end, a glass door led onto the wraparound balcony. Through it, she could see the dark blue sea.
Before that, a series of heavy oak doors opened off it, three on each side. Most were open.
Holding her breath, Harper tiptoed to the first one. It was a large room, dominated by a bed with a modern, black frame. It was unmade—blankets thrown to one side as if the person had kicked them off. A keyboard on a stand stood nearby, with sheet music piled on the floor beneath it. A guitar leaned against the wall, propped against two Converse sneakers.
It was obviously Hunter’s room.
The door across from his was closed, and Harper crept past, in case Allegra was in there.
Conscious that she didn’t have much time, she hurried to the next open door. She stepped into a spacious room flooded with light.
The walls were clean white. The floors, bare boards. There was no bed—just a mattress on the floor, covered in bright fabrics. A framed black-and-white poster of Jimi Hendrix leaned against one wall. A large mirror was propped against another.
Aside from a pair of worn leather shoes left incongruously at the foot of the bed, there was nothing else in the room. It was a simple, almost ascetic space. The scent of incense she’d noticed downstairs was heavier here. It clung to the air. Sandalwood. Patchouli.
There were no instruments. No stereo or speakers. No computers. It was a room from another time.
“This is Zay’s room.”
Harper spun around to see Allegra standing in the doorway behind her, dark eyes somber.
She held up her hands. “I’m sorry. I just—”
“It’s fine.” Allegra didn’t seem angry. In fact, she looked almost pleased. “You should see it.”
Harper turned back to the clean, mostly empty room.
“There are no guitars.” Her voice echoed off the bare walls.
“There’s a practice room across the hall with all his equipment in it,” Allegra explained. “This is his private space. He meditates a lot here.”
She gestured at an incense burner on the windowsill. Next to it sat a small matchbox and an ashtray that held four used matches.
“He needs a clear space to empty his mind.” Allegra looked out the window at the beach in the distance. “I wish he’d come home.”
The simple phrase was so melancholy and heartfelt—the look of worry on her face so raw—Harper turned away.
Over the years, she’d trained herself to feel nothing for victims of crime and those who loved them. It was necessary if she was going to do her job. For some reason, though, her heart twisted for Allegra—for all of them. Their pain was so near the surface.
“I’m really sorry this is happening,” she told her. “It must be torture for you.” She paused before asking, “How did you meet him?”
The girl brightened. “I grew up in a small town outside Spartanburg,” she explained. “I moved to Savannah the day I turned seventeen. Packed everything I could fit in the car and drove straight down here. Got a job waiting tables.” She leaned against the wall. “I had no money but I loved music and I thought I could find a band to join in a town like this. I saw a notice at a coffee shop one day for a backup singer, so I went and auditioned.” She smiled at the memory. “I was scared to death—it was my first real audition. But when I walked in Xavier was sitting at the piano playing a song and Hunter was there, messing around on the guitar. They were so nice I forgot to stay scared. And, well. We started singing and we never stopped.”
“What’s going on?” Hunter’s voice made them both jump. They hadn’t heard him walking up the stairs. But now he stood in the hallway, watching the two of them through the open door.
Allegra stiffened. “We’re just talking.” She sounded defensive.
Hunter’s accusing gaze swung to Harper, who felt instantly guilty.
“She was showing me around,” she explained, heat rising to her face.
He walked into the room, his eyes dark with grief and anger. “I suppose if you’re going to write about him, you might as well see it all,” he said, with some bitterness. “The police have already stomped all over it. You might as well do the same.”
She’d pushed things too far. She’d lost them. She retreated to the door. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have come up here. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
Hunter let out a long breath and looked around Xavier’s room, as if ensuring nothing had moved.