Blood Score

by Jordan Dane

  “What?” Cronan smiled. “Never mind. Good call.”

  “He has GPS on his cell and a tracker app. It’s active,” she said. “I figure we’ll have company soon. Watch your back. I’m searching for the digitals now. I’ll hit you back when I find something.”

  “Roger that. Save me a slice of pizza.”

  Cronan hunkered in the shadows and took cover in the trees near the waterline, grateful for the simple things like spray-on mosquito repellant. He kept his eyes and ears alert for anything that moved.

  No matter how things played out, it would be a long night.

  ***

  Angel focused her search in the living room where McFarland had his media set up. Gabe told her how he’d found a secret compartment where the man hid his surveillance equipment. She eventually extended her search to the upstairs, but had no better luck.

  As she’d knocked on the walls and looked for hidden compartments, she thought about other ways McFarland could’ve recorded Ethan that would’ve eliminated the need to hide saved videos. He could have linked his feed to an online account synced to his camera. If he’d done that, they might never have found out about his illegal activity. With the video feed uploaded automatically, he wouldn’t have needed to hook up his TV to his camera to watch or record. He’d only require online access to view the video files whenever he wanted from anywhere, but the fact that the guy had a lower tech solution rigged at his home told her more.

  Uploading sensitive material like that onto the Internet would have left McFarland open to being discovered, similar to the way pedophiles are caught by the feds. Angel knew he must have thought about the best way to keep his activity secret where only he would have access.

  After two hours of searching—and listening to Ethan rocking his headboard upstairs and cursing through the washcloth in his mouth every time she made a noise—Angel stopped to think. She pictured McFarland inheriting the choice real estate, realizing he had a way to stash his illegal activity away from his home in the city, but one thing bothered her enough to break radio silence with her partner.

  “No luck so far,” she whispered to Gabe. “But here’s a thought.”

  “Talk to me, Goose.”

  His low voice coming over her ear bud made her smile.

  “McFarland rented this place through a property management company, probably so he could afford the upgrade in lifestyle.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Well…why risk hiding his illegal stuff in the lake house, where it might get discovered by the Winnebago crowd on a National Lampoon Vacation?”

  “Bonus points in the pop culture category. Keep talking.”

  “I bet this guy found a damned good way to hide it,” she said. “It’s gotta be locked away, somewhere only he would have access to it.”

  “What are you thinking, Angel?”

  “I saw a small shed on the property as we drove in.”

  “You want me to check it out?”

  “No, I’ll do it. If someone is watching the house, it’s best they only see me on the property.” Angel headed for the front door and made sure she still had the key in her pocket. “I’ll check it. Sit tight ‘til you hear from me.”

  “Be careful, Angel.”

  She checked her weapon and made sure she had a Kel-lite as she slipped out the front door and locked it behind her. She hit the switch for the flashlight and found a trail that led from the lake house to the maintenance shed. The trees around her were silhouetted by moonlight. They made eerie shapes that played tricks on her eyes as she moved. The water of the lake glistened, and a bluish haze flickered between the shadows that made it feel as if someone lurked in the dark, watching her.

  When the hair on her neck warned her, Angel reached for her Glock, then gripped the weapon and freed it from her holster. She wanted to dismiss the creepy feeling and chalk it up to her sensing Gabe, but her cop instincts knew better.

  Chapter 17

  Cronan pulled his Glock from its holster and searched the shadows that surrounded the lake house. With a cloud of mosquitoes hovering near his face, he did his best to ignore them. Any extra move to swat them might get him noticed. In tactical gear, Cronan felt the trickles of sweat on his body that had diluted his bug repellent. The little buzzing bastards were making him miserable, but that wasn’t all that bothered him.

  He had second thoughts about his surveillance set up.

  He had the Lake Zurich PD down the road in a patrol car, watching traffic on the road. Nothing had looked suspicious, so the radio contact had been minimal. Since the local LEOs wouldn’t know anything about their investigation, he didn’t want to risk an encounter that would scare off the suspect, but he hadn’t counted on his partner leaving the bungalow to search a maintenance shed on the property.

  Unless he followed her, he couldn’t keep her in sight, but leaving his position meant he couldn’t be sure if the house would be secure when she returned. Cronan had to make a tough call to protect his partner. When he spotted her through the trees, he crept low along the waterline and cut the gap between them. If he had to move fast, he wanted to be within striking distance. Cronan stuck close to the trees so he wouldn’t be silhouetted against the moonlight reflected off the lake. He kept one eye on the lighted windows of the lake house while he watched Angel drift through the brush.

  The snap of a twig made him stop. It echoed off the trees, making it hard to tell where the noise came from. When he knew it hadn’t come from Angel, Cronan ducked for cover.

  “Heard something. I’m checking it out,” he whispered.

  “Copy that.”

  Using his night vision binoculars, he saw a green glimmer move in the dark, and his high tech binoculars registered body heat. He only saw the movement once and lost the image. It could’ve been an animal, but he couldn’t be sure.

  Damn it.

  When he heard a hammering noise coming from the shed, Cronan felt a rush of adrenaline as he keyed the mic.

  “Is that you, Angel? You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m good. Just a little B & E.”

  Angel sounded okay, but when he saw a body move through the trees, he knew someone was looking for her, and the noise she’d made would be a dead giveaway. Cronan stashed his surveillance gear and racked the slide of his weapon. He had to warn her. As he stood and crept forward, he activated his mic, but never got a chance to say anything.

  Cronan got hit. The last thing he remembered was a blast of pain—and a blinding light.

  ***

  Angel got to the shed and saw the door was secured with a metal latch that had a lock. She’d need a key and didn’t have it. If McFarland didn’t want visitors to have access to the shed, he wouldn’t make it easy for them to get in. That left her with little choice. She had to break the metal latch or unhinge the door.

  She had too much respect for her weapon to use it like a hammer. She took the risk of holstering her gun to focus on getting the door open. After she found a rock on the ground, she held the Kel-lite in her mouth and aimed the beam of light at the hinge. She retrieved a small knife from the pocket of her jeans and had wedged it under the hinge pin when she heard her partner’s voice over her ear bud.

  “Heard something. I’m checking it out.”

  “Copy that,” she mumbled, clenching the Kel-lite in her teeth.

  Angel pushed the rock against the knife. When the hinge pin wouldn’t move, she had to shove at it. Working it loose was the hardest part, but once she got the pin to budge, it slipped out easy. One down, two to go.

  Making noise bothered her. In the stillness it echoed through the trees no matter how quietly she worked. When she heard a sound over her shoulder, she stopped and dropped to her haunches, listening. She grabbed her weapon at the sound of Gabe’s voice in her ear.

  “Is that you, Angel? You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m good. Just a little B & E.”

  Angel got back to work. After unhinging the door, she pulled it open and sh
ined her Kel-lite into the pitch black of the musty shed. As she moved the light, dust swirled in the beam. Shelves of tools and yard maintenance equipment were organized. Given the thin walls of the structure, she didn’t think it was likely that McFarland would’ve hidden his videos in the walls like he’d done at his home. That left only one viable option.

  The shed floor.

  With access to real tools, it didn’t take long for Angel to find exactly what she’d come for. She found a loose floorboard and when she pried it up, she saw a plastic bag inside. McFarland’s recordings.

  “I got it, partner. I’m going back to the house,” she whispered. When he didn’t answer, she tried again. “Gabe? Talk to me.”

  Gabe never answered and the darkness and the silence closed in on her. She tried the patrol car and got nothing. Angel did the only thing she could. She grabbed the bag of digital recordings and inched toward the shed door with gun in hand. She listened and looked for signs of movement until she decided to make her move. This time she couldn’t afford to use her Kel-lite. The light would make her a target.

  She gripped her weapon and stepped out of the shed into the night.

  Where are you, Gabe?

  ***

  Making her way back to the lake house in the dark had taken time. Although she hadn’t seen or heard anything to alarm her, Angel felt on edge. Something wasn’t right.

  The lights were still on in the house as she approached the front door. With her back to the wall, she crept toward the entry and reached out her hand to test the lock. The knob didn’t budge. With the door locked, Angel felt relief that things were as she’d left them. Once she got inside, she could attempt to contact Gabe on her com unit again. She pulled the key from her jeans pocket, undid the lock, and slipped inside.

  When she stepped through the door, she secured it behind her and saw that all the lights inside were blazing, as she’d left them. But without hearing from Gabe, she felt exposed. The large picture windows toward the rear of the home made her vulnerable. She moved fast and dimmed the lights as she tried to raise Gabe again.

  “Talk to me, Gabe. Where are you?”

  Nothing. She tried the backup officers in the squad car and got radio silence as she checked every entry on the first floor to see if things were still locked tight. When Ethan stirred upstairs, she heard his familiar muffled cries and the rattle of metal cuffs on the headboard. Nothing had changed, except that she hadn’t heard from her partner.

  Before she checked on Ethan, she looked down at the plastic bag of recordings she’d found—McFarland’s secret surveillance. He’d marked each disk with something brief to remind him what had been recorded. One marked “Hot” got her attention.

  She had to know what McFarland had recorded that might have drawn out a killer.

  Sitting on the edge of a coffee table in front of the TV, Angel pulled the bag open and grabbed the disk she wanted to see first. It only took her a moment to figure out how to use the remote control and play the recording.

  In the dim light of the living room, the TV screen cast a murky glow over her as she tried to make out what she saw. One camera angled down from a ceiling. It didn’t take long for Angel to recognize Ethan’s recording studio with its distinctive red settee. On that designer sofa was a naked Bryce Peterson. His hands were cuffed behind his back, and when his head lolled to the side, Angel thought he looked drunk or drugged. She leaned closer to the screen and felt her body tense.

  Within minutes, another man entered the room. He had on a mask of sculpted gold and glitter that covered his eyes, an elaborate disguise that reminded Angel of Mardi Gras. The second man had short dark hair and a muscular, fit body. The minute Bryce looked up and saw him, he cowered and yelled something. He was angry. The recording had no sound, but it didn’t take much for Angel to realize that Bryce was scared. He opened his mouth, yelling for help, but with the sound proof studio, no one would’ve heard his cries.

  Angel gasped when she realized what she was watching—the beating and rape of Bryce Peterson. Ethan’s friend fought back, but with his hands tied behind his back, the other man overpowered him. The attack was vicious and brutal. Angel fast-forwarded the video, not wanting to see the worst of an attack that never seemed to end. The guy assaulted him more than once. The blood and Bryce’s pain turned the guy on, but when Angel saw the shadow of someone else in the room, she tried to make out who the third person was.

  Someone had not only watched the assault. They recorded it with their cell phone. When Angel saw who it was, she gasped.

  “Oh my, God. What the hell…?”

  A chill ran through her body when she realized what must’ve happened. She paused the recording with a familiar face on the screen before she bounded up the stairs and ran for Ethan’s bedroom. She hadn’t left a lamp on in his room, but moonlight shining through window blinds made a glow of ribbons over his body. She saw the silhouette of his head, rising off the pillow. Angel raced for his bed and sat by him.

  “Did you know what would be on those recordings?” she asked him, tugging at his shirt.

  In the dim light from the doorway, Angel looked at the blind musician. His eyes grew wide, and she saw him shake his head. With his mouth still gagged, he pulled at his restraints and jerked his body. If she wanted him to answer her, she had to take the washcloth from his mouth.

  When she did, Ethan blurted out, “Someone’s here…in the house. I heard them break a window. You’re not safe, Angelica. Let me go. Please.”

  Angel stood and grabbed her gun. In the darkness, she heard the soft scuff of a shoe behind her, but it was too late. She felt the hard muzzle of a gun against the back of her head. When she looked down at Ethan, he stared into the darkness, unable to help her.

  “Who’s there?” he begged. “Don’t hurt her. Please.”

  Angel thought about fighting back, but she didn’t know who stood behind her or if they were alone. She also had Ethan’s safety to consider, and she still had no idea if Gabe had her back or something had happened to him. Angel clenched her jaw and raised her hands. She didn’t want to give up her weapon, but she didn’t have a choice.

  She prayed they wouldn’t frisk her. If they did, they might find her last hope—the 9-mil Sig she had strapped to her ankle.

  Someone grabbed her gun without a word, and when she felt a hand on her neck, Angel got shoved to the bedroom door. She heard the door shut behind her. Outside the room, she walked along the landing toward the stairs. When she knew Ethan couldn’t hear, she dared to say something.

  “You didn’t speak back there. You afraid Ethan would recognize your voice?”

  As she got to the top of the stairs, Angel stopped walking and turned around. She was done playing games.

  Chapter 18

  “Cops are outside. Don’t make things worse,” Angel said. “You obviously don’t want to hurt Ethan.”

  “Shut up. Just shut up.” Bryce Peterson spat out each word, but kept his voice low. He stole a glance to the closed bedroom door where Ethan was. “Move it. Downstairs. Now.”

  Angel did as he told her, but her eyes darted down the stairs and into the living room. She had to find a way to get at the gun she still had strapped to her ankle. Worse, her gut twisted when she thought about Gabe. No way he would sit back and watch as Bryce held a weapon on her.

  Something had happened to him.

  When Angel got to the living room, she caught Bryce staring at the television. Frozen on the screen was the last image she saw. Olivia. She had been the one to record his rape. Blood rushed to Bryce’s face, and Angel watched as a slow burning rage consumed him. Before he lost it, she had to get him talking.

  “That recording you said that Olivia made of you. It wasn’t of the two of you in bed, was it?” When he didn’t answer her, Angel shifted the focus to Olivia. “What she did wasn’t right. Why did she go to that extreme? Did something happen between you?”

  Bryce glared with a clenched jaw and pointed the gun at her. T
hings could’ve easily gone against her, but he eventually took a deep breath, and his fierce expression faded.

  “We got drunk at a party. Ethan asked me to take her home. He did that sometimes, but Olivia came on to me. Like I said, she was a messed up bitch. We did it in the car, right outside her place, but when I wanted to see her again, she acted like she didn’t remember we even did it. All of a sudden, I wasn’t good enough.”

  “And you couldn’t let it go.”

  “No.” He sighed. “You don’t know how she could be. One minute she couldn’t get enough of me. The next, I was shit on her designer shoes.”

  Bryce gripped the gun. His hands glistened with sweat, and his finger was on the trigger. Angel tensed her body, ready to move.

  “I tried to get her to see me again. This time at her place. She never invited me inside, not even when I drove her and Ethan to an event, but I told her that I’d tell Ethan if she didn’t agree.”

  What had Bryce been thinking? His ego needed appeasing, even if it came at the expense of a friend who’d taken care of him.

  “What did she say?”

  “She laughed at me. Said that if I told Ethan, she’d say I raped her. Can you imagine that?” He shook his head. “She would’ve taken Ethan down with her lie…and ruined everything for me. For what? She came on to me.”

  “What did you do, Bryce?”

  “I made an honest woman out of her. I made sure that if she did tell Ethan that I raped her, it wouldn’t be a lie.”

  Bryce dared to smile. There was no humor in it. In an instant, Angel knew what he’d left out.

  “You raped her. For real.”

  “The princess had it coming.” His smile faded fast. “I broke into her fancy palace, the one her daddy paid for. She liked it rough, and I gave it to her.”

  Angel gritted her teeth as she listened to the arrogant jerk. After Bryce had raped Olivia, the girl must’ve been torn up over how to get even. Angel understood how Olivia might have thought about reporting the assault to the police. Anything made public would be hard to cope with. She must’ve feared how her life would change if everyone knew what had happened to her. The girl probably thought about how she would’ve hurt her parents and Ethan, too.