Chapter Eight

Sky found herself chatting with Joe about the songs, and then Mark about their set lists. Chris joined them as well, telling her that the full rehearsal with her the night before had been like speeding back through the years to a beautiful time.

"You, Brandon, Chase...having you guys here is incredible," he told her, smiling. He grimaced. "You kind of, hmm...what are the words I'm looking for? Make everything perfect. We were good from the beginning—your dad made us good musicians, and he kept us all together as friends. I mean, a lot of the old groups are still playing, but most have new members in them somewhere. Folks like us, from the seventies and eighties...we lost a lot of amazing artists. Janis Joplin, Elvis, Michael Jackson, Prince, so very many...and then, hey, you get where we are and there are deaths from natural causes, too. But think of the groups and performers still out there—Bruce Springsteen, Elton John, Billy Joel—your dad loved all of them, said they were real songsters! ‘Piano Man,' Billy Joel, one of his favorites. The Eagles! So many more. But with us...your dad is gone and Hank is recovering, but we have family members! True legacy."

"Thanks, Chris," she told him. "It's great fun to be with Brandon, too."

"Yep, the boy is coming along nicely. But..." He shrugged.

"What?" Sky asked him.

"Thing is, being us has been great. We made money, and your dad was the guy who led us. We were so young, but we never went crazy. He got us the right management and the right financial advisers. Thing is, as much as I've loved being Skyhawk, what I want to leave behind is hard to explain."

Brandon walked up, joining them. "You're not going anywhere for a long time!" he told his father sternly.

"Not planning to," Chris assured him, "but none of us ever really knows. I don't know how to express it, but I'm so glad, so damned glad, you three younger people are with us—but what I hope we leave behind is something that isn't performing in front of a crowd or getting a good paycheck. It can't really be touched. It's just the love of music, what music can do when you're down, how it can help bring you back up, how... Wow. I just sound weird—"

"Nothing new there!" Brandon teased.

"Hey! Careful, I'll ground you!" Chris teased in return. He ran his fingers through his hair and then paused. "Like this stuff on my head. It's white—"

"Ah, but still there! You still look like a great rocker!" Sky assured him.

He laughed softly. "Like I said, it's just darned great that there are a bunch of us still out there—some of them even make me feel young! Anyway, Sky, hope you'll join us now and then. Thing is—well, I know you love what you do. You take music someplace special and do special things with it when you work with kids, so... I hope you can keep doing what you love, and still throw some gigs in with us old-timers now and then, too."

She gave him a quick hug. "Chris, thank you, and I hope so, too."

Nathan called Chris, asking him to come check something on the keyboard. Chris hurried off, and Brandon grimaced at Sky.

"And here we all are."

"And you, sir, are great on the keyboards and backup. And you play lead guitar, too!"

Brandon laughed. "I try. Anyway, I'm happy to be here. We'll have fun."

She smiled. "Sure. Lots of fun!"

"The special friend group is arriving," Brandon said using air quotes and almost whispering as if someone might have heard them from the audience. "There's that guy Chase knows—some kind of a forensic expert, does all kinds of lecturing."

"Yeah, I met him. Andy Wellington. Nice guy," Sky assured him.

"Yeah, he seems okay. And there's Justin's wife, Julia," Brandon pointed out. "Wonder who that guy she's with is. She usually shows up with the kids. Well, adult kids—both of them just finished college." He laughed suddenly. "And there—Nathan brings two of the kids from Little League—they get to win tickets. Not by playing. I guess he channeled your dad. They get two backstage tickets for helping others to improve most. Kind of cool, huh?"

"Yep, very," Sky agreed. She smiled. The kids were in their midteens. Half grown-up—half not. They were watching everything that was going on wide-eyed and seemed thrilled when Charlie approached them, asking them to stand in different spots to make sure the revolving, colored lights looked good over the audience.

She glanced at the man with Julia. She'd never met him, but she assumed he had to be a relative or a family friend. Justin's marriage had always been solid as a rock, and she'd met Julia several times through the years. She was a woman who seemed to love what her husband did—and loved getting to see all the various performances he might work.

"Sky, did you want to take lead guitar on the ballad or just the vocals? I mean, you can do both, and I know that you might prefer both, but—"

"Brandon, can you take lead on that?" Sky asked. "I think I do want to concentrate on the vocals."

"Honored, Sky," Brandon assured her.

"Pulling in a wire!" Justin called, heading backstage right.

Sky couldn't help but notice that Chase idly followed him, stopping to talk briefly to Mark, check something on the drum set—and then head on back.

She wanted to follow, too.

But...

How did she do so without being obvious? Take a casual wander. Charlie was working with Joe, checking on the keyboard.

But as she moved, Mark was suddenly in front of her, grinning.

"You know, your dad really loved everyone. Different people for different reasons. Loved Roy Orbison's voice, the way Clapton could play... Who is your hero? Besides your dad, of course."

"And Skyhawk?" She smiled, looking back. She couldn't see Chase or Justin.

"Who else?"

"Um, hmm. Nancy Wilson, Heart! Killer voice. Oh—and I'm always a kid at heart. It wasn't live performance, but I loved, loved both Idina Menzel and Kristin Bell in Frozen . Wow. Hmm, oh, well—loved Idina Menzel from the get-go—saw Wicked on Broadway as a kid, and she was killing it then. And who wouldn't love Joan Jett? And I'll never forget Delores O'Riordan, beautiful voice! Seventies, hmm. Wow—how could anyone leave out Aerosmith? Journey?"

She kept smiling, talking.

How the hell could she casually get by him?

But...

Why would Chase be suspicious of Justin, of all people? Justin, great worker, solid as a rock, no overindulgences, great husband, great father...

But there was Julia, chatting now with the boys. Her friend, the stranger who had come with her, was just standing back, watching all the proceedings.

"Mark, Julia is here—Justin's wife. I'm going to go and talk to her, tell her that...that it's great to see her," she said.

"Oh, yeah, Julia! I'll come with you."

Great.

They both hopped off the stage, Mark turning to give Sky a hand. They walked over to Julia and the teen boys.

Sky barely got a chance to say hello before one of the kids said, "Wow, man, you're her! You're Skylar Ferguson."

She smiled. "Yes, I am. And thanks for being here. Oh! And I know how you got tickets to the show, so thanks for being such great young men."

They flushed, one speaking after the other, talking about Skyhawk numbers.

Julia looked uncomfortable. The strange man who was with her was watching.

He looked ready to move, almost ready to spring at any minute.

"Well, welcome, and we'll be seeing you!" Sky told the boys. "Julia, it's so great that you're here. Anyway, I just remembered I have to check to see if I brought clothes in for a change—"

"What you're wearing is cool. Love those jeans and that...shirt thing," one of the kids said.

"Tunic. It's a tunic," the other told him.

"Well, thank you, because at this point, if I did forget everything, it is what I'll be wearing!" she said.

Then she turned quickly, heading back to the stage, determined she was going to find out what Chase was doing.

And why Justin was...so strange.

"Y OU NEED TO ... UNDERS TAND ," Justin told Chase. The man was crying; tears were streaming down his face.

And he was terrified.

"I understand you're the one who managed to fray that wire. You were best friends with Jake, and you knew he'd be ready to do things himself to keep a show flowing smoothly. You knew he'd go to fix the amp."

"I...loved Jake!" he whispered.

And that was true; Chase believed him.

But something had clicked when they'd discovered that the places to drop off the money and to pick up the goods were right here.

And when he'd seen Justin...

He'd known. And he'd accused him in a straightforward manner when he'd gotten him alone, repeating the last words he'd heard Jake Ferguson say before he had died.

"I know what's going on and I saw... I'm going to put an end to it as soon as this gig is over!"

Justin caught his breath, trying to contain the violence of his sobs.

"He saw, he knew, and he was going to report you to the police. Because despite his own sobriety, Jake didn't mind others who could have a recreational drink or even a joint—what he minded was drugs being sold to children—and people dying!"

"I know, I know... I didn't care. I thought it would be over. They could arrest me—I didn't care about me. I had no choice. Then...or now..."

"Then, what the hell?" Chase exploded.

Justin looked toward the stage anxiously, trying to dry his face with his shirt sleeve, terrified as he looked toward the stage. "I never knew about the...fentanyl. That they are using it to cut hard drugs and handling it so recklessly. I didn't. I swear. But they got to me, they let me know, and even now—"

"Even now, what?" Chase demanded.

Justin looked at him. "If I don't—if we don't—walk back out there looking calm as can be, he's going to kill Julia. And as soon as word gets out, he's going to see that my boys are killed, too."

Chase stared at him. He had never believed that Justin was the head of their snake.

But just how deep did it run?

Back to the cartels theory. So who was the man with Julia today?

"All right, we'll talk quickly. Who is the man with your wife right now?"

"His name is Drew Carter. He's...been ordered to kill Julia if I don't make things happen the way that they're supposed to," Justin said.

"That's easy enough. I'll get out by him and—"

"No, no, he's just a...a pawn like me. His wife is in the hospital with a new baby. And there's a man there...ready to take her out along with the infant and...you don't know, you don't understand how bad all this is. And it's not just my wife. He's going to go after Sammy and Jeff—my sons. He's got them covered, too. Don't you see? There's no way out of this. He can kill anyone at any time with a snap of his fingers. His enforcers are everywhere."

"And so are the good guys and law enforcement," Chase told him.

"But if I don't—"

"You do what you're supposed to do. We're going to go through the show with you having done what you've been ordered to do. And by then..."

He broke off. He could see that Sky was coming into the wing.

"Hey!" she called cheerfully. But he knew Sky. She wanted to know what the hell was going on.

Did he dare tell her this was the man who had killed her beloved father?

"Can you get Wellington back here?" he asked her.

"Um, sure. But—"

"Now. Please."

"Sure. Okay."

She hurried back toward the stage. "Hey, Andy! Can you come here for a minute? Chase wants to see what shirt you like best!"

Andy came on back quickly, excusing himself to the others. As he arrived, Chase told Sky, "Please, get back out there. Try to talk to Julia again and keep her with you."

"Why—"

"Please, please, just act normally, in a friendly manner." He looked at his watch. The doors would start opening in less than hour.

Whatever Justin was supposed to be doing, he was supposed to be doing it now.

The man still looked like hell. With Wellington there, he explained what he knew quickly, adding that Justin needed to get it together, to act as expected.

"My wife...the boys and...the others—"

"I'll get to the guy out there watching over Julia," Wellington promised. "Justin, do as Chase says—do what you're supposed to do. And don't be afraid. We'll get to your children before anyone else can."

"You don't understand how powerful—"

"Actually, I do. But you need to understand how powerful we can be when given the chance," Wellington told him. "I'll go have a discussion about lights with Drew Carter right now."

Wellington disappeared. Justin still looked like hell.

"Pull yourself together, man!" Chase ordered him. "This show has to go on as planned. All right, where does everything go?"

Justin shook his head. "There's not everything. I just put the money I got from the last haul—" He broke off, looking worse than he had. "Blood money," he said. "Right before we open the doors, I slip it beneath a particular seat, changes every time."

"Do you have your orders yet?"

"Yeah."

"And putting the money out was what Jake saw?"

"Yeah."

"And no one else ever saw you?" Chase asked.

He shrugged. "I just walk around the seat, look at the lights. Sometimes sit a few places. Everyone thinks I'm just checking it out."

"Do it. And quit crying. Justin, this truly has to be the performance of a lifetime for you."

"I'm not on stage. I head back to the wings. Then I get a message about where to find the stuff I'm supposed to distribute along with what I get to keep."

"Right now, come on. You can help salvage all the harm you've done. And you are performing now. All right. Go do your walkabout. Where exactly will you be putting it?"

"First balcony, front, center, dead center."

"And don't worry. In fact..."

He looked out. Wellington was standing with Julia, a laughing Sky and the man he'd been told was Drew Carter.

And he knew Wellington had seen to it that Carter knew it was over—and had given him everything he could possibly give him.

Agents would already be in the field.

They'd have the families safe. And they'd be watching. And waiting. Because when it was known that whatever lackey was the pickup man had been scooped, the so-called snake would probably see to it himself that his death threats against the families of those who had failed him had been carried out.

It was all a long shot.

And a real takedown might not happen. But Wellington would see to it that no innocents were harmed. Even if it meant giving up his own life.

But Wellington would be here tonight.

Watching. Waiting. And they all had to play it out.

"Justin? This all depends on you!" Chase said.

Justin straightened. "Yeah. I've got it. And I don't care what happens to me—"

"I know. Your family. I promise you, the people out there will see that they are safe. Justin, it's all in motion already. Just one more question before you start out. Who is the head of this thing?"

He shook his head miserably. "They call him El Rey."

El Rey.

Chase had heard the name before. And Wellington had been right. El Rey was really Miguel Esposito, head of one of the largest cartels, suspected to have slipped into the country illegally to take out a witness in a trial scheduled for just months ago.

No one had even imagined just how far this all reached.

"Showtime," he said.

S KY DIDN ' T GET much of a chance to talk to Wellington, but she did know that he and Chase were working furiously at whatever it was that was going on.

And that Justin was involved somehow, and he'd been scared. No... Terrified.

But she had to have faith in the men. Her part in this was important, and her part was to get on stage, perform as she had never performed before, and make it all appear as if nothing was wrong at all, as if the world of rock 'n' roll was everything.

She saw the crew working quickly, leaving the audience, heading to the wings. Mark called out to her that they needed to get back, that the MC would be taking over the booth.

Wellington had Julia and Drew Carter somewhere—she didn't know where. But she had a feeling a few of the extra crew members were his men.

That Wellington was a man with the power to make things happen quickly.

"Heads up!" It was Kenneth Malcolm calling out. "House lights up! Doors are open!"

He was in the wings, impeccable as usual in a casual beige suit. Sky couldn't help but wonder about him.

After all, other than the three who worked specifically for Skyhawk and those who worked for other bands, Kenneth Malcolm was the man who did the hiring.

He had hired Bobby Sacks.

But Bobby Sacks had been a victim.

She wondered bitterly how anyone, including a drug kingpin, could expect anyone to keep payments coming in, taking the big deliveries from him to disperse for the megamoney to be gained on the streets, when the customers were dying from the product.

But she doubted that whoever was behind it all cared. Could a man like Kenneth Malcolm have been involved? How could he and still keep his job?

Then again, who knew the venue the way he did?

Mark and Joe were laughing together as they headed stage right; Chris was behind them, reminding Brandon which numbers he wanted him sitting in for. Sky naturally reminded him where she wanted him to take lead guitar and, of course, he should stay on backup vocals through the whole show, if he wanted, although he probably knew them all as well as she did, if not better.

She didn't see Justin; Nathan was heading stage right with them while Charlie was heading stage left.

Curtains were opened as people continued coming in.

Lights on the stage blazed as they did so, people in twos and threes and larger groups, loud and excited as they came in, some with drinks and snacks, others just anxious to find their seats.

The MC spoke over backup music as the crowd came in, talking about the show, the weather, the city, welcoming everyone.

Every seat was filled when he announced, "And now, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and whoever! Let's welcome to the stage, Skyhawk!"

It was time to make their entry.

Skyhawk. Her father's creation, the music, his love. And tonight, Skyhawk was the three older rockers, Chris Wiley, Mark Reynolds and Joe Garcia, still looking the part, agile, vibrant for their ages, long hippie hair, and all that they needed to be.

And then her, Brandon and Chase. Second and third generations.

Skyhawk, changing, growing—and yet the embodiment of love that her dad had created.

Her part in all that was just to play with all her heart.

They ran out, waving to everyone and going for their instruments, Chase bowing broadly as his name was shouted, grinning and then maintaining a fantastic drumroll.

They burst straight into one of Skyhawk's most popular numbers, "The Path I Took," and from there, they moved straight into one of her dad's older ballads.

Act normal, behave normally, give the show all your heart and...

Trust in Chase, in Wellington, and that everything is being handled. Her part was to keep this moving, give them the opportunity to do what was needed...

"Welcome! We are Skyhawk, and we're thrilled to be here, thrilled to have you here with us! I'm Sky Ferguson, and you have known Chris Wiley, Mark Reynolds and Joe Garcia for—"

"Decades!" Joe put in dryly, bringing a bout of laughter to the crowd.

"We have Chase McCoy on drums tonight—though Hank has told him he wants his place back as soon as possible! But we'll make do, right?"

Her words were greeted with laughter and another round of phenomenal drumming.

Chase, too, was playing his part.

"We also have Brandon Wiley with us tonight, and this guy does just about everything!"

Brandon created a combo of melodies quickly, then they moved into a fast, heavy rock piece that had once ruled the airwaves.

She moved about the stage, forgetting she'd told Chase she wouldn't carry the mic. But her father had moved; it was natural, swirling and dancing while doing the songs, the numbers she had known since she was a small child...

Songs she had done with her dad. And she gave it her heart as she went along, because as serious as the night had become, it was also her ode to him.

Mark stepped in when it was time to take a break, announcing with her that they were giving everyone a chance to head out for drinks, snacks and merchandise. Hey, the place was in it for the money, right?

They could bring the crowd to laughter and applause, and it felt good.

Even if...

Running to the stage-right wing, she found herself crashing into Chase's arms.

"Our guys have the families!" he whispered to her, pretending to nuzzle her ear. "Kids, wives, good... They went in the back. They'll be waiting."

She smiled at him, pretending to whisper in his ear as well.

"Ah, lovebirds!" Mark said. "It's adorable to see you two together again."

"I'm adorable?" Chase asked, grinning.

It was going the best that it could. But she didn't see Justin anywhere. She knew he had to be playing whatever part it was that he needed to, but...

She managed to slide back into his arms and ask softly, "Justin?"

"He's good. Agent at his side."

She nodded. They weren't playing, but the canned music and the noise of the crowd was almost deafening, still. They waited, talking about where they were going next. Mark and Joe reminded her of the songs they would do for the encore; it was apparent that this crowd would demand it.

Then the MC announced the return of Skyhawk to the stage. It was time to run back out there.

Next...

Drum solos, songs that featured each instrument and each player. A wonderful crowd in the audience, cheering them on, moments when she needed to chat, to laugh, to draw the others in, moving across the stage, covering the stage...

And all the while wondering what was going on, how Chase, too, was managing to bang away, come in with drumrolls when she was about to speak, to bring them back to their performance, to follow her as she crossed the stage, paused to make comments to those off the apron by the stage...

Then she thanked everyone for coming. For supporting Skyhawk.

She thanked them for having loved her dad and all the music he had created.

Then they were running off stage, listening, waiting, hearing the crowd roar, screaming that they come back, and then the MC announcing they'd return for the last few songs...

Her father's songs. Songs about life, learning about the dark side and how to find the light, about love, about the strength to be found in the eyes of a loved one...

Then it was done.

"Thank you! Skyhawk thanks you, I thank you, and among the angels—trust me!—my dad thanks you!"

She ran back offstage. Show over. Encore over. And...

She stood with the others in the wings, just breathing, as the MC announced safe paths out, as crowds of people began to leave from the floor, from the balconies.

Chase was right next to her; she had a feeling he wouldn't be leaving her.

Justin was nowhere to be seen.

Neither was his wife, nor the man who had been with her.

She looked at Chase, but he evidently didn't intend to say anything at that moment, other than to join in the happy banter that was going around, everyone congratulating each other on the success of the show.

Andy Wellington was not backstage.

The teenage boys were, and a few other special guests. A few reporters, a few photographers, but all of them gleaning and snapping what they could.

And finally, Chase whispered to her, "Let's escape to a dressing room!"

She nodded, feeling his arm around her, leading her.

But a man with a recorder stopped them.

"Ferguson and McCoy, together again!" he said.

Chase smiled and looked at Sky. "Were we ever really apart?" he asked.

"Aw, man, but now...will you two be continuing with the band?" the reporter asked.

"Oh, well, the band...the main members of Skyhawk were friends before they were the band—our families have been friends. We've been friends. I'm sure we will be playing together again. When, where and how often, well, that will remain to be seen."

"Skylar, you work with kids—"

"Kids and music," she said, glancing up at Chase.

She wanted to talk to him alone!

"Okay, Chase, so, we understand that you've been working in a number of labs, that you've gotten into forensic sciences. Will that continue into your future?"

Chase laughed easily. "Right now, our future is getting home—we have a new dog! So, hey, thank you, thanks so much for your interest, but..."

"We're just dead tired!" Sky said.

She winced inwardly, wishing she hadn't used the word dead .

Chase was already leading her away. "Thank you! Thank you so much for your interest in Skyhawk!"

He managed to get her to one of the dressing rooms, pushing the door open and then leaning against it, shaking his head.

"Chase, what's going on?" she asked.

"Wellington is a good man and good at what he does. He had agents with Justin's family—and with Drew Carter's—before we were halfway through the first set. Now...he's got people trying to get the place cleared out while following whoever goes for the money. We need to just sit tight for a minute and wait—"

His phone buzzed, and he looked at it quickly. "They've got something. Stay here, don't move. Keep the door locked. Don't answer it to anyone— anyone —but me."

"Chase, I—"

"Please, Sky, I'm begging you, just listen to me right now."

She nodded.

He slipped out. She locked the door.

And she knew that every second would seem like an hour until he returned.