“Tania, he knew you were never going to eat those cupcakes. Come on. You’re a professional. Have you ever once eaten a gift of food a fan has left you at a concert or venue? He knows you. He’s probably the one who warned you against doing that.”

Tania sniffles. “Which means he did it on purpose to hurt someone else. And that’s even worse.”

“Of course it is,” I say. “It’s why you were right to stop paying him all along. It’s why you’ve got to keep doing what you said in the song . . . stand up to him, make it on your own. You’ve got to be an example to these girls, because I’m telling you, Tania, they need you. You’ve got to show them that by expressing themselves creatively through singing, songwriting, and performing, they can be whoever they want to be . . . not someone who takes off her clothes on top of a pool table for beer, not someone who can be bought and sold, not some sexual object for a man’s desire, but a strong, tough businesswoman and artist.”

Tania sniffles again. “That’s a really great speech, Heather,” she says. “But he almost killed Bear. And he did kill poor Jared. I’m not going to risk him killing one of those girls, or Jordan, or the baby, or Cooper, or you. And that’s what he’ll be mad enough to do if I don’t—”

“Good,” I say. “Let’s make him that mad.”

There’s an astonished pause before Tania says, “What?”

“You heard me,” I say. “Let’s make him mad. Good and mad. Let’s kick his ass for a change.”

“I already told you, that’s exactly what the police said not to do when I—”

“Tania,” I say. “When you talked to the police before, was Bear around?”

“No,” she admits tearfully.

“What about Cooper? Was Cooper around?”

“No,” she says. “But—”

“Was I around? How about Jordan? Or his dad? Or Jessica or Nicole? Were any of the people who love you and are around you now, around you back then?”

“No. But—”

“No. Things are different now. We’re going to help you, but you have to let us. I think you want to. That’s why you asked for the rock camp to be moved out of the Catskills and into my building. Am I right about that?”

I hear her voice break.

“Ye-e-es,” she says uncertainly. “But I only did it because you’ve caught so many bad people, and I thought if there was anyone who could catch Gary, it would be you. But I was wrong. I didn’t think anyone else was going to get hurt—”

“I know,” I say. I’ve never thought of myself as someone who catches “bad people,” even though I’ve done it before. It’s strange to hear that this is how I’m perceived by a stunningly gorgeous—if completely messed-up—rock diva. “But if we’re going to fix this thing, you have to be honest with me. You’ve got to trust me and you’ve got to help. Okay? Do you think you can do that?”

She sniffles some more, but finally says, “All right. I’ll try. Help how?”

“You say Gary’s been e-mailing you. Can you forward me copies of his e-mails to you?”

“What are you going to do with them?” Tania asks sus-piciously.

“Tania,” I say in a warning tone. “Just do it.” I give her my e-mail address.

“Okay. Is that all?” Tania asks, sounding as if she feels a little sick to her stomach.

“That’s it for now,” I say. “Just remember. You are a role model to all these girls. You cannot hide, and you cannot give in to Gary’s demands.” Then I add, as an afterthought, remembering Detective Canavan’s comment about Lifetime movies, “But don’t do anything dumb either, like go meet him alone on some dark street corner.”

“Why would I do that?” Tania asks. “I hate him. Heather, did you tell him?”

Confused, I ask, “Tell who what?”

“Cooper,” Tania says. “You did, didn’t you?”

I hear a key being slid into the office door’s lock. Rather than propping it open, as I always do on weekdays, I’d closed it behind me.

“Uh, Tania,” I say, “I gotta go. Someone is coming.”

“You told him,” Tania says in a resigned voice. “It’s all right. I knew you would. So long as he doesn’t tell Jordan, I don’t mind.”

“I think you should tell Jordan,” I say. “He’s going to find out anyway. And I promise, he’ll understand. Bye for now.” I hang up just as Lisa comes in, her dog Tricky at her side.

“Oh,” she says, looking surprised but not displeased to see me at my desk. “Hi! What are you doing here?”

“Yesterday was such a disaster,” I say, indicating the key cards and service requests on my desk. “I thought I’d come in and try to catch up.”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “Oh my God,” she says. “I know. Me too. Did you hear about the ten checkouts? And the girls from 1621, with the basketball players?”

“Yes,” I say, picking up the incident report and reading from it. “I also heard that you’re a dirty whore who needs to take a shower in order not to be so dirty.”

“Well,” Lisa says, laughing, “what I heard is that you’re a stuck-up bitch.”

We both begin laughing. Once we start it’s hard to stop. It’s probably because we’re a little giddy from all the stress. But it feels good.

“Oh God,” I say after we’ve calmed down a little. “Has anyone heard from Stephanie?”

“I haven’t,” Lisa says. “She didn’t look so good when she left the hospital yesterday.”

“Well,” I say, “I can’t imagine why she would. I’m guessing she’s going to be out of commission for a few days.”

“Which leaves us with a dorm full of adolescent girls with nothing to do,” Lisa says, “and a male Division III college basketball team that we physically cannot watch all the time. This is a recipe for disaster. Did you ever get an itinerary for the camp activities?”

“No,” I say. “Did you?”

“Why would Stephanie share it with me?” Lisa leans back against the couch onto which she’s sunk. “I’m just a lowly dorm administrator.”