Just One Look (Page 83)

“Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t think he was that good a musician.”

Jimmy stood so suddenly that he startled Grace. She took a step back. She kept her eyes on him, still searching to make eye contact, as if that alone could keep him in place.

“Yeah, your husband was at the concert that night. I got him five tickets in the front pit. He brought some of his old band members with him. He even brought a couple backstage.”

He stopped then. They stood there. He looked off and for a moment Grace feared that she was losing him.

“Do you remember who they were?” she asked.

“The old band members?”

“Yes.”

“Two girls. One had this bright red hair.”

Sheila Lambert. “Was the other girl Geri Duncan?”

“I never knew her name.”

“How about Shane Alworth? Was he there?”

“Was that the guy on keyboard?”

“Yes.”

“Not backstage. I only saw Lawson and the two girls.”

He shut his eyes.

“What happened, Jimmy?”

His face sagged and he suddenly looked older. “I was pretty wasted. I could hear the crowd. Twenty thousand strong. They would chant my name. They would clap. Anything to get the concert started. But I could barely move. My manager came in. I told him I’d need more time. He left. I was alone. And then Lawson and those two chicks came into the room.”

Jimmy blinked and looked at Grace. “Is there a cafeteria in this place?”

“It’s closed.”

“I could use a cup of coffee.”

“Tough.”

Jimmy started pacing.

Grace asked, “What happened after they came in the room?”

“I don’t know how they got backstage. I never gave them passes. But all of a sudden Lawson comes up to me and is all ‘hey how’s it going?’ I was happy to see him, I guess. But then, I don’t know, something went really wrong.”

“What?”

“Lawson. He went crazy. I don’t know, he must have been higher than I was. He started pushing me, making threats. He shouted that I was a thief.”

“A thief?”

Jimmy nodded. “It was all nonsense. He said . . .” He finally stayed still and met her eyes. “He said I stole his song.”

“What song?”

“ ‘Pale Ink.’ ”

Grace could not move. The tremor started moving down her left side. There was a flutter in her chest.

“Lawson and that other guy, Alworth, wrote this song for Allaw called ‘Invisible Ink.’ That was pretty much the only similarity between the songs. That part of the title. You know the lyrics to ‘Pale Ink,’ right?”

She nodded. She didn’t even try to speak.

“ ‘Invisible Ink’ had a similar theme, I guess. Both about how fragile memory can be. But that was it. I told John that. But he was just out of his mind. Whatever I said just pissed him off more. He kept pushing me. One of the girls, she had this really dark hair, was egging him on too. She started saying they’d break my legs or something. I called for help. Lawson punched me. You remember the reports that I was injured in the melee?”

She nodded again.

“I wasn’t. It was your husband. He hit my jaw, and then he jumped me. I tried to push him off. He started shouting how he was going to kill me. It was, I don’t know, the whole thing was surreal. He said he was going to cut me up.”

The flutter expanded and grew cold. Grace was holding her breath. This couldn’t be. Please, this just couldn’t be.

“By now it was just so out of hand, one of the girls, the redhead, told him to calm down. It’s not worth it, she said. She pleaded with him to forget it. But he wasn’t listening. He just smiled at me and then . . . then he took out a knife.”

Grace shook her head.

“He said he was going to stab me in the heart. You remember how I said I was stoned out of my mind? Well, that sobered me up. You want to sober someone up? Threaten to stick a knife in their chest.” He went quiet again.

“What did you do?”

Had she spoken? Grace wasn’t sure. The voice sounded like hers, but it seemed as though it’d come from someplace else, someplace tinny and distant.

Jimmy’s face, lost in the memory, went slack. “I wasn’t going to just let him stab me. So I jumped him. He dropped the knife. We started wrestling. The girls were screaming now. They came over and tried to pull us apart. And then, when we were on the floor like that, I heard a gunshot.”

Grace was still shaking her head. Not Jack. Jack wasn’t there that night, no way, no chance at all. . . .

“It was so loud, you know. Like the gun was behind my ear or something. All hell broke loose then. There were screams. And then there were two, maybe three more shots. Not in the room. They were from far away. I heard more screams. Lawson stopped moving. There was blood on the floor. He’d been hit in the back. I pushed him off and then I saw that security guard, Gordon MacKenzie, still pointing his gun.”

Grace closed her eyes. “Wait a second. Are you telling me Gordon MacKenzie fired the first shot?”

Jimmy nodded. “He heard the commotion, heard me calling for help and . . .” Again his voice trailed off. “We just stared at each other for a second. The girls were screaming, but by now they were being drowned out by the crowd. That sound, I don’t know, people talk about the most terrible sound, like maybe it’s a wounded animal, but I’ve never heard anything that comes close to the sound of fear and panic. But you know that.”

She didn’t. The head trauma had wiped out the memory. But she nodded so that he’d keep talking.

“Anyway, MacKenzie stood there for a second, stunned. And then he just ran. The two girls grabbed Lawson and started dragging him out.” He shrugged. “You know the rest, Grace.”

She tried to take it all in. She tried to understand the implications, tried to fit it into her own reality. She had been standing yards away from all this, the other side of the stage. Jack. Her husband. He’d been right there. How could that be?

“No,” she said.

“No what?”

“No, I don’t know the rest, Jimmy.”

He said nothing.

“The story didn’t end there. Allaw had four members. I’ve been checking out the time line. Two months after the stampede someone hired a hit man to kill one of the members, Geri Duncan. My husband, the one who you say attacked you, ran overseas, shaved his beard, and started going by Jack. According to Shane Alworth’s mother, he’s overseas too, but I think she’s lying about that. Sheila Lambert, the redhead, changed her name. Her husband was recently murdered and she disappeared again.”