Last Breath (9 page)

Ross looked from me to Mom. “What'd he say?”

“Just before he died, he whispered something in Shaley's ear. He said ‘Your father sent me.' ”

Oh, great
.

“Your
father
? Who is the guy?”

Indignation banged around in my chest. All these years, Mom had kept that part of her life private, even from me. And now Ross expected an easy answer—just like that? No way, not before I'd heard the whole story myself.

“We don't know where he is now. Mom hasn't seen him since before I was born.”

Ross's jaw hardened. I knew the look—protective manager. He smacked his palms against his legs. “What's his name?”

My fingers curled around the muffin. This wasn't fair.

“Gary Donovon,” Mom said.

Ross mouthed the name to himself. “Why didn't you tell me what Jerry said, Shaley?”

“I didn't—”

“There was no time, Ross.” Mom's voice sharpened. “We're telling you now.”

“No time? This is important! We got a madman out there, wanting you hurt!” He looked from me to Mom like we were both crazy. “Have you heard from the police this morning? Did they find him yet?”

“I haven't told them yet, Ross. And it's not Mom's fault—she didn't even know till this morning. I was going to call them.”

He gaped at me. “
How
could you not tell the police?”

“Leave her alone.” Mom's face pinched. “She's going to tell them now, that's all that matters.”

“All that—” Ross shoved to his feet, his cheeks reddening. He picked up the chair, strode to the far wall, and jammed it down. Then stomped back and glared at me, hands low on his hips. “All right, Shaley, tell me what's going on. Why did you keep this to yourself?”

“Ross—”

“Be quiet, Rayne!” He shot her a look, then his face softened. He shifted his weight. “Okay. You two have been through a lot. I'll chalk this up to your brains being on overload. But Shaley,
why
didn't you say anything?”

“Because I didn't believe Jerry.” My voice sounded small. “I didn't
want
to believe him.”

“That's it, you don't
want
to believe. Since I can be a little more objective, let me tell you what this means.” Ross's voice rose. “I thought the danger to all of us was over once that killer was caught. Now I'm hearing Jerry didn't act alone. That there's a man out there somewhere who apparently has it in for you, Rayne, and at the very least wants to kidnap Shaley.”

Mom's eyes slipped shut. Her expression mixed fear and exhaustion. “I know.”

I threw the muffin into the McDonald's bag. Ross was right and I knew it, but I didn't want to face it. And I didn't like the accusations about my father coming from
him
. “Maybe Jerry wasn't even telling the truth. He lied about everything else.”

Ross flung his hands up. “You want to take a gamble on that?”

No. But still … The father I never knew was being taken away from me before I could hear his full story.

“Well,
I
sure don't.” Ross jabbed a finger against his chest. “I'm in charge of this tour. Two people have already been murdered on my watch, Shaley. I don't care to see a third.” He swiveled, paced two steps toward the wall, and pivoted back. “Now we're one bodyguard short, the tour's over, and I've got to get everyone home safely. We need two guards here, switching off for this room, and that leaves no one for everybody else. And
now
I hear there's still a killer out there!”

My body went hot. I dragged my fingers along the bed, scrunching up the covers. Why hadn't I thought about this? What if my silence had put other members of the band in danger?

A knock rapped against the door.

“Yes?” Ross snapped. I twisted around.

Wendell's head appeared. “I've got the first two suitcases—”

“Fine. Push 'em in and leave.”

Surprise at the angry tone flicked across Wendell's face. He glanced at Mom, then opened the door wider and rolled in my two large bags. The door closed.

I glared at Ross. “You didn't have to be so mean to him. He saved my life, you know.”

Ross flapped a hand in the air. “And
I'm
trying to save lives now.” He yanked his cell phone from a front pocket and punched multiple buttons. “Detective Myner should have been looking for this Gary Donovon since last night. Now you can bet Donovon's seen the news and gone underground. We may have lost our chance—” His head jerked. “Yes, Detective, it's Ross Blanke. Shaley has something to talk to you about.”

Ross marched over to me and held out the phone. “Tell him.”

17

P
erched stiffly on my hospital bed, I told Detective Myner everything. I wouldn't look at Ross, but I could feel his laser-like stare. When I apologized to the detective for lying, Ross sucked air through his teeth. He didn't know Detective Myner had asked me what Jerry whispered, and I'd replied it was nothing important.

My fingers cramped from gripping the cell phone so hard.

“All right.” The detective didn't even sound mad. At least that was something. Ross was mad enough for two people. “Thanks for telling me, Shaley. We'll start running this down immediately. We'll find the guy.”

Fear and wild hope shot through me. If they found my father, maybe I could see him.

But if he'd sent Jerry, why would I want to?

“Okay. Thanks.” My voice dulled out. I just wanted to reverse the world three days—when I knew nothing about my father and could still dream he was a good, loving man.

“Can I talk to your mom for a minute?” the detective asked.

“Sure.” I handed the phone to Mom.

The detective's voice filtered to my ears. He asked for the spelling of Donovon.

Mom told him, then listened. “I don't know. The last time I saw him was seventeen years ago.”

All appetite for breakfast was gone. The smells coming from the McDonald's bag turned my stomach. No way was I going to hear the rest of the story about my father like this.

I thrust myself off the bed and made for the bathroom. Inside, I shut the door hard and locked it, closing out Mom's voice.

The bathroom looked cold and sterile. A shower with a seat. One sink. A floor of white tile. The toilet was handicapped-size. On the wall next to it ran a strong silver bar for support.

Eyes burning, I sat down on the closed toilet and put my head in my hands. Loneliness washed over me in waves. How had I gotten here, in this hospital room, so far from my home? Why had God let me lose three friends in the last few days, one of them turning out to be a traitor?

Now I was losing my dad—before I even knew him.

A tear plopped to the tile between my feet.

Remember, God is always watching
. Carly's words from two days ago ran through my head. Yesterday I'd vowed to find the truth—all of it. The truth about my earthly father, and the heavenly Father whom Carly insisted loved me so much.

So much for the heavenly one. Today I sure didn't feel any closer to God.

Maybe if terrible things stopped happening, I'd have more time to think about him.

No, you wouldn't. You wouldn't think about him at all
.

The thought echoed in my mind.

Three days ago I was waiting excitedly for Brittany to come. For two months we'd been on tour. And before that I'd been home, living the life of a famous rock star's daughter. All those times I'd never thought about God for a minute. Why?

Because things hadn't been hard enough to make me seek him
.

I straightened, blinking away tears. Carly's story ran through my head. She lost her parents and had her heart broken by the man she loved. When she'd turned to God, her life hadn't gotten any better for a long time. But she'd had the strength to deal with it. Because
inside
, she'd changed.

A shiver ran down my back. I drew my arms across my chest. I needed to take a hot shower and wash my hair. Change clothes.

So much for the outside.
What about your inside, Shaley
?

My mouth twisted. This was kind of weird, thinking about God in a hospital bathroom.

But the thoughts wouldn't go away.

My hands slipped over my eyes. I felt pretty stupid. And small. But if God was “always watching,” I suppose he knew that anyway.

“God,” I whispered, “here I am. Could you help, please? I'm … tired. And I need your strength—like Carly has. I'm ready to pay more attention to you, but I'm not even sure how to start. Could you show me, please?”

A hard knock sounded on the door. My head snapped up.

“Shaley.” Ross's voice.

“Yeah?”

“You hiding in there?”

“Yeah, I'm hiding. And praying.”
Take that, Ross
.

“Oh. Well, you can stop now. We're off the phone.”

Stop what—hiding or praying? I almost laughed. “Okay.”

“And the band's here.”

Oh, great. Now I'd have to face everybody else. Ross would make me tell them too.

“Coming.”

Leaning both hands on the sink, I stared at myself in the mirror. I looked like a half zombie, long faced, circles under my eyes. My hair a mess.

Voices and laughter filtered from the room.

All the years Mom refused to talk about my father—and now
everyone
would be hearing about him. I wanted him to myself. I wanted my dreams back.

Plastering a tight smile on my face, I opened the bathroom door.

18

H
ey, Shaley,” Morrey called, echoed by Stan and Rich. Kim shot me a smile.

“Hi.” I pushed a strand of hair off my face. “Be careful with my patient. I've been taking care of her all night.”

“I'll bet.” Kim shook her head at Mom. “Probably had to tie her to the bed to keep her down.”

Mom managed a smile.

They milled around Mom, taking turns leaning down to give her a kiss, gently touching the bump on her head. Stan sat down in the chair by her bed and whipped out a Sharpie pen to sign her cast. “Rayne reigns!” he printed, and handed the pen to Kim. She tapped it against her chin, then wrote, “One broken wrist—for all the hearts you've broken.”

Ross laughed.

I walked to my bed and sat down. Against the wall were the additional suitcases Mick had brought up. Made me tired just to look at them. I didn't have the energy to open mine and find clean clothes.

“How are you, Rayne?” Morrey crossed his tattooed arms. “In a lot of pain?”

“Only when I breathe.”

Rich patted her shoulder.

Ross cleared his throat. “Okay, we've got to talk.”

Everyone looked grim. They knew what was coming.

Morrey brought over the second wooden chair and placed it on Mom's left. “Here, Kim.” She sat down, leaving Morrey to stand by the window. I scooted toward the top of my bed as Rich and Stan joined me. My muscles felt like rocks. Was Ross going to tell them about Jerry?

Ross stood in front of the TV, weight on one leg and hands low on his hips. “Okay, first, as the five of us discussed last night at the hotel, we've got to end the tour. Rayne's got a long recovery, and Rayne”—he looked to Mom—“we all just want you to go home and rest.”

“Yeah,” Stan murmured. Morrey and Kim nodded their heads.

Ross glanced at the clock. “Soon as I leave here I'm getting on the horn to charter a plane back to LA. I'm hoping we can line one up by this evening. We'll pay the hotel rooms for another night so you'll all have a place to stay until the flight. I'll be staying here in Denver until Rayne's able to fly. Then Shaley and I will get her home.”

Mom closed her eyes. “I can't believe this. I can't believe the tour's over.”

“Neither can I.” Kim ran a hand through her white-blonde hair. “But what's worse is you're in a hospital.”

Ross rubbed his jaw. “We've got to figure out what to do about bodyguards. Mick and Wendell need to stay here with Rayne. But I don't like the idea of you all going home without a single guard. The media will be all over you.”

“No they won't.” Stan shrugged. “They're all camped out at the hospital's front door, waiting for Rayne.” He threw her a teasing smile.

Ross sighed. “We've got another issue.”

I flung a look at Mom. She glanced from Ross to me, sending me a silent signal—
It's okay
.

“It came up this morning with the detective.” Ross shifted his weight. “They're running down a lead that came from Jerry himself, just before he died.”

Ross repeated Jerry's words—keeping me out of it. My shoulders sagged with relief.

Kim gasped. “ ‘Your father sent me.' What does that
mean
?”

Everybody started talking at once. Ross threw his hands up. “Wait!”

I focused on the bottom of the pushed-back curtain hanging from the ceiling. Ross launched into his arguments: No way were we taking a gamble on this. As far as we were concerned, there was still a killer out there. And the whole group needed protection.

The discussion went on, but I closed my ears. Part of me wanted to leave the room. The other part worried what would be said in my absence. Once thing I did know—I'd had it with waiting. This was
my
father they were talking about. As soon as everyone left, Mom was going to tell me the rest of her story. I prayed I would hear something,
anything
, that would allow me to believe Gary Donovon was still a good man today.

Please, God, let Jerry be lying.

19

W
ith two thousand dollars in cash bulging in his wallet, Franklin Borden caught a cab from the bank to the nearest Verizon outlet.

So many cell phones to choose from. He walked around the store, shaking his head at the new technology. The world sure had changed in eight years.