A few minutes later, Ethan returned wearing one of his own suits. It was not off the rack, but custom-made and entirely tailored by hand.
The fabric draped perfectly over his figure.
As he descended the stairs, his fingers tapped lightly against the wooden banister, and the soles of his shoes produced a crisp sound against the marble steps.
Chloe, seated on the sofa, looked up.
She stared at him for several seconds.
—Dressed like that...
Ethan blinked and finally reacted.
—What's wrong with it? It's just a suit.
Ethan arched an eyebrow.
Chloe slowly examined him from head to toe, lingering on the impeccable cut of his jacket, the perfectly fitted shirt, and the watch around his wrist.
—That's exactly the problem. You don't look like a member of the security team.
She paused and looked him over again.
—You look like a young millionaire on his way to escort her to some event.
—Really?
Ethan tugged lightly at one sleeve to adjust it and studied his reflection.
—This is one of the simplest suits I own.
Chloe stared at him, trying to decide whether he was joking.
He was not.
She looked at the black fabric. In truth, the problem was not the suit.
It was the man wearing it. Ethan was already an attractive man, and a custom-tailored garment only accentuated his bearing even more.
With his height, long legs, and straight back, practically any suit looked as though it had been designed specifically for him.
—All right.
Chloe swallowed discreetly.
For a moment, she wished she were ten years younger.
—The rest is up to you.
—Give me your car keys.
Ethan approached and held out his hand.
—What about yours?
Chloe took out the keys to her Mercedes-Benz and handed them over, still somewhat confused.
—I'm not leaving my vehicle publicly exposed.
Ethan put the keys away and took out his phone.
If they were heading to Chicago Med, he had to notify Hank in advance.
They could not simply show up there. Police presence had to be arranged around the hospital, and the entrances needed to be controlled.
A few minutes later, the nearby bathroom door opened.
Taylor emerged with Megan.
Following her assistant's recommendations, Taylor had changed completely. She wore an all-black outfit that gave her a much more serious, elegant, and confident appearance.
Ethan approached.
They studied each other for a moment.
—Let's go, Miss Swift.
—Thank you.
Taylor gently slipped one hand around Ethan's arm, and the two of them headed toward the exit with a confidence that contrasted sharply with the chaos of the past few hours.
Megan remained behind and looked at Chloe.
—Why does seeing them together give me a strange feeling?
Chloe watched them walk away: Ethan, immaculate and alert; Taylor, holding his arm with her head held high.
—They look like they're going to war.
Megan immediately nodded.
—In a way, they are.
And she hurried after them.
After returning home and resting for a little over half an hour, they set out again.
This time, however, the atmosphere inside the vehicle was completely different.
Except for Ethan, the other three remained silent, slightly hunched over in their seats.
The route to Chicago Med was already more than familiar to him. Ethan drove smoothly through the streets while constantly checking the mirrors, intersections, and nearby vehicles.
According to Chloe, the Mercedes belonged to a friend.
Danny had no reasonable way of knowing that license plate or that they were using that car.
At least in theory, that gave them a certain degree of security.
Halfway there, the phone rang.
It was Hank.
They had already deployed officers inside and outside the hospital.
If Danny tried to approach, he was unlikely to escape.
Shortly afterward, they arrived at Chicago Med.
The exterior was packed with reporters: cameras, microphones, and news vans occupied practically the entire entrance. Dozens of people waited for any development related to the attack.
Ethan felt a stab of irritation.
Fortunately, the sunglasses and suit made him look quite different from the detective who usually appeared at crime scenes. Unless someone knew him personally, he would probably go unnoticed.
Following the hospital's instructions, he drove the Mercedes toward the underground parking garage.
—It's Taylor! —a reporter suddenly shouted—. That vehicle is heading toward the private entrance!
The disguise had not done much good.
The shout was enough to unleash chaos. Several reporters ran toward them, raising cameras and microphones while others tried to photograph the interior through the tinted windows.
—Don't roll down the windows —Ethan ordered—. And keep your heads down.
He stepped on the accelerator.
The Mercedes sped through the VIP lane while hospital security personnel blocked the way behind them.
—Back up! This is a restricted area!
The cameras barely managed to capture the taillights before the vehicle disappeared down the ramp.
Ethan slowed down upon reaching the parking garage and drove directly toward the private elevator. Several people, accompanied by two hospital security guards, were already waiting for them.
He stopped the Mercedes a few yards away but did not turn off the engine.
—Wait inside —he instructed while surveying the surroundings—. I'm going to make sure it's clear first.
—Hey!
He opened the door and greeted Atwater.
Atwater had been there for a while and was quite annoyed at having been sent to protect an important person without much explanation.
When he heard the voice, he turned his head.
His eyes widened.
—Detective!
Atwater approached the Mercedes with obvious surprise. He wore his vest over his shirt and had a radio clipped to his shoulder.
He had not expected to find Ethan there. Ethan had not shown up at Intelligence all day, and Voight had merely explained that he was carrying out a special assignment.
Now he was beginning to understand.
—The parking garage is clear —Atwater reported, regaining his professional tone—. We have one officer at the ramp and another by the elevator. Hospital security closed this level to the public and is checking the other entrances.
—Did they screen the staff too?
—Only authorized personnel will be allowed to remain in this area. The hospital gave us a list with names and photographs.
Ethan surveyed the surroundings before turning off the engine.
—Good work. Although you didn't have to welcome us as if the president were arriving.
Atwater was about to respond.
Then Ethan opened the rear door, and Taylor stepped out of the Mercedes.
Atwater fell completely silent.
First, he looked at Taylor. Then at Ethan. Finally, he looked back at Taylor, as though he needed to confirm that it was really her.
—Officer —Taylor greeted him with a polite smile.
Atwater swallowed and straightened his back.
—Miss Swift.
Ethan closed the vehicle door.
—Very professional.
Atwater shot him a serious look.
—Shut up.
Chloe and Megan got out next. Two hospital security guards approached to escort them toward a service door, but Ethan raised a hand.
The group proceeded down the restricted corridor. There were no patients or visitors, only authorized personnel and an officer stationed beside the elevator.
Atwater pressed the button, and the doors opened.
—The floor is secured too —he explained—. Voight ordered that no one approach the room without identifying themselves. If Danny shows up, he won't reach you without us seeing him.
Everyone stepped inside. Atwater remained outside to continue guarding the entrance.
—I'll be nearby if you need me —he said before the doors closed.
—Good.
The elevator began to rise.
Once they were alone, Ethan lowered his voice and looked at Chloe.
—I have a question.
—Go ahead.
—How do you get the Chicago Police Department to mobilize officers, close entrances, and coordinate hospital security on such short notice?
Taylor and Megan also turned toward Chloe.
—Is it simply because she's famous? —Ethan continued—. Or is there some special friendship with someone at City Hall?
Chloe remained silent for a few seconds.
—The promoter has maintained direct communication with the city ever since the concert was confirmed —she explained—. An event of that magnitude requires coordination with the police, fire department, emergency medical services, and traffic control.
—That explains the concert, not everything else.
—After the threats, we notified the mayor's office. They spoke with the superintendent and Commander Perry.
Ethan narrowed his eyes slightly.
—So you did make a few calls.
—Of course —Chloe replied without discomfort—. But no one ordered them to assign you as her personal bodyguard. The police became involved because there was an explosion, one person was killed, and now there has been an armed attack in the middle of the city.
Megan folded her arms.
—And because, if something happens to her before the concert, seventy-five thousand people could be affected. No one wants that.
Ethan nodded slowly.
That was far more reasonable than a simple political friendship.
Taylor glanced at him.
—Does it bother you that I have good connections?
—No.
Taylor arched an eyebrow.
—Although you do seem to enjoy telling everyone else how to do their jobs.
Ethan smirked but did not respond.
Chloe seemed to realize that he was still waiting for a more direct explanation.
—Taylor has worked with organizations throughout the city for years —she explained—. During her last tour, she donated one million dollars to various support programs for police officers, firefighters, and their families.
Ethan raised his eyebrows slightly.
—That makes more sense.
—Fame and donations help —Chloe admitted—, but the real reason is that no one at City Hall wants an international artist murdered in Chicago two days before a concert with seventy-five thousand attendees.
Ethan blinked and nodded slowly.
Now he understood.
This was not only about protecting Taylor.
But a million dollars in donations, combined with years of public support, certainly made people remember your name when you needed help.
It was similar to certain police foundations in California. Major donors received recognition, connections, and a much closer relationship with law enforcement.
—Don't get nervous —Chloe murmured.
Ethan frowned.
—Hmm?
Ding.
The elevator doors opened.
Flash. Flash. Flash.
The lights from several cameras burst in front of them.
Fortunately, Ethan was wearing sunglasses. Otherwise, he probably would have been blinded for several seconds.
Megan gave him a small nudge from behind.
Ethan reacted.
—Excuse me.
He held the elevator door while Taylor, Chloe, and Megan stepped out.
Then he positioned himself to one side beside the security personnel.
There were five or six reporters. Unlike those outside, they remained fairly orderly.
They took photographs and asked a few questions, but made no attempt to rush at Taylor.
Ethan had the impression that the entire thing had been carefully arranged.
They continued forward. Several patrol officers stood outside the room where the injured man was staying.
And among them was a woman wearing a sergeant's white shirt.
When Ethan saw her, he was practically speechless.
What the hell was she doing there? Didn't she have a desk to watch?
While Ethan was thinking that, Platt saw him as well.
Burgess stood behind her.
Both women had to make an effort not to show too much surprise. Since when did someone from Intelligence become Taylor Swift's personal bodyguard?
A small sense of frustration stirred in her chest. So this was what that idiot had been doing.
—Miss Swift.
Platt reacted first.
As soon as she saw the cameras approaching, she stepped forward.
Her expression changed completely, her demeanor entirely professional.
—The Chicago Police Department deeply regrets what happened and the loss of one of your team members.
Taylor stopped in front of Platt.
—Thank you, Sergeant.
Platt held her gaze with a seriousness that was unusual for her.
—We will find the person responsible. Until then, everyone in this district will do everything in their power to keep you safe.
Her voice was firm.
—Thank you.
Taylor removed her sunglasses and added with sincere gratitude:
—Thank you to the Chicago Police Department for everything you've done.
She was accustomed to those kinds of public encounters, filled with smiles, handshakes, and kind words.
After a brief exchange of courtesies, Ethan opened the door and allowed Taylor and the others to enter.
The reporters had to remain outside. Otherwise, the visit would have turned into a media spectacle and lost all meaning.
There were also several doctors and nurses inside the room.
One of the guards lay in bed with one arm bandaged. Apparently, a bullet had struck him there.
Compared with Billy, he had been very lucky.
Even more fortunate was the man sitting beside him, who had escaped unharmed because he had been traveling in the last row.
Both guards were moved to learn that Taylor had risked her safety to visit them. They had worked together for a long time, so they did not need to exchange too many pleasantries.
Taylor simply asked them to rest and focus on recovering. Afterward, they spoke briefly about what had happened to Billy.
Ten minutes later, the visit ended, and everyone left the room.
Taylor came out looking far more dejected. She no longer responded with the same enthusiasm to the reporters with whom she normally had a good relationship.
All questions about whether the concert would proceed were postponed until that evening.
Ethan gently moved Burgess aside and pressed the elevator button.
When he saw her purse her lips in displeasure, he discreetly raised two fingers in a victory sign before stepping inside with a triumphant smile.
The elevator had not yet reached the ground floor when his phone rang.
Burgess, growing increasingly impatient, had sent him another message demanding an autographed photograph. She had also included several unconvincing threats that Ethan decided to ignore entirely.
Upon reaching the underground parking garage, they got into the Mercedes-Benz and left the hospital through a different exit.
Without incident, they returned safe and sound to Hyde Park.
Ding!
As soon as he entered the house, Ethan received a message from Erin.
«Don't let your boss see this.»
He swiped across the screen and found several photographs taken inside a suitcase filled with pictures of Taylor.
When he enlarged them, he discovered that they were composites. Taylor's face had been placed on other women's bodies.
—They look pretty convincing —Taylor commented, leaning over to look—. Although my skin looks better.
—Ahem.
Ethan cleared his throat and gently moved her head away.
—Please, respect my privacy. I'm investigating a case.
Taylor's eyes widened in disbelief.
—Your privacy? Whose pictures are they?
After delivering that response, she strode toward the living room.
Seeing the images had caused a stab of fear, but she forced herself to remain calm. Although the bodies were not hers, knowing that someone had used her face that way made her feel uncomfortably exposed.
Ethan finished reviewing the photographs and crossed the living room toward the pool.
He found Erin in his contacts and called her.
—What did you find?
—That guy is a fucking sicko —Erin replied with obvious disgust—. He didn't just have the photographs. We also found a doll and dozens of love letters. What he wrote is even more disgusting than the other letters.
—I didn't ask you that. Danny doesn't expect us to find him this quickly.
Ethan looked at the people gathered in the living room before continuing:
—This is our best opportunity. You still haven't found any clue about his whereabouts, have you?
—Who knows where the hell he went —Erin complained—. But we found something. When we reviewed his military history, we discovered that one of his former unit members lives in Chicago.
Ethan understood immediately.
—Danny is alone and needs somewhere to hide.
—Exactly. He may have turned to his former squadmate. For now, it's only a theory, but we're already on our way to his house.
On the other end of the call, Ethan could hear the vehicle's engine and Hank's voice giving instructions to the team.
Ethan remained silent for a moment.
—Be careful.
Erin's voice softened slightly.
—I always am.
Erin gave a brief laugh and hung up before Ethan could say anything else.