Run, Rose, Run(87)

Chapter

77



So she really seemed okay? Body, mind, all of it?” Jack asked, pouring himself a Scotch from Ruthanna’s minibar, though five o’clock was still a ways off.

Ruthanna nodded, her mouth full of fancy French chocolate. Low-carb diet be damned—stress like this called for truffles, or whatever the hell those delicious little cocoa-covered balls were. “AnnieLee was as impatient and headstrong as ever,” she said. “But then she was sleeping when I left. I think they still want to do some kind of psychiatric evaluation.” She picked up another truffle and then set it back down again. Maybe Scotch was the thing for stress. Or both. “I somehow still can’t believe it,” she said. “I keep thinking someone’s going to pinch my arm and tell me to wake up.”

“If only,” Jack said, grimacing and rubbing his forehead.

Ruthanna hadn’t seen him so rattled in years, and she patted a spot on the couch next to her. “Take a load off for a minute, hon,” she said.

He sat down heavily and put his feet up on the coffee table. “I should be on the phone with ACD, and the Aquitaine Event Center people, and about a thousand other lawyers and bean counters. But right now I just need to drink a little of this Scotch and be grateful that our sweet girl is okay.”

Ruthanna turned to look at his familiar, rugged profile. Our sweet girl. It was as if AnnieLee belonged to them the way a child would, and the phrase sent a sudden rush of emotion through her. She was so grateful for Jack, she cared about AnnieLee so much, and seeing her lying tiny and alone in that hospital bed had just about broken Ruthanna’s heart.

Had she done wrong by dreaming up this concert? She knew how much pressure AnnieLee was under, and how it was all new to her—she hadn’t been performing since she was knee-high to a grasshopper the way Ruthanna had. AnnieLee hadn’t had time to grow the thick skin that was necessary to survive.

Ruthanna let out a long sigh. Sophia hadn’t grown that thick skin, either, and though she’d never truly wanted to be a performer, she had always been in the public eye. She’d resented it, too, which was one of the things that had made her relationship with Trace Jones so ironic. She’d finally gotten out of her mother’s shadow, only to turn around and walk right into his.

And what if that was the thing that had killed her?

On the morning of Sophia’s funeral, Ruthanna had stepped outside her house to find a helicopter over her lawn, hovering so close she could feel the wind on her face. Her phone had been ringing day and night with reporters who wanted to hear about her grief, as if her pain was something she owed them.

She didn’t owe them anything but her music, but after that day she couldn’t give it to them anymore. Sophia’s death—and the world’s fanatical fascination with it—had broken Ruthanna. She’d quit the business.

And now, years later, she was back, and another girl she loved was hurting. She couldn’t bear to lose this one, too.

Jack put his hand on her leg and squeezed affectionately. “What about you? Are you doing okay?” he asked.

She was trying to figure out how to answer the question when her phone rang. It was Ethan.

“Hey, cowboy—” she began, but Ethan’s words tumbled right over hers.

“I’m at the hospital,” he said. “But AnnieLee’s not here. Ruthanna, she’s gone.”





Chapter

78



Ruthanna let the phone fall from her fingers onto the carpet. Jack began to rub her back, as if he could smooth away her rising panic.

“That damn fool girl ran,” she said.

Jack bent down, picked up her phone, and held it out to her. “Call the hospital,” he urged.

“What for?” Ruthanna snapped, her numbness shifting quickly to anger. “Should I ask how the hell they let a banged-up girl in a hospital gown and no shoes sneak out the back door?”

“You could ask if anyone saw anything—”

“Ethan’s on top of that already, Jack,” she said. “And you know full well what’d happen if I called them up. I’d pitch a hissy fit so big it’d have a tail on it, and there’s no way that would help.”

“It might make you feel better,” Jack said.

“Yes, it might,” Ruthanna agreed. “All the same, I think I won’t do it.” She put her face in her hands. “Why didn’t I just stay with her?”

“Because you thought she was safe there,” Jack said gently.

“I did,” she whispered. And knowing how wrong she’d been about that made her want to cry. “I thought they were taking care of her.” She squeezed her stinging eyes shut. She never should have left; she should’ve sat by AnnieLee’s bedside until she woke up.

Unless, of course, AnnieLee hadn’t really been sleeping in the first place.

Then Ruthanna heard Jack say, “Damn it,” and she looked up to see him scrolling down his phone.

Her heart gave a lurch. “Damn what?”

He held up the screen so she could read the headline.

AnnieLee Keyes Jumps from Luxe Vegas Hotel

[Click HERE for DRAMATIC Photos]

Speculation the rising star was suicidal



Ruthanna grabbed the phone and clicked through, but when she saw the photograph of a blurry, white-robed figure—AnnieLee, caught mid-plunge—she put the phone down. “Suicidal? That’s horseshit!”