She stood with the others in the wings, just breathing, as the MC announced safe paths out, as crowds of people began to leave from the floor, from the balconies.
Chase was right next to her; she had a feeling he wouldn’t be leaving her.
Justin was nowhere to be seen.
Neither was his wife, nor the man who had been with her.
She looked at Chase, but he evidently didn’t intend to say anything at that moment, other than to join in the happy banter that was going around, everyone congratulating each other on the success of the show.
Andy Wellington was not backstage.
The teenage boys were, and a few other special guests. A few reporters, a few photographers, but all of them gleaning and snapping what they could.
And finally, Chase whispered to her, “Let’s escape to a dressing room!”
She nodded, feeling his arm around her, leading her.
But a man with a recorder stopped them.
“Ferguson and McCoy, together again!” he said.
Chase smiled and looked at Sky. “Were we ever really apart?” he asked.
“Aw, man, but now...will you two be continuing with the band?” the reporter asked.
“Oh, well, the band...the main members of Skyhawk were friends before they were the band—our families have been friends. We’ve been friends. I’m sure we will be playing together again. When, where and how often, well, that will remain to be seen.”
“Skylar, you work with kids—”
“Kids and music,” she said, glancing up at Chase.
She wanted to talk to him alone!
“Okay, Chase, so, we understand that you’ve been working in a number of labs, that you’ve gotten into forensic sciences. Will that continue into your future?”
Chase laughed easily. “Right now, our future is getting home—we have a new dog! So, hey, thank you, thanks so much for your interest, but...”
“We’re just dead tired!” Sky said.
She winced inwardly, wishing she hadn’t used the word dead.
Chase was already leading her away. “Thank you! Thank you so much for your interest in Skyhawk!”
He managed to get her to one of the dressing rooms, pushing the door open and then leaning against it, shaking his head.
“Chase, what’s going on?” she asked.
“Wellington is a good man and good at what he does. He had agents with Justin’s family—and with Drew Carter’s—before we were halfway through the first set. Now...he’s got people trying to get the place cleared out while following whoever goes for the money. We need to just sit tight for a minute and wait—”
His phone buzzed, and he looked at it quickly. “They’ve got something. Stay here, don’t move. Keep the door locked. Don’t answer it to anyone—anyone—but me.”
“Chase, I—”
“Please, Sky, I’m begging you, just listen to me right now.”
She nodded.
He slipped out. She locked the door.
And she knew that every second would seem like an hour until he returned.
Chapter Nine
The houses were covered; agents were waiting. Justin was safe, Julia was safe...
But something had happened. What should have been an easy and clear operation had changed when the lackey picking up the funds Justin had left managed to sense the agents about to nab him. The place had been almost clear, but a woman with a teenage girl had been just exiting when the man doing the pickup had grabbed her and the kid. He threatened to throw them off the balcony, and law enforcement had backed off, giving him time for an agile leap down to the sound booth, onto the floor and up again onto the stage and into the wings.
He was back there now, joining the friends, reporters and others who grouped backstage after a performance.
Chase sped through the wings, seeking anyone who matched the poor description that they had so far. White, medium height, medium build, brown hair.
And, it seemed, they were hiring their lackeys from the ranks of acrobats—he should have broken a leg attempting his escape route.
But he had made it. And in the arena where there were still a few people milling about, the agents had refrained from firing so they wouldn’t hit an innocent or worse, create a panic that would allow the perpetrator even greater leeway.
Chase stepped from the dressing room just in time to see the door to the performers’ parking lot begin to swing closed.
He took off, slamming it back open, racing into the back.
