I found myself all the way at the far end of the plaza, behind and under the stage in a makeshift sort of room. Just beyond the perimeter of tarp someone had the good sense to drape all around to block the wind, the ground sloped. When a stiff breeze blew the tarp, I could see the sharp drop into Lake Erie. There was a table in the room with the remnants of a couple of party trays on it. Bread, luncheon meat, pickles. Someone had spilled a two-liter bottle of Coke, and it pooled on the table and drizzled to the floor.

Even as I stood there looking around, I heard the chirping noise again. It was coming from a phone that had been left atop the piano directly across from where I stood. A phone that was also a walkie-talkie. That wasn’t the only thing on the piano. There was a fat, black candle there, too, and a framed photograph of Damon. One I’d bet any money had been taken right off Belinda’s wall.

I had already made a move toward the piano when I heard a voice from somewhere out in the maze of jury-rigged hallways.

“How the fuck am I supposed to answer the damned thing when I can’t find it?”

When Gene Terry hurried into the little room, he found me with the picture of Damon in one hand and his cell phone in the other.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked.

I could have tried to come up with some bullshit story, but there really didn’t seem to be much point. Instead, I held up the phone for him to see.

“I think that’s actually my question. What the hell were you doing there? When the roadie called you to get over to the recording studio after the shooting, you were already there. I heard your phone.”

He yanked the phone out of my hand and shoved it into the pocket of his suit coat. “Yeah, and I’m the only one in America with a walkie-talkie.”

Was I discouraged by this little piece of logic? I was not. Because, see, there was still the photo of Damon to consider. Gene didn’t give me a chance to mention it.

“Are you done?” he asked in a way that said if I wasn’t before, I sure was now. “We’ve got a show to do and you have no business being back here.”

There was no use arguing the point. Except for the whole bit about truth and justice, of course. I was still clinging to the photograph, and I turned it around so that Gene could see what I could see.

“A ball. Like the sun. Shiny,” I said, pointing to the man just barely visible in the background of the picture. He was bald and his head…well, it looked like Belinda knew what she was talking about after all. His head looked like a shiny ball. “You were supposed to be in Pittsburgh that night.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Gene ripped the photo out of my hands and tossed it on the table with the band’s leftover dinner. “So I’m in some old picture of Damon. So what?”

“So maybe that overdose Damon took wasn’t accidental. Otherwise, I don’t think you would have lied about the trip to Pittsburgh. Damon was leaving the band and I’ll bet you were plenty pissed. Your gravy train was about to hit the skids. It all makes so much sense, I’m amazed I didn’t think of it sooner. Then again, Damon doesn’t know you’re a liar. He believes you were exactly where you said you were. If he suspected you weren’t in Pittsburgh, he would have said something to me about it.”

Just as I expected, the comment got a rise out of Gene. His eyes flew open, but I had to give credit where credit was due. He knew better than to lose his cool. He laughed. “What are you smoking, kid? No way you could have talked to Damon. He’s been dead since before you were born.”

“Dead, but not gone. And I’ve been talking to him. Don’t say it can’t be done,” I added quickly when I saw Gene was going to tell me I was nuts. “You know it can. You were all involved in black magic. That’s what Vinnie told me. Only I thought when he said all, he meant the band. But you’re as much a part of Mind at Large as any of the band members. You were just as involved as they were. My guess is that you knew Vinnie was channeling Damon’s songs, too. He said the thought of channeling terrified him. Maybe you’re the one who pushed him into doing it?”

I didn’t wait for Gene to answer my question. I didn’t have to. I could tell by the way his eyes narrowed the slightest bit that I had hit upon the truth. Considering that I was alone with a killer, it was insane to be jazzed, but I couldn’t help myself. The threads of this investigation had been dangling right in front of my eyes. I was finally able to gather them together—and maybe help Damon find some peace, too.

“You didn’t give a damn how he got them, Vinnie’s songs made you a fortune. But then he told you he wasn’t going to channel anymore. I’ll bet you were as mad as hell. Just like you were when Damon said he was quitting the band. That’s why you killed Vinnie. And it’s why you broke into my apartment. And Belinda’s. Damn!”

I could have kicked myself. “You knew you had to have something personal of Damon’s or you couldn’t channel him. You knew Belinda had visited Vinnie’s place. And you knew I was there, too. You thought one of us had Damon’s things, the stuff Vinnie used for channeling. That’s what you were looking for when you broke into my place. And here I thought it was my lousy ex. Don’t go there!” I warned him when I thought he might ask. No way I was going to get into a conversation about Joel.

“News flash, Gene, you were wasting your time. I had all the stuff, all right. I destroyed every last bit of it.”

“Then you’re as brain dead as Belinda.”

“Who’s not so brain dead after all.” For all I knew, this wasn’t true, but it didn’t hurt to let Gene think I had a backup plan. And a little corroboration when it came to my theory. “Sooner or later, Belinda’s going to remember what—and who—is in that photo of Damon. That’s why you knew you had to kill her. She’s already starting to put it together.” I let my gaze drift to Gene’s bald head. “She’s the one who told me about the shiny ball.”

“The bitch!”

Yeah, I was trying to get a rise out of Gene and maybe get him to confess in the bargain. I didn’t intend to send him over the edge. When he whirled toward the doorway with fire in his eyes, I knew he was hell-bent on finding Belinda. When he did, I knew there was nothing I could do to protect her.

“No!” I sprang forward and grabbed his arm, but as I might have mentioned, though Gene is short, he’s got a powerful build. He shook me off like a gnat.

I wasn’t going to let that stop me. I wrapped both my arms around one of his, and no way was I going to let go.

Of course, it’s the whole action and reaction thing. I held on tight. Gene tried to shake me off. Pretty soon, we were dancing around the room in a crazy sort of rhythm, knocking into the dinner table, banging into the piano. In the best of all possible scenarios, someone would have heard the scuffle, but no sooner had we started than the stage above us shook, and a guitar riff designed to make the audience scream cut through the air like a knife through butter. The crowd went wild, and I knew after that, nobody was going to hear me.

I kicked Gene in the shins. He biffed me in the shoulder. Hard.

His phone was in his pocket and I knew if I could get it, it wouldn’t matter if I held on to Gene or not. I could call 911 and have reinforcements here in a matter of minutes.

I loosened my hold on Gene.

Big mistake.

Because when I did, he grabbed one of the big metal party tray platters and smashed it over my head.

The last thing I remember is stars exploding behind my eyes.

Oh yeah, and hitting the floor like a rock.

Lizard scales and devil’s wings.

Bloody, spoiled soul.

I’ll leave you, love, in your heat, in your sweat.

Sated, gorged.

My black butterfly body,

Wet from the chrysalis.

I was dead and in rock and roll heaven.

Or was it hell?

I wasn’t sure, I only knew the familiar lyrics pounded through my head along with the driving beat of Alistair’s drums and the wail of Mighty Mike’s guitar. For a guy who was mostly blind drunk, he sure could rock.

If all this sounds absurd and a little disjointed, it’s no wonder. My head felt as if it was going to explode.

I groaned and opened my eyes. That one, crystal moment of clarity when I realized I wasn’t dead should have cheered me right up. Except that was exactly when I also realized that I couldn’t move my arms or my legs. There was heavy cabling wrapped around me. And Gene Terry was bent over me.

“Good, you’re awake.” Like I weighed nothing (and before there are any comments about my weight or my dress size, let me just set this straight: I am perfectly proportioned and a size six, but even I know I don’t weigh nothing), he lifted me and threw me over his shoulder like a sack. When he carried me to the tarp wall, he barely staggered. “It’ll be more fun thinking of you wide awake when this happens.”

This? Happens?

I didn’t like the sound of that, and I let him know it. I kicked and I squirmed, but with my arms pinned to my sides and my legs tied together, it was a futile effort at best.

Which didn’t keep me from kicking and squirming more when he brushed aside the tarp and I got a bird’s-eye view of the lake, some twenty feet below.

“Maybe this will teach you to keep your mouth shut,” he said, and he tossed me into the air.

He was wrong.

I didn’t keep my mouth shut. In fact, I screamed my head off.

Too bad Mind at Large was playing so loud nobody could hear me or the splash I made when I hit the water.

Water? Damn!

My hair was going to look like hell.

 

A funny thing happens when you know you’re going to die. You get sort of comfortable with the idea and a kind of peacefulness settles over you.

For maybe about two seconds.

Then the panic kicks in and the struggling starts.

That’s pretty much what I did, struggle and panic, not necessarily in that order.

I cursed myself for wasting my breath on screaming now that I needed every bit of air left in my lungs. I kicked my legs and twisted my body in an attempt to bob to the surface, but instead of rising, the weight of the cabling carried me down. Above me, the bright lights of the Rock Hall glimmered on the water like diamonds. The music from the concert was muffled and distorted. Too bad. I recognized one of Damon’s old songs. It would have been nice if I could enjoy it since it was the last thing I’d ever hear.

My lungs burned. My throat tightened. I needed air, and I needed it badly.

I drifted farther down into the murky water.

And for the second time in just a couple of minutes, I figured I was already dead.

That would explain the splash I heard and the shadow I saw come between me and the sparkling lights on the surface. It was the only thing that made any sense when I saw a figure slip up next to me. It was dressed in white, and the brightness hurt my eyes. I closed them just as the figure grabbed me.

I don’t know how long it took for us to break the surface of the water, I only knew that when we did, my hair was in my eyes and my lungs felt as if they were going to pop. I hauled in a breath and got a mouthful of water along with it, and whoever had ahold of me held on a little tighter when I choked and coughed and thrashed around. A short while later, I was lifted onto dry land.

“Ambulance is here!” I heard someone shout. “Give us room to work.”

“I will. I just want to make sure…” A gentle hand swiped my wet hair out of my eyes, and the next thing I knew, Quinn Harrison was looking down at me. He was wearing a white dress shirt and was soaked to the skin.

“You—” I hoped he didn’t hold it against me that I barfed up a stomach full of lake water, and I guess he didn’t because when the paramedics put me on a stretcher, Quinn was still at my side. It hurt to talk, but I had to know. I gulped in a couple more precious breaths. “How—”

Somebody draped a blanket over his shoulders, and Quinn sank into the warmth and sighed. “Good thing my timing was right. I had just arrived to arrest Gene Terry when I saw him toss you in the lake.”

“Arrest?” The paramedics hurried me over to a waiting ambulance, and my voice bumped along. “How did you—”

“He got careless. His fingerprints were at the warehouse.”

Even in my weakened condition, I recognized his mistake. “He was there,” I said, and when Quinn climbed into the ambulance with me and the paramedics slammed the doors, I was able to continue my argument. “Of course…fingerprints there…Gene was at warehouse. You…you saw him.”

“He was at the warehouse, all right.” When the ambulance siren split the air, Quinn bent closer. He rested a hand on my forehead. “But not up on the third floor.”

 

I refused to stay at the hospital overnight. I was fine, considering, and besides, I couldn’t just lie around, not when I was still so worried about Damon. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been in terrible pain and now I knew why: Gene Terry was channeling him. Quinn had assured me that Gene was behind bars.

So where did that leave Damon?

In my weakened state, I figured that since I couldn’t drive myself home (no car, after all, and there was the whole just-been-nearly-murdered thing), Quinn would play chauffeur. But of course, assuming all this meant I was underestimating Quinn. And I should have known better than to do that.

We weren’t at the hospital for five minutes before he called Ella, and once he did, well, there was no way she was going to let anyone else take care of me.

She somehow managed to find a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, and a pair of sneakers that were my size, and she insisted on driving me home. I was not so easily put off. I played the pity card and got her to take me to Garden View instead.

“You need to be home in bed, Pepper,” she said as we cruised through the employee entrance. Ella’s three daughters were in the backseat, and they were either so blown away by their Mind at Large experience (I was doubting this), or so shocked by all that had happened to me and how their evening had been cut short by an attempted murder and a visit to the ER, they were as quiet as mice. “I don’t understand why you’d want to stop at the office.”

“Not the office.” When we came to a turn, I pointed her in the direction of the valley. “I need to go to Damon Curtis’s grave.”

She figured I was in shock. Or maybe that my late-night swim had done damage to my brain. “Damon isn’t part of the group anymore, so if you’re looking to pay him some sort of tribute—”

“I’m not.”

“And you can always go in the morning.”

“I can’t.”

“But—”

Lucky for me Ella is the compassionate type. She’s also a little bit of a sucker. She couldn’t argue with a woman who’d nearly been killed, and when I insisted that she park her car in a spot that would make it impossible for her to see Damon’s grave, she didn’t protest.

I’d been hit on the head, dumped in the lake, and nearly drowned, after all.

I deserved some concessions, no matter how crazy they seemed.

Safely on my own, I inched my way through the dark to Damon’s grave. Fortunately, a couple of Belinda’s candles flickered there. Their fluttering light made it possible for me to see Damon. He was lying on the flat stone behind his marker, gasping for breath. The entire left side of his body was so faded, I couldn’t see it.

“Are you all right?” It was a stupid question, but if there was one thing I’d learned in the private eye business, it was that shock and worry often make people ask stupid questions. I hurried to his side. “You’re in pain.”

“No.” When he saw me, he smiled. “Not anymore. I was. Gene’s talent for channeling wasn’t nearly as good as Vinnie’s. When he did it, he did it wrong.”

“And he caused you to disappear even more.” The entire left side of Damon’s body was gone, and realizing it, my throat clogged. It was as painful as when I was sinking in the lake and couldn’t breathe. “What’s going to happen now?” I asked him.

Damon sat up. “It’s time for me to go.”

I swallowed hard. It hurt. “You can’t.”

“Because you’ll miss me?”

“Because I love you.” Finally saying it made me feel better. I sat on the stone next to him, and for a couple of long minutes, I thought of everything that had happened and all it meant. “I guess that’s exactly why I have to let you go, isn’t it?” I asked him.

Damon’s smile glittered at me through the darkness. “It never would have worked out between us,” he said.

“It might have.” I shrugged. “If you weren’t dead.”

“Yeah.” His smile was sad. “But even that can’t change what we had while we had it. It can’t change the fact that you’re brave and you’re beautiful. Or that you’ll take everything you learned from our relationship and be a better, stronger woman for it. Come on, little girl.” His voice teased me into looking his way. When I did, I saw him flicker, not like he had when Vinnie or Gene was channeling him, but softly, like the light of a candle flame.

“Crave the possibilities,” he said, and when he did, his voice was muffled and low, like it came from far, far away. “Laugh and run.” He flickered and faded softly.

“Naked in verdant meadows.” By this time, I couldn’t see him at all. I only heard his voice. It was all around me, and it tangled around my heart. I knew it would stay there forever.

“Drunk with your power. Open to me. Give your body. Your soul. Your love. Your all.”