Blood Score Part 9

"I told her that I really do love women for their personalities." He grinned. "And if she ever caught me with a Playboy Magazine, I could honestly say that I only read the magazine for its articles."

Angel chuckled. Ethan Chandler was utterly charming, in a quiet, disarming way.

"I can see how you would have been a real hit with the ladies, Ethan. But your blindness might have its perks, too. Just think. No one will ever ask you, *Honey, does this dress make my b.u.t.t look too big?'"

"Ah, good one. I'll have to remember that."

She smiled. "So what happened with this woman from the mall, the one you hit on?"

"Well, when she didn't tell me what a tool I was, I thought I was doing pretty well. It wasn't until later that I learned the truth." He dropped his chin and placed a hand over his heart, pretending to look sad.

"Oh no, was she married?"

"No. A saleswoman tapped me on my shoulder and told me I was talking to a mannequin."

"Oh, d.a.m.n. You got me." She laughed aloud. "You made that up."

"Maybe a little." He chuckled. "But it's great to hear you laugh."

She could say the same. Unfortunately, Ethan's amus.e.m.e.nt didn't last long.

"The truth is, I haven't gotten much smarter about women. I loved Livie much more than she ever cared for me." He stared straight through her, into a place where only he could see. "She needed a whole man, not me. I probably was more of a novelty for her. Her latest toy. So if you find that she had someone else in her life besides me, that wouldn't exactly surprise me. Don't feel like you have to spare my feelings. You've been kind to try, but it's really not necessary."

The room faded away, and the sound of the piano had become nothing but white noise. He had let her see into his vulnerability as a blind man, insecure with women. She didn't know what to say except- "I'm sorry, Ethan."

Ethan Chandler wasn't what she had expected. There was an underlying sadness to him. He'd become an accomplished violinist with a level of talent few would achieve in a lifetime, and he'd been blessed with a career that countless others would never know.

Yet with all he had, he would always be alone. His blindness had distinguished him from his peers and brought him recognition, but it also set him apart in a way she found hard to relate to. Until now, she had taken her sight for granted. Imagining Ethan's world, even with the accolades he'd achieved, made her sad.

But even more compelling, Angel recognized his aloofness-his utter acceptance of being alone in life-because it reminded her of someone else.

Her partner, Gabe Cronan. Apparently handicaps came in all shapes and sizes.

Two Hours Later "No, I insist. Let me walk you to your car," Ethan said. He grabbed his folded cane and latched onto Angel's arm. They walked through the front door of Bogart's, and he followed her to the parking lot, adding, "Chicago can be dangerous after dark."

"But Ethan, I'm a cop. I carry a weapon."

"Yes, I know. I meant these streets were dangerous for me." When she laughed aloud, he squeezed her arm and said, "I could get addicted to your laugh, you know."

"I haven't laughed like this...well, it's been a while." Angel smiled. Before he asked what she'd meant, she insisted, "I'll drive you back to your building, and I won't take no for an answer."

"I accept. Thank you," he said. "But you'll have to drop me a few blocks down. With the reporters out front, I'll have to sneak into the building the way Rachel taught me."

Bogart's wasn't far from Ethan's place. After Angel pulled her vehicle to the curb down the street from his building, she felt the urge to thank him, but their meeting hadn't been a date. If their time together could be called anything, it would be an interview, with Ethan being a suspect and her being the cop investigating his girlfriend's murder. That little dose of reality put things in perspective for her.

"Good night, Ethan. Call me if you think of anything else."

"Yes, I certainly will." He turned toward her before he got out, looking at her yet not seeing her. "Before I forget, I brought you tickets for my Sat.u.r.day performance and a couple of backstage pa.s.ses. If you have other plans or don't care for the music, I will understand. I just wanted to thank you for...your discretion. I appreciate the privacy."

He handed her the tickets, and she smiled.

"Thank you so much. You didn't have to do this."

"No, but I wanted to. Good night, Angelica," he said as he got out of her vehicle. She thought to correct his use of her full first name, but she liked the sound of him saying it.

Angel watched him walk down the street with his cane and make it into his building before she drove away. This time of night, without traffic, it only took her forty minutes to drive back to her house. On the way home, she thought about what she'd learned of Ethan and Olivia. Olivia Davenport had been a complex woman. Angel had a feeling that finding her killer would be complicated, too.

The leads she'd gotten from Ethan could be pursued in the morning, and they'd be easily explained to her partner once she made headway. They'd already learned the name Bryce Peterson from an answering machine. Knowing Peterson was Ethan's friend, and a potential candidate for Olivia's kinky s.e.x-capades, would not be a leap she'd have to explain to Gabe. How she'd arrived at her suspicion would seem a natural progression.

Her partner would never have to find out about her late night trip downtown. Yet why had she taken a risk to keep her meeting with the violinist a secret from her partner? Her only explanation-for risking Gabe's trust in her-was that she had a definite attraction toward Ethan Chandler.

Was that a good enough excuse?

Since Manny died, she'd lost a piece of her that would never be replaced. Thinking of a future without him always scared her, even still. But tonight felt like a step in the right direction to reclaim her life. She wanted to hold onto it, at least until tomorrow morning.

But as she pulled into the driveway of her small bungalow in the suburbs north of downtown, she spotted a familiar vehicle parked on her curb. Gabe's Crown Vic.

"What the h.e.l.l..."

She locked her car and reached for her weapon as a precaution before she approached his vehicle. She saw a silhouette of a man slumped in the front seat. Angel held up her gun and approached from the rear. When she got close, she peered through the driver's window. By the dim light off a street lamp, she saw her partner behind the wheel. He had his head resting on his jacket wedged against the window.

Gabe had fallen asleep waiting for her to come home.

He hadn't been to her house since Manny's funeral, even though she'd invited him on more than one occasion. It had been Manny's house, and she understood his reason for dodging her invitations. Nothing had been the same since her husband died, but it was odd Gabe chose to make an appearance at this hour. Whatever brought him here must be important.

Angel wasn't sure she wanted to know his reason for coming.

If she woke him now, Gabe would drill her with questions about where she'd been-a natural concern for a partner and a friend. Angel had no idea if she'd be capable of lying to him outright. Seeing him at the station tomorrow morning would have made it easier to dodge his questions. The constant phone calls, the crowded detectives' bullpen, and the case would have served as distractions, but Gabe had changed all that. Now with him practically on her doorstep-and in private-things were about to get complicated.

She raised her hand and knocked on the window. At the sound, Gabe's eyes flickered open. For a second, in the stillness of the night, he stared at her as if he knew what she had done.

Chapter 8.

Guilt could be a merciless enemy or it could be the most brutally honest best friend a woman could ever have. Tonight Angel had no idea if her guilt would be friend or foe. She only knew she had it bad.

Angel stared at Gabe Cronan now, with his face steeped in the shadows of his vehicle. She let her burden take over as she read more in his eyes than was probably there. Meeting Ethan Chandler alone, without her partner, had been a bonehead move. Her lie of omission to Gabe had been motivated by her personal attraction to a stranger. Although she knew that now, she wasn't sure she was prepared to deal with it and break trust with Gabe, especially at this hour.

h.e.l.l! She had to understand her feelings first before she explained her actions to anyone else.

"Sorry. I fell asleep. I didn't expect you to be so late." He looked at his watch after he got out of his car. "It's after one."

"Yeah, thanks for the update, Big Ben. Why are you here, Gabe?"

"I, ah... " He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I want to talk...about this thing between us."

"What thing?" She c.o.c.ked her head, totally unsure where he was heading with his opening salvo. If his intent had been to grab her interest, then mission accomplished.

"Can we talk inside? I promise I won't stay long."

She took a deep breath and stared at him before she finally nudged her head toward her front door.

"Come on. I'll make coffee. Decaf." She narrowed her eyes. "But only one cup. I gotta get some sleep."

"Scout's honor." He held up his hand.

"You were never a boy scout, Gabe. That's not even a guess." She pulled out her keys and headed for her door with him following.

"If the scouts had badges for cursing, fighting, and underage drinking, I might've given it a shot."

After Angel flipped the lights on inside and headed to her kitchen to make coffee, Cronan stood alone in her living room. Except for a woman's touch here and there, nothing much had changed in Manny's house. Same furniture, same photos on the wall, and a coat rack still had Manny's windbreaker and hat on it.

He could even see an old inflatable beach ball behind the sofa. It looked out of place until he remembered where he'd last seen the ball. The red, white, and blue stripes reminded him of a summer's day when all three of them had lazed around a pool drinking beer. It was one of the last days before they found out about Manny's brain tumor. Walking through the front door was like stepping into the past-a past where his best friend would come from the kitchen, toss him a cold one, and give him s.h.i.t.

Cronan hadn't counted on how that would make him feel. If he felt that way, he couldn't imagine how Angel did.

"Are you okay?" Her quiet voice pulled him from his memories. "This is the first time you've been here since the funeral."

"You haven't changed a thing. It's like-" He took a deep breath and shook his head. "No wonder you can feel him here, Angel. It's like he's gonna walk in the door any minute."

"What are you saying?" she questioned. "I thought you'd appreciate-"

"I'm saying it's been two years. I miss him too, but he wouldn't want you to live in the past." He turned to point to the coat rack by the front door. "Look, his jacket and Cubs hat are still hanging. You haven't packed up his clothes, have you? And you still have that old beach ball."

"I can't get rid of that ball. No way." Her eyes glistened.

"I'm not saying get rid of it. Just deflate it and store it in a closet."

"That's the one thing I can't do."

"Why, Angel? It's just-"

Before he could finish, she interrupted him.

"Manny blew up that ball. It's his breath in the d.a.m.ned thing. It's like the last thing I have that was really...him." Avoiding his gaze, she crossed her arms as a tear slid down her cheek. "I can't do it, Gabe. I won't."

He took a step closer and stopped. Inches from her, all he wanted to do was hold her. He reached out a hand to brush back a strand of her hair, but couldn't do it. Not in Manny's house. With Angel standing her ground, not needing his comfort, it took everything he had to stay where he was.

But he'd been the one to make her cry.

"I'm sorry, Angel. Guess this was a lousy idea. I'm the last person to give out advice on how to let go of someone you love." He had a hard time meeting her gaze. "I only came to apologize for crossing the line. We're partners. What you do outside of that is your business."

"But that's just it, Gabe. We're not just partners. We're family." She wiped the tear off her cheek. "Because of Manny. You two were closer than brothers. Seeing how much he loved you, that made me feel even more connected to you than I ever did as your partner."

The hollow feeling of losing Manny welled deep in his belly. He'd been in denial about how much his friend's death had devastated him. Seeing what the tumor did-to watch him die-had been as hard as losing his mother and father to a s.a.d.i.s.tic killer. The reason he'd avoided coming to Angel's house hit him between the eyes. It had hurt too much to lose someone he loved like a brother, and there was a chance his feelings for Angel were jumbled up in his grief for Manny. He wanted something from her, a connection he'd lost when his only friend died.

Loving anyone had become a sucker punch waiting to happen. When would he ever learn?

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come. This was a mistake." He turned for the door. "I'll see you at the station."

He didn't hear what she said as he left her place. His mind was buried in the past. If he had any real feelings for Angel, he was too messed up to do her any favors.

Maybe they both were.

Grand Central Police Station a Late Morning "That was the restaurant manager. Several witnesses confirmed they saw Ethan Chandler at Amandine's on the night Olivia Davenport was killed." Angel said to Gabe after she hung up the phone. "One of the valets said he almost drove off with a Maserati."

"What?" Gabe laughed. "Talk about the blind leading the blind. How did that happen?"

"Apparently Ethan Chandler has a unique brand of humor. When the valet saw he was blind, he called him a cab, and our violinist gave the guy a generous tip."

Her partner lost his smile and asked, "So what did the manager say about his reservation and when he actually showed?"

"He said Ethan had a reservation for two, but only he showed. He'd been late and nearly missed his reservation, but he stayed for over an hour before he split. A blind man gets noticed."

"Yeah, I would imagine. How late is late?" Across from her, Gabe barely looked up from his desk. He'd been distant all morning.

"He said he never noticed. Their policy is to cancel after fifteen minutes, but for someone like Ethan Chandler, they could've made an exception."

"But no one knows for sure?"

"The manager checked with his staff. It was busy that night. They only know he showed before they cancelled," she said.

"Or maybe they seated him no matter what time he arrived."

Angel knew it could be important to nail down the time Ethan Chandler's alibi kicked in through credible witnesses, but Gabe looked like he had something more on his mind.

"What's bothering you about this? You're not telling me something."

"Sometimes people who want alibis to fit their version of the truth, they do things to get noticed," he said. "He might've waited until things got busy at the restaurant and wait staff wouldn't remember. Maybe he's used to people holding reservations for him. Then he gives a generous tip and tries to highjack an expensive ride. The focus shifts to what a nice guy he is and they only remember he was there. That makes the alibi murky as h.e.l.l."

"I see your point, but if the ME's official time of death doesn't give us a better timetable to compare against his alibi, what you're saying is that his alibi may not be strong enough. We'd need more."

"Exactly."

Angel sighed and held up a folder. "I also have Olivia's cell phone records, and I'm going through them now. Ethan called a few times and left voice messages. We heard most of them the night we worked the crime scene."

"What about text messages?"