Read Over the Line for Free Online Page B

So much so that she must have wobbled. Wilson's fingers wrapped around her arm and steadied her.
     
    "Thank God." She smiled, feeling foolish. "Sorry about that. I'm a little wired. Big show tonight." She lifted a shoulder. "So, what can I do for you? Oh—hey, this isn't about the damage the band did to the hotel in Denver a couple of weeks ago, is it? We covered that. At least, we were supposed to."
     
    "Ma'am," the officer who she thought introduced himself as Richards interrupted. "It's not about Denver. I'm afraid we have some bad news for you."
     
    Again, she was aware on a peripheral level of Wilson's strong, steady support beside her. And once again, she searched for a plausible reason for their concern.
     
    Then it came to her. "Grimm? Is this about Edwin Grimm?"
     
    Officer Richards shook his head. "Your mother," he said, his eyes kind and sad. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but she's dead."
     
    Her mother.
     
    Dead.
     
    Janey stared in numb silence. Numb but for the sharp, tight knot twisting in her chest. Numb but for the rush of blood pulsing at her temples, blurring her vision.
     
    She shook her head. Wilson's hands on her shoulders now felt strong and warm and real in a moment that had otherwise lost all semblance of reality. "Dead? My mother is ... dead? Are you ... sure?"
     
    "I'm sorry, Ms. Perkins, but yes. The Tupelo police identified her body. They didn't want to deliver the news by phone so they contacted us and asked that we inform you."
     
    "How?" she finally managed to ask, still caught somewhere between disbelief, denial, and bewilderment.
     
    "According to the report, she was killed by a hit and run driver. There's an ongoing investigation, of course, but that's what appears to have happened, ma'am."
     
    "Ms. Perkins." It was Wilson's voice that penetrated the fog again. "Come on. Let's sit you down."
     
    She let him lead her to the sofa.
     
    "I'll leave a number for the Tupelo police. When you're up to it, you can call them. They can fill you in on the details." She heard Officer Richards's voice as her mind spun back to the phone call she'd just had with her mother.
     
    "I just talked to her," she said aloud.
     
    She was vaguely aware of the shifting of feet. Someone cleared his throat. "We're very sorry for your loss, Ms. Perkins."
     
    She nodded as they left the room, closing the door behind them.
     
    "I just talked to her," she repeated, lifting her head and meeting the concern in Jason Wilson's baby blue eyes.
     
    "Do you want me to call Max?" he asked gently.
     
    Already, he knew her so well. Knew that she needed Max. Max who was always there for her. Who she wanted to be here for her now.
     
    And yet, she shook her head. "No. I don't... um... I don't want Max to know about this. Not yet. He'll insist we cancel tonight's concert."
     
    Wilson was quiet for a while. "It's not my place to say so, but if he did cancel, he'd be making the right call."
     
    Wilson meant well. But suddenly she couldn't handle the compassion in his voice, the tenderness in his eyes.
     
    "Max is not to know about this," she insisted and dug deep to stiffen her backbone. "Got it?"
     
    He looked at her long and hard. "You're the boss."
     
    She made herself smile. "Yeah. There is that."
     
    "Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked after several moments passed.
     
    "Yeah. You can give me a little time alone, okay? I... I need to ..." What did she need to do? She didn't know. She didn't have a clue. "I just need to be alone for a while."
     
    She figured it went against his better judgment and his macho gene to leave her, but in the end, he nodded. "I'll be right outside the door. You need something... a shoulder maybe... just let me know."
     
    "Sure." She compressed her lips. "I will. Thanks."
     
    Then she closed her eyes and waited for what seemed like an eternity for the sound of the door to close behind him.
     
    Only then did she let the tears that had been building fall. Only