“How was she supposed to reject anonymous letters?”
“Is it possible he was communicating with her in a different way at first? Maybe for a longer period of time?”
“She has a few creepers I’ve been keeping my eye on who seem to come to a lot of her shows.” I pull up some of the screenshots I’ve taken and show him.
He raises his eyebrows again. “You’re stalking her stalkers? That’s…interesting.”
“I was worried about her. For good reason. Obviously.”
He taps his fingers against his thigh. “Indulge me for a second. All the letters were dropped off for her, correct?”
“As far as I know, yes.” Thank fuck he’s focusing on relevant topics.
“Who could have left the letters? Not why. Just who had the opportunity?”
“Well, I wasn’t around for the first couple of letters, so I don’t know about them. I’d have to assume her band, Greg, and anyone involved with the tour. From what I understand, the first one was dropped off at the venue’s ticket window, and Greg brought it to Shelby’s room.”
“Interesting.” He writes a few words in his notepad.
“The most recent one was found on the windshield of the band’s van at their hotel. So that doesn’t narrow the pool of candidates. Everyone involved with the tour stayed there. Shelby and I stayed somewhere else.”
“How close is she to her band?”
“Not that close. I think they were hired just for the tour. Except for Trent. They go way back.”
“Romantic relationship?”
“Not that I know of.”
“How does he feel about you muscling your way into her life?”
Clearly, he’s trying to taunt me, but I’m not falling for it. I shrug. Since I haven’t spared a single fuck about Trent’s thoughts on my relationship with Shelby, there isn’t much to say. “You’d have to ask him.”
Jackson stares at me, as if waiting for a more complete answer.
“We get along but mostly stay out of each other’s way.” I let out an irritated sigh. “Like I said, I don’t know him that well.”
“What about the manager?”
“Except for not taking the letters seriously from the beginning, he’s all right. For real, Shelby didn’t take the letters seriously until recently either. She just told me about them yesterday.”
“Manager seems to have it in his head that this can be kept quiet for now.” He gestures to the walls around us. “But word will spread fast. I would like our investigation to remain under wraps for as long as possible. Otherwise, people will call with bullshit ‘tips’ and slow us down.”
“Okay…and your point?”
“Stay away from any press.”
I snort. “You don’t have to worry about that with me.”
“What about the other band on the tour?”
“Shelby hasn’t had much interaction with them that I know of. She says they keep to themselves.”
“What about Dawson Roads? How does he feel about a hot, new young thing stealing his thunder?”
If Dawson played any part in this, he’s a dead man walking. “I haven’t gotten that impression from him at all. She’s the opening act. Seats weren’t even filled when she was on stage a few weeks ago. If anything, he’s helped her out by having her perform with him during his set. One of the nights, he came out to do a song with her during her time slot. It helped.” I swallow hard, my gaze flicking in the direction of the stage. “Tonight was the most packed it’s been during her set.”
I should’ve been waiting for her when she got offstage. Not fucking around with my stupid surveillance experiment.
His disinterested expression says he doesn’t give a shit about Shelby’s audience size. “Is it possible Mr. Roads has a romantic interest in Shelby?”
“I wondered that at first,” I answer honestly. “Shelby kind of probed him about why he wanted her to perform with him one night. He admitted it was mostly business but a little personal.”
His shrewd eyes narrow. “Explain.”
“Guess there’s a woman he broke up with recently. Another country singer. The song he and Shelby performed a few times was one he recorded with his ex.”
“So, singing it with another woman was his ‘fuck you’ to this ex-girlfriend?”
“He didn’t put it that way, but yeah, probably. You’ll have to ask him for details.”
“Oh, I will. What’s her name?”
“Shit.” I run my hands through my hair. “Glenna something. Once Dawson admitted that was one of the reasons, Shelby felt bad. She’s new to the business and was worried she was making an enemy of a woman she’s never even met.”
Under his breath, the agent lets out a distracted “hmmm” noise as he writes all that down.
“Dawson’s the one who assigned Bane to watch her when the record company wouldn’t hire security,” I point out.
“You seem to have a positive comment about everyone, Mr. Randall.”
There’s something I’ve never been accused of before. “That wasn’t really positive or negative.”
“You realize it’s possible one of these people was involved, right?”
“No shit,” I growl. “I’m trying to give you whatever information I have so you’re not wasting time chasing your tail.”
“All right, moving along. This guy—Bane—has been watching her. What did Shelby think of him?”
“She thought he was nice. He seemed to keep an eye on her.” My expression turns sour. “Until tonight, when it really mattered.”
“What was his excuse for leaving?”
“He said something about a fire on Dawson’s bus.”
“Convenient how that happened,” he mutters.
Isn’t it, though?
“Made for a nice distraction,” he adds. “I still need to talk to the fire department and obtain more details.”
“Yeah, don’t waste too much time on that. Focus on finding Shelby.”
He glares at me. “What’s her family situation?”
Lynn may be an overbearing mom trying her hardest to push me out of Shelby’s life, but I doubt that information is relevant, so there’s no point painting her in a bad light. “Her mom’s in Texas. Works as a waitress. Shelby’s dad walked out on ’em years ago. She and her mom are pretty close.”
“Greg doesn’t want to inform the mother yet, but we’ll have to.”
“I’ll do it.” I’m not looking forward to that conversation. But the news has to be better coming from me rather than a stranger.
He scribbles in the notebook again. “She have any contact with her dad?”
“No.”
“No? Not even with her getting famous?”
I snort out a sad laugh. “No. She assumes he’ll pop up eventually, wanting some cash, and is looking forward to telling him to fuck off.”
“Spirited girl.”
“Yes, she is.”
“That’s good,” he says quietly.
I swallow hard, considering what he’s implying.