~~~
Neal phoned while Amy was getting ready to meet Troy. Good thing she’d started early. It gave her time now to talk. His tone spoke concern. “You’re not worn out from yesterday, are you? You looked pale when I dropped you off.”
“It’s been a busy few days. But I’m so glad we’ve been able to spend some time together.” Amy turned her back to the mirror and used a hand mirror to check the back of her hair, carefully woven into a French braid. She’d taken more care with her appearance for this one night than she did in an average week.
A silk blouse of antique gold — a gift from Gilles — brought out the highlights in her hair. Slim-fitting chocolate pants kept her from feeling over-dressed. Amy checked her makeup in the tiny mirror. Subtle, but effective. “I left Michael to enjoy Emilie’s company last night and had a good soak in the tub. He’s been trying so hard to be kind to me today… you didn’t scare him when you left, did you?”
“Maybe. I gave him my best face-off glare, and told him he was responsible for not only your safety but your happiness as well. He turned a little white around the eyes.” Neal’s chuckle carried a satisfied ring. “Good to know I haven’t lost my touch. Seriously, I hate leaving you like this. Empty threats are bad enough, but these sound serious. I know you have a security system, but still… If you need to get away, you’ll let me know, right?”
“I will.” Amy slid a gold bangle onto her wrist and held it up to the light. “I have a date tonight. A friend thinks it might wake Michael up.”
Michael had confined himself to his studio, from what she heard music-wise, until Aunt Bay called him to supper a few minutes ago. Would he come out of the kitchen to say goodbye? Or to confront Troy? Amy put the bangle back into her jewellery box. If he didn’t surface, she’d wasted all this for nothing. Not that she had anything better to do.
“That’s my girl. Take the fight to him. Listen, my flight’s not until tomorrow afternoon. I know it’s a work day, but could we do brunch? Michael and his aunt too, if they’d like? We could meet halfway, and I’d drive to the airport from there.”
“Michael may not be speaking to me, and Aunt Bay usually has plans on Tuesdays, but I’ll ask them. I’ll come if I can. My knight in shining armour doesn’t want me going out alone since the threats started.”
“Worst case, I’ll pick you up. We’ll just have to eat earlier and closer to the gallery. Text me when you know. And good luck tonight. I need to go now. We have a closing dinner tonight and I’m about to be fashionably late.”
“Enjoy.” Amy ended the call and took another look at her earrings. She still liked the effect. Good. Troy would be here any minute. His responding text had asked her to keep him waiting. She hoped they weren’t taking this too far. And that it would work.
The doorbell pealed. Amy jumped. She made herself count fifty slow-ish breaths before collecting her purse and a light jacket and opening the door.
Troy’s light tones drifted up the stairs. Michael responded, stiff and low. Amy grinned. Good for Aunt Bay, leaving him to answer the bell. The older woman was visibly unhappy with the tense atmosphere, but so far she’d resisted speaking her mind — at least to Amy.
At the top of the stairs, Amy caught Troy’s next words. “It was only a matter of time before guys started asking her out. You’re not showing any interest. Why should I hold back?”
She stepped lighter. Slower, so they wouldn’t notice she was there. Michael muttered something indistinct and Amy scooted a couple of stairs lower to make him out. “You, of all people. You know how I—”
Troy spoke over his words. “Amy, you look great.”
So much for eavesdropping. Hiding her annoyance, Amy took the remaining stairs at a normal pace. “Thanks. You clean up pretty nice, yourself.” She forced herself to focus on Troy and not glance at Michael. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
Troy reached for the doorknob. “You’re worth the wait. After you.” He opened the door and made a sweeping gesture with his free arm.
Amy turned to Michael. “Don’t worry. I’ll be safe with Troy.”
“As long as nobody tries to run him off the road again.” His voice said angry, but the lines in his face cried hurt. Deep hurt.
Hurt because she’d stepped outside of his control? Against every instinct of her heart, Amy offered a light “Don’t wait up,” and walked out the door.
Troy pulled it shut behind them. His bandaged hand barely touching Amy’s back, he escorted her to his car. “Walk happy. He’s watching.”
Amy tipped her head to look up at Troy as if he’d said something amusing. “This is killing me.”
“Me, too. Hop in.”
He drove as far as the first parking lot and pulled in. Leaving the car idling, he leaned against the headrest and blew out a long sigh. “I feel like the worst kind of sleaze. But he needs a kick-start, or neither of you’ll be happy.”
Amy watched the passing traffic. “You don’t really have to take me to dinner. We can get fast food somewhere. I’ll pay for my own.”
“You know he’ll ask where we went.” Troy put the car in gear and started moving.
“He wanted me to cancel and go out with him instead.”
Troy shot her a look. “Why didn’t you? That’s what this is all about.”
“Troy, he keeps throwing Gilles in my face — Gilles wouldn’t like this, would want me to do that—” Amy took a deep breath. “What if everything he’s done, even asking me out to keep me from going with you, is to tie me to Gilles’ memory? Is he trying to be a surrogate? A stand-in for his dead friend?”
The words stuck in her throat, but she pushed them out. “How could I risk a relationship with him, never knowing if he was just playing some kind of sick role?”
Troy made a strange, gulping sound. “That’s not the case.”
Amy loosened the seatbelt strap against her shoulder. “He said there’s something he struggles with. Something you know about and pray for. Tell me the truth. Is Michael mentally ill?”
“No! He’s under a lot of stress right now, the same as you, with those threats. For the rest, you can trust what he says, but you’ll have to ask him yourself.”
Chapter 30
It was after eleven when Troy parked in front of the house. They’d chatted over Thai food and caught the latest comedy at the cinema. Troy still looked as guilty as Amy felt for upsetting Michael, but he’d insisted on finishing what they started. No going home early.
Before getting out of the car, he said, “Tell Michael I won’t be at our meeting tomorrow night. I don’t want him to stay away on my account.”
“You two will be okay, won’t you?”
“Once you’re comfortable to tell him why we did it. Talk to him, Amy. And don’t listen to those crazy fears. They’re lies.”
Amy searched his face. “You’re sure.”
“If I wasn’t, would I risk upsetting him like this?”
They walked to the house and paused on the step outside. Amy turned to Troy. “You don’t have to come in and face him. Thank you so much. Pray for us both?”
“I’m already on it.” He gave her a gentle hug, then stepped back.
Amy unlocked the door and stepped inside to the security system’s beeping. Michael wasn’t waiting at the door, but a light shone in the living room. She poked her head back out. “Good night, Troy. Thanks again.”
She reset the system before it triggered an alarm, then approached the lit room. Had tonight helped Michael see she was over Gilles? She’d have to apologize again. Ask if his offer was still open. God, this is worse than high school. Amy had been wrapped up in care-giving for her mother. There’d been no time for the typical teenage angst.
Aunt Bay unfolded from her chair as Amy entered the room. No sign of Michael. The older woman moved slowly, blinking, as if she’d fallen asleep in front of the television. She fumbled with the remote and turned off whatever show had been playing.
“Aunt Bay, why are you still up?�
�� The van was outside, but even if Michael had gone out, Aunt Bay wouldn’t wait up for him.
“We had a break-in. The police left about half an hour ago.”
No wonder she looked pale. Amy’s heart dropped. “What happened?”
Aunt Bay’s lips twisted. “Thank God we were both out, although Del thinks they waited for the house to be empty.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“The damage wasn’t going anywhere, and the house and grounds were full of policemen. Michael said he didn’t want to ruin your date, but I think he needed time to process this alone.” Aunt Bay’s voice broke. “They vandalized his studio. You need to see it, and you need to not freak out.”
“Why would I—”
“Wait and see.” Aunt Bay took Amy’s arm. “He’s in his room. I’ll go up with you, but I’m going to bed. These old bones aren’t as young as they used to be.”
They climbed the stairs together. Amy hugged Michael’s aunt and whispered “Good night.” She threw her purse and jacket on her bed before tapping on his door. “Michael? It’s me.”
Furniture creaked, and footsteps approached the door. His expression froze Amy in place. She’d seen Michael hurt, angry, even afraid for her. She’d never seen him like this. His complexion had a grey cast, like when Nathin first called, but on top of the shock was a hardness to his jaw and around his eyes. The eyes themselves were red-rimmed and haunted. He looked more like a man wrestling demons than one whose art had been attacked.
Amy couldn’t stop a gasp. “Aunt Bay said it was bad. Michael, I’m so sorry. This has to be about me. I’ll go. Tomorrow. With Neal.”
“No.” A muscle twitched on the side of his neck. “You need to stay. Del set a watch on the house, and we’re to keep those security devices with us at all times.”
Michael’s face, his voice, made Amy want to cry for him. She reached out a hand. “Show me.”
Panic flickered in his eyes, and he seemed to brace himself. “This began as an attack on me. A personal threat. Remember, Del said this group would be after us all now? But they found something to send you a message as well.”
Amy wiped clammy palms against her pants and started along the hall to Michael’s studio. She waited for him to open the door and flick on the light.
What she saw inside stole her breath. Easels upended, paint splattered everywhere, and the paintings — Michael’s art, the beauty he saw and shared — slashed, smashed, smeared with paint. Her eyes filled. “Oh, Michael!”
“It gets worse.” He led her on a winding route through the debris and stepped aside. “This is what they left for you.”
A portrait — her own face — and glaring red words. Blood red. Leave and you die.
What was the mark on the portrait’s neck? Amy leaned closer and her flesh chilled. They’d slashed the canvas across her throat.
Amy recoiled and hid her face against Michael’s chest. His arms folded around her, warm and strong, but helpless to erase what had been done in this room. What she’d seen.
As her trembling eased, Amy’s mind started to work. Her portrait, the one Luc had commissioned Michael to paint for Gilles. Why hadn’t he painted over it and reused the canvas? Why complete it and keep it here? Secretly? She’d been in this room many times and hadn’t seen it. A chill stabbed to her core.
Amy pulled away from Michael, but he stood between her and the exit. She retreated as far as the mess allowed. Not far enough. “The other threats told me to leave. You’re the only one who wants me to stay.”
He flinched. “Would I destroy my own work?”
“I don’t know. Would you? For the greater goal of controlling me? Keeping me here as a memorial to Gilles, or for some other purpose?”
Michael’s laugh sounded forced. “You’re a good worker, and a good friend, but that’s a little extreme.”
“Why do you still have that portrait? Why lie about finishing it?”
The attempted smile dropped from his face. “I couldn’t destroy it. Or leave it incomplete. It’s been in the back of the closet.”
“You could have told me.” Amy tried to spot another path to the door. “I asked Troy tonight about your secret. He wouldn’t tell me, but he’s convinced you’re sane. That you’re not trying to make me into a memorial for Gilles.”
“I’m not. I promise.”
“You don’t want me for yourself, but you won’t let me leave.” The words left a bitter taste. “This—” She spread her hands over the destruction. “—comes while I’m out on a date, after I said I wanted to move on with my life.”
Michael hadn’t moved. He watched her like a person might watch the first tumbling stones of a landslide.
Another piece clicked into the puzzle. “You’ve been single since the crash. Not one date. Why?”
Faint colour seeped back into his face. “At first we were caring for you, driving you to appointments. Keeping you company.”
“Try harder, Michael. That’s not the real reason.”
He tugged at the neck of his shirt. “My heart belonged to someone I couldn’t have.”
“Not the girl with you the time we double-dated?”
“No.”
Amy’s mouth was dry, but she had to get the words out. Had to know. Why hadn’t she seen this before? “Gilles. You waited while he played the field, but marriage looked final. That’s why you ran away. But you couldn’t let him go, so you — or Nathin or even Del — rigged his plane to crash.”
Michael’s jaw dropped. He flushed, then went pale. “I think you just accused me of killing my best friend.”
Amy nodded. “You kept me here as some kind of trophy. Something that mattered to Gilles and became a prize you didn’t know what to do with.”
“Oh, Amy…” A half-giggle, half-sob burst from his lips. He stepped toward her.
Amy backed away. Her heel caught on an obstruction, and she hit the floor hard. Something sharp poked her side. As fast as she could manage, she was on her feet, rubbing the sore spot.
“I wasn’t going to hurt you.” Michael held out his palms. “Don’t you know me by now? Do you honestly think I could harm you?”
“The real Michael wouldn’t, but you’re not well.”
“Amy. I did not do this. I did not have anything to do with Gilles’ death. I didn’t know it was anything more than an accident until Troy stirred up this mess.”
“Where were you tonight?”
He sighed. “I was… upset about you and Troy, so I went out. Alone. Roamed an empty stretch of shoreline. Like I did after I met Nathin.”
“Then Aunt Bay went out separately, and for all she knows you could have come back and done this. Or done it before you went out.”
“You’ve been listening to Emilie’s poison too long.”
“Or she’s right.”
Michael cleared a spot with his foot and sat on the floor. He stared up at Amy. “Emilie’s stories are contradictory. And if she thought I was dangerous, why would she be trying so hard to catch me? Even I can see she’s doing that, now. Look, you said Troy vouches for me. Aunt Bay will, too. If you can’t trust me, trust them.”
“You’ve fooled us all. Maybe you’ve fooled yourself and don’t even remember doing this. But this message doesn’t match the others.” Amy pointed at the portrait. “It’s time to face the truth. I’ll stay. We’ll get you help.”
He’d walked her through her own pain. She wouldn’t dream of abandoning him in his own.
Michael’s brow wrinkled. “What will it take to convince you? Other than the arrest of the real perpetrators?”
Amy picked up a broken piece of easel and twisted it in her hands. “I don’t dare believe you anymore.”
His eyes narrowed. He made as if to rise, then stopped. “I’m going to stand up, and I’m going to take my cell from my pocket. I won’t move toward you. There’s one person you’ll believe.”
Once he was on his feet, he made the call. “You have to talk to Amy. Yes, you do.
Right now. Del told you what happened at my studio? She thinks I did it — and that I’m behind the sabotage.”
A sharp exclamation carried through the phone.
Michael grimaced. “Because I wanted Gilles for myself.”
Silence. Then a string of words that Michael muffled by mashing the phone tighter against his ear. He met Amy’s eyes and moved the device away from his mouth. “Do you want me to set down the phone and back away, or can I hand it to you?”
Hope fluttered in Amy’s heart. Could he really prove his innocence? Set these wild doubts to rest for good? She stretched out her hand.
Michael stepped close enough to pass over the phone, then retreated.
“Hello? Who is this?”
“Bonjour, Aimée. Whose is the last voice you expected to hear again?”
Amy squealed and dropped the phone. She glanced at Michael, then dove to retrieve it from beneath a mutilated painting of lily pads. “Who is this, really? This is not a joke.”
“No, it’s not. Although I wish I could see your face right now, chérie. These days I use the name Nathin Ayon. Perhaps you’ll understand Michael’s reaction when I called him.”
“But it can’t be — I have to see you. To be sure.”
“You weren’t intended to know about me. I had no right to turn your life upside-down like this, but you must trust Michael. For the record, he’s as heterosexual as I am. He’s just more… restrained about it.”
“But—”
“It would be too dangerous for us to meet right now. Ask me anything. Something only we two could know.”
“Your final words that day.”
“Toujours Aimée. Go to Michael. Also about the medical tag.”
“I may have told him that. What did we do on our first night together in your condo? Give me details.”
Michael grimaced. His throat worked, as if he were having trouble swallowing.
The beloved, gently-accented voice in her ear chuckled. “We made pasta. Linguine with tomatoes and clams. We watched… The Princess Bride. I actually enjoyed it. We argued over who got the bed and who slept on the couch. Finis.”
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