Blood Score

by Jordan Dane

  It had to be perfect. For Ethan.

  Tim took a deep breath before he returned to his guest. His heart pumped too fast. If Ethan could see, he’d know how much his visit meant to him. If he could see, he’d know Tim was openly gay with a mad crush on his famous neighbor. And if he could see, he’d probably have nothing to do with such a mediocre looking man with no discernible talent.

  But that was the beauty of it all. He could get away with murder because Ethan was blind.

  “I thought you might like a snack, so I whipped up something.” Tim set the appetizer plate in front of his guest and reached for his hand. When he pulled away, Tim reassured him. “I just want to show you what’s on the plate.”

  “You didn’t have to do this. I’m not hungry, and I really must be going.”

  “Please, you trust me, don’t you?”

  Ethan relaxed his arm and let him guide his fingers around the plate as he described each appetizer. Touching the gifted violinist sent a rush of excitement through him. When his body reacted, he forced himself to continue.

  After he was done with his explanations, the young man said, “When you’re blind, trusting others isn’t easy.”

  “Yes, I can imagine, but you don’t have to worry, Ethan.” Tim smiled. “You’re safe here, with me.”

  Chapter 10

  Trump Tower – Downtown Chicago

  “Ethan must have been right. Olivia wasn’t the one behind those terrible letters,” Rachel said with watery eyes and a shaky voice. “He got this one from the real stalker this morning.”

  She pulled open a drawer in her desk to retrieve another letter, but Cronan stopped her.

  “Don’t touch it. Let me.” With a gloved hand, he took the letter and an envelope from her drawer and placed it on her desk. Angel stood and read over his shoulder.

  “This time, the stalker talks about Olivia…and how he killed her for Ethan’s own good.” Rachel crossed her arms with a noticeable shiver. “It scared me to death. Whoever did this is fixated on Ethan.”

  “Or people around him.” Cronan blurted out his thought, more for Angel’s benefit. But when he glanced up, he saw the look on Rachel’s face and knew he should have kept his theory to himself. “I’m sorry. Cops get pretty cynical. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m a big girl. I can take it.” Rachel swallowed, hard. “I’m just worried about Ethan…I mean, my client. Some lunatic is watching every move he makes. It’s him you should be worried about. Ethan needs protection, and I expect the Chicago PD to help.”

  Cronan’s first reaction was to tell her they were homicide detectives and wouldn’t be the cops assigned to any stalker investigation or be on Ethan Chandler’s protection detail if one was ordered, but Rachel wouldn’t want to hear the ‘not my job’ excuse. Struggling against his inclination to speak his mind, Cronan held back and tried something new.

  His version of diplomacy.

  “Lady, you haven’t even filed a complaint on the stalking yet. But considering how much you like to order people around and tell them how to do their jobs, you should hire a private security firm. With you paying the bill, they’d have to listen to your abuse. That’s a win-win.”

  Rachel sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I’m worried for Ethan, that’s all.”

  When her back was turned, Cronan rolled his eyes and took a deep breath.

  “Of course, it’s up to you to hire protection for him,” he said. “You should discuss it with your client, but I have a feeling when we find Olivia’s killer, we’ll put a stop to the stalking.” When she turned to face him, he shrugged and said, “Guess you could say we’d be working together on this.”

  It was as close to an apology as Rachel Blevins would get from him. The woman had lied too many times to win him over with a few tears.

  “I suppose you’ll both be at his performance Saturday night,” Rachel said. “Ethan told me he gave your partner two tickets and backstage passes when he met her at Bogart’s last night.”

  “Bogarts? Last night?” he asked, shifting his gaze to his partner. But after she only shrugged, Rachel filled in the blanks.

  “Yeah, Ethan met up with your partner last night. He told me to expect Detective Ramirez so she wouldn’t have to show her badge backstage at the concert. People could misconstrue the presence of law enforcement. The media could blow it out of proportion. But with just the two of you, the security could be discreet.”

  “What are you talking about?” Cronan narrowed his eyes. “Security? For Saturday’s performance?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” the publicist apologized. “I assumed you knew about his concert…and that the second ticket and pass Ethan gave your partner last night was for you.”

  “I…ah, yeah. I’ve got a ticket for you.” Angel nodded. “We’ve just been too busy. I didn’t have time to tell you.”

  “Uh, huh.” Cronan narrowed his eyes at his partner.

  From the corner of his eye, Cronan noticed that Rachel saw the glare he’d given his partner, but kept on talking. She had a front row seat and enjoyed it.

  “Well, you know how it is when a celebrity is in the public eye,” Rachel went on. “The media will be out in force at his performance. They’ve been hounding me for an interview with him. This will be his first public appearance since Olivia’s death.”

  The publicist sat back in her chair and waved a hand at both of them. “But if you both were at his Saturday performance, you could meet his agent, Harrison Reeves. He’ll be there. And you can keep an eye out for any suspicious people in the crowd. That would buy me time to talk to Ethan and line up suitable security, if he agrees.”

  “How did you know about Bogart’s?” Angel directed her question at Rachel. “Do you discuss everything with your client?”

  “Not everything, but with the news media camped on his doorstep, he called me to arrange for a secure way out of his building last night. He couldn’t stand being cooped up at his place any more. That’s why he picked a place nearby where he knew the owner and his staff would show some discretion about his visit.” Rachel stared at both of them. “What’s the problem?”

  “Nothing. We’ll be there on Saturday,” Cronan said.

  ***

  From the look in Gabe’s eye, Angel knew her partner wouldn’t settle for the ‘I forgot’ defense. She had hoped to find another, more subtle way, to tell him about her meeting with Ethan. Now it was too late.

  Yet a bigger question lurked in her mind.

  Rachel had known about her private meeting with Ethan at Bogart’s, but she didn’t have to share those details with Gabe to get her point across. She’d blurted out the time and place to see how much her partner knew, hoping she’d stir up friction. At least, that was her take on it. Maybe Rachel had questioned her motives for taking the meeting that night with her client. Hell, she wasn’t clear on that point herself.

  But Rachel had lied to cover up her animosity toward Olivia. She claimed her interference had been for Ethan’s welfare, but coming from a woman prone to spinning a story for a living, Angel wasn’t sure what to believe. Rachel had stepped between Ethan and Olivia, on more than one occasion, to sabotage their relationship. She’d even played a part in their break up not too long ago.

  According to the publicist, her reason had been justified, but how much of her stalker story had been true? Did a stalker really exist or had Rachel written those letters? It wouldn’t be too hard to replicate a convenient stalker letter, to cast a guilty suspicion on an anonymous someone for the death of Olivia Davenport. How far would the woman go to keep Ethan to herself now that Olivia was out of the picture? Angel could easily see a pattern of Rachel’s interfering behavior when it came to anyone she saw as a threat. It’s a woman thing, Gabe. You’ve got to be one, to know one, she thought.

  Angel knew from here on that her partner would be wondering about her objectivity when it came to Ethan Chandler, whether he’d
be justified or not. Although going solo on this case wouldn’t have been her first choice, she may not have another option if she wanted to get the job done and pursue leads.

  Damn it! She knew her problems with Gabe were her fault. She had no one else to blame, but in the end, she’d have to trust her cop instincts. Was Rachel a woman with only good intentions for her client or was she someone capable of killing off the competition?

  Angel had to follow her gut and take a hard look at Rachel Blevins, with or without her partner’s buy-in.

  ***

  Downtown Chicago

  “Look, I don’t mean to run, but I’m expecting someone,” Ethan insisted as he finished his drink. “Do you have that package? I’ve got to go.”

  “Yes, certainly.” Tim tightened his jaw.

  His guest had barely arrived, and he’d eaten almost nothing. After all the trouble he had gone through to arrange this meeting, the least he could do was stay and chat.

  “I’ll get it. Stay right here.” Tim winced. Where else would he go?

  When he returned with the wrapped box, he gave it to Ethan, but after the young man stood to leave, he jumped to his feet, too.

  “Wait. Aren’t you going to open it?” he insisted. “I mean, you’ve got me curious. I’ve been staring at this box since it was delivered. All this time, I’ve been wondering what it is. I know it’s not my place, but I was curious. Do you mind?”

  If someone had insisted he open a package like this, he would have been insulted by the brazen behavior. But he had a reason to be bold. He wanted to see Ethan’s reaction to what was inside the box.

  “Please open it.” He licked his lips and didn’t wait to be rejected again. “Surely you must be curious, too. I can tell you what’s inside. You won’t have to wait to find out. You’ll be doing me a favor…like I did you, delivering it personally.”

  He sounded pathetic and dreadfully desperate. He knew it and didn’t care. He’d bought a very pricey bottle of single-malt Scotch in an online auction from a private collector. He had mailed it to Ethan as the addressee, but he used his own suite number as the ‘in care of’’ address to make sure the package would be delivered into his hands. To anyone capable of seeing, it would look like a simple clerical error, nothing more.

  His ploy to get Ethan Chandler to his door had worked beautifully, but now his plan fizzled like a dud before his very eyes. It wasn’t enough to know Ethan would be enjoying the expensive liquor, the best his money could buy. He had to see his reaction to the Scotch that he’d saved up to buy.

  Ethan owed him that much.

  “Well, okay.” Ethan sat and pulled at the outside wrapper. “Thanks for being such a good neighbor and looking out after me.”

  Tim helped and got a rush whenever their fingers touched. With the box open, he expected Ethan to look down, but he only stared straight ahead until he broke into a charming smile.

  “If you’re expecting enthusiasm, you’ll have to help me in that department,” Ethan said.

  Tim didn’t know whether to be insulted or laugh. He’d been so focused on getting recognized for his generous gift, that he’d forgotten what it would be for a blind man to open a gift. His silly stupidity—and Ethan’s dry wit—made him burst out laughing.

  “Of course. And apparently, blindness is contagious. Forgive my manners.”

  “You think this was bad. You should see me at Christmas. That’s a real bust.” Ethan grinned and held out the box. “What’s inside? I suppose you can tell me anything, and I’d have to believe you. So make it good.”

  Tim pretended to reach into the box and read off an enclosed card. He raved about the vintage Scotch and told him all the reasons why it was so rare—rare like Ethan was. While the young man ran his fingers over the bottle, Tim settled into the chair across from him, staring at the object of his obsession. Having Ethan close to him, he couldn’t help it. His body reacted as if he was in the throes of sex. His heart raced, and a trickle of sweat rolled down from his temple. The rush had warmed him all over.

  “Someone went to a lot of trouble,” Ethan said, oblivious to the effect he had on him. So utterly innocent and charming…and perfect. “Who would do this…for me? Was there a name on the outside? It had to be from a friend.”

  Ethan was within his reach, with no camera between them. Everything he had dreamed about was happening now, and it took all his concentration to carry on a conversation when he wanted much more.

  “No, there wasn’t…a sender name.” He steadied his breathing. “It’s an anonymous gift.”

  “Really? That’s odd. How did they know to mail it here?”

  “What?”

  “I have a post office box that’s public information, but my home address is off limits. How did anyone know to send a gift to this building?”

  Ethan had ruined everything. Tim hadn’t thought about his personal information being so private. His clever plan had backfired. Now the violinist looked worried.

  “It’s only one gift,” he reasoned. “It was probably a clerical error. Is it really such a big deal?”

  “Normally, no, but I have a stalker. Until you know what it’s like to be stalked, you have no idea how it feels.”

  “Yes, I can imagine. I’m sorry, Ethan.”

  The young musician shook his head. “You know, it scares me. People have such high expectations of me. If I have a legacy, I want it to be about my music, not me.”

  “But I don’t think you realize how very special you are to people,” Tim reassured. “You inspire people…to do all sorts of things they may not normally do.”

  Nothing he said changed the look of concern on Ethan’s face.

  “I’m sure whoever took the time to send this very generous gift only wanted to feel close to you,” Tim said. “I truly believe your fan understands that you’re a real person, with flaws and insecurities like everyone else. This fan loves you, Ethan, without question.”

  “Yeah, but I’m nobody. It’s my music that’s important. Why do people want a piece of me?”

  “You’re a celebrity, Ethan. When you’re in the public eye, there’s a tradeoff. You want your life to be private, but it’s not. It can’t be. Maybe you owe your fans something for their devotion. They made you famous. Don’t you think they have a right to show you how they feel?” Tim didn’t wait for him to answer. “I would kill for such devotion…to know people loved me the way they obviously love you.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.” Ethan shook his head. “It’s too much. There are times I want to crawl in a hole and never come out, but I can’t. No one lets me. I’ve got obligations and people depend on me. Life goes on, no matter how bad I feel.”

  Tim’s breath caught in his throat. Had Ethan opened the door to talk to him about his personal tragedy, like a real friend?

  “I’ve been watching the news, Ethan. That girl you were dating, she was killed, right? I want to tell you how sorry I am. That must have been awful for you.”

  “I don’t want to talk about that. I can’t.” Ethan reached for his cane. “I gotta go.”

  No, please stay, he wanted to say. Seeing the sad expression on Ethan’s face only made him want to comfort the boy. The last thing he wanted was to upset his new friend. Tim reached out to touch his cheek—not thinking how a blind man would react to such an unexpected move—and Ethan freaked. Tim realized he had gone too far to show his affection and sympathy.

  “What are you doing?’ Ethan set the box down on the sofa next to him and stood. “Look, I really have to go. I appreciate all this, but I’m not—”

  He never finished. He held out a hand, trying to feel his way out. When he swiped his white cane against a coffee table and knocked over a glass, his handsome face showed his frustration.

  “If you don’t want me to annihilate your valuables, you should give me a clue where your front door is.”

  “But don’t you want your Scotch?”

  “Keep it. I’ve got to go.”

  “No, th
is is your gift. I want you to have it. I insist.” When Tim reached for his arm to lead him out, his distraught guest pulled away.

  “Just tell me where to go,” Ethan demanded. “I’m sure by now you’ll relish the opportunity.”

  Ethan never said another word in his presence. He walked out his door and headed down the hall—without so much as a thank you. It took all Tim’s will power to control his anger.

  ***

  Angel hadn’t realized how much she had dominated the conversation as Gabe drove them back to Grand Central Police Station. She had to admit that her borderline rant about Rachel had crossed into the danger zone when she realized her voice was raised, and her heart pounded. She’d kept in control while she was in the woman’s office, but when she got into the car, Angel let her feelings fly. Rachel Blevins had really gotten under her skin.

  “When was she planning on telling us about the letter she received today? You know, the one that tied the stalker to the murder. Before or after her conference call?” Angel glared out the window as Gabe drove. “And you…you apologized for scaring her? Oh, please. She sheds a few tears and you OD on testosterone and become the hero with her being the damsel in distress. I don’t trust her.”

  He glanced at her sideways. “I don’t know what you saw, but I was working the case, doing whatever it took.”

  “So you were only acting, is that it?” Angel raked fingers through her hair. “You were manipulating her, not the other way around?”

  “As a matter of fact, I was. I even fooled you. Maybe if you hadn’t been so preoccupied with covering your tracks about your after-hours rendezvous with Chandler, you might have figured that out. What’s gotten into you? We’ve worked together long enough for you to pick up on my usual shtick.”