He'd need to warn Lattimer; come clean as to the real reason he was here. Jackson Savoy had already proved that he had no problem with collateral damage in obtaining what he was after. Everyone at the opera house was now at risk.
If the older man was disturbed by Erik showing up at his house, or even wondered how Erik had known where he lived, he didn’t comment on it. Erik knew everything about him. He’d run a full background check before he applied for the job.
Upon opening the door, there’d only been the barest hesitation before Lattimer said, “Erik! Has something happened?”
Lattimer looked stressed. His usually immaculate snow-white hair was mussed as if he’d run his hands through it several times, and his clothes were slightly wrinkled, the ascot at his neck loose and wilted. He’d had a rough day, and now Erik was going to add to the burden.
“May I come in?”
“Of course, of course.” Lattimer stepped back, pulling the door wide as he ushered Erik inside. “We’ll sit in the living room. Can I get you something to drink?”
Erik declined the offer and looked around. It was a nice place and was tastefully decorated, but with just enough dramatic flair to perfectly complement its owner.
“Have a seat, my boy, and tell me what brings you to my doorstep.”
He filled Lattimer in on why he took the job at the opera house, that he was part of a protection detail for Chloe Powell, and the man nodded thoughtfully in acceptance before saying, “She told me a little bit about what she’d gone through in New York. That’s why I agreed not to release her name to the press, even though having such a famous headliner would have done wonders for ticket sales.”
“What happened with the light today was not an accident.”
Lattimer closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose. “The thought had occurred to me.” Looking once more at Erik, he added, “I know my people. They’re careful, conscientious. They wouldn’t have missed the sort of wear and tear necessary for that light to fall.”
Erik pulled out a thumb drive and handed it to Lattimer.
“What’s this?”
“Surveillance footage. Proof that the light was tampered with. Use it if the opera house is accused of negligence.”
Lattimer clenched the drive in his fist and nodded. “Thank you.”
“The dancers who were injured?”
Lattimer’s mouth tightened, and he blinked rapidly a few times, as if trying to fight back tears. “Michelle’s arm will be in a cast for at least six weeks, but Thadeus…” He swallowed audibly. “He had to have emergency surgery. His brain… They don’t know…” He cleared his throat gruffly. “His familyis with him.”
Erik nodded. “Jackson Savoy is dangerous.”
The older man looked him dead in the eye. “Do we need to shut down production?”
Chapter Eight
Jackson had found her. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Chloe asked Jayla.
The woman had already gone around Chloe’s apartment, closing the blinds and drawing the curtains, making it so dark that if it weren’t for the lit screen of her Echo, she wouldn’t be able to see a thing.
“We weren’t sure until recently where he was. All we knew was he’d gone missing.”
“How’d he find me?” She’d been so careful. Or, at least she thought she had. But Jackson was a cop; there was no telling what sort of means he had at his disposal.
Jayla pulled out her phone and, after a few seconds of navigating through it, handed it to Chloe, while saying, “This was the last hit on Savoy’s search history before he went missing.”
There was an article on the screen, and Chloe grimaced as she read it. She knew the journalist. He’d interviewed her several times during her tenure at the Met. But how hadhefound out? She knew Lattie wouldn’t have said anything; it had been a stipulation he’d readily agreed to before she’d signed on, and she didn’t doubt hisintegrity. But that didn’t mean someone else at the opera house hadn’t recognized her and leaked the information.
Stupid. So stupid. She should have known something like this might happen, but at the same time, she’d hoped that enough time had passed for Jackson to have gotten over her. Wishful thinking on her part, and now, two people had been injured. Because of her.
“Sit down. You’re making me dizzy.”
Chloe had been pacing and hadn’t even realized it. Moving stiffly to the couch, she forced herself to sit. “Now what?”
Jayla picked up the TV remote. “Now we wait.”
