Page 65 of Archer

We worked in silence through the afternoon. I clicked on image after image. Seeing myself on stage, mic in hand, pouring my heart into lyrics that had felt so personal. So intimate.

And there, in the wings, a now familiar face. Jeremy Webb.

“Look.” My voice cracked. “Left side.”

Archer leaned closer to look over my shoulder. “You got him. Send that to Colton.”

I forwarded the image, then kept scrolling. More shows. More photos.

“Here.” Archer pointed at his screen. “That’s him in the tech booth in the background of this shot.”

The photo featured me and the band celebrating after a show, plus someone’s phone held high for a group selfie. And there, barely visible through the booth window: Jeremy Webb, watching.

My skin crawled.

We found eight more images over the next two hours. Webb at the Grizzly Rose in Colorado, standing stage right during setup. Webb outside a venue in Nashville, caught in the background of a fan photo someone had posted and tagged me in. Webb at an industry mixer I’d attended, visible through a doorway in a shot Alexis had taken.

Always watching. Always there.

“I need to call Alexis.” I stood abruptly, restless and ready to move. “She should know about this. The label should know too. I let them all think this was about losing Gram. A big part of it was, but I stopped telling people about the roses and music boxes when the police told me there wasn’t anything they could do. I felt silly for feeling as if this was more than just someone sending creepy gifts. And I didn’t want to get the internet worked up about a stalker before I could prove there was one.”

Archer rubbed a big palm down my arm. “I’m sorry anyone has ever made you feel that way. Hopefully Alexis will run interference with the press when this breaks.”

I dialed Alexis’s number and paced the living room as it rang. I was about to cause a social media storm.

“Harper.” Alexis answered on the second ring, her voice sharp with concern. “Tell me you’re calling with good news about coming back to Nashville.”

I’d nearly forgotten that was an issue. “Not exactly.” A twinge of guilt hit for leaving the burden in her hands, though I had my hands more than full. “Alexis, we identified the stalker.”

Silence.

“What?”

I caught her up quickly, adding details about today’s run in and all the images of Webb at my shows.

“And he found you all the way out there? How is that possible? I haven’t told anyone.”

“I know you didn’t,” I assured her. “We think he got wind of Gram’s passing and made a guess.” I gave her his name and the company he worked for, then I texted a few of the photos I’d found.

“Christ.” I heard her moving, a door closing. “What can I do to help?”

“I need you to tell the label what’s happening. They’re putting pressure on me to come back, but I can’t leave the island until this is resolved. And I need you to prepare for media fallout. When Webb is arrested, this is going to be a story.”

“No problem. I’ll brief the label this afternoon, and I’ll call the publicist. We’ll get ahead of this.” She paused. “Harper, are you safe where you are?”

“Yes. I have round-the-clock protection, and the local sheriff is in communication with Nashville PD. I’m good. It’s just a matter of time now, and this will finally be over.”

“Stay safe. When this guy is caught, we’re going to stage the comeback of the century. You understand me? This doesn’t end your career. It launches it.”

I should have been offended by the opportunism in her voice. But I knew Alexis. She showed love through strategy, support through action. And she was working to spin this shitshow to my benefit.

“Thanks, Alexis.”

“Call me if you need anything. I’m really glad you’re okay.”

I pocketed the phone and turned to find Archer watching me from across the room.

“Everything okay?” he said.