ONE: 8:37 PM

10/15 8:37 PM - Alabama

 

 

He paced the blessedly empty room and went through the same warm up he'd used since he’d learned that his twenties meant more than ripping his voice apart for the masses. There wasn’t much alone time when you were on the road, but he required this one allowance.

Ignoring the light tapping at the door, he continued his regimen. If it made him a diva, then so be it—he didn’t give this time up for anyone. He needed the hour before a show to get his head on straight and push everything else away. The fans, the PR, the band, even his own over-active brain. Sometimes it took the entire hour to remember that it was the music he loved, and what he did this for. Sometimes it was just the quiet he needed.

Another knock and he cracked his knuckle. “What?”

The door opened and Matt peeked in, his eyes serious and unapologetic. “I know, I know, but it’s important.”

“Are the kids okay?”

“No, it’s not the kids, or Dot.”

Relief chased resentment. “Then handle it.”

Matt tossed him a phone he hadn’t seen in years and his stomach dropped out. It was his old Blackberry, before the iPhone had become an extension of his life. But it had one purpose. “You told me if this thing ever beeped you needed to be told, no matter what time.”

“Yeah, sorry. Thanks.” He didn’t even notice the door closing as he slowly sat down. It had been months since he’d even thought of her—of the shattered blue eyes that had echoed more pain than any woman he’d ever known. Memories of the one woman and the one day that had punched through the self-pity that had plagued him for the better part of eight months.

Twenty-four hours had changed his life, and his outlook on a lot of things. Twelve days of recovery and a lifetime of what-ifs haunted him when he allowed them to. Being driven and focused helped to block out Cameron Blaise, but like the river next to his house, all it took was one good hard rain to flood with memories.

He thumbed through the familiar functions and opened a text message he’d dreaded for nearly two years.

**he’s been spotted and verified**

He dialed the one number in the contacts. It was quarter to nine on a Friday night, but a cool female voice answered. “Bruce Coltrane Investigations, may I help you?”

“Mr. Coltrane, please.”

“Who may I say is calling?”

“Jon Bon Jovi.”

Swift and business-like, Bruce’s assistant, Jen, was his best asset. He’d tried to lure her away to run his staff, but she was damn loyal. Her voice warmed a little, but there was no chit-chat. “He’s been expecting your call Mr. Bon Jovi, one moment."

He couldn't stop himself. "I'll double your salary if you jump on a plane right now and run my organization."

"Mr. Coltrane will pick up in just a moment." As always, she never said no, just kept up that swift efficiency, but whenever he offered, he could hear the smile in her voice.

Not even a moment later, Bruce’s no-nonsense voice came over the line. “You’re quick.”

“I’ve been dreading that text for years, Coltrane. Are you sure?”
"I wish I wasn't. I used to love taking your money for this easy job, Jon. I think it just got complicated."

He'd had Bruce monitoring the small town that he'd settled Cam in after that night. And as thorough as Bruce was, he was right. Keeping an eye on Cam had been easy. He received a weekly report for the first six months after she'd settled in Logan, Maine. She kept to herself, worked out of the house, and shopped once a month over forty minutes away. Even after she'd thought she was free, she was careful. Piece of fuck had done a number on her.

Rolling his shoulder with the memory of the crack and pop of a dislocated shoulder thanks to one Lucas Banyon, he sighed. He'd only had a taste, and it still resonated. "Well, shit."

"One of my cop buddies in Surry gave me a call. He moonlights for me on the odd job," Bruce explained. "In fact, he was familiar with Ms. Blaise. He usually does a drive by for me when my regular guy is unavailable."

Impatient, he kneaded his tricep muscle. "Okay."

"Wednesday, someone came in all affable, saying he was a cop from Virginia, looking for a woman that had been on the run for a few years. He had a picture of Cameron."

"What the hell?" Jon fisted his hand into his hair, his fingers gripping his neck as he leaned forward. 

"It gets better. He gave some story that she was a grifter with a few outstanding warrants. And the warrants were legit. Thankfully they were under her real name, not the one she's using now."

"Jesus." Jon stood and paced. "This cop in Surry didn't let on about Cam, right?"

"No, he's worked with relocating battered wives for a long time. He knows the drill."

Relief eased the bands around his chest. Thank sweet God.

"But, the guy that came in, has the same build as Banyon, and has credentials as a Richmond cop. This guy's name is LT Morrison. The thing is, this cop didn't exist before 2008. Oh he's got a good cover, one of the best I've seen, but I don't buy it."

Jon didn't either. Son of a bitch. Nothing was that neat, and nothing was easy when it came to Lucas. How easy would it have been to get a favor from the rich and the affluent in Manhattan? Hell, he only had to promise a picture and a smile to get money from half the corporate sponsers for Project HOME. He could only imagine what a freaking cop could do. 

"And the last nail was that Banyon's grandfather on his mother's side was a Morrison."

His bull shit meter pinged. "Keep me updated through the regular email, send me as much as you can. I'm going to have to go to Cam with this."

"I kind of figured that's how you'd feel. I'll put Todd, the cop from Surry, on detail until you get into Logan. He's the only one that knows his new face. He's going to try and get a picture to me."

A knock on his door let him know it was showtime. "I'll talk to you soon. Thanks for doing what you do, Bruce."

"You got it. And stop trying to steal Jen, would you?"

"Never." He tried to laugh, but it came out as a grim grunt. He called his pilot to fuel up after the show. Looks like the schmoozing would have to be handled by Richie. He was heading to Maine.