Jessica blushed. “Once upon a time I thought I’d be singing for a living. Not that long ago, either. Well, life has a way of getting you, you know?”
She walked on to pick up her tray, still blushing as customers complimented her and asked for their drink orders.
*
He studied the picture again. So it wasn’t the LaFleur girl. Oddly enough, he admired the way she had eluded him. Brad might have been tougher to deal with, but he’d watched and waited till Brad was gone. He knew what Brad was doing and just how long it would take him to come back.
He thought about Jenny LaFleur. One of the beautiful people. One of the inner circle. And more clever than he had imagined. He smiled slightly, thinking that he would have enjoyed actually getting his hands on her.
It was changing. All changing. He’d been timid at first. Of course, he’d thought he could trick Arnie and kill him without ever being suspected—and get the sax. Unfortunately, it hadn’t worked out that way. But he felt as if he was evolving, as if he was becoming a better killer, even if he’d had to run tonight.
They were afraid. They were all growing more and more afraid. They were grouping together; they were being careful never to be alone. That was because Danni Cafferty and that has-been football hero she was with now had gotten involved. That bastard Quinn knew there would be safety in numbers.
Eventually, though, they would be like rats. Rats in a cage. Arguing and growing impatient.
They would have to give up eventually and start acting normally again. They would go crazy; they would want their freedom and their own lives back again.
And now...
Now he knew there were other places to look.
There was Danni Cafferty’s place. It would bear study and time.
There was the Watson house...
He had time.
He just had to wait and continue to do what he was doing, observe then take advantage of whatever opportunity came his way. It didn’t matter to him; he had time.
Because they didn’t see him. Because he was invisible.
Invisible, as he had always been.
And would always be.
Unless he had the sax.
Yes, he could wait and watch. And grab opportunity wherever it showed itself.
He smiled, because he knew. He was gaining power. He was after a magic sax—and that made him magic, too. Because he knew the city and he knew the night, and he knew how to blend into the darkness and the crowds so he could carry out his search.
He was invisible. He was invisible even when he was in plain sight.
Chapter 8
BECAUSE EITHER JENNY or Brad had been targeted, Quinn knew it was important that he was where he was, but he still chafed with worry at not being with Danni. Every chance he got, he texted Father Ryan.
Father Ryan texted back every time that all was well.
During a break, Quinn sat with Jenny and Brad, along with Steve and Luis, their fellow bandmates. He didn’t have to bring up what had happened. Brad and Jenny did that for him.
“I was working on a song,” Brad said. “And it was in with the music that was taken. Not that it really matters. The song is in my head just as much as it was on paper.” He looked at Quinn. “None of the big labels are tripping over themselves to sign us, but Jenny and I have a small indie label, and we make a little money each year off our sales. Thanks to iTunes and Amazon and other avenues, we do all right.”
“So you think this guy has been after songs all along?” Steve asked. “Not that special sax of Arnie’s?”
Quinn looked at him. “You know that Arnie had a special sax even before the murders, right? Did most people?”
“If you grew up around here, yeah,” Steve said. He smiled a little awkwardly. “Anyone who was part of the Survivor Set knew all about it.”
“The Survivor Set?” Quinn asked.
“The high school was flooded during the summer of storms,” Brad said. “You’re older than us, so you’d graduated by then. But we were shipped all over the country so we could finish high school. There were a couple of places that didn’t close, though, like one private school in the Garden District, and they took in some of us. They—whoever they are—chose who got to stay because we lived in the French Quarter or Garden District or other areas that were still above water. There were about twenty of us, and by some weird coincidence, every one of us had some kind of musical or artistic ability. Most of us were musicians, but there were a few dancers and actors and actresses in there, and one or two artists. Danni was part of the group, so you probably know most of this already. We lucked out and got to stay, but a whole lot of kids did have to leave the area or just lost a year and graduated late.”
“So everyone in this group knew about Arnie’s special sax?” Quinn asked.
“Sure. In fact, there’s a picture of Arnie holding it above his head while he ran across a flooded street. It made the papers all over the country.”
“So all of you became close friends?” Quinn asked.