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have to get this done right away.”
    “No one’s going into the studio tonight. In fact, Colgate might be closed for days. It’s a crime scene now.”
    Butch groaned and looked at Serene. “I told you you needed to put a studio in your basement like everybody else in Nashville.”
    While they argued about it, Parker made it back to her car.

CHAPTER
    FIVE
    As she drove back to West End, Parker wondered about the wisdom of going home. But her mother’s house probably still swarmed with her Bible study group, and Parker didn’t feel like being pumped for behind-the-scenes information. Gibson had called as Parker left Serene’s and asked if he could talk to her again tonight. He preferred that she not be at their mother’s, since Mom would freak if she saw the other pictures he needed to show Parker.
    Parker already felt sick. “Will you meet me at my house?”
    “Can’t,” he said. “Not yet. I’m on my way to talk to Brenna’s parents. Don’t be afraid. I really don’t think the guy was after you.”
    But what did he know? He’d been in this job for all of a month. His first case had been a domestic violence case. The wife, who’d been beaten, had shot her husband, then called the police and turned herself in. The second had been a barroom brawl with dozens of witnesses. And the third was a DUI accident that left a child dead. None had been difficult to solve.
    It wasn’t that she doubted her brother’s competence as a detective—there was no doubt involved. She was certain he didn’t know what he was doing. He probably wouldn’t know a murderer if he waved a gun in his face.
    If only she hadn’t helped him study for the exams, she would be able to trust in his instincts.
    Gibson’s history was one of gut impulses and bad choices. He’d flunked out of college because he attended more frat parties than classes. Then he had to get a job. He lost his first two sales jobs because he couldn’t drag himself out of bed to show up. His womanizing had left a trail of heartbroken ex-girlfriends who thought they could change him.
    Lynn finally pushed him out of her nest, praying he’d sprout wings. He picked himself up and joined the army. They made him an MP and sent him to Afghanistan in the first wave after 9/11. That was where he embraced Christ and vowed to turn his life around.
    The military gave him a sense of discipline and purpose. When he got out a few years later, he joined the police department and began working nights as a studio musician—a good fit, but his ups and downs kept the family from trusting him just yet.
    Parker was a firsthand witness of how poorly prepared Gibson had been for the homicide detective exam. He’d gone to take the test with hope and a prayer, and she sat at home waiting for word that he’d failed. When he passed, she wondered if the examiner got his test mixed up with someone else’s. But apparently he’d passed fair and square. And as much as she doubted his investigative abilities, she did value his protection. At six-three and 225 pounds, Gibson made a good bouncer.
    If he couldn’t meet her at home yet, she could drive around until he was ready. She could spend that time praying for Brenna’s family. But why burn up all that gas? She tried to think of an all-night Starbucks, but there weren’t any.
    Finally, she went home and sat in the car in her carport, letting the engine idle so she could whip it into reverse if anyone jumped out of the shadows. After a while, she realized that was crazy. She turned the key off, slid out of the car, and closed the door quietly. Then she bolted for her side door. She fumbled for the key, stuck it in the knob, and went inside.
    She turned on the light. No one moved out of the shadows or pounced from behind the refrigerator, and there weren’t that many places for full-grown humans to hide. Her small kitchen stood to the left of the door she’d come in, her counter separating it from the living area, which was just big