Page 11 of The Wolves Come at Night

“Linc? Got a name to run. Justin Osborne.”

“On it,” he said. She could hear typing in the background and the murmur of voices from the conference room, Marcus getting as much information as he could.

“Justin killed her?” a soft voice queried. The redhead was lingering by the stairs, dabbing her cheeks with a tissue.

“You know him?” Taylor replied.

The redhead laughed mirthlessly. “We all know Justin. Total hothead. He sneaks around every once in a while, looking for scraps. Georgia didn’t have the heart not to throw him some every once in a while.”

“Meaning?”

“Gigs, mostly. A few co-writing credits. She knew he was holding her back, but she felt so beholden to him. And now he killed her. God. That just sucks.”

“We don’t know that, and I must caution you not to say anything to anyone until we get a chance to speak with him. Do you have an address for Mr. Osborne?”

“Over in East Nashville. She bought him a house, if you can believe that.”

“That’s some scrap.”

“She was too generous with us all.” Tears spilled down the girl’s face. “Let me get you that address. I’ll be right back.”

Lincoln spoke in Taylor’s ear. “I’ve got it—it’s out on North Sixteenth. I’ll get a warrant started so we can toss it to a judge as quick as possible if you think it’s a go.”

“I’ll grab Marcus and head there. Might you be persuaded to call for a couple of patrols from East as backup, just in case?”

“Will do. Be careful out there, ya hear?”

“Yes, Mom.”

She left him laughing and went back to the conference room. Marcus was clearly itching to go; he was already half out of his seat, his notebook closed.

“Get everything you need?”

“For now. Thanks so much for your time, Mr. Bloom. We’ll be in touch. And if Justin reaches out to you, call us, please. Do not try to talk to him yourself.”

“When can we have her body? Her parents…they’re a close-knit family. They’ve been a dream to work with, actually supportive without trying to hog anything for themselves. They’re wrecked about this already. When they find out it was Justin…”

Marcus shook his head. “We don’t know it was Justin, sir, so please keep that to yourself.”

“They’re coming from New Zealand. They were out in some secluded resort, they’re having to hike back in. They might be out of touch for the moment, but they will absolutely want to talk to you as soon as they’re back. They’re going to want their girl’s body.”

“I understand. I’m afraid you’ll have to talk to the folks at Forensic Medical about the release. I know they are doing her autopsy today, but I haven’t gotten the call as to when yet. I’ll stay in touch with you, okay?”

Wind lashed the tree outside the conference room window, making it wave and spin crazily, and the rain came down in sheets.

The sunglasses went back on, and Travis Bloom retreated into the chair with a grimace.

“Sure thing. I’m heading back to LA as soon as this storm breaks, but you have my contact info. Keep me looped in. And thank you. She is—was—ah, damn…”

His shoulders began to shake, and they left him in the conference room with his grief and his guitars.

Six

“Anything I should know about?” Taylor asked Marcus as they drove to East Nashville.

He flipped through his notebook. “You didn’t miss much. According to Bloom, Georgia was an angel. Everyone loved her. No stalkers, no hate mail. No issues with employees. Band loves her, agent loves her, manager loves her. She got into it with a few folks on her social feed every once in a while, but it was more complaints about her tours not coming to their towns than anything else. Girl’s a paragon of young singers.”

“Well, that’s all easily checked. You know how I feel about the faultless. She has to have some flaw stashed away in her drawers.”