Two headlights pierced the curtain of snow before an unmarked vehicle came to a stop behind the emergency units.
Erin climbed out from the driver's side. Her coat was fastened all the way to her neck, and her expression promised nothing good. For several seconds, she took in the ambulance lights, the fire truck, the patrol cars parked in front of the property, and the yellow tape beginning to encircle the yard.
—Hey, what kind of circus is this? —she asked as she approached Ethan—. What the hell are we doing here?
The passenger door opened, and Olinsky stepped out of the vehicle, calmly chewing on a Twizzler. He surveyed the scene with his usual impassive expression.
—Judging by the look of the place, I'd say we're late to the party.
Ethan met them near the entrance.
—We're working a case.
—I figured that much —Erin replied—. I meant what case.
Ethan motioned for them to follow him.
—I'll explain inside. Act normal when you go in.
Erin frowned.
—Why?
—Just do it.
Olinsky tore off another piece of the Twizzler with his teeth.
—When someone says that, it usually means there's a politician, a crooked cop, or a naked woman inside.
—It's none of those three —Ethan replied.
—Then you've already lost my interest.
Ethan started leading them toward the house, but Erin remained still for a moment.
There was something strange about the way he walked. He kept his left shoulder slightly lower and avoided swinging that arm. Then the red light from the ambulance illuminated his back, and Erin saw the cut shirt, the dried blood around his shoulder blade, and the sterile patch covering part of the wound.
Her expression changed immediately.
—Hey. What the hell happened to you?
Her voice rose several octaves.
Ethan stopped.
—It's nothing serious.
Erin quickly closed the distance between them.
—Your back is covered in blood.
—Most of it was already there before they put on the patch.
—That doesn't make the explanation any better.
Without asking permission, she grabbed the torn edge of his shirt and pulled it aside to examine the area. The skin surrounding the patch was red and covered in small cuts. Blood had begun to seep through one of the corners.
—Were you shot?
—No.
—Stabbed?
—No.
—Then stop answering like an idiot and tell me what happened.
Olinsky approached from behind, the candy still between his lips. When he saw the wound, some of his casual attitude vanished.
—That doesn't look like a scratch.
—It is —Ethan insisted.
Erin stared at him in disbelief.
—A scratch? I waited for you at my apartment for more than an hour. You didn't answer any of my calls, and now I find you outside a house surrounded by firefighters, covered in blood and acting as though you walked into a door.
Ethan suddenly remembered the conversation they had before Hank pulled him away from the 21st District.
He was supposed to stop by Erin's apartment after his shift.
With everything that had happened, he had completely forgotten.
—Shit.
—Yeah, exactly. Shit.
—I'm sorry. Hank asked me to come with him as a favor to Commander Perry. We were only supposed to speak with someone, look over a few letters, and head back.
Erin gestured toward the ambulance and the emergency lights surrounding them.
—Let me guess. Everything went perfectly.
—There were a few complications.
—What kind of complications?
Ethan glanced toward the house.
—A package exploded.
The anger vanished from Erin's face, replaced by much deeper concern.
—A bomb?
—A small one, but yes.
—And you were close?
—Close enough.
Erin looked at the blood again.
—What hit you?
Ethan hesitated.
—A bone fragment.
Olinsky stopped chewing.
—Bone?
—There were pieces of a cat inside the package. The perpetrator used them as shrapnel.
Silence stretched between them for several seconds.
Erin opened her mouth, but no words came out at first. Finally, she carefully touched the edge of the patch again.
—Have the paramedics examined you? What did they say?
—Yes. They gave me a couple of stitches and antibiotics.
Erin slowly exhaled and left her hand on his arm for a few seconds. Olinsky watched the exchange in silence and took another bite of his Twizzler.
—I don't want to interrupt this touching moment, but we still don't know who we're protecting.
Ethan pulled his arm away and pointed toward the door.
Before he could move, Erin stopped him again.
—This conversation isn't over.
—I know.
—And you're going to the hospital.
—After I finish processing the scene.
—That wasn't a negotiation.
Ethan looked at her with a faint smile, opened the door, and led them inside.
The change in temperature was immediate. So was the smell: gunpowder, burned plastic, blood, and cleaning products. Part of the living room was covered in pieces of cake.
Erin carefully inspected the damage.
—This was more than a small complication.
—That's why we called you.
—Who was the target?
Ethan gestured toward the couch.
Taylor was sitting beside Chloe, wrapped in a blanket. Megan stood behind them, speaking with one of the officers. When she heard the door, Taylor raised her head and looked directly at Ethan.
Olinsky followed her gaze.
For the first time since arriving, he stopped chewing.
—Is that...?
—Yes —Ethan replied.
Erin recognized Taylor a second later. She looked back at Ethan, then at the destroyed living room, and finally at Hank, who was speaking on the phone at the far end of the room.
—Hank asked you to come protect Taylor Swift and didn't think that detail was worth mentioning.
—It was supposed to be off the books.
—Naturally.
Olinsky studied the singer for another moment.
—My daughter is never going to believe me.
—Someone has been stalking her for weeks. He sent letters, photographs, and the remains of an animal. Tonight, he managed to get a bomb inside the house. One member of her security team is injured, and another disappeared shortly before the explosion.
Erin's expression immediately regained its professional seriousness.
—You think the guard is involved?
—He's our leading possibility. We need to find him before he tries again.
A minor wound like that should disappear completely within a day or two. It had to be his healing ability kicking in.
—By the way, where's Nadia?
Ethan stopped and looked at Erin.
—At an addiction treatment center —she replied enthusiastically—. It was her decision, and believe me, it wasn't easy.
—Wow, that was really brave of her. How much does it cost? I'll cover all her expenses.
Ethan was happy for Nadia as well and decided to help her.
There were three kinds of addiction treatment centers: privately funded facilities, those covered by health insurance, and free clinics.
Given Nadia's circumstances, the first two options were practically impossible, but Erin would never allow her friend to end up in one of the free facilities.
—Are you serious?
Erin was so delighted that, for a moment, she forgot why she had come all the way out there. She quickly held out her hand.
—Yes, I'll take care of it. Just send me the bill. I've got it covered.
A moment later, Olinsky did the same. He pulled out fifty dollars and placed it in Erin's hand.
—She's a good kid. She'll get through this soon —Olinsky remarked as he nibbled on the candy in his mouth.
—Thank you.
Erin beamed at the money before clinging to Olinsky's arm.
—You're a very good man.
Ethan spread his arms indignantly.
—Hey, what about me?
—You're not so bad either, but you're getting a different reward, so stop whining.
Erin smiled at him.
—Detective Morgan.
Megan, Taylor's personal assistant, hurried over carrying a T-shirt with Taylor's face printed on it.
—Please try this on.
—No, thank you.
Ethan raised one hand in refusal. They would never see him wearing such an embarrassing shirt.
—I'm fine like this.
—Shit!
When Erin noticed the woman sitting on the couch, she could not suppress the exclamation.
She had heard several of Taylor's songs.
The singer had become incredibly popular lately, and although Erin was only an occasional fan, she recognized her immediately.
Seeing the superstar in person made her even more excited.
She discreetly reached out and pinched Ethan hard. She was annoyed that he had not told her such exciting news.
Olinsky, standing nearby, reacted as he always did.
The stars of that era held no interest for him, just as they held no interest for Hank.
Hank had already taken the injured security guard to the nearest hospital.
Afterward, Erin and Olinsky took statements from everyone inside the house. Although some members of the staff became impatient, they all eventually cooperated.
After something like that, refusing to cooperate would only make it appear as though they had something to hide.
Yes, Ethan's first suspicion was that there was an infiltrator inside the house.
From Los Angeles to Chicago, the perpetrator had known Taylor's movements in exact detail, including the room where she was staying.
That would have been impossible without someone on the inside supplying him with information.
After they finished questioning the witnesses, Hank returned as well.
He had obtained a statement from the injured driver. The cake had arrived in a completely ordinary-looking Toyota commercial van, but the man had not noticed the license plate.
The van's driver had been wearing a baseball cap. He only remembered that the man was Caucasian and dressed in ordinary clothes, with no distinctive features that could identify him.
When the four of them compared the information they had gathered, they discovered they had very few useful leads.
Hank checked his watch and shook his head.
—Listen, the investigation will focus on the following points.
He raised one finger.
—First, check the financial situation of every staff member.
He raised a second.
—Second, we'll thoroughly investigate anyone with a criminal record.
Finally, he added:
—And most importantly, anyone who has served in the military or worked with explosives or hazardous materials will be considered a priority suspect.
Hank looked toward the debris scattered across the living room.
—The perpetrator deliberately reduced the charge in this bomb.
He paused briefly before continuing:
—But that doesn't mean it's the only amount of explosives he has. Understood?
Everyone nodded. Erin surveyed the room, with pieces of cake splattered across the walls, and shuddered at the thought of Hank and Ethan. If the perpetrator had used two pounds of C-4, many of the people present would have been killed or seriously injured.