He glanced at me. “The possibility that I’m wrong?”
I grinned. “Right. I mean, not that you’re ever wrong.”
“Never!”
“But, in that completely improbable circumstance when you were, then there’d still be a crazed stalker going after Lida.”
He let out a heavy sigh. “So little faith you have in my baseless hunches.”
“It’s a character flaw of mine,” I said with a shrug. “But, seriously, for all we know, Lida might currently be loaded to the gills with Xanax, which would help with the whole image of not being worried.”>Though why would anyone go through surgery to look younger and then not color his gray hair? I wondered silently. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” I said aloud, shaking his hand. “I’m Detective Kara Gillian with Beaulac Police Department, and this is Special Agent Ryan Kristoff with the FBI.”
Ben Moran turned to grip Ryan’s hand. “The pleasure is mine. Can I get either of you anything?”
Ryan shook his head. “We’re just following up with your niece to see if there’s anything else we can determine that might help us locate her attacker.”
A frown somehow managed to crease Moran’s forehead. “I thought the guy who grabbed her fell in the river. I figured he was gone and good riddance.” He looked briefly abashed and shook his head. “I’m sorry if that sounds harsh, but I don’t like it when people mess with my family.”
“That’s quite understandable, sir,” I said. “We, uh, have reason to believe that whoever it was managed to climb out of the river.” Might as well continue with the fiction that we’d come up with when it had happened. Even if the golem had been destroyed by its dunk in the river, whoever had created it was certainly still out there and possibly capable of making another. “Right now we’re trying to determine what motivations the attacker might have had.”
Lida let out a sigh. “Does it really matter?”
“We don’t want it to happen again,” Ryan replied.
Ben Moran shook his head. “No, we don’t. But I’m more inclined to think it was a prank than a stalker. I mean, Lida’s not exactly Beyonce.” He shot his niece an apologetic look. “I don’t mean that as an insult, Lida.”
She shrugged. “No, I get it. I don’t have the kind of fan base that would bring out the stalker type.” She tugged at a lock of hair that hung across her face. “I mean, shit. Our tours are small venues, bars and stuff, maybe ten or twelve gigs total.The gig last night was the last one on this stretch. We don’t play again for another two months. We thought we were going to get to open for Evanescence, but Adam wasn’t able to nail it down.” More disappointment darkened her eyes, but she covered it quickly. “But that’s cool. It gives us time to work on new stuff for the next album.” She tapped the guitar beside her.
I sat back down. “What about other members of the band?” I asked. “Has there been any friction?”
“No way,” she said firmly and without hesitation. “I mean, you certainly can’t worry about Michael. He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. And Trey’s an absolute sweetie.” An almost-shy smile filled her face. “He’s my boyfriend. And I know that normally would mean he’d be at the top of the list of suspects, but I swear, he’s the last person I’d ever need to worry about. He’s beyond harmless. I’ve never seen anyone so laid back. He doesn’t get upset about anything.”
I carefully masked my dubious expression. I’d heard that before.
“Trey’s a good kid,” Ben Moran said firmly. “Though I guess I shouldn’t call him a ‘kid,’ ” he added wryly. “He recently graduated from LSU with a degree in finance.”
I glanced down at my notebook. “What about Roger?” I asked Lida. “He’s the drummer, right?”
“Uh-huh, and he also does all of our equipment setup when we have a gig.” Then she shrugged. “But Roger would never get that bent out of shape over anything to do with the band.”
I cocked my head. “Why do you say that?”
Ben made an irritated sound. “Because he has his fingers in so many pies that he can’t focus on any of them.”
Lida grimaced, but then she gave a reluctant nod. “Yeah. I hate to slam Roger, but that about covers him. He’s a good drummer, and he likes being with the band, but we all know that eventually we’ll need to find a new drummer. It’s a hobby for him. And everyone’s cool with that.”
I wondered how cool “everyone” really was. “How’s Michael handling all of this?”
“He’s all right,” she said with a smile, though there was a edge of worry to it. “He’ll lose himself in his music for a while, which always calms him down.”
Ben cleared his throat softly. “Michael has a difficult time processing emotional situations. He’s come a long way since the accident, but there are times when he’s very fragile.”
“I’m sorry. What accident?” I asked, knowing that it was probably an insensitive question.
Lida took a steadying breath. “When Michael was twelve, he and I were out in the garage, helping our dad with one of his woodworking projects. It was a windy day . . . and the roof collapsed.” Grief filled her eyes and she looked away. “Dad was killed instantly. I had a broken leg and Michael was pretty badly hurt with a head injury.” She let out a shuddering breath. “He survived, but he suffered some brain damage as a result.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said quietly.
She tugged at her hair and looked back at us. “It’s all right. It was eight years ago—long enough that it’s not so hard to talk about.” She forced a small smile, but I’d seen the grief in her eyes.