dealings.
“The end occurred over two years ago, when an onstage clash, centered on O’Conner, who’d become increasingly difficult to work with, walked off and quit. The same night, a band member made the discovery of pornographic paraphilia on Holt’s computer. During the porn investigation, the authorities also discovered a large amount of cannabis in his possession. Those findings led to Holt’s arrest.
“After he was charged and booked, the remaining participants stood up and fired him, something they claimed they’d wanted to do for many years. The band tried to carry on but found no success. Their time was over.”
Stephanie lifted her head from the article. “Nice guy.”
“Seriously.” Darla bent farther over her PC. “Turn the computer so I can see his picture.”
Stephanie angled the laptop toward Darla. “Why? He’s a creep and certainly nothing to look at.”
“I’m curious. It occurred to me when you were reading, that this guy may hold some kind of resentment over the band. Drake might have been the one who fired him.”
“You’re thinking Dugan Holt escaped from prison in Scotland and managed to sneak into the U.S., and he killed Drake over a personal vendetta?”
“Stranger things have happened.”
“Did you get a good look at the guy?”
“No.” Darla fell back against the sofa. “He was dressed in dark clothing, and his head was covered with a motorcycle helmet.”
“If you couldn’t distinguish the guy’s face, how is viewing this photo going to help?”
“The police asked me about height or build, but I can’t recall anything specific. Maybe an image might jar something from my memory.” Darla shook her head as she viewed the picture. “This guy appears heavier. The man that rammed into me was definitely muscular, though I guess that could change.”
“Right. Anyone can lose weight and firm up.” Stephanie’s voice sounded cautious. “What happened after he ran into you?”
“He hurried underneath the deck, hopped on a motorcycle, and sped away.”
“Were you able to spot anything unusual about the bike?”
“Just the color, which was black. I believe it was one those racing types where the rider has to hunch over. His helmet was a star-trooper meets oversized ant-man. Sinister looking.”
“It may have been custom made.”
“I’m not familiar enough to even make a guess. The only thing I know for sure is the scary life-sized action figure shoved me as he escaped.”
Stephanie’s eyes widened as she gasped loudly. A hand flew to her chest.
“Besides the obvious, what’s wrong?”
“You’re not going to believe this. When Blaine and I were walking to the bar, I swore that ant-trooper passed us on a dark motorcycle. He disappeared into a garage before I got a better look.”
“In this area?”
“Yeah. I can’t remember exactly where it’s located, but the home was for sure in this neighborhood.”
Darla stared at Stephanie. “So you’re saying the killer lives nearby.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Chapter 6
Eric tugged his jacket closer to guard against the ocean’s sharp breeze. He moved relatively normal for someone who’d taken huge sucker-punch. It’d been stupid of him to choose this route when the street seemed a lot more sensible. And it would have saved him from muddying up another pair of shoes.
Except being close to the water made him feel better. So instead of cutting through and heading home by way of asphalt, he continued his hike down the beach. A surge of fury tightened in his chest and once again he resisted the urge to smash something, an impulse he’d fought since he’d left Finn’s. After many deep pants, he swallowed hard and relaxed his rage.
He touched his shirt pocket. Shit. He’d run out of cigarettes hours ago. This newest dilemma seemed to invoke a short-term memory loss, and he’d forgotten he chain-smoked an entire pack at Finn’s. He was surprised he could breathe after inhaling
“The end occurred over two years ago, when an onstage clash, centered on O’Conner, who’d become increasingly difficult to work with, walked off and quit. The same night, a band member made the discovery of pornographic paraphilia on Holt’s computer. During the porn investigation, the authorities also discovered a large amount of cannabis in his possession. Those findings led to Holt’s arrest.
“After he was charged and booked, the remaining participants stood up and fired him, something they claimed they’d wanted to do for many years. The band tried to carry on but found no success. Their time was over.”
Stephanie lifted her head from the article. “Nice guy.”
“Seriously.” Darla bent farther over her PC. “Turn the computer so I can see his picture.”
Stephanie angled the laptop toward Darla. “Why? He’s a creep and certainly nothing to look at.”
“I’m curious. It occurred to me when you were reading, that this guy may hold some kind of resentment over the band. Drake might have been the one who fired him.”
“You’re thinking Dugan Holt escaped from prison in Scotland and managed to sneak into the U.S., and he killed Drake over a personal vendetta?”
“Stranger things have happened.”
“Did you get a good look at the guy?”
“No.” Darla fell back against the sofa. “He was dressed in dark clothing, and his head was covered with a motorcycle helmet.”
“If you couldn’t distinguish the guy’s face, how is viewing this photo going to help?”
“The police asked me about height or build, but I can’t recall anything specific. Maybe an image might jar something from my memory.” Darla shook her head as she viewed the picture. “This guy appears heavier. The man that rammed into me was definitely muscular, though I guess that could change.”
“Right. Anyone can lose weight and firm up.” Stephanie’s voice sounded cautious. “What happened after he ran into you?”
“He hurried underneath the deck, hopped on a motorcycle, and sped away.”
“Were you able to spot anything unusual about the bike?”
“Just the color, which was black. I believe it was one those racing types where the rider has to hunch over. His helmet was a star-trooper meets oversized ant-man. Sinister looking.”
“It may have been custom made.”
“I’m not familiar enough to even make a guess. The only thing I know for sure is the scary life-sized action figure shoved me as he escaped.”
Stephanie’s eyes widened as she gasped loudly. A hand flew to her chest.
“Besides the obvious, what’s wrong?”
“You’re not going to believe this. When Blaine and I were walking to the bar, I swore that ant-trooper passed us on a dark motorcycle. He disappeared into a garage before I got a better look.”
“In this area?”
“Yeah. I can’t remember exactly where it’s located, but the home was for sure in this neighborhood.”
Darla stared at Stephanie. “So you’re saying the killer lives nearby.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Chapter 6
Eric tugged his jacket closer to guard against the ocean’s sharp breeze. He moved relatively normal for someone who’d taken huge sucker-punch. It’d been stupid of him to choose this route when the street seemed a lot more sensible. And it would have saved him from muddying up another pair of shoes.
Except being close to the water made him feel better. So instead of cutting through and heading home by way of asphalt, he continued his hike down the beach. A surge of fury tightened in his chest and once again he resisted the urge to smash something, an impulse he’d fought since he’d left Finn’s. After many deep pants, he swallowed hard and relaxed his rage.
He touched his shirt pocket. Shit. He’d run out of cigarettes hours ago. This newest dilemma seemed to invoke a short-term memory loss, and he’d forgotten he chain-smoked an entire pack at Finn’s. He was surprised he could breathe after inhaling
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