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—All right, then this is more serious than we thought —Hank said, frowning as he glanced briefly at the photographs—. I'm going to need a list of everyone who knew Taylor would be staying here. Security personnel, assistants, drivers, employees… anyone who might have known this address. Can you get it?
Chloe frowned.
—It's going to be a fairly long list.
She looked at both detectives before continuing.
—A lot of people have been coming and going over the past few days. We're filming behind-the-scenes footage of the preparations and rehearsals. Dancers, technicians, makeup artists, production staff… some of them are brought in directly by outside companies. Getting every name will take time.
—Then start with the people who knew Taylor was sleeping here —Ethan interjected—. They're our priority.
Hank nodded.
—And after that, I want everyone else. Anyone who has set foot on this property needs to be on that list. The sooner we have it, the sooner we can start ruling people out.
Chloe released the breath she had been holding.
—I'll make some calls.
—And don't forget the other list —Hank added before she could walk away—. Anyone who might have a reason to hurt her. I don't care whether it happened a week ago or five years ago. If there were threats, problems with former employees, ex-partners, obsessive fans, or any incident that struck you as strange, I want to know about it.
Chloe nodded, this time without arguing.
Only a few minutes earlier, there had been between twenty and thirty people downstairs. Too many faces, too many people coming and going, too many opportunities for someone to watch without attracting attention.
Worse still, the property had already been breached.
The stalker knew the address, had managed to approach without being seen, and had bypassed the security system at least once.
For now, all they could do was reconstruct who knew what, establish a timeline, and begin narrowing down the list of possible suspects.
Ethan took a notebook from the inside pocket of his jacket and sat down across from Taylor.
He rested his pen against a blank page but did not begin writing immediately.
—All right… let's start over —he said, adopting a much calmer tone than the one he had used with Chloe—. I'm Detective Ethan Morgan. May I call you Taylor?
—Of course.
Taylor looked up and forced a small smile.
—I think that after seeing those photographs, we can skip the formalities.
—Fair enough.
Ethan returned her faint smile before looking down at the notebook.
Taylor had already changed out of her rehearsal clothes. She was now wearing comfortable athletic clothing, and her hair was slightly disheveled. She had completely lost the commanding presence she displayed beneath the spotlights, and as she sat across from him with her phone between her hands, she looked far more like an ordinary woman her age than one of the most famous artists in the world.
It was difficult to imagine how she had managed to remain so calm throughout the rehearsal after what had happened in Los Angeles and the new letters she had received in Chicago.
Ethan slowly twirled the pen between his fingers.
—I'm going to ask you a few questions. Some of them may seem repetitive, and others might feel too personal, but I need you to be completely honest with me. Even if the answer seems ridiculous or unimportant to you.
Taylor nodded.
—All right.
—And if you remember anything later, no matter how insignificant it seems, tell me. A strange phone call, someone who appeared in the same place too many times… anything at all.
—I understand.
However, as she answered, her eyes drifted back toward the notebook in Ethan's hand.
He followed her gaze and understood the message.
Without saying anything, he slipped the notebook back into his pocket.
—Did anything unusual happen last night?
—No.
Taylor watched him put the notebook away, and her expression visibly relaxed.
—I had a very busy schedule yesterday. First, I went to the concert venue to rehearse, and then I attended a welcome dinner.
She rubbed her hands together lightly.
—By the time I came back, I was exhausted.
Ethan twirled the pen between his fingers.
—Are you usually a heavy sleeper?
—She sleeps like a rock.
Chloe walked over and pulled up a chair to sit beside them.
Ethan turned his head.
—I'm talking to her.
He fixed his eyes on Chloe.
—Do you understand what I mean?
—I'm sorry.
Chloe felt as if something were tightening around her chest and immediately closed her mouth.
She did not know exactly what had changed, but Ethan's stare was far more intimidating than she had expected.
The tension of the last few hours was still lingering inside him.
After everything that had happened with Muñoz and the recovered money, he was far from relaxed.
And that look had allowed some of the pressure building inside him to slip through.
—I've always been a heavy sleeper —Taylor continued, shaking her head—. I honestly didn't hear anything.
Ethan looked away from Chloe and focused on her again.
—Is there any of the wine you drank last night left?
—No.
Taylor shook her head.
—It was only one bottle of red wine. We finished it.
—What about the bottle?
Taylor studied him for a moment.
—Do you suspect someone might have put something in it?
—It's a possibility.
—I drank it with two friends —she replied—. They continued partying afterward, and neither of them had any problems.
Ethan nodded slightly.
—May I take a look at your room?
—Of course.
Taylor nodded but then pursed her lips slightly.
—Although I'd like to ask you for something.
Hank looked up.
—What?
—Could you introduce yourselves as my bodyguards?
—Exactly —Chloe interjected immediately.
She still seemed annoyed by the way Ethan had treated her, but her tone remained professional.
—Our current album is competing for several awards, and we can't afford any negative publicity.
She looked at both of them.
—If anyone asks, you're bodyguards we hired temporarily.
—No problem.
Hank and Ethan exchanged a glance.
They both removed their badges and slipped them into their pockets. The group left the conference room, where the two bodyguards remained standing, alert to everything happening around them.
Chloe took the lead and moved forward at a brisk pace.
—Wait for us here.
Taylor gave the order to the two security guards before slowly beginning to climb the stairs.
The moment she stepped out of the conference room, she regained the confident demeanor she had displayed earlier, showing no trace of what she had just experienced.
She undoubtedly possessed all the qualities necessary to handle herself well in front of a camera.
The third floor was Taylor's private area. Under normal circumstances, staff members were not allowed up there.
Ethan studied his surroundings as he climbed the stairs. There were no cameras or visible surveillance systems there either, so that possibility could be ruled out.
—Are you looking for security cameras?
Taylor had been watching Ethan's movements.
At first, she assumed he was simply curious about a celebrity's residence, but she quickly noticed that his gaze kept lingering on the empty corners of the walls and realized what he was doing.
—That's right.
Ethan smiled faintly and nodded.
—I spend ninety percent of my life surrounded by cameras. None of my homes have surveillance inside —Taylor explained, shrugging slightly with her hands tucked into her pockets—. Being at home is practically the only time I can escape them.
Ethan nodded. It made sense. For someone whose entire life seemed to unfold in front of a lens, filling her bedroom with cameras as well would probably be unbearable.
Chloe walked several steps down the hallway and stopped in front of a closed door.
—It's here.
Taylor remained several feet behind them.
She made no attempt to come closer.
Ethan noticed but said nothing. After what she had seen in the photographs, he could not blame her for not wanting to go back inside.
He turned the handle and entered with Hank, followed by both women.
With Chloe watching them from the doorway, Ethan scanned the room.
The bed.
The door.
The window.
Something caught his attention.
—Hmm.
He approached the windowsill. It appeared clean, but he noticed several small, dark specks trapped inside a crack.
He leaned closer and blew gently.
The particles came loose from the crevice.
—What is that? —Chloe asked.
—I don't know yet.
Ethan picked up a little with his finger and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger.
Hank moved closer.
—Dirt?
—Looks like it.
When Ethan opened his hand, a fine layer of earth-colored dust coated his fingers.
They both looked toward the window.
It was closed, but the handle remained in the unlocked position.
Hank frowned.
—Do you think the stalker came in through here?
A trembling voice came from behind them.
Taylor had finally entered the room, unable to contain her curiosity.
—Looks that way…
Ethan carefully opened the window.
—This is where he came in.
A blast of icy air carrying tiny snowflakes immediately swept into the room.
Taylor wrapped her arms around herself.
Ethan and Hank leaned forward to look outside.
The wall of the house was covered with raised sections, decorative ledges, and uneven bands.
To someone with training, it almost resembled an improvised ladder. The wide exterior sill was covered by a smooth layer of snow.
At first glance, everything appeared normal.
—No footprints —Hank remarked, shaking his head.
—Wait.
Ethan paused thoughtfully, extended his index finger, and pressed it into the snow.
It sank only a few inches.
—It's been snowing all day, hasn't it?
He looked at Hank as he withdrew his finger.
—The layer shouldn't be this thin.
He examined the windowsill again.
—Someone cleared this area.
He pulled out his phone, switched on the flashlight, and aimed it outside.
The beam was not particularly powerful, but it was enough.
Although the surface of the snow appeared even, its depth was clearly different in several places.
Hank noticed the irregularity as well and nodded slowly.
Ethan closed the window.
Then he turned toward Taylor.
—Whoever did this climbed up the back of the house.
—Why?
Taylor took several steps backward and finally collapsed into a chair.
—Who would do something like this to me?
They had arrived relatively recently and had already found a lead.
Taylor and her team had spent half the day checking everything without noticing the tiny speck of dirt hidden inside the crack or the difference in the depth of the snow. They had not known how the intruder had gotten inside.
Chloe was completely convinced.
She stared intently at Ethan and Hank.
—Please. I'm begging you. You have to find that sick bastard.
—All right. Now we can narrow our list down a little—to only the people who knew Taylor was sleeping in this room —Hank replied, gesturing with one hand—. There can't be that many of them, can there?
From the moment they had agreed to come there, their intention had been to solve the problem.
Besides, if a star of that magnitude ended up murdered in Chicago, it would also be a tremendous embarrassment for the Chicago Police Department.
—There aren't many.
Chloe nodded immediately.
—Maybe a dozen. I can get that together quickly.
As she spoke, she pulled a tablet from her bag and began typing.
Meanwhile, Taylor remained seated, staring blankly into the distance.
The thought that someone had been inside that room during the night, standing beside her bed while she slept, watching her…
Just imagining it sent a shiver through her.
—Hey, are you all right?
Ethan dropped to one knee in front of her.
—I'm fine.
Taylor snapped out of it and quickly wiped the corner of her eye with one finger before forcing a smile.
Her experiences had taught her not to reveal her vulnerable side easily. In her world, there were always people willing to exploit any sign of weakness.
—Listen to me —Ethan said seriously—. You don't have to live in fear because of that guy. In fact, that's exactly what he wants.
Taylor looked up at him.
—He doesn't just want to get close to you. He wants to control you. He wants you looking over your shoulder every time you go out, distrusting everyone, and thinking about him even when he isn't there. For someone like that, fear is another form of control.
Taylor remained silent, listening carefully.
—So be careful, follow the security measures, and everything will be all right —Ethan continued—. But don't let that bastard decide how you're going to live your life. If he manages that, you'll have already given him part of what he wants.
—That's easier said than done —Taylor murmured.