Page 85 of Not Another Rockstar
“We’re waiting for the autopsy, but he sent an email to LouderTech telling them he was solely responsible for the break-in at the studio, and that he was sorry for the destruction he caused and the harm he did to both Phoebe and the company’s reputation.”
“It all seems too easy. I don’t like it,” Axel said, pacing.
“He wasn’t a criminal mastermind,” Nick said. “Sheen was an obsessed fan who didn’t get what he wanted and gave up.”
“What do you think?” Axel asked, looking to Phoebe.
“I want to believe Sheen was working alone, and that he’d been manipulating us last night. But the overdose, the confession, and all the evidence feel too good to be true.”
“I’ll keep digging,” Isaiah said, “but don’t let Sheen get into your head. I don’t want any of you looking for shadows that aren’t there.”
“So that’s it?” Axel said. “We return to normal?”
“I don’t see why not. Just be cautious until we get the final results from the evidence we found and the autopsy.”
“Thank you for everything.” Nick shook his hand.
Axel sat down solemnly, and Phoebe could hear his mind going a mile a minute.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get to him sooner so I could get you a real confession,” Isaiah said, and it was obvious he wasn’t too happy with this ending either.
August started washing the dishes to self-soothe, and Nick grabbed a beer from the fridge.
“You’ve done more than enough. Thank you for helping us,” Phoebe said, walking Isaiah to the door.
He pulled on his jacket. “I’ll be in touch with the results. Look after each other, and call me if there is anything else you need.”
He left with a quick goodbye, and she couldn’t believe it was over, just like that.
When she got backto the kitchen, Nick and August didn’t look like they were in the mood to chat about the new development, and Axel was gone.
“He’s down in the basement,” Nick told her. “We’re going to take Bart for a walk.”
Phoebe guessed they wanted to give Axel and her some space.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
She knew they’d suspected that Cillian’s death wasn’t an accident. If there was some maestro behind the curtain targeting all of them, then they had hope that Cillian wasn’t responsible for what had happened. Isaiah had quashed that hope with reality.
“It’s over, like Isaiah said. Let’s not look for shadows,” Nick said, resting a hand over hers.
She nodded, not wanting to put doubts into their heads. After so much going wrong, maybe she just couldn’t believe this because it felt too good to be true. But seeing Sheen’s shrine in the photos had confirmed all she needed to know. It made sense that he’d targeted her; there was no phantom orchestrating everything. Cillian’s accident was an accident, and Sheen was just an obsessive fan who blamed her for Cill’s death and resented her close relationship with the rest of the band. He’d fed on their fears to try and get close to them.
Phoebe hesitated at the basement door. After everything Axel had done for her, she felt a surge of guilt and wasn’t sure whether to disturb him or give him some space. The news about Sheen was a lot for them all to digest; going down to the basement to play was code for “Axel needs space”, but she wanted to make sure he was okay. She turned the doorknob and figured that since the door wasn’t locked, he wasn’t too opposed to visitors. Padding down the steps, she heard him curse as he made a mistake.
“Are you going to hide down here, or do you want to talk?” Phoebe asked, playing with the long sleeves of her black dress.
His head snapped up before he started again.
“I’m not hiding, I just needed some time to process.” Axel’s shoulders relaxed as she approached him. “Playing is the only way I can get my mind to stop racing.”
“Do you want me to go?” she asked, even if leaving was the last thing she wanted.
“Don’t you dare. Come over here.” Axel reached out for her, bridging the gap between them.
She handed him the small towel from the amplifier beside her. Watching the beads of sweat run down Axel’s chiselled torso only reminded her of how his body had felt against hers, and she didn’t want her desire distracting her from their conversation.
“I can’t seem to forget that Sheen won’t have to suffer for what he put you through, but having you beside me is a much more effective distraction.” He put down his sticks and wiped the sweat from his brow with the towel.
