Beautiful Obsession

Entangled Mysteries

The air in the suite was thick with tension, a stark contrast to the usual electric energy that surrounded Vision of the Void. Detective Brook Robinson, in his element yet emotionally entangled, navigated the intricate layers of his role. The previous night's incident had been a shockwave, hitting too close to home, both as a fan and an officer.

Brook had been there, in the thick of the excitement at the meet and greet, when chaos erupted. His swift shift from fan to first responder had been instinctual, his training taking over as he braved the turmoil to assist the injured stagehand. He was grateful the bomb hadn't been as lethal as it could have been, a small mercy in the midst of chaos.

The stage hand ended up in the hospital with blast wounds and third degree burns but his prognosis was good and Brook had been able to get a statement.

The band's statements, crucial to the investigation, had been delayed due to their swift evacuation – a necessary clash of security protocols and investigative procedures. Now, as he prepared to delve into their accounts, Brook couldn’t shake off the intensity of Adam's gaze from the night before. Those fiery glances, filled with unspoken promises, lingered in his mind, blurring the lines between duty and desire.

Last night Adam had been shooting f**k him eyes his way all night. Although those enticing looks were aimed at him, there remained a sliver of doubt, acknowledging that they might also have been directed towards someone else. As far as he knew Adam didn’t have a person, but he could be hiding a relationship from the media too.

Nevertheless, in this current situation of being alone with the band, apart from the stringent manager and overly laid-back security guard, there was no doubt in his mind that those alluring expressions had been exclusively intended for him. Which made the whole situation worse. He could theoretically admit conflict of interest and be free to pursue whatever this was between him and Adam, knowing that Adam would be the one person not upset with what was between Brooks legs. Or he could maintain his position on the case to ensure justice for the stagehand and band was found.

The situation was a dilemma of heart versus badge. He could either pursue this electric connection with Adam, potentially compromising the investigation, or he could stay focused, ensuring justice for the injured and the band. The choice weighed heavily on him.

“So, what’s next?” Ms. Black’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Brook's eyes scanned the faces of the band members, reading their anxiety and fear. The targeting of Chris's drum kit was a menacing message – but was it directed at Chris alone, or the entire band? It was Brook’s job to find out.

“I'll need to speak with each of you individually, starting with Mr. Donnelly, the head of security,” Brook announced, his tone firm yet empathetic.

Devon rolled his eyes, but moved from his position leaning against the wall. He opened the door and with a slight nod another guard entered the room. While the man appeared relaxed, Brook could tell he was anything but. He’d become this band’s head of security for a reason.

Once the second guard was in the room, Devon gave a satisfied nod and led them to one of the bedrooms.

Brook took out his small notepad so he could take notes, Devon took stance against the window so he could see the door and waved towards the bed. But Brook remained standing.

“Mr. Donnelly, can–“

“Please, call me Devon. Only Dom calls me Mr. Donnelly, makes me sound like my dad.”

“Sorry, Devon, then. Can you walk me through last night from the time you arrived at the arena?”

Devon nodded, with out preamble he confirmed the night in precise details, from minute to minute. It was one of the reasons that Brook had wanted to talk with him first. The other being that he knew for a fact the head of security would not allow any of the band members alone with Brook at this moment in time.

“The day of the concert, each band member is assigned a security guard, usually the same one, first thing in the morning. We left the hotel at 4:03pm, three minutes late because Chris couldn’t find his lucky drumstick. Neither me nor my team noted anything suspicious as we escorted the band from Andy’s room to their awaiting limo. Here’s their names,” Devon said handing him some papers before he continued, “my reports also included. Anyway, so the trip to the stadium was completely uneventful I didn’t see any suspicious cars or anything that stood out.” Devon continued on with his detailed recount but as Devon had already depicted nothing out of the ordinary stood out. Maybe he’d have better luck with the other guards.

“And who was responsible for stage security?”

The conversation shifted to stage security, revealing that it was primarily managed by the venue, with one of Devon's men, Allan, coordinating. Devon’s thoroughness in providing documentation and interviews from his team was impressive, yet it left Brook with more questions than answers.

Brook’s inquiries into the equipment checks brought forth a critical detail – the stagehands and the equipment manager were the last to handle the instruments. This information narrowed the focus of the investigation, even as it broadened the scope of potential suspects.

Reviewing the paperwork, Devon included a written recount that matched what he said, the names and phone numbers of all of his security staff, as well as his own interviews with his staff, seems like he’d gotten the beat on Brook there.

“And does anyone normally check the equipment over?”

“Not my guys, at least not prior to last night. From now on, you better believe one of my guys will be. But yesterday the last ones to touch the equipment before the guys was probably the stagehands or equipment manager, his information is in there too,” Devon replied pointing to the paperwork.

Brook nodded confident that the man was telling the truth. The man seemed to care for his charges. “And how long have you been working for the band?”

“Since I started with Beats Security, November 2018.” The shift in Devon's demeanor was notable; the man who had shown a playful side in front of the band was all business now. His commitment to the band's security was unquestionable.

“And were you always in charge of their security?”

“No, I was just one of many who’ve come and gone since. I started out under Allan actually,” he replied.

“That had to piss off Allan, that you were moved to guard detail?” Brook asked scribbling down a note to confirm if one of his officers followed up on a similar question to Mr. Colon.

Devon chuckled and shook his head, “God no, Allan is protective of the band just like the rest of us, but he’s not the personal detail kind of guy. He prefers his position. It also makes it easier for him to take care of his girls, he’s a single dad.”

Brook nodded with him. Devon seemed to know the men who worked under him but Brook would still follow-up.

Brook went on to ask Devon several more questions but didn’t get any pertinent information from him that they didn’t already have. Brook was sure if the bomb had gone off while the band members had actually been near it, Devon would have been able to give him more details of what he was or was not missing, however, Devon had trusted his guys to see too the stage security.

“I’d like to speak with Mx. Coma next, since it was his equipment that was targeted.”

Devon pushed off the window but did not walk past Brook, instead he gestured for Brook to go first, so he did.

The guard did not let Brook out of his sight the short walk back into the living area of the hotel room.

The hush that enveloped the room as they returned was palpable. Every gaze followed their movement, except for Chris. They sat motionless, seemingly lost in a distant thought.

“Mx. Coma, may I have your statement, please?” Brook's voice, clear but gentle, cut through the silence.

No response came from Chris.

“Chris?” Andy's voice was soft, laced with concern as he placed a hand on the drummer's leg.

At Andy's touch, Chris jolted, a startled reaction that sent waves of tension through the room. Devon was by their side in an instant, his comforting presence a stark contrast to the sudden alertness. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he soothed.

Brook observed the exchange with keen interest. The term of endearment didn’t necessarily imply a romantic relationship, but it spoke volumes of the bond they shared. Devon’s protective instinct was palpable, a silent testament to the deep connection formed over the years.

As Brook prepared for the interview, he chose the single chair, allowing Chris and Devon to sit on the bed. But as Devon attempted to step back, Chris’s grip on his arm tightened, a silent plea for continued support.

Brook couldn’t resist probing, “I wasn’t aware that you had a personal relationship with the band.”

Devon’s response, though terse, was laced with a fierce loyalty. “They’ve become family over the last few years, nothing more, nothing less.”

Chris had always been a mystery, their quiet demeanor both on and off stage intriguing fans and media alike. Up until now, Devon had been the spokesperson, but Brook’s focus shifted to Chris.

“Chris?” His voice softened, intending to put them at ease. “Can you walk me through what happened last night, starting from when you arrived at the arena?”

A glance from Chris to Devon was met with a silent nod of reassurance.

“We arrived at the venue around 4 to 4:30,” Chris began, their voice barely above a whisper. “My floor tom didn’t sound right during warm-up. I didn’t have time to adjust it, so I swapped it with my backup. I didn’t think about the original tom again until you brought it up today.”

“What happened after that?” Brook prompted when Chris didn’t continue.

“We broke for dinner at about 5, then I stayed in the dressing room until our set at 7:30. After the performance, I did the usual routine – shower, change, then attended the meet and greet. I don’t recall the exact times; it all became a blur after that until we were hastily escorted back to the hotel.”

Despite Brook’s further questioning, Chris offered little more information. Their presence was as subdued and unassuming as their public persona suggested. Brook pondered how such a seemingly gentle soul navigated the demanding world of rock music. Chris appeared genuinely perplexed at the notion of being a target, leading Brook to theorize that the intended victims were likely the band as a whole. The bomb's placement in the drum, a chillingly effective yet simple method, reinforced this suspicion.

As Brook continued his methodical questioning of the band and their security detail, the pattern of responses remained consistent. Each member's account echoed the others, a chorus of vague yet similar timelines that aligned with Chris's narrative. Despite his thorough probing, Brook was no closer to unraveling the mystery of the bomb’s origin or the identity of the perpetrator. The lack of notable disgruntled exes and overzealous fans only deepened the enigma.

His final interview with Dominique Black was a study in precision. The manager's military background was evident in her concise, exact answers. Her account dovetailed seamlessly with Devon's detailed timeline and the band's more generalized recollections, offering no new leads but reinforcing the existing narrative.

After the interviews concluded, the band regrouped in the common area, a collective air of apprehension hanging over them. Andy, his expression a blend of concern and defiance, broke the silence.

“So, what happens now?”

Brook took a moment before responding, his tone serious yet empathetic. “My CSI team is processing the evidence, including any fingerprints we find. We’ll need to take your prints as well to rule out any false leads. My officers are also gathering statements from your crew. We’ll be thoroughly examining any inconsistencies.”

He paused, considering his next words. “Given the situation, I would recommend canceling the rest of the tour, but…”

Andy was quick to interject, his determination clear. “Yeah, we aren’t doing that. We already had to cancel tonight’s show.”

Brook nodded, understanding yet concerned. “Then I strongly advise you to enhance your security measures,” he said, directing his gaze towards Devon.

Devon’s response was immediate and assured. “I’ve already been in touch with our security firm. They’re deploying additional personnel for both personal protection and stage security. Allan is making sure of it.”

Brook’s final words were a blend of instruction and request. “Normally, we would ask you to stay in the area for the investigation, but considering your tour schedule, just ensure that you’re reachable at all times and don’t leave the country. If there’s any development or if you remember anything else, please contact me immediately.”

Dom, her demeanor unflappable as ever, nodded in agreement. “You’ll be my first call,” she assured him.

As Brook left the suite, the weight of the unresolved case lingered in his mind. The lack of leads was frustrating, but he was determined to peel back the layers of this mystery. The safety of Vision of the Void and unraveling the intentions behind this sinister act were his top priorities. He stepped out into the corridor, his resolve firm, ready to delve deeper into the investigation.