Still no Ms. Daly. Minor miracle.
Shooting a quick apologetic glance at Cooper—who remained standing, fists under his arms—I said the rest of it as quickly as possible. Using my pass, playing on stage, hearing the weird feedback sound and that sensation of being watched. Then going backstage to possibly confront whomever was there until my terror drove me out.
What I didn’t mention? The call from my ex. Destroying private property while I was freaked out was bad enough. Reminding everyone yet again about my disastrous taste in men seemed like another nail in my coffin.
Besides, he wasn’t involved. He couldn’t be. We’d been broken up for years. I was sure he didn’t give a shit what I was doing now.
Then why did he call you in the middle of the night?
He hadn’t left a voicemail. I’d checked. But he’d called, because I’d checked the call log again today just in case I’d been hallucinating last night.
Nope. Still there. And when things calmed down and I knew just how badly my life had gone to pieces this morning, I would decide how I was going to deal with him.
But much as I hated it, I would have to tell my bandmates. Probably before this meeting was over.
“That’s why you had my sticks.” Cooper’s tone held none of the rancor that it had contained when he’d spoken to Noah. “To defend yourself.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’d gathered as much, but that look on your face… You were afraid for your life.”
There was no denying it. “Yeah.” I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants. “It was a dumb thing to do. Just because I’ve done it before and it was fine doesn’t mean everything is the same now. It isn’t. Plus, I’m jumpy as fuck,” I let out a harsh laugh, “so I had no business doing that. I’m sorry, Noah.”
“Fuck that. You don’t have to apologize to him. For all our supposed security, where was he last night? Wasn’t with you, wasn’t watching your place. Such fancy-ass security, huh, Jordan?”
“You know the rules when we’re off tour. But thanks to Ms. Daly, that is going to be changing,” Donovan said before Noah could reply.
I shut my eyes, wishing I could vanish. Just disappear from this room.
“Not entirely due to you, Teagan,” Donovan added, his voice softening. “You’re hardly the only one of your band members to do something ill-advised without the benefit of security.”
Jamie held up a hand. “In my defense, I didn’t mean to kidnap that fan. It just seemed like the quickest way to diffuse the situation.”
Lindsey covered her eyes with her hand and peeked out between her fingers. “Kidnapped? Are you serious?”
“He’s fine,” Jamie insisted. “He wanted to play a little Stockholm syndrome but I told him I wasn’t into his kinky games.” She nibbled delicately on the edge of her pinky nail. “At least not with him.”
“This is all a joke to you, isn’t it?” Noah shook his head. “All of you.” His gaze touched on each of us in turn. “Until someone gets seriously hurt. Or could have been hurt. Like this morning.”
“At the club?” Cooper demanded.
Noah said nothing.
“Or at her home. Is that what you’re saying?” Cooper’s jaw worked. “And if that fire was intentionally set, thank God Teagan wasn’t there.”
Five
Somehow I resisted the urge to cover my face with my hands.
First, I’d thought someone was messing with me at the club. Or at the very least not letting on they knew I was there. But maybe everything was so much more sinister.
Oz sat up straighter. “What fucking fire?”
Cooper started to tell him, but I shook my head and he let me fill the others in. Jamie and Lindsey seemed to know more than the guys, but they were still surprised to find out how bad the fire had been.
Now I just needed to know the extent of the damage—and what Noah had been insinuating.
“What do you know?” I asked quietly, focusing on Noah. “Please.”
He let out a breath and consulted the clipboard he held at his hip. “They’re still processing the scene. There’s a lot of water damage, but the fire appeared to be located primarily in the front of the house. Living area, kitchen, front hall. Pockets of it elsewhere.”
“What about her bedroom? Her clothes and other stuff?”
“They’re still processing the scene,” Noah repeated to Cooper. “In a few days, we should know more.” He lowered the clipboard. “Do you smoke, Teagan?”
“What? No. Why?”
“They found a cigarette?” Cooper asked.
Noah didn’t answer, but his question said plenty.
Cooper shoved the chair hard against the table. “So, tell me again how Teagan would’ve been safer staying in her place last night? It’s a damn good thing she wasn’t there.”
“I’m inclined to agree.” Lila folded her hands over ubiquitous iPad. “Even if I wish you hadn’t gone out alone, it turned out to be fortuitous, regrettable damage aside. Now we have to figure out who did this and if it was an isolated event.” Her attention moved to Donovan. “Or part of the whole.”
“Maybe we’d be able to help you figure that out if you’d tell us what exactly is happening.” Jamie flicked her thumb against her fingers. “So far, we’ve heard about a letter and various bogeymen who may or may not be lurking in the shadows.”
“If we knew how far the threat went, the people responsible would be in custody.” Noah’s tone brooked no arguments. “William Scotsman was the one we originally held responsible for the murder of Randy Pruitt. We also believed at one time Teagan’s brownstone had been broken into by her ex-boyfriend. Now this is a second occurrence at that residence. Scotsman is dead. So, any theories, Ms. DuCaine?”
“Broken into?” Cooper stared at me. “When?”
His frustration and worry hit me square in the chest. “Before I joined the band,” I said quickly. “It wasn’t that bad…” I
