Last Breath by Brandilyn Collins, Amberly Collins

don’t care to see a third.” He swiveled, paced two steps toward the wall, and pivoted back. “Now we’re one bodyguard short, the tour’s over, and I’ve got to get everyone home safely. We need two guards here, switching off for this room, and that leaves no one for everybody else. And now I hear there’s still a killer out there!”
    My body went hot. I dragged my fingers along the bed, scrunching up the covers. Why hadn’t I thought about this? What if my silence had put other members of the band in danger?
    A knock rapped against the door.
    â€œYes?” Ross snapped. I twisted around.
    Wendell’s head appeared. “I’ve got the first two suitcases—”
    â€œFine. Push ’em in and leave.”
    Surprise at the angry tone flicked across Wendell’s face. He glanced at Mom, then opened the door wider and rolled in my two large bags. The door closed.
    I glared at Ross. “You didn’t have to be so mean to him. He saved my life, you know.”
    Ross flapped a hand in the air. “And I’m trying to save lives now.” He yanked his cell phone from a front pocket and punched multiple buttons. “Detective Myner should have been looking for this Gary Donovon since last night. Now you can bet Donovon’s seen the news and gone underground. We may have lost our chance—” His head jerked. “Yes, Detective, it’s Ross Blanke. Shaley has something to talk to you about.”
    Ross marched over to me and held out the phone. “Tell him.”

17
    P erched stiffly on my hospital bed, I told Detective Myner everything. I wouldn’t look at Ross, but I could feel his laser-like stare. When I apologized to the detective for lying, Ross sucked air through his teeth. He didn’t know Detective Myner had asked me what Jerry whispered, and I’d replied it was nothing important.
    My fingers cramped from gripping the cell phone so hard.
    â€œAll right.” The detective didn’t even sound mad. At least that was something. Ross was mad enough for two people. “Thanks for telling me, Shaley. We’ll start running this down immediately. We’ll find the guy.”
    Fear and wild hope shot through me. If they found my father, maybe I could see him.
    But if he’d sent Jerry, why would I want to?
    â€œOkay. Thanks.” My voice dulled out. I just wanted to reverse the world three days—when I knew nothing about my father and could still dream he was a good, loving man.
    â€œCan I talk to your mom for a minute?” the detective asked.
    â€œSure.” I handed the phone to Mom.
    The detective’s voice filtered to my ears. He asked for the spelling of Donovon.
    Mom told him, then listened. “I don’t know. The last time I saw him was seventeen years ago.”
    All appetite for breakfast was gone. The smells coming from the McDonald’s bag turned my stomach. No way was I going to hear the rest of the story about my father like this.
    I thrust myself off the bed and made for the bathroom. Inside, I shut the door hard and locked it, closing out Mom’s voice.
    The bathroom looked cold and sterile. A shower with a seat. One sink. A floor of white tile. The toilet was handicapped-size. On the wall next to it ran a strong silver bar for support.
    Eyes burning, I sat down on the closed toilet and put my head in my hands. Loneliness washed over me in waves. How had I gotten here, in this hospital room, so far from my home? Why had God let me lose three friends in the last few days, one of them turning out to be a traitor?
    Now I was losing my dad—before I even knew him.
    A tear plopped to the tile between my feet.
    Remember, God is always watching . Carly’s words from two days ago ran through my head. Yesterday I’d vowed to find the truth—all of it. The truth about my earthly father, and the heavenly Father whom Carly insisted loved me so much.
    So much for the