XO (18 page)

She turned back and reluctantly said, “No, no threats. It’s just the opposite, really. He was always telling me how he wanted to protect me. How he’d be there for me—just like in that song, ‘Your Shadow.’”

It was then that Dance’s phone sang out with an incoming message. It was from TJ Scanlon. She read quickly then looked up.

“You want to hear a bio of our stalker?”

But the question, of course, needed no answer.

DENNIS HARUTYUN HELPED
Dance log on to her email from a terminal in the corner of the room and she printed out TJ’s document.

Scanning, disappointed.

“There isn’t much, I’m afraid.” Edwin Stanton Sharp had been born in Yakima, a town in eastern Washington state. His father was a traveling salesman, his mother worked in retail. “To judge from her income, she must have had several jobs. This could mean that the boy spent a lot of time alone. Psychologists think stalking begins from attachment issues. He was desperate to spend time with his parents, mother particularly, but she wasn’t available.”

“Now, his grades were very good. But he was held back a year in the seventh grade, which is pretty old for that, and his marks weren’t too bad so that suggests emotional problems in school. But there’s no record of disciplinary action, other than for a few fights on the school yard. No weapons were involved. He also had no extracurricular activities, no sports, no clubs.

“When he was sixteen his parents split up and he went to live with his mother outside of Seattle. He went to the University of Washington for two years. Again, he did fairly well. But for some reason he dropped out just after the start of his third year. No record of why. Again, no interest in other activities. That too is typical—stalking takes a lot of time. He started working at jobs stalkers sometimes gravitate toward: security guard, landscaping, part-time retail sales, offering samples of food at grocery stores, door-to-door selling. They’re good professions for those with voyeuristic or stalking tendencies because you get to see a lot of people and are largely unsupervised. And invisible.”

“Good ponds for fishin’,” Madigan said.

Well put, Dance reflected.

“His mother died in July of last year, cancer. His father’s off the grid. Hasn’t filed a tax return in six years and the IRS can’t find him. Edwin does no international travel, according to the State Department. TJ, my associate in Monterey, has checked out his online activity. His Facebook page is filled with pictures and information about Kayleigh. He doesn’t have many friends—at least not under his own username. He might have a page under another one.”

“I sure didn’t friend him,” Kayleigh muttered.

“TJ’s found four different screen names he uses—‘nics,’ they’re called, like nickname. Edwin’s pretty active online but no more so than millions of other young men. He posts to a lot of music blogs and is in a few chat rooms. Some sexual but they’re pretty tame. And special interests—music mostly but movies and books too.” Dance shook her head. “Typically a stalker is more engaged in online activities than Edwin is—and a lot darker ones too.”

She continued to read. “Ah, may have something here. Looks like he went through a breakup last year. TJ found a reference to someone named Sally in one of the blogs. He was talking about your song, ‘You and Me.’”

“That’s right,” Kayleigh said. “It’s about a breakup.”

“The posting was in December.” Dance asked Kayleigh, “Not long before the stalking started, right?”

“Yes. January.”

“Trauma often precipitates stalking. Getting fired, a physical injury, death in the family. Or the end of a romantic relationship.” Dance nodded toward TJ’s email. “He said the song really meant a lot to him. It was a hard time in his life and he talked about the trouble he was having with Sally. He said it’s like you knew exactly what he was going through. Then a few days later he posted about a single you’d just released, ‘Near the Silver Mine.’ He said he’d been feeling bad because he’d lost his house when he was about that age too but his girlfriend told him to get over it.”

Kayleigh’s lips tightened. “He knew about my house?” She explained about how she’d loved the old house she’d grown up in, north of Fresno, but her father had sold it to a mining company when she was young. “I probably mentioned in an interview that I wished he hadn’t.”

She’d be thinking: Isn’t there anything private about my life anymore?

Dance flipped through TJ’s homework. “Again, though, nothing
threatening or troubling in any way.” She read some more. “One thing to keep in mind. He’s smart. For instance, he wrote, ‘Happy or sad, you speak the truth.’ The sentence is a bit of a dangler but look at how he set off the modifier ‘Happy or sad’ with a comma, which is correct, but a lot of people wouldn’t do that. His spelling and grammar are very good. Which tells me he’s in control. Very in control.”

“Is that bad?” Crystal Stanning asked.

“It means that if he’s the one who killed Bobby, he’s going to be covering up his tracks and planning out the stalking very carefully. He’s not likely to slip up.”

Madigan finished his ice cream and surveyed the paper cup to see if he should scrape the sides, Dance supposed. He pitched it away. “What’re you thinking about where we go from here?”

“First, we’ve got to keep him under surveillance.”

“Deputy Fuentes is doing that.”

“Where is Edwin now?”

“Seeing a movie. In the Rialto.”

Harutyun explained that this was an old movie theater in Fresno’s Tower District, an eclectic area of galleries, restaurants, tattoo parlors and shops.

His being at a movie didn’t surprise her. “Stalkers spend a lot of time in theaters and watching movies at home—the link between voyeurism and stalking is strong.”

“What about those prepaid mobiles from the drugstore in Burlingame?”

Madigan said, “Not traceable. They might’ve been destroyed or the perp’s taken the batteries out. Or who knows, maybe he just bought a bunch to keep us busy and he’s got another one here to make more calls.”

Dance then turned to Kayleigh. “Now, some basic stalker rules. You probably know them from Darthur Morgan and your lawyers but remember you have to have no contact with him at all. Nothing. Even threatening him or telling him to leave you alone gives him a high—any contact at all is positive to him. If he approaches don’t say anything, just walk away.”

“Okay. Fine with me.”

“And I want to know more about him. We need to find this former girlfriend. Sally.”

“Lopez, you handle that. Have her call Agent Dance.”

“Sure, Chief.”

The head detective then added, “We should identify other possible victims, don’t you think? Keep an eye on them. Who’d be at particular risk?”

Dance said, “Probably first is anybody he sees as a romantic rival.” To Kayleigh: “You and Bobby dated?”

Apparently this wasn’t public knowledge. Kayleigh blushed and Alicia turned to her with a hint of frown. Dance wasn’t much interested in the delicacies of disclosure. She lifted an eyebrow, tacitly repeating the question.

“Well, yes, a while ago. Just casually. It wasn’t a big deal. How’d you know? I wasn’t even performing then. It didn’t make the press.”

Because, Dance thought, when I saw you with Bobby yesterday I noticed a decrease in the angle of your shoulders when you were speaking, signifying relaxation and comfort. Bobby’s leaning forward slightly when he spoke to you, indicating that what he was saying was meant for you and you alone. A faint smile at the reference to the word “amplifier,” which had become a code word for some private joke between the two of you. The way his eyes dwelt on your face, the message abundantly clear that whatever had gone on between you two was not, to him, completely over.

Kinesics, in other words.

But what she said to Kayleigh was, “A hunch.”

Crystal Stanning said, “So anyone that Kayleigh ever dated or men she was real friendly with are at risk?”

“Yes, possibly, though women too. Stalkers are extremely jealous. Remember, they have a very skewed sense of reality—even casual friends could be perceived as threats.” Then she eyed the young singer again. “But you’re not seeing anyone now?”

“No.”

“Also, a stalker’s likely to target anybody who’s a threat to you, or even offended you. He’s taking real seriously his role as a protector; I could see that yesterday. Can you think of any enemies you might have that he’d know about?”

Kayleigh looked around. “Not really.”

Alicia said, “She’s a good girl. She doesn’t get into cat fights with other artists.”

Dance continued, “Well, keep in mind, he could also consider going
after critics who’d dissed you. Or fans who were critical of your work. Then, next, he could target anyone he saw as keeping you two apart.”

“Like Darthur?”

“Yes, him. But it could also be your lawyers.” She glanced at Alicia. “Or you. You seem very protective of her.”

The broad-shouldered woman shrugged. “
Somebody’s
got to be.”

A sentence with many possible implications.

“And it could also be us. The police. Truly obsessive stalkers have a different sense of right and wrong. In extreme obsession cases, the stalker’s murdering a policeman is no worse than killing a fly.”

“My family? The crew?”

“Generally, family and nonromantic friends are only at risk if they try to protect the object from the stalker, though we’re not dealing with hard-and-fast rules. Stalkers’re unpredictable. I talked to some of the crew about what they’d seen yesterday but I think I should interview all of them. Assess if they’re at risk.”

Or potential perps, Dance thought, but didn’t say aloud.

“The crew’s at the convention center now,” Kayleigh said, then added, “The band’s in Nashville still, finishing up some studio work for our new album. They won’t be here till Thursday or Friday.”

That was good news. Fewer potential victims to worry about. Fewer suspects too.

Dance added, “Finally, there’s the Hinckley scenario. Killing someone of some notoriety to impress Kayleigh.”

She reminded them that John Hinckley, Jr., was obsessed with Jodie Foster. “He figured that by assassinating Ronald Reagan he’d be linked forever to the actress.”

“And they are,” Harutyun observed. “In a sick way, he accomplished his goal.”

Madigan said, “I’ve talked to Edwin. You have too. He doesn’t seem like a psycho. How could he possibly think killing people is going to get him closer to Kayleigh?”

“Oh, he
doesn’t
think about it. Not on a conscious level. Even if Edwin seems functional on the surface, there’s more at work. Remember, it’s
his
reality, not ours.”

Madigan: “I’ve ordered a box on Kayleigh’s phone and the service provider’s security unit is on standby. And we’re still on those numbers of the
other mobiles he bought in Burlingame. So if he calls again from any of those phones or even powers ’em up we can get a car there fast.”

“Good.”

Harutyun said to Kayleigh, “Kathryn asked me to look into the verses of the song, the one that was played to you the other night.” He passed out copies to everyone in the room. “I’ve been trying to think of where he might be planning an attack but can’t come up with much.”

So he
had
taken her request seriously. She nodded her thanks.

Your Shadow

1. You walk out onstage and sing folks your songs.

You make them all smile. What could go wrong?

But soon you discover the job takes its toll,

And everyone’s wanting a piece of your soul.

Chorus:

When life is too much, just remember,

When you’re down on your luck, just remember,

I’m as close as a shadow, wherever you go.

As bad as things get, you’ve got to know,

That I’m with you … always with you.

Your shadow.

2. You sit by the river, wondering what you got wrong,

How many chances you’ve missed all along.

Like your troubles had somehow turned you to stone

and the water was whispering, why don’t you come home?