shot at a career she’d almost thrown away with her alcohol abuse.
Her parents had helped give her child a chance at a life that was more than she would have been able to give the baby as a fifteen-year-old. Gabe looked her in the eye, knowing her tough-girl act was held together by a very thin strand at the moment.
“There’s a possibility Jimmy just got drunk and stupid and crashed his car on his own. It’s not like the man isn’t known to drink. But—whether this guy’s just taking credit for an accident or really had something to do with it—I don’t want to take any chances. I cleared my schedule for a while so I can go with you for your next few tour stops, and I’ve got Zach sending extra security over tomorrow.”
Chad approached and sat on the sofa across from them.
“What have you got, Chad?” Gabe asked.
“The blackmailer is using burn phones to send his texts. So far, he’s used three different phones. With some carriers, we can get more than just the number. With other carriers, information like texts and calls is never recorded. So, if the person paid in cash for the phone, and paid cash for a phone card to charge up the phone, there’s no way to trace it. That’s what we’ve got here. Your guy knows how to stay anonymous.”
“There’s nothing you can do to trace it? Even if we’re monitoring her phone when a text comes in?” Gabe asked.
Chad shook his head, his mouth set in a tight line. “Sorry. There’s no way to trace it. Even if we got the police involved, they wouldn’t be able to get the information either. It simply isn’t there to get, and I think your guy knows that.”
Chad turned to PJ, who sat tense and anxious next to Gabe. “Based on what Gabe’s told me, it’s safe for us to assume this was someone close to you, correct?”
Gabe could feel the intake of breath as PJ seemed to brace herself for the conversation. He couldn’t blame her. The idea that this was someone close to her killed him. It had to be tearing her apart inside, too.
“Right,” she said, quietly. “No one knows I keep that journal. I’m careful only to get it out when I’m alone in my room, and I put it back each time I finish. I never write in it around anyone; even my parents didn’t know it was there.”
Chad’s face creased in thought.
“What?” Gabe asked, knowing Chad had a theory.
“You don’t travel in a typical bus like other singers? You only use Gabe’s hotels?” When PJ nodded, Chad continued. “Who preps your room for you when you arrive at a new hotel? Does someone go in ahead of you, other than the hotel staff, that is?”
“Usually either Lydia or Ellis. Sometimes Debra if she’s with us, but she doesn’t travel with us very often. One of my bodyguards accompanies hotel staff when they take my luggage up to the hotel room. Ellis or Lydia often have things to drop off for me, or they may be in there laying out clothes for interviews, shows, that kind of thing.” PJ blushed a stark red.
“I guess it sounds like I’m a spoiled princess, but I usually have to go over to the venue and do a sound check or talk to the guys in my band. They travel in a bus and not with us. They prefer that.”
“Why don’t you travel by bus too?” Chad asked, and Gabe saw PJ flush again.
“I don’t––” She paused and glanced at Gabe. “It’s just that it reminds me of what it was like when I first started my career…of what happened with Jimmy.”
Gabe had filled Chad in on the whole story before they’d come over, everything from the baby to Jimmy’s agreement to let her out of her contract, to his recent angry text messages.
Gabe squeezed PJ’s hand and rubbed his thumb over hers where their hands were joined.
“PJ, did you leave your luggage at the hotel with Lydia and Ellis, or do you have it here with you?” Chad asked.
“Most of it is with the team. I only brought a small bag with me,” she answered. “Why?”
“The way I figure it, someone had to have found out about the journal. If you had a bus you used regularly, I’d check it for peepholes of some sort in your section. Some way someone could spy on you.” PJ’s intake of breath was sharp and