by Jordan Dane
When she didn’t say anything, he went on, “As for those stalker letters? Rachel was looking for a connection between the stalker and Olivia. In her mind, she got it, but after I read them, that’s not how I saw it.”
Gabe explained that the letters had been written by someone who felt ignored by Ethan and was starved for his attention. Since Olivia already had the guy wrapped around her pinkie, it made no sense that the letters came from her. Ethan already doted on his girlfriend.
“Rachel’s problem was that she’d refused to see anyone else as the stalker,” he said. “Olivia was it. Her slanted view fueled the resentment she already had for our vic. It gave her permission to go overboard to protect Ethan. What I’m saying is that…maybe you have the same bias where Rachel is concerned. I think you should keep an open mind when it comes to chasing down leads. With someone like Olivia Davenport, we’ve barely scratched the surface of building a suspect list, especially given her sexual exploits. We’re short in that department. Rachel is a liar and a user and she’s definitely on the list, but you’re treating her as if she’s the devil incarnate. Thinking like that will only compromise your objectivity.”
“I can’t believe you’re against me on this.”
“I’m not against you, partner, but admit it. Rachel pushes your buttons. Apparently, she has feelings for Ethan. Is that what’s really bothering you?”
“Don’t analyze me, Gabe. I’m only concerned about this case.”
“This case is your only interest?” He softened his voice. “When were you going to tell me about your date with Ethan Chandler? I don’t think you had any intention of telling me about the extra ticket until Rachel forced you to.”
They had stopped at a traffic light, giving Gabe plenty of time to shift gears and get around to what really bothered him. He stopped his interrogation about her motive for mistrusting Rachel and did something far worse than water board torture. He stared at her with his piercing baby blues and waited for her to explain.
“It wasn’t a date,” she said. “He wanted to talk and felt more comfortable with me, that’s all. As for the extra ticket, I figured you wouldn’t be interested. His music isn’t your thing.”
“It may not have been a date, but you met with a suspect, Angel. You had drinks with the guy. Plying him with alcohol isn’t exactly procedure, although you could be on to something.” He took a deep breath. “It’s true that a fancy fiddle is not my gig, but I think the real reason you didn’t offer the extra ticket was that you didn’t want me cramping your style. Quit spinning this tale, Angel. You’re making me dizzy.”
She didn’t feel good about the widening rift between them. She had to admit that Gabe had a point about her seeing Ethan after hours and without her partner. But her stubborn streak and the personal history between them kept the anger burning.
“I thought you were the guy who wanted to draw a line between work and personal. What I do on my free time is none of your business, Gabe.” Staring out the window, she watched the traffic cross the intersection to avoid his stare.
“As long as we’re on this case, you being with Ethan Chandler is my business. Don’t make me out to be the bad guy. You know what you did was out of line.” The light changed, and Gabe hit the gas. “And if there is a stalker targeting people in his life, do you think it’s wise to hang with the guy? You may as well put a bulls-eye on your back. At least, cool your jets until we find out who’s obsessed with him. I don’t think interrogating a ‘person of interest’ in a murder case is the best way to meet someone.”
“This coming from the guy who dated a woman he met at a funeral.” She rolled her eyes and grimaced.
“Oh, that’s a low blow,” he sniped. “What can I say? She looked great in black, and she had a thing for men who carried a concealed weapon.”
“Are we talking about your gun?”
“As far as you know.”
She hated arguing with Gabe. The man really got her blood pumping.
“Guess I’m being a hypocrite,” he said. “I’m having a hard time separating the way I feel—” He stopped and left her hanging.
“Maybe I’m being overly protective…of you,” he finally admitted. “It’s been two years since Manny died. If you’re attracted to this guy, you have a right to see where those feelings take you. All I’m saying is that you should hold off until after this case is over. Is that too much to ask?”
Angel shut her eyes and heaved a sigh.
“No, Gabe. It isn’t. I see your point. To be honest, I have no idea what I’m feeling. I’m still in love with Manny. A love like that didn’t go away when he died. I couldn’t store it in a box or put it on a shelf. It hurts.” She touched his arm. “I know you of all people know this. So until I figure out how I feel, I don’t mind that you care about me. It feels good that you do.”
When they stopped at another light, Gabe fixed his eyes on hers. Whatever he felt at that moment, it was written on his face. She’d seen the look before, but she’d been too wrapped up in grief and muddled urges to figure him out.
“You want me to pick you up on Saturday?” he offered. “You’re on my way.”
Thoughts of her dressing up for the symphony—with Gabe standing at her front door in a suit and holding a wrist corsage—flashed through her mind in a jumble of memories from her senior prom. She couldn’t handle that.
“No, that’s okay. I’ll drive myself. But thanks.”
For the rest of the ride back to the station, silence ruled the day. Both of them were exhausted and had talked about the lack of sleep since the case started. They had plenty of reasons to sit through a comfortable silence between two partners, but that wasn’t what was going on. Whatever was happening between her and Gabe was too complicated for her to deal with now, especially with Ethan Chandler being a major distraction. All her energies would have to go toward the case or she’d go crazy.
That’s what she told herself, and she wanted to believe it.
***
Chicago’s Symphony Center – Saturday Evening
After everything that had happened between her and Gabe since the murder of Olivia Davenport, Angel felt more than her share of guilt, especially after what her unselfish partner did for her late Friday. Gabe had gotten a call from the Chief of Detectives asking for an update on their investigation into the Davenport murder. Her partner was the senior member of their team, and he had been contacted by the chief to update him and the Superintendent of Police on the high profile case.
Her partner didn’t have to include her, but he asked her to attend. Better yet, he encouraged her to do most of the talking. He gave her face time with the brass when he didn’t need to, and she appreciated his generosity. Taking the case had been her brilliant idea from the start. She wanted exposure to the top dogs, but it had been Gabe who made sure she got quality time with the brass.
Angel had tried to thank him, but Gabe played down his part as usual. That made her feel like an idiot about turning him down for a ride to Ethan’s performance—among other things—but she couldn’t take anything back now.
After she parked, Angel headed down the block to the Symphony Center with her weapon in her clutch purse. Although she hadn’t intended to work at the event, Rachel had obligated her and Gabe to keep an eye out for Ethan until suitable private security could be arranged.
But that didn’t make dressing for the event any easier.
She’d lost count on how many times she had changed her clothes. She hadn’t felt girly in a long time. Working with mostly men, it was easy to forget she had a feminine side. After Manny died, she hadn’t felt up to the challenge of dressing for a formal occasion. Although she felt confident enough in her simple black cocktail dress and burgundy velvet shawl, who the hell was she kidding? She was a fish out of water in high heels that hurt her feet and pantyhose that made her feel hemmed in.
Having Gabe with her would have been a comfort. He’d have her back whether she deserved it or not, but it was to
o late for that.
Angel handed over her ticket at the front door and walked into the intimidating Symphony Center alone. She stared into the vaulted ceilings and dangling chandeliers, not knowing what to do or where to go exactly. Everyone else looked as if they belonged. The massive atrium hummed with the voices from a crowd dressed in everything from formal attire, to fancy cocktail dresses and suits. She felt the same stir of excitement as everyone anticipated the performance of Ethan Chandler.
This was Ethan’s world, and she was a stranger to it. The last thing she expected was for Gabe and his lie detector blue eyes to be on her mind.
***
Backstage, Cronan pulled at his necktie, feeling the pinch of its stranglehold on him. Dressing up during the week was one thing, but getting pretty in his best dark suit on the weekend encroached on his time.
He didn’t like it much.
Angel had chosen to drive on her own. He didn’t like that much either. Although his partner still worked the case with him tonight, he had the feeling she would’ve preferred the time off to enjoy Ethan’s performance. Cronan had given her the choice to watch him play from a good seat—the way Ethan had intended her to do—or she could work the backstage with him like a cop.
Angel had chosen Ethan over him, and he couldn’t blame her.
Standing in the wings backstage, Cronan kept an eye out for any suspicious behavior and people who looked like they didn’t belong—people like him. He hadn’t missed the irony. Coming early had given him a chance to scope out the place before the crowd hit, and he’d stopped by to see Ethan in his dressing room. As expected, Rachel was with her client and looked beautiful as ever. She thanked him for coming, but Cronan marveled at how calm Ethan was.
For a kid his age, he was one cool customer, especially since his performance had been sold out. From what Cronan knew of the young musician, he’d been performing since he was a child, and he was no doubt accustomed to the hype and fanfare of a packed house. Still, he had to admit that he admired the kid for his nerves of steel. Soon he’d know what all the fuss was about, when he would hear Ethan Chandler play for the first time.
Cronan only wished that Angel had been with him for his first symphony.
***
Angel had searched the many faces in the crowd, letting her cop brain work as she walked through the symphony goers. She struggled with being on duty and wanting to be merely a woman who came to see Ethan play. She’d come because he personally asked her to. Rachel had been the one who expected her and Gabe to make an official appearance. But her cop instincts wouldn’t let her relax. Buying a glass of white wine from the cash bar would have taken the edge off, but she had not only driven solo, she carried a concealed weapon. All rules of her day job applied.
She headed for her reserved seat and stuck her nose in her program, indulging in a long look at Ethan’s photo. His smile reminded her that his life had been happier only a few short days ago, but she knew how fast a happy life could turn into a living nightmare.
Now Ethan did too.
Closing her eyes for a moment, Angel listened to the symphony tuning their instruments and listened to every note, every sound. When she opened them again, she felt the steady beat of her heart until the lights flashed, and everyone took their seats. She had to remember to breathe as the lights dimmed. Soon Ethan would be introduced.
She had a feeling he would change her notion of what music was all about.
***
Hours later
Could a woman fall in love with a man, simply because he played a violin like an angel? Angel had never thought of herself as a hopeless romantic, especially after Manny had died, but she was a believer now. She hadn’t felt this way since her first childhood crush, when a young girl’s fantasy burned hottest.
Her thoughts of Gabe and Ethan got jumbled into a yearning for love in her life. She missed that feeling, the personal connection to a man she loved with all her heart. Gabe would be a dangerous line to cross, one she could never recover from, but Ethan felt like a once in a lifetime adventure, a trip that would never feel real.
Manny had been different. He’d won her heart with the simple grace of his loving nature. Falling in love with Manny had come naturally, like taking a breath or opening her eyes to a new morning.
But seeing Ethan play had stirred fire under her skin and touched her heart in an intense way that made her yearn for something more in her life. He played with passion that she felt to her toes. He made his violin cry with such haunting emotion that she’d wondered if his feelings for Olivia had inspired his moving performance. He channeled the beauty of his music through the profound sadness deep in her soul. She’d shed a tear in the dark, sitting alongside countless others who were drawn to him like she was. The shared experience with the audience had blown her mind. Ethan had touched her on a level no one had before, through music.
She saw how any woman could fall in love with him.
When his performance was over, she couldn’t wait to see him, but the scene backstage was pure chaos. Orchestra members were packing up their instruments while stagehands took care of their duties. The concert hall still buzzed with the crowd milling in the aisles, unhurried to leave.
Creating a bottleneck, two men dressed in tuxedos stood backstage to compare passes to a master list of names and control the crowd. No one would get by them without showing ID. There was a line of eager people waiting to see Ethan after his brilliant performance. Local celebrities, politicians, and other high society types stood in line like everyone else.
Angel craned her neck and looked for Gabe, but didn’t see him anywhere.
She’d never seen so much cleavage, and her head spun with the heady mix of perfume in the air. The media was out en masse too, but they’d been told Ethan wasn’t speaking to reporters—not tonight. Wisely, he’d declined the coverage, knowing they would only want to talk about his murdered lover. Tragedy always made for good ratings.
Ethan couldn’t handle the unsympathetic onslaught of the media, and Angel didn’t have a hard time imagining that. Thinking of the talented musician made her remember the darker side to her own life. He’d brought back painful memories of losing her husband, and she felt like Ethan’s kindred spirit in grief, but he’d also reminded her that there had been redemption in loving someone. He made her realize the hole in her life where Manny had been.
As she came through the line, Angel heard raised voices ahead. Bryce Peterson’s angry face snared her attention. With Rachel Blevins looking on with an amused smile on her face, Bryce had been yelling at a guy who stood near the men in tuxedos.
“I’ve told you. We’re neighbors. Ask Ethan about me. My name’s Tim McFarland. He’ll tell you. He gave me this pass. It’s legitimate, I can assure you.”
A short man with dark hair in a navy suit stood his ground and waved his arms. No one could get by the guy. Frustration showed on the faces of the people standing behind him, but it wasn’t until he shoved by the suits that things got rowdy.
“Bryce, please. You’re making a scene.” Rachel stepped in, only making a half-hearted effort to curb Bryce’s watch dog behavior.
“No one gets backstage without being on the list. Not tonight. That’s what you said.” Ignoring Rachel, Bryce braced the man’s shoulders to stop him and lowered his voice. “Ethan told me all about your good neighbor policy. I don’t care if you do have a pass. I’m not letting you in. Now beat it.”
Without taking his eyes off the man, Bryce tore up his backstage pass and tossed it in the air.
“Bryce, come on. Surely this can be handled another way.” Rachel grabbed his arm, more for show than making any real effort. Her attempt to intervene looked uninspired.
After a swarthy man dressed in a tux took interest in the disturbance and stood behind Rachel to watch the altercation, Angel had heard enough.
It didn’t matter if the man’s pass was legitimate or not. Tighter security meant the confirmed list of names would be final.
These men were causing a disturbance that could turn uglier. Bryce looked as if he had another agenda, and his wild eyes made his aggression appear more threatening. She stepped forward and interrupted before Bryce took his act to the next level.
“What’s the trouble, Mr. McFarland?” Angel asked.
When the gate crasher turned to face her, the look of surprise on his face caught her off guard.
“You’re that cop,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
Angel did a double take. She’d never met the man in her life, yet he acted as if he had seen her before. When she smelled liquor on the man’s breath, she narrowed her eyes and took in the details of his face.
“Don’t worry about what I’m doing here.” She glared at McFarland. “Considering that we’ve never met, how is it that you know I’m a cop?”
Chapter 11
Chicago’s Symphony Center – Backstage
The minute Angel intervened, Tim McFarland dropped the attitude and looked as if he’d turn tail and run. His change in outlook triggered her cop’s curiosity even more.
“Call it a lucky guess. So what if I know you’re a cop. Big deal. I didn’t mean anything by it. I must have seen you on TV. You’ve got a face a man would remember.”
McFarland turned to leave, but Angel reached for his arm.
“No, you said I was ‘that cop’ like you knew me,” she argued.
The guy rolled his eyes and sighed.
“Look, why are you making a federal case out of this? I’m not breaking any laws. I had a pass, and that belligerent jerk didn’t honor it. Someone could check with Ethan. He’d clear things up, but no one will bother. The pass was slipped under my door. It had to come from Ethan himself. Apparently that means nothing to these people.” McFarland wiped his forehead with a handkerchief.
