Blood Score

by Jordan Dane

  If Cronan felt an ounce of sympathy for Chandler, his supply had run out when it came to Rachel. The woman made a leap in logic that even her client noticed.

  “We’re not jumping to any conclusions yet,” he said. “Nothing links him directly to her murder, no.”

  “Nothing?” she asked. “Are you sure?”

  He had deliberately lied about there being no connection to Olivia’s murder. The prepaid burner phone was his lie by omission. The press hadn’t been told about the phone link. Only those closest to the investigation—and the killer—knew about it.

  Rachel didn’t look happy.

  “But I do have something to share with you about McFarland. Something that pertains to you, Ethan,” Cronan said. “Since the three of you apparently have nothing to hide from each other, I don’t suppose you’d object to me sharing with your closest friends.”

  “I don’t like the sound of this.” Rachel gripped Chandler’s hand and stroked his arm. That gesture sent a ripple of worry across the musician’s face.

  “I told you that we couldn’t make a connection to McFarland as your letter stalker and that’s true, but the guy had a small shrine in his home dedicated to you,” Cronan said. “Apparently he’d been taking photos of you and had memorabilia from when you were a kid.”

  “That room he took me into, when I was there.” Chandler winced. “The bastard acted weird when he took me into it. He must’ve gotten a laugh out of me sitting in the middle of it all...like a damned trophy.”

  “Yeah, no doubt, but there’s more.” Cronan hesitated. “The guy had surveillance cameras in your home. There were live feeds, but we found one video recording of you and suspect we’ll find more. We think he’s got more stashed at another location.”

  “What?” Chandler’s eyes grew wide. He looked as if he couldn’t catch his breath. “He recorded me here…in my home?”

  “This can’t be happening.” Rachel shook her head and couldn’t take her eyes off Ethan.

  Bryce stopped pacing. He locked eyes with Rachel, but kept his mouth shut.

  “He had cameras installed that had live feeds from several rooms,” Cronan said. “Your studio, living room…bedroom and bathroom.”

  “My bedroom…and bath?” Chandler shut his eyes tight. If he had faked his reaction, he’d done a convincing job of it.

  Cronan saw from his partner’s expressions that Angel felt the guy’s pain. She stood her ground and resisted any personal show of compassion so she could stick to their game plan, but he could tell that holding back had taken a toll on her.

  “The recording I saw was taken of you in your shower…to be exact. Another camera targeted your bed,” Cronan said, his voice low.

  “I gotta fix this,” Rachel muttered.

  “How?” Chandler pulled his hand from Rachel’s and raked it through his dark hair. “The damage is done. The only thing worse would be…”

  He stopped and got up, heading to his bar for a drink. The last time Cronan saw the guy pour a drink, he did it as if he could see, but this time he stumbled and looked lost in his own home. He fumbled for a glass until Rachel had to help him.

  Angel’s reaction made it harder for Cronan to watch, too.

  “He…actually recorded me?” The musician clutched his glass and tossed back a gulp of whatever Rachel had poured him.

  “Like I said, I saw one recording, but I think the guy had more. He had the equipment and given his collection of memorabilia, he seemed the kind of guy who liked mementos,” he said. “We’re pretty sure he has a stash that he keeps elsewhere, and we know where to look.”

  “Anything you find on Ethan, they could ruin his career,” Rachel said.

  “Until we find these alleged recordings and view them, how do you know they would ruin him?” Cronan asked.

  “I don’t, but it’s my job to worry about his image. He could become a laughing stock online if any of them hit YouTube.”

  “Oh, God.” Chandler looked sick. He poured another drink.

  “It doesn’t matter what he recorded. If the media gets a hold of this…” Rachel shook her head. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  Bryce looked as if he wanted a stiff shot of something. Being in rehab, he couldn’t, but that didn’t stop him from wanting a booze bullet to the brain.

  “Whatever you find, wherever you find it, you have to keep me in the loop on this,” Rachel said. “It’s my job to…”

  Gabe interrupted her.

  “And it’s my job to find Olivia’s killer. Any recordings could be pertinent to her murder or help solidify McFarland’s motivation.”

  “But you said McFarland’s suicide didn’t have anything to do with Olivia’s death,” the publicist argued, raising her voice.

  “I didn’t say he committed suicide.” Cronan got her attention. What he said shut her up, and she looked as if she’d been gut punched. Bryce looked pale and sat down.

  “You said that you’re looking for those recordings now. Where?” she demanded. “If he didn’t keep them at his home, where else are you looking? We have a right to know.”

  “We respect your concern over what this could mean for your client,” he said. “But we have to do our job.”

  “I might be blind, but that doesn’t make me invisible. I’m still here.” Chandler tossed back another jolt of liquor. “Unfortunately.”

  “Look, I can say that we’re running down a lead that McFarland had property on Lake Zurich, a house that he got from an inheritance. Detective Ramirez is heading up there to do a little recon later this afternoon.”

  “Why is she the Lone Ranger? Isn’t this important enough?” Rachel crossed her arms.

  “It’s a timing thing. I’ve got other leads in town to tie up on McFarland, and the chief wants a report.” Cronan shrugged. “If she finds something worthwhile tonight, I’ll bring the crime scene techs up there tomorrow. We think it’s likely that he kept his residence in the city clean of his illegal activities, since his surveillance gear was well hidden, but if he had digitals, they’d probably be at his lake house. If we find anything, we’ll give you a courtesy call, but any recordings will have to be viewed and may become evidence, depending on how the medical examiner rules on the McFarland death.”

  “Will she be the one viewing the evidence?” Rachel asked. “Or will we have to worry about the whole police department having access to potentially sensitive material?”

  “If she finds any video at his lake house, she’ll look at them first before I bring in a team,” he said. “But I can’t make any promises if it turns out they pertain to McFarland’s death or Olivia’s murder.”

  “But if Ethan’s neighbor committed suicide, there’d be no need to bring these videos up,” Rachel said. “They wouldn’t be relevant, right?”

  “In theory, but we won’t know what we’ve got until we view them. And if his death is ruled by the medical examiner to be suspicious, all bets are off. Either way, guess you’ll have to trust our discretion.”

  “Oh, brother,” the publicist said. When Rachel rolled her eyes, Cronan raised an eyebrow.

  “That puts me at the mercy of your judgment, Detectives.” Chandler poured another glass. “Please don’t let the press sensationalize this more than they already have, but if it helps find whoever killed Livie, I understand.”

  From the expression on Rachel’s face, she didn’t feel the same generosity toward Olivia as her celebrity client. If looks could kill, Olivia Davenport would have died twice.

  ***

  An hour later

  Angel made a quick trip home to pack an overnight bag and get into comfortable traveling clothes. She slipped into her “work” jeans—pants with a leg cut loose enough to accommodate her Sig Sauer P239 worn in an ankle holster—and shrugged into a navy blue CPD T-shirt and put on a pair of running shoes.

  Gabe had given her the lake house address, and she’d plugged it into her phone’s GPS. She was heading out the door when her cell rang. She thou
ght it would be Gabe, but when she looked on her display, she recognized the number.

  “Angelica? It’s me, Ethan.”

  “I’m on my way out of town, Ethan. Can this wait?”

  “I wish I didn’t have to make this call at all.”

  Angel put her bag down and went to her sofa to sit. Whatever reason Ethan had called, it didn’t sound as if he’d made the decision easily.

  “What’s wrong? Tell me.”

  “If that man recorded me in my home, I have a pretty good idea what will be on the recordings. Rachel is right. It will ruin my career….my life.”

  “Do you have any reason to believe that these recordings will have something to do with Olivia’s murder…or the death of your neighbor?”

  “No. I mean, I have no idea about that, but…” he hesitated, and she heard him take a deep breath. “I lied to you…about the sex.”

  “Lied about what exactly?”

  Seconds ticked by and the longer he stayed silent, the worse her imagination turned over what he might have lied about, but Angel didn’t interrupt him.

  “I was the one that introduced Olivia to the role play sex. Being blind, I like…different sensations. I like not knowing whose hands are on me…or who I’m touching. It’s like that for me anyway. A fantasy isn’t much of a stretch. Unless you’ve been open to it, you have no idea what a rush it can be for someone…like me.”

  “Why are you telling me this now, Ethan?”

  “Because if the recordings exist, you’ll find out soon enough, and I’m tired of the secrets. I wanted you to hear it from me first, but Rachel is right. If any recordings at my home got out, it could be devastating to my career…to my life.”

  “Did Rachel ask you to call me?” Angel pictured the publicists’ s smug face, and she clenched her jaw.

  “As far as I know, Rachel and Bryce don’t know about that part of my life.” He sighed. “This is so damned personal. I can’t believe I have to talk about this. Olivia only knew because she got into it. Really into it, but I didn’t lie about the feeling that she cheated on me. I just never wanted to find out for sure. I’m beyond pathetic.”

  When he said Rachel and Bryce didn’t know, it surprised her. After she and Gabe revealed the possible existence of McFarland’s video collection in front of Ethan and his inner circle, she expected they’d been closer acquaintances. Her partner had gambled on it.

  “I’m sorry, Ethan. I wish things had turned out differently for you.”

  “The only good thing in all this…is that you are on the team investigating.” He cleared his throat, and she waited for him to say more. “I have no right to ask this, but…”

  Angel held her breath and shut her eyes. She knew what he would say next and she prayed he wouldn’t.

  “…please take me with you when you search for those recordings. I have to know what you find. This is…killing me. I won’t be able to sleep…until I know what I’ll have to deal with.”

  “Ethan, I’m a cop on duty, and this is an investigation.”

  “I know I’m asking a lot. I just thought you’d understand. And it’s not like I can tell anyone where we go or what we find. I’d have to rely on you to tell me, but maybe I can give context to what you might…see. Please don’t say no. Please.”

  Her partner had been right about one of them having enough to lose that it would draw them out. She didn’t think that person would be Ethan.

  “Just so you know, if I let you come, you have to do everything I say, and you can’t influence me on what I deem as evidence,” she said.

  “How can I influence you when I can’t ‘see’ it, unless you explain it to me? I won’t interfere and I do want to find out who killed Livie. I would hope we could both get what we want without obliterating my life in the process.”

  Angel clutched her phone too tight and let out a frayed breath until he spoke again.

  “No one deserves to have their privacy invaded, not in their own home,” he said. “Put yourself in my position, Angelica. Imagine recordings of you in your bedroom and shower having the potential to become public. What would you do?”

  Angel knew what she should have done—what Gabe would want her to do—but she couldn’t help feel a personal connection to Ethan that made her decision tougher than it should’ve been. In the end she had to trust her instinct about the violinist.

  “Pack an overnight bag. I’ll meet you in an hour where I dropped you off the other night, near your building. No media.”

  “I’ll do my best.” Ethan said, but before he hung up, he had something else to say. “Angelica?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you for understanding,” he whispered.

  Ethan acted as if she’d done him a favor. Angel knew better.

  Chapter 15

  An hour later

  Outside Chicago

  Angel had picked up Ethan Chandler near a back alley that was a discreet distance from his residence where the media were still camped out. With a knapsack over his shoulder, he looked like a college student dressed in jeans, a black T-shirt, hiking boots, and an oversized blue plaid shirt worn tail out.

  On the drive to Lake Zurich, Ethan had been preoccupied and quiet. He carried on polite conversation whenever she instigated it, but as usual, his facial expressions gave insight into the darkness cast over his life. The long bouts of silence felt comfortable between them. Angel understood what it meant to lose someone special, but Ethan had a great deal more to lose if he had a personal connection to the killer. That dark turn was still to come.

  She got off the freeway and pulled into a gas station that had a convenience store.

  “I have to fill up my tank. Do you need anything from the store?”

  “Yeah, see if they have a jumbo bag of good judgment,” he said. “I could use that. Make it two.”

  “With or without salt?”

  When he smiled, and his cheeks blushed with color, she couldn’t help but return his grin even though she knew he wouldn’t see it.

  Ethan had an unusual way of drawing her in. His good looks were part of it, but he had an intimacy to his voice and a way he moved that made her want to touch him. Maybe with him being blind, she felt the urge to communicate in a different way.

  Had Olivia felt the same with him in bed? Angel hadn’t thought about what it would mean to make love to a man who didn’t have his eyesight…or for him to love a woman without the benefit of his sight. She could see how easily fantasy played into it. It would be like using a blindfold that never came off.

  “I’ll be right back,” she told him.

  After getting out of her vehicle, Angel set up the gas pump to top off her tank, but the real reason she needed to stop had been for privacy. She had to call Gabe, and she didn’t want Ethan to overhear. Her partner answered his cell on the third ring.

  “Are you sitting down?” she asked.

  Angel told her partner about Ethan’s call and how she now had a hitchhiker onboard.

  “What? Why is he with you?” Gabe asked. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

  “I didn’t expect this either, but I’ve had time to think about it. He came clean and admitted that he’d lied about who had instigated the fantasy sex, and he said there might be something personally damning in these recordings.”

  “Anything to do with Olivia’s murder?” he asked.

  “He said no. Just the sex, but he didn’t have to admit anything, Gabe. I think he’s being straight with me.”

  “Go on.”

  “If we believe Ethan is at the center of the killer’s world, it seemed like a reasonable idea to have him with me. I trust my gut that he’s not the one who pulled off Olivia’s murder and staged McFarland’s death to look like a suicide. Even if he ordered it, in a murder for hire scheme, he didn’t do the actual killing.”

  “Oh, yeah. That makes me feel a lot better. Thanks.”

  “I figure this’d be a ‘keep your enemy close’ kind of deal.”

&
nbsp; “Is that how you look at him now…the enemy?”

  She hadn’t expected that question from Gabe. Even though it bordered the edge of their professional relationship and crossed the line into her private feelings, she felt a tight bond with her partner that didn’t make the question out of bounds for them.

  “It doesn’t matter what I think of him. He is involved in this, Gabe, whether he’s aware of it or not.”

  The phone went silent. For a second, Angel thought she’d lost the connection until she heard Gabe’s voice again.

  “If he admitted there could be something McFarland caught on video, I’m convinced we’ll uncover it at the lake house.”

  “Yeah, agreed.”

  “And look, Angel. I know he’s blind, but please don’t let that rub off on you,” he said. “Eyes behind your back, partner. Stick to the plan.”

  “Will do.”

  ***

  Lake Zurich

  Evening

  The last few turns of the GPS app on Angel’s phone took her down Rand Road Highway 12 across Main Street of the quaint village of Lake Zurich. She headed along Paulus Park and made a right that led onto a private drive nestled tight to the northwest side of the lake.

  When Angel saw the cottage on the water, it looked like a picturesque Thomas Kinkade painting. It had a wrap-around deck, large picture windows on the backside that looked out onto a cove, and was surrounded by tall trees.

  “Wow. Perfect,” she whispered as she turned off the engine and got out of the vehicle.

  “What is?” Ethan asked as he opened his passenger door.

  “It’s beautiful here.”

  McFarland had inherited the lakefront property. He’d been a lucky man until his good fortune ran out.

  “Describe it to me.” Ethan stood near her vehicle and moved his head as if he was guided by sound and the warmth of the sunset.

  Angel felt heat rush to her cheeks. She didn’t know what to say that would do justice to the pristine property, but Ethan waited for her to find the words.

  “The lake looks like a mirror to the sky. It’s dusk. The sun is an orange fireball on the horizon, about to dip over the edge of the world. The water is glistening, reflecting the color of the sun, like it’s on fire. The forest and the water remind me of the camping trips I took with my family growing up.”