The Full Story. Dawn Stewardson

her.

      “The Sherry Sherman Show,” he said when she was done.

      “Right. Tomorrow morning’s Sherry Sherman Show. Which airs live on NBS at nine o’clock. Eastern time. So if you’re seriously expecting him to show up here late tonight…well, the timing hardly works, does it?”

      After eyeing her uneasily for a moment, Dan said, “You wait right where you are. Don’t move an inch,” he added, heading for the house. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

      DAN MARCHED INSIDE, telling himself that, regardless of what Mickey’s boss had heard, Billy would not be appearing on any talk show in the morning. He’d be staying exactly where he was, holed up with Ken Heath in that sleepy little New England town they sometimes used on this sort of job.

      Reaching the kitchen, he paused to scan the wall of surveillance monitors.

      The retreat might have a rustic exterior, but its interior was filled with just about every modern luxury that had been invented—including state-of-the-art electronics. Cameras blanketed the entire area within a hundred yards of the house, and at the moment there was no movement out there.

      For a couple of seconds, he let his gaze linger on Mickey Westover, who was still standing exactly where he’d left her.

      Good. Everything was cool. And he likely had nothing to worry about as far as Billy was concerned. Not with Ken on the job.

      He grabbed his phone from where he’d left it on the counter and punched in Ken’s cellular number, thinking that the man was competence personified, the type who put one hundred percent into his assignments.

      So since his current assignment was to keep Billy Brent under wraps, and not let the guy out of his sight, there was almost no chance of their star doing anything he shouldn’t.

      However, almost wasn’t the same as no chance at all. And when it came to Billy, you just never knew.

      The man was forty—probably older since you couldn’t believe an actor’s PR—but half the time he behaved like a fourteen-year-old. And although he probably wasn’t crazy in certifiable terms, despite the fact that a lot of people might argue the point, he was definitely a loose cannon.

      He seemed to come up with a hundred bizarre ideas a day, which meant that deciding to take off on his own, even though his life was in danger, would be just another in a long string of poor judgment calls.

      With Ken keeping an eye on him, though, that should never have happened.

      Dan was beginning to think Ken wasn’t going to pick up when he finally did.

      “It’s O’Neill,” Dan said. “Tell me that Brent’s right there with you.”

      He let the silence last two seconds before saying, “Dammit, Ken, what’s going on?”

      There was another moment of dead air, then Ken said, “I’m in New York looking for him.”

      “Oh, shit.” Why did Ken—Mr. Competence himself—have to pick now to screw up?

      “Yeah, exactly,” he was saying. “I’ll find him, though. I was just hoping to do it before I had to tell you there was a problem.”

      “And he’s planning to appear on national television in the morning?” Dan asked, hoping at least that part was wrong.

      “You’ve got the entire story, then,” Ken said.

      So much for hoping.

      “No, I’m sure I’m missing some,” he said. “You’d better run the whole thing by me.”

      “Ah…yeah, okay. What happened was, he phoned Sherry Sherman last night. Apparently, they’re buddies—go back to when he was on Broadway. She always used to have him as a guest then, so he could hype whatever show he was in. Which means he figures he owes her.”

      Dan silently began urging Ken to get on with it.

      “At any rate,” he continued at last, “when he called, she was upset because some big guest had just canceled. So our boy told her, no problem, he’d fill in.”

      “You aren’t serious.”

      “’Fraid I am.”

      “Jeez, I don’t believe it. He comes to us because his life’s in danger, then turns around and agrees to be on national TV? What the hell does he figure the words in hiding mean?”

      “Your guess is as good as mine. But his theory was that he’d just do the show and then drop out of sight again.”

      “It didn’t occur to him that Sherry would announce he was going to be on? Give the killer a day’s advance notice?”

      “Well, to be fair, he didn’t expect her to say anything. He assumed he’d be a surprise guest.”

      “Oh, sure. She’s having one of the hottest stars in the galaxy on her show, and he didn’t think she’d tell her viewers to tune in and see him?”

      “Hell, Dan, who knows how the guy thinks?”

      If he actually had to answer that question, he’d have to say he doubted anyone did. As far as he could tell, Billy’s mental processes constituted a total enigma—and the only predictable thing about him was that he could be counted on to do the unpredictable.

      Even so, going on TV when a killer was after him was crazy—even for Billy Brent.

      “Anyhow,” Ken continued, “after we’d discussed the fact that Sherry’s little announcement made an appearance out of the question, Billy said he’d call her back and get himself out of it. Only the next thing I knew he’d taken a hike. Obviously changed his mind about reneging.”

      “So now he’s wandering around New York. Ken, if—”

      “Look, I’m going to find him. Worse comes to worst, I’ll catch up with him when he arrives at the studio in the morning. Hustle him out of there and—”

      “No, that just isn’t good enough. If he shows his face anywhere near that studio he could end up dead. You’ve got to track him down today.”

      “That’s what I’m trying to do. He told me a lot about what he does when he’s in New York and I’m checking all his favorite haunts. I was only saying if worse comes to worst.”

      Dan drummed his fingers on the kitchen counter, thinking that Billy could be just about anywhere in the city. With just about anyone.

      He’d performed in New York theaters for years before the megabucks of the movies had lured him to L.A. And he still spent a fair amount of time in Manhattan. Even referred to himself as “bi-coastal.”

      Which all added up to the fact that if Ken figured the odds on finding him today were good, he was deluding himself.

      So what was the best move in light of that? Did it make more sense to stay put for the moment? Or should he head straight to New York and help Ken with his search?

      Two people looking for Billy would be better than one. Yet if he left right now, he’d be forgoing his chance to wrap up this job if the killer did arrive at the retreat.

      “Well?” Ken said.

      “I’m thinking,” he muttered.

      Dammit, this wasn’t one of his tougher assignments. At least, it shouldn’t be. All he had to do was insure that Billy stayed alive and determine who wanted him dead.

      And by far the simplest way to do that was to nail the hit man. Then, with a little persuasion, he’d convince the guy to reveal who’d hired him. But if he didn’t nail the killer, the job could turn into something immensely more complicated.

      Talking with Billy, he’d realized that there were a lot of people who might want the star dead—obviously, at least one of them badly enough to hire a contract killer.

      Billy