a pretty good team.
"We had just gotten to my office door when we heard Kat scream," I finished our alibi. Simpson shifted his gaze back and forth from Tony to me a few times, looking for any sign that we were lying to him. I tried to keep my facial expression blank.
"You three step inside and wait for me," Simpson said. "I'll need to take down your official statements." At that moment, an ambulance came screeching around the corner and pulled to a halt next to Castle Rock. Two EMTs hurriedly unloaded a gurney from the back and began pushing it through the rain toward Laura. Tony and I pulled Kat to her feet and ushered her inside to her office.
Once seated on her leather couch, Kat ceased crying and became eerily calm. She absently tucked her wet hair behind her ears and stared down at the floor for several minutes. I thought she might be in shock. I picked up the blanket that was draped over the back of her office couch and wrapped it around her shoulders when her teeth began to chatter. "I know what it looks like," she said finally, not looking up. "But I didn't do it."
"Kat, of course you didn't!" I cried. "I never even considered that for a minute!" True, she had very recently found out that Laura had fooled around with her husband—wow, there was just no getting used to calling him that!—but I had known Kat almost my whole life, and she wasn't the vengeful or murderous type.
"Maybe it was a mugging," Tony offered. "Maybe someone tried to snatch her wallet when she was taking out the trash, and she put up a fight."
"Yeah, maybe," I said. I was still in a state of shock myself. Who would want Laura dead? Reese? No way, I thought. Sure they were on the outs, but Reese would never cause Laura harm, let alone try to kill her. He loved her too much. Plus, under that big bad bouncer façade, he was really just a big teddy bear. Who else could possibly want Laura out of the picture? I shuddered, wondering if the attacker was still lurking nearby.
Detective Dixon showed up some time later to take our statements. He listened to each of us silently, scribbling details into his notepad every now and then. When Tony and I had finished retelling our account, Dixon put down his pen and looked each of us in the face. "Do any of you know of anyone who would want Laura Holly dead?" he asked.
Before we could respond, Reese's voice boomed from the hallway. "Where is she? Where did they take her?" he cried, sounding desperate. A pounding noise and a painful yelp followed as Reese punched the wall. Dixon dropped his notepad and bolted from the office, with the three of us on his heels.
Reese was in the doorway of the coat closet, frantically pulling on his tan trench coat. Bronwyn stood a few steps behind him, hugging herself and crying silently. Seeing us, Reese hurried toward Dixon. "Please!" he cried. "Where did they take her? Is she going to be okay?" Then Reese did something I had never seen him do before. He fell to his knees and began to weep.
Bronwyn rushed forward to his side, a look of misery on her heart-shaped face. She wrapped her skinny arms around him. Her hand brushed his coat pocket, and she froze. A look of alarm spread across Bronwyn's lovely features. She jerked backward from Reese as if he'd bitten her.
"Bron, what's wrong?" Reese looked up at her, confused. He reached into the pocket she had bumped. His face went pale. "What the…." his voice trailed off. He removed the handgun from his pocket and stared down at it, dumbfounded.
Detective Dixon immediately sprang into action. He un-holstered his own gun and leapt forward, aiming directly at Reese. "Drop your weapon!" he barked. "Now!"
Reese dropped the gun on the ground and backed away from it with his hands in the air. He looked from Kat and me to Tony to Detective Dixon, his eyes wide with panic. "It's not mine!" he cried. "I don't know where it came from. I was just getting my jacket out of the coat closet—I didn't put that in there. I didn't shoot my girlfriend!"
Dixon rushed forward and slammed Reese against the wall. He twisted his arms behind his back and slapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists as he read Reese his rights. Bronwyn squealed, running past them. She clung to me, trembling. "He said he was just going to talk to her. I didn't know he'd hurt her!"
"What? No! That's not what happened!" Reese looked at us with pleading eyes. "I didn't do it," he insisted. "I've never seen that gun in my life!"
Detective Dixon radioed for the station, and his backup came to take Reese to lock-up. One of the officers stooped and picked up the gun from the floor with a gloved hand. He placed it into a Ziploc bag and hurried after the other officers, giving us a wary look as he passed.
"This is all my fault," Bronwyn sobbed into my arm. "I wanted to believe he couldn't do something like that, but I was wrong. If I hadn't told him about Laura with Parker, he never would have shot her."
"Shh, it's okay, Bron." I stroked her hair as she clung tightly to my arm. I looked up at Tony and Kat. "We've got to get Reese out of jail."
Tony gave me an incredulous look. "What are you talking about? That dude just tried to off his girlfriend!"
I shook my head. "No, he didn't." I grabbed Bronwyn by the shoulders, holding her at arm's length in front of me. "Bron, was Reese ever wearing his coat tonight when he was outside checking ID's?"
Bronwyn shook her spiky pink head as she brushed the tears off her cheeks. She gave me a confused look. "No, he was so moody after Laura got here that he just took off to work the door without coming back here to grab it. He stood out in the rain all night with no coat."
"That's what I thought," I said. I remembered seein
g Reese's coat in the closet when I'd led Bobby, Shawn, and Tony to the back to store their jackets. "Reese was putting on a dry coat—but his hair and shoulders were soaked. Bronwyn, if you were following Reese down the hall just now, he couldn't have snuck a gun back here without you seeing him."
Bronwyn lifted her head from my arm and stood back, looking hopeful. "You're right." She wiped the tears and running mascara from her eyes. "He didn't have the gun when we were running."
"Reese couldn't have slipped a gun in his coat pocket just then without any of us seeing him." I added, giving them each a significant look. "I think someone planted that gun in Reese's coat."
A look of horror dawned on Bronwyn's face. "You think someone is trying to frame him? Do you think it's the same person that pushed Parker?" She clenched her fists. "That's so messed up! Who would do such a thing?"
"I don't know, Bron." I frowned. "But I intend to find out. We need to figure out who could have come by the closet tonight. I brought Tony, Shawn, and Tim back here to store their coats earlier—let's see if any of their coats are missing."
I walked over to the hall closet and pushed the door open. Tony's grey jacket was still on its hanger, as were my coat, Kat's and Bronwyn's hoodies, and Tim Scott's jacket. No coats were missing, but only one was dripping fresh raindrops into a puddle on the floor. Shawn Stone's. "Hmm. Looks like Shawn's been out in the rain recently." I handed Tony his and Tim's jackets and stormed back down the hall toward the Dungeon. "I'm going to have a little chat with Mr. Stone."
More time had passed since we found Laura than I realized. When we pushed through the doors into the Dungeon, I was surprised to see that it had completely cleared out. I glanced at my watch. It was already half past midnight. The cleaning crew was sweeping discarded drink cups, napkins, and other trash off of the floor.
Jody, our other bartender for the evening, sat on a bar stool in the back. She twirled her blonde hair around her index finger as she talked to one of the police officers. "She was only supposed to be gone from the bar for a few minutes," I heard her say in a trembling voice. "She just went out back to take out the garbage from behind the bar. When she didn't come back after a few minutes, I just assumed she'd either gone out front to talk to Reese or had decided to take a cigarette break or something." The officer nodded as he jotted notes from her statement onto his notepad.
Tim Scott was seated at the end of the bar, glancing at his watch and jotting down some notes of his own. I dreaded hearing what horrible details he'd dredged up for his next Tune Talks broadcast. As he spotted Tony, he jumped off of the bar stool and rushed toward us. "Tony, where in the hell have you been?" he cried. "I've got to get back to the studio." He snatched his jacket from Tony's outstretched hand and glared at us.
"Sorry man, I was kind of tied up giving my statement, being a witness and all." Tony shrugged. Tim's eyes lit up at the word "witness."
"Don't worry, I won't tell him anything he can use for his precious story," Tony reassured me under his breath. "Tell you what—why don't I go drop him off at the station, and then I'll meet you at the hospital so we can check on Laura?"
"D'oh!" I smacked my forehead. I'd completely forgotten about my car trouble. "Actually, could you maybe swing back by and pick me up? I don't have my car today."
"Sure thing—I'll be back before you know it." He ruffled my hair and turned to follow Tim, who was already storming off toward the exit, grumbling to himself about still not getting his interview with Bobby.
Shawn emerged just then from the door to the backstage area, a policeman on his heels. "Like I said, officer, I've been backstage all night. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to call our driver to come pick us up and take us back to the hotel." He brushed off the young cop and began heading toward the hallway.
"Not so fast, Stone," I called, hurrying toward him.
Shawn looked up in surprise. "Miss Grace! I was just coming to find you. We're leaving."
"Not until you tell that officer where you've really been tonight," I challenged, narrowing my eyes at him. "If you haven't been outside all night, then why is your wet raincoat making more puddles in my hall closet?"
Shawn looked taken aback. "Well, I did step outside for a few minutes earlier this evening," he admitted. "Just for a quick smoke break—but other than that I really have been backstage all night!"
"Yeah, right." My anger bubbled over. "And were you backstage all night on Monday when Parker fell? I heard you arguing with him before the show. What did you do to him?"
Shawn's eyes flashed angrily. "How dare you accuse me!" he snapped. "If you must know, Parker and I weren't having an argument. It was a business discussion." He left it at that.
"What kind of 'business discussion?'" I glared at him. "As the manager of the Castle Rock, Parker has always involved yours truly in all business dealings and 'discussions.'" I crooked my thumbs and poked my chest. Behind me, I felt Kat and Bronwyn step forward to flank me on either side. The three of us stared him down.
Shawn gnashed his teeth. "You do not want to mess with me, ladies," he said in a low, menacing growl. More loudly, he added, "My business with Parker was personal—and none of your concern, Miss Grace. I've already been over this with the police. I was in the wings at stage right all night on Monday, watching the show and holding out a barf bag in case Bobby stumbled over and got sick." I remembered reading online about Bobby's mishap at The Moore Theatre in Seattle years ago. He'd had a few too many drinks and ralphed all over the front row of the crowd during his encore. Ick. "I was backstage for the whole set and the encore—and you can't prove otherwise," Shawn huffed.
I turned to Jody, who had finished giving her statement and was now leaning over the bar as she listened to our heated exchange. "Jody, call Mr. Stone's driver, please. I think we're done here."
Kat stepped forward, trying to keep the peace. "Mr. Stone," she said in a forced polite tone. "I'm sorry about this. Ame will have cooled off by the time we see you for sound check on Friday—"
"I don't think so," boomed a voice from behind me. I whipped my head around to see Sergeant Eddie Sinclair standing in the Dungeon doorway, his arms folded and a scowl on his round face. "I'm sorry, Amelia. After tonight's events, I feel it's necessary to reinstate my original orders. Castle Rock will cease operations until my team has completed their investigation."
"What?" Kat and I cried in unison.
"Dad, no!" Bronwyn protested.
"I'm sorry, Pumpkin." Sinclair shook his head, giving his daughter an apologetic look. "I should have stuck with my initial decision on Monday night and closed this place down. Perhaps if I had then Miss Holly wouldn't be lying in a hospital bed in the ER right now. I can't have you coming to work at a place that isn't safe." His expression hardened. "Miss Grace, I have to insist that all of Castle Rock be sealed off until further notice."
Shawn stepped forward to join Sinclair. "That will be fine, Sergeant. We'll clear out of here immediately." He then turned to me with a crocodile grin. "I'll have our road crew come back for our things. I had a conversation this afternoon with a delightful girl named Stacy over at the Beat Barn, and we'll be moving our Friday set to their venue." He narrowed his eyes at me. "Miss Grace—don't keep in touch."
Anger burned through me. Stacy Jefferson had managed to steal my biggest act. Outraged, I bared my teeth at Shawn and very nearly launched myself at him, but Kat grasped my shoulder firmly and held me in place. "He's not worth it, Ame," she said into my ear.
The band emerged from backstage and made their way towards us with Bobby leading the group. "What's the plan now, mates?" he asked as they reached us. "We've got a big move to make across town, yeah?"
Candy smacked her gum and gave me a satisfied smirk, no doubt pleased that she wouldn't have to see me again. That feeling, at least, was mutual. From behind her, Jared stared at me, his expression unreadable. As always, Cliff stood to the side with his hands shoved into his pockets, saying nothing.
"That's right, fellas
, we're packing up and moving out," Shawn said. With a pointed glare in my direction, he added, "I've moved our gig for Friday to a far more respectable establishment."
"The Beat Barn?" Bronwyn scoffed. "That place is so lame! Nobody goes there—good luck making a decent dollar in that shit hole." I stared at her, surprised. She stood tall with her chest puffed out, shooting a venomous look at Shawn. The kid had gumption. Of course, it probably didn't hurt that her Papa Bear was standing right behind her, badge and gun both very much visible. Sergeant Sinclair said nothing but eyed his daughter with a stern expression—and perhaps just a hint of pride.
"On the contrary, you little shit," Shawn shot back at her. "The show's already sold out. We'll get our cut of the money, and so will the Beat Barn—it's you Castle jerks who'll be coming up short."
This time it was the sarge's temper that flared. He stepped protectively in front of his daughter. "That's enough, Stone. It'd do you good to remember that 'little shit' is my daughter, and I don't appreciate the way you're speaking to her. I think it'd be best if you folks go ahead and clear out."
"Don't mind if we do," Stone said, narrowing his eyes at the sergeant and then at me. "It has not been a pleasure working with you, Miss Grace, and I'll make sure everyone in the business knows it. Castle Rock's days are numbered." He turned and stormed towards the door.
Bobby leaned in as he passed me. "You know, love," he said. "Now that we're not working together, you should take me up on that offer to come try out the hot tub in my hotel room." He gave my butt a brief squeeze. Before I could slap his hand off, Jared gripped his wrist and twisted it away from me. Bobby yelped in pain. "Geeze, mate, I was just having a little fun."
"You should never touch a lady without her consent," Jared warned. He locked gazes with me. "Goodbye, Amelia." He ushered Bobby away before he could get grabby again. Part of me was going to miss having Jared around. Cliff shrugged and followed them. Candy stuck out her tongue out and gave me the finger on her way out. Yep. Definitely not gonna miss her.
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