Part 11 (1/2)

”Once I got involved with Olivia, she found ways to mess with my head. Guess she figured she could force me to do anything she wanted, *cause I didn't want her telling Ethan about us. She recorded one of our sessions, without me knowing it. Her proof, otherwise I would've told her to f.u.c.k off.”

”You actually saw this recording?” Gabe asked.

”Yeah, she gave me a copy. The b.i.t.c.h set it to music, too. Ethan's music. He may be blind, but anyone could see my face and tell him that I was the one sticking it to her.”

”You still have the recording?”

”No. I destroyed it. G.o.d, I didn't want anyone to see it.” He crossed his arms. ”She made it look as if I'd raped her. Her sick fantasy, not mine.”

”Yeah, she took advantage of you,” Gabe said. ”You're nothing but an innocent bystander.”

”That's how it was, man. I swear.”

”If she recorded you, she might have done others. Where did she keep her home movies?” Angel asked, with a glance at Gabe. They hadn't found any recordings at Olivia's place.

”If I knew, I'd have trashed them.” Peterson glared across the room, not looking either of them in the eye. ”That b.i.t.c.h made up nasty lies. She sent Ethan those letters. That's the real reason I called her and left that message. When I found out about them, I got p.i.s.sed. She'd been sending them to Ethan all along, messing with him. I had no idea what she wrote. I only heard about *em.”

”What letters are these? And who told you about them?” Angel pushed, noticing Gabe's stern reaction in the mirror.

”From what I was told, Olivia pretended to be a stalker. But that whole thing rang true, *cause I could see her getting off on that,” Peterson said. ”Ethan's PR lady told me about *em. Rachel has the letters.”

Gabe shot her a look in the mirror, and Angel knew in an instant that Rachel Blevins would have some explaining to do. This time Gabe would do the talking.

Chapter 9.

Grand Central Police Station They had no reason to hold Bryce Peterson, especially after he had asked for a lawyer, and his alibi had checked out. It would have been interesting to see if he had the b.a.l.l.s to call Ethan asking for his help to find a mouthpiece, but Cronan had had enough of pathetic for one morning.

Slouched at his desk, he swiveled his chair and kicked around ideas with his partner.

”You think Peterson destroyed that recording of him and Olivia?” Cronan didn't wait for her to answer. ”Guy strikes me as someone who'd want a memento. Maybe he did the recording and got Olivia to play along. If his alibi hadn't checked out, we could've gotten a warrant to go hunting, but these people, this case. It's really messed up. Nothing's at face value.”

”Yeah, and now these letters,” Angel said.

Cronan had to admit he was hot under the collar after he heard Rachel Blevins had instigated the fallout between Bryce Peterson and Olivia Davenport. Although the publicist was fully capable of playing her own nasty head games, he gave her the benefit of the doubt and checked whether a police report had been filed on the stalking, but came up empty. Now as he sat at his desk, his juices were flowing and scenarios played in his head.

”No police report on the stalking,” he told Angel. ”If Rachel was so protective of her client, why wouldn't she have reported a stalker?”

”Maybe because she invented the whole thing,” she said, saying what he thought. ”Peterson said she told him about those letters. Why would she do that unless she knew about him and Olivia? I've got a hunch she told him to get a rise out of the guy. He looks like the volatile type. Rachel could have been counting on that.”

”You mean she used him like an attack dog, knowing he'd go off on Olivia so she wouldn't have to get her hands dirty?”

”Yeah, it's a theory.” She nodded. ”And here's something else. Looking through Olivia's phone records, I see a series of calls between Rachel and Olivia, including one on the day Olivia was killed that lasted five minutes. I find it interesting that Rachel didn't mention this to us when we talked to her. We were there to find Ethan's name, but once she found out Olivia was dead, she had her chance to bring it up, and she didn't. Maybe she did more than protect her client.”

Cronan pursed his lips and considered her point before he threw out another idea.

”Let me ask you this.” Leaning across his desk, he narrowed his eyes. ”You think Rachel's got a thing for Ethan? Maybe something he doesn't even know about?”

Angel thought about his question before she said, ”It's possible. He's a pretty charismatic guy, and her eyes really lit up when she talked about him being her client. Maybe it goes beyond that.”

”Yeah, you're reading my mail. Let's check her out. And no call in advance this time.” He crooked his lip into a half smile. ”If she's got those stalker letters, and she thought Olivia had something to do with it, she'll have to produce them on the spot. They'd be considered evidence, and we can ask about that phone call to Olivia on the day she died, too. Let's see how well she thinks on her feet.”

”Making up a stalker. That's pretty conniving, even for a slick, fast talking operator like Rachel Blevins.”

”Never underestimate the female of the species, Ramirez. You heard it here first.”

”Yeah, I'll try and remember that, Gabe. Thanks for the heads up.”

Trump Tower - Downtown Chicago Cronan saw a young receptionist at the desk outside the office of Rachel Blevins. She smiled as he and Angel walked into the agency suite. Rachel's door was closed, but that didn't deter him. Cronan smiled at the administrative a.s.sistant and didn't slow down as he walked through the waiting area.

”She in?” He asked and didn't wait for an answer. ”Thanks.”

”Sir, you can't go in there.” The receptionist came out from behind her desk. ”She's on a conference call and can't be disturbed.”

”If you think she can't be disturbed, you haven't seen me at work” He grinned.

Cronan barged into the office with Angel next through the door. The publicist was caught mid-sentence with the phone to her ear. She made her excuses to someone on the other end of the line and hung up before she stood.

”What the h.e.l.l is this all about?” she asked.

”I'm sorry, Ms. Blevins. I tried to stop them.” The receptionist blushed with embarra.s.sment.

”It's okay, Claire. I'll take it from here. Please close the door behind you.”

”Yes, ma'am.”

Before Rachel sat, Angel had already claimed a seat in front of her desk. Cronan stood way too close to the publicist. He returned her glare until she sank into her chair.

”What can I do for you, Detectives? I already told you everything I know.”

”Ah, but you see, that's the problem.” He leaned across her desk and stared down at her. ”You didn't.”

Cronan glanced down at her desk. After Rachel saw him eyeballing her nameplate, she swiped it off her desk and shoved it into a drawer. But he wasn't discouraged by the smug look on her face. Searching for something to mess with her head, he spotted a colorful vase on a shelf and picked it up. When her body tensed, he tossed the decorative showpiece between his hands and paced her office, keeping his eyes on her.

Pigheaded as usual, Rachel sank into her chair and didn't give him the satisfaction of demanding he put down her property.

”That urn is an antique,” she said. ”It's inlaid in gold and gemstones...and probably worth your annual salary.”

”That low?” He smirked. ”I would have thought a woman like you would have better taste.”

”What would you know about women like me...or good taste?”

”Just that women like you and good taste don't always go hand in hand.” He narrowed his eyes. ”That's about all I care to know.”

”Why are you here? I'm busy.” She directed her glare at both of them.