I shook off the weird thought and started peeling out of my costume. The sequined top hit the floor, followed by the skin-tight jeans that took five minutes of me and Sondra tugging to get them over my ass.
“Should I call ahead? Let his security know you’re coming?” Sondra asked. “That way there’s plenty of protection for you both.”
Shawn was the running back for the Nashville Nitros. It was already predicted they’d make it to the Super Bowl this year. With both of us being high-profile celebrities, that meant extra security was a must.
“I don’t know. Do you think it’s necessary? Nobody will be expecting us.” I caught her reflection in the mirror and saw the unease in her expression.
Okay. Something was definitely up. “What aren’t you telling me?” I asked, turning to face her fully.
She bit her lip again. “There’s been another note.”
A cold chill swept over me. “Where? Here?” I glanced around the room.
“Frank found it on your dressing table while you were on stage.”
Letters started showing up about six months ago. They were innocent enough at first, just gushing about my music and my voice.
But then they started including details that nobody could possibly know. Like what I ate for lunch at private restaurants. What I wore to a private event that wasn’t photographed. Where I went shopping on my days off.
“What did this one say?”
Sondra pulled out her phone and read from what I assumed was a photo. “You were absolutely radiant tonight. That blue sequined top brings out your eyes perfectly, just like I knew it would. The way you went out of your way for a dying girl is beautiful—so compassionate, so caring. You have the biggest heart, Hattie. I can’t wait until I can tell you that in person.”
Ice ran down my spine. “How did they know about Lucy if this was found while I was on stage?”
“That’s what Frank and the police are trying to figure out. They’re expanding the investigation.” She put her phone away and gave me a reassuring smile. “They’ll figure out who it is.”
I hoped so. I really, really hoped so.
“Can you call the pilot? I want to go to Nashville.”
As Sondra got to work getting our travel arrangements in order, I focused on getting dressed. Black jeans, oversized tee, and my hot pink Nike slides. Next, I twisted my hair up into a messy knot and scrubbed the stage makeup off my face. In a matter of minutes, I went from Glam country music superstar to hobo. Okay, maybe I didn’t look quite that bad, but my face was a little splotchy, and my hair felt crispy from all the hairspray.
“You ready to blow this popsicle stand?”
Sondra scanned the room one last time, looking for any bobs or bits she might have missed. Once she was sure she’d gotten everything, she aimed her big smile my way.
“Yep. Let’s hit it.”
Three hours later,I was stepping out of my Range Rover in the underground parking garage of Shawn’s downtown Nashville penthouse. My heart was beating a mile a minute. I was genuinely excited to see him.
When’s the last time I surprised someone I liked?
The thought came out of nowhere, and I frowned as I walked toward the elevator. I didn’t like Shawn; I loved him. We were engaged, for Christ’s sake. The ring on my finger—all four carats of it—was proof of that.
Right?
So why did the word “like” feel more accurate?
I shook my head and keyed in the code for the private elevator that led directly to the penthouse.
The ride up felt like it took forever, and I spent the time checking my reflection in the polished steel doors. Hair a hot mess, face still splotchy. Leaning in closer, I touched a red spot on my chin. Is that a zit?
Before I could pick at it until I drew blood, the elevator dinged softly, and the doors slid open directly into Shawn’s foyer.
“Shawn?” I called out softly, not wanting to wake him if he was already asleep. “Baby, it’s me!”
As I was moving down the hallway to his room, I heard it.
