Double Time

Reagan started to put the folded piece of paper back in her purse, but she noticed her name written on the outside and it didn’t look familiar. She opened it and found a handwritten message inside.

You took what is mine, bitch. Don’t think you’ll get away with it.

She felt the blood drain from her face and the piece of paper tumbled from her slack grip.

“Reagan?” Trey asked.

She blinked hard and looked up at him.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Trey retrieved the piece of paper from her lap and read it. His brow furrowed with confusion. “What’s this?”

She snatched the note out of his hand and stuffed it into her purse. “Nothing,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

She headed to the bathroom with her cell phone in one hand. As soon as she was inside, she called Ethan. As usual, he answered on the first ring.

“Please don’t tell me you’re not going to be home tomorrow. I miss you like crazy.”

“I’ll be home. We’re already in New Mexico.”

“Okay, good. So what’s up?”

“I got another message. Well, the same message again.”

“Did you get the number this time? I never did get anything out of the phone company. Times like these I wish I was still on the force.”

“It wasn’t a text message,” she said. “It was a note in my purse.”

“In your purse? Reagan, that means this is someone close to you.”

“Don’t you think I realize that?” she yelled and realized how thin the walls were in this place.

“Who could it be? One of the band members? The crew?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know what it means. You took what’s mine. I haven’t taken anything from anyone.”

“It still sounds like a jealous ex-lover to me, Reagan. Maybe you should ask Trey if he’s dated any psychopaths.”

“Ha ha, Ethan. Will you be serious?”

“I am serious. Did you tell him about the last message?”

“No.”

“This one?”

“He saw it, but I played it down.”

“Maybe it’s a practical joke. One of the guys messing with you the way guys mess with each other. Maybe the joker didn’t realize how inappropriate it is.”

“Maybe,” Reagan said. Eric did have a strange sense of humor. Maybe he was behind it. It didn’t seem like something he’d do though. Put saran wrap over the toilet bowl, yes. Send threatening messages to his bandmate’s girlfriend, no.

“Well, stay close to Trey. Let him know you’re worried about it. Bring the note to me tomorrow and I’ll see if I can find any telling clues.”

“Thanks, Ethan.” Just talking to him made her feel safer.

“See you tomorrow.”

She hung up the phone and left the bathroom to find Trey standing just outside. “So what did Ethan say?” he asked.

Caught. Reagan swallowed and decided to take Ethan’s advice. “He said to tell you that I’m worried about this and that this isn’t the first time I’ve gotten this message since I started dating you.”

“What?”

“I got a text message a little over a week ago. Said the same thing.”

“Why didn’t you tell me someone was threatening you?”

“Because I wasn’t sure it was real. I can’t deny that it is now. That note had my name on it. It was in my purse. The message was exactly the same. Eric wouldn’t pull a prank like that, would he?”

Trey shook his head. “Not his style. It’s not funny.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that.”

“When did you get the last message?” Trey asked.

“The morning I called my father.” She hadn’t told him about that either. “Um, after your first concert in Topeka.”

Trey nodded. “I’ll make some calls in the morning. See if I can find out anything. We have no way of knowing for sure how long that note’s been in your purse.”

She took a deep breath and nodded. He stepped closer and hugged her. “I can protect you, you know. You don’t have to keep going to Ethan.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I don’t usually frighten this easily. Something about this sends chills down my spine.”

Chapter 19

The next afternoon, Reagan slipped into the backseat of Exodus End’s limo. The man inside resembled someone’s grand-father more than someone who had made a metal band like Exodus End superstars. Sam Baily was talking into his cell phone but looked up and smiled at Reagan warmly when she settled into the seat closest to the door.

“I’ll call you back. I have my work cut out for me here,” he said and disconnected.

What exactly did he mean by “work cut out for me”?

“So I take it you’re Reagan Elliot,” he said and reached across the console to shake her hand.

She was half-tempted to say, “who? I just wanted a limo ride,” in an attempt to break the ice, but she didn’t think this guy f**ked around.

“Yes, sir.”

“My assistant is dying to get her hands on you. She likes that girly sort of stuff. She’ll take you shopping for some decent clothes, get your hair fixed, help you with your makeup.” He tilted his head and assessed her more closely. She was five seconds from popping him in the mouth and telling him to go f**k himself. Who did he think he was?

Exodus End’s exalted manager, that’s who.

“How would you feel about getting breast implants?” he asked.

She was too stunned to answer at first, and when she finally could speak, the most she could muster was, “No.”

“The band would pay for it.”

She met his pale blue eyes steadily. “I’m not interested.”

“That’s too bad.” He opened a tan leather folio on his lap and wrote something down. He clicked his pen with finality and closed the folio again. What was he writing? Something about her? Had she totally blown it?

She looked down at her small br**sts. Would it be the end of the world if she got a little augmentation? No. But if she ever did get cosmetic surgery it would be because she wanted it, not because someone pressured her into it. “I just want to play guitar.”

“That’s fine. I thought you’d rather be an asset to the band instead of a liability, but we can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”