A Perfect Darkness (5 page)

Amy drooped back into her seat, stunned. The two went inside for thirty minutes, giving her time to look for Cyrus's car. It was nowhere in sight. When he emerged, she could see the frown on his face.

If Bill had something to do with this Offspring business, and Cyrus had gone to Bill's apartment, that meant Cyrus was involved. The thought settled like trans fat in the pit of her stomach. It lurched when she saw him walk to the white car she'd seen when she had gone to the gallery. Not his car.

“Cyrus, you were following me like I was some criminal,” she said, raw emotion in her voice.

 

Amy's brain churned as much as her stomach as she glued together her fifth Geex character in a row. Orn'ry obviously picked up on her nervous energy. He kept walking from one end of his perch to the other, muttering, “What the fluck?” Fortunately, he'd misheard some of the words his first owner had obviously used a lot.

A knock on the door sent Orn'ry into his usual screeching spasms. She sprinted to the peephole: Cyrus wearing a somber expression. Maybe he was here to tell her what was going on and why he'd lied to her. She yanked open the door and tried not to look anxious.

His smile looked phony. “Hey, hon. Just stopping by to check on you.”

She didn't say a word as she stepped aside and let him in.

The light shining off his bald head looked like a halo. “I've been worried about you. How are you holding up?”

She gave him the so-so sign with her hand.

Orn'ry put up a fuss, and Amy yelled, “Hush!”

“Hush!” he echoed back.

She sank into the Killer Grape, pulling her knees up to her chest.

Cyrus sat in the chair. “I hope you didn't stay around the house all day,” he said.

She had an aching feeling she knew where this was going. He was fishing, hoping she'd mention her visit to Bill Hammond or the gallery. That he couldn't come out and ask told her everything.

Someone you trust is going to betray you…

Not Cyrus. Please not Cyrus.

“I ran some errands.”

He waited for more. She pressed her lips together, holding in words she couldn't let out.

…
and someone is going to die because of that betrayal.

“Just…errands?”

“Trying to get back to normal.”

Like normal would ever happen now. They remained suspended in an air of false trust, real suspicion, and hope that the other would come clean. If the party line was that Lucas was dead, they had other plans for him. That sent a jolt of panic through her. Where was he? What were they doing to him? She knew she wouldn't get the answers from Cyrus.

She could see his turmoil even as he tried to bank it.

“Amy, you know you can trust me. Whatever's going on, let me help.” He tried to pin her gaze with his.

I can't trust you. I can't trust anyone.
She pushed to her feet and walked to the door. “I'm so tired right now. I haven't been sleeping well. Can we talk later?”

He followed but stopped beside her, tilting her chin up. “Sure. Then I want you to tell me what's going on inside that confused head of yours.”

She could only nod, the dam barely holding back the tears. The pressure was building. As soon as she heard his footsteps going down the stairs, she slid to the floor and let the Dutch boy pull his finger out of the hole in the dam. It was her father's death all over again. Except this time she had no one to hold her, to comfort her. This time she was truly alone.

As the tears swamped her, though, the comforting presence she'd always felt during dark moments wrapped around her.
Dad.
It wasn't as strong this time, but it took the edge off the ache and brought her out of her sobbing. That abandoned little girl had survived. Yeah, with a few dents and scars, but she'd survived. She would survive this, too. First she had to find out what
this
was.

She hobbled to the sink, splashed cold water on her face, and took a deep breath. “Okay, pity party is over. I need answers. I can't go to Cyrus or Bill Hammond. So I go back to Eric and Petra. They know what's going on. And they're going to damn well tell me everything.”

A
my was shaking by the time she reached the gallery. Fear, anger, and a mix of other emotions gripped her. She had taken a circuitous route and was sure she hadn't been followed. It was almost closing time, and Kira was in the process of locking the door. She opened it when she saw Amy.

“I need to talk to Eric and Petra,” Amy said, then belatedly realized she'd forgotten a polite greeting. “I'm sorry. Hello. I need to talk to Eric and Petra. Now.”

Kira looked unsure.

“Do you want to save Lucas?”

“Of course.”

“Then get Eric and Petra.”

Kira glanced around, though no one was there. “Wait a minute.” She made a call in the office while Amy waited. Naturally, she had to wait by the paintings. Her body stirred at the memory of those particular dreams: Lucas running his hands down her bare back; she artfully lying across his body.

Kira returned with a piece of paper. “Eric said to meet him at this address at nine tonight and—”

“Make sure I'm not followed. Got it.”

Amy punched the address into her GPS, which showed it would take forty minutes to get there. She had plenty of time to stop by a jewelry repair shop. She pulled out Lucas's necklace and held it to her mouth. “When I promised I would stay out of this, I was crossing my fingers.”

 

From his car, Cyrus watched Amy walk into the gallery for the second time that day. Lucas Vanderwyck's gallery. Which meant Lucas told her something that intrigued her enough to pursue. It also meant Amy knew that Lucas Brown was a lie.

His cell phone rang. He recognized the number and was tempted to let it roll to voice mail. The man would only call again and again, so Cyrus answered, “Diamond.”

“Have you talked to Shane again?”

“Twice now. She's upset, of course, and wondering why the ‘FBI agents' didn't follow normal procedure by questioning her, but she bought the serial killer story.”

For a moment there was silence. “That's what I needed to know.” The line disconnected.

It wasn't the first time he'd lied. Wouldn't be the last.

Amy emerged within a few minutes and headed to her car. Cyrus pulled out a few cars behind her. He knew she'd noticed the white car, so he'd switched to a different one, a different disguise. She was on guard, searching the parking lot, taking convoluted routes to her destinations. She was up to something and she didn't trust him.

That was dangerous for both of them.

 

Gerard Darkwell hung up the phone and looked at his associate, Sam Robbins, across a pristinely organized desk. “Diamond says Shane bought the cover story.”

“You don't believe him?”

Gerard knew that Robbins, with his round face and brown rabbit eyes, wasn't tough enough for this job. That he was up to his balls in this made him an asset.

Gerard's phone rang again. The man on the other end said, “It's Costa. Amy Shane went to Vanderwyck's gallery. Now she's on the move. Diamond is tailing her, and I'm tailing both of them.”

“Good work.” Gerard disconnected. “Shane's at the gallery. We need to find out what she knows. Just as I suspected, Diamond is holding back on us. They're both becoming a problem.”

Robbins ran his hand over his balding head. “With all due respect, we need to stop now. Resurrecting this is going to destroy us and destroy innocents.”

Gerard narrowed his eyes. “Nobody's innocent.”

“Is that how you justify your actions?”

He could see that Robbins had grown a bit of a backbone since their last association; unfortunately, it was directed against him. He would have to crush that before it grew troublesome. “I don't have to justify my actions, Robbins. I'm thinking of a higher cause. The noble and brave risk all for the betterment of our society. I'm risking my career, just as I did twenty years ago. Yes, we made mistakes then.”

“
Mistakes?
People died.”

“Sometimes people must suffer and die for higher causes. Soldiers have died for our freedom since the beginning of time.”

“But they sign on for that. They know the risks.”

“Keep your focus on the big picture. Look what we accomplished! And we would have accomplished so much more if…well, no point in lingering in the past. There's nothing we can do but make use of it. And make good of it. We're going to change the world as we know it. We're talking about victory, justice, everything we dreamed of last time. Everything we almost had.” He stared at his clenched fist, remembering how it had all slipped through his fingers. “You and I, we have another chance to attain our goals. This time we're doing it differently.”

The recrimination in Robbins's expression softened. “Are we?”

“With our participants, yes. The ones who are causing us trouble are another story altogether. I'm not going to let a few rogue twenty-year-olds threaten everything we can achieve. That's why it's imperative that we crush them.”

 

Amy slid the repaired necklace over her head and pressed her fingers to it. It was like having Lucas with her. God's protection wouldn't hurt either. She made the hour's drive into Baltimore to the park where she imagined walking alone through the dark—and having Eric jump out of the shadows.

As she drove closer, though, she saw lots of cars and people and more rainbow flag stickers than she'd ever seen. Cars were parked all along the roadways and in spots that weren't quite parking spaces. It was
almost nine o'clock now. She chewed her lower lip and searched for a spot. “Yes, mine!” she said when she saw reverse lights flash on.

She pulled into the space and got out. Music floated from a distance, as did the sounds of hundreds of people talking and laughing. Many wore costumes as outrageous as those in any Mardi Gras she'd seen on television. Man and man held hands as they headed toward her, women walked with their arms around one another. The banner across the park's entrance read
BALTIMORE GAY FESTIVAL.

A bark of laughter erupted. “Oh, Eric, you do have a sense of humor.” Likely, he had looked for an event where there would be lots of people in which to get lost.

She glanced behind her as she made her way into the heart of the festival, seeing no one suspicious. Once again she'd weaved and wound through the city, feeling quite clever. For someone who liked her safe little world, she had to admit she was revved up by the excitement of intrigue. She looked around for Eric and Petra, knowing they must be watching her. And again she was in the frustrating position of waiting for them to approach.

The music grew louder and the crowd thicker. A band jammed and a hundred costume-clad people gyrated in front of the stage. The scent of sausage and peppers and fried dough permeated the air. Amy made her way closer, getting bumped and jostled and even pulled into a quick dance with two other women. She begged out and continued on. Someone else swung her around, and before she could protest, a tall person dressed as Wonder Woman draped an American flag
cape over her shoulders. The woman's icy blue eyes sent her the message to cooperate. She knew those eyes—Petra. As they twirled, Amy felt a wig settle on her head. Petra swung her away toward a silver-clad man who took her hand and pulled her against his hard body.

Eric. Eric with dark red hair.

He smiled, friendly as could be, except in his eyes. He did his best to look like a guy trying to dance and failing miserably. Or maybe that was real. Petra stalked over and grabbed her arm, looking for all the world like a jealous girlfriend. She gave Eric a
She's mine
look and dragged Amy off, gesturing in angry ways while she muttered, “Play along.”

“What is—”

“Look, if you want to go back to being with a
man,
just say so! You don't need to play games.”

People glanced over at Petra's tirade, and Amy might have been embarrassed if she hadn't been so confused. With the chaos, no one paid all that much attention.

“I, uh, don't want to be with a man,” she said, and then, after a quick breath, “Stop being such a jealous bitch.”

Petra's eyes sparked with approval. She swiveled around to face Amy. “Then prove it.”

They were standing in front of the restroom door, where, as usual, the women's line snaked for miles.

“Fine,” Amy muttered, taking Petra's hand and bypassing all of those women twisting uncomfortably and now protesting their audacity as they entered the restroom.

Petra made no apologies as they snagged the next available stall and crammed inside. “Yes, that's what
I'm talking about,” she moaned as she opened her big purse and pulled out two more costumes. “God, Delilah, I'm so sorry I doubted you.”

Women grumbled, but no one intruded. Amy slipped into a shapeless but shimmering dress and changed wigs. Petra peeled off the Wonder Woman one-piece bathing suit and the red, thigh-high boots, revealing another skintight costume on a body worthy of it. She splashed glitter over her face, tied on a blue cape covered with shells, and pulled on blue, sparkly high heels.

By now all the women who witnessed their assignation had already peed and left the restroom. First Amy stepped out and then Petra, looking calm and detached. They left the restroom separately, and Amy followed her to the back of the bandstand, where the loud music would cover their conversation. Sheets of colored fabric served as a backdrop for the band, blocking them from the view of the crowd in front of the stage.

Amy would have asked if all of this was necessary, but she knew it probably was.

Eric waited, all of his phony good humor gone. “How the hell did you know about Bill Hammond?”

Ready to scream out that Lucas was alive, Eric's question halted her. “How did you know—
did you follow me
?” She'd had the feeling she was being watched but had seen no one.

“You could say that. And baby, I'm not the only one. I was watching from the parking lot here. Two guys who weren't gay—either sexually or moodwise—got out of separate cars right after you did.”

That thought made her sick. “But I was so careful…”

“You weren't careful enough. You can't just run a red light and take a few extra turns and think you've lost them. That's what you did, isn't it?”

“Something like that,” she had to admit.

Eric took up an arrogant pose with his arms crossed on his chest. “How did you know about Bill?”

“Lucas had a piece of paper with Bill's address on it. He told me to hide it when the men busted in. And no, I didn't show it to Cyrus. When I couldn't get answers from you, I decided to talk to Bill.”

“What did he say?”

“He wasn't exactly open to chatting. His father was in the Army, lived in Fort Meade around the same time my father did, and killed himself. Those are the common links between us, right?”

Petra said, “Our parents weren't in the Army and there was no suicide.”

“Oh. He's got the same glow you both have, and Lucas, too.” As soon as the words came out she wanted to take them back.

“Glow?” Eric asked with a cocked eyebrow.

Damn. He wasn't going to let her get away with not answering. Besides, that would only pique his interest more. “Ever since I was a kid, I see a color around people that indicates their mood or intention. Different colors mean different moods. You three and Bill have the strangest glows I've ever seen, a muddle of all the colors.” Would they think she was crazy?

They exchanged a look but it didn't seem to say,
This chick's nuts.
They were giving each other a knowing little smile.

“What?” she asked. “Go ahead, say it.”

He shook his head. “What else did Hammond say?”

“Nothing more than that, but…you were right. About Cyrus. He went to see Bill right after I did.”

Amy wanted to smack the smug expression off Eric's face. Petra looked worried, and her glow was jagged in a different way than Eric's.

“How do we know you're not working with him?” Eric said, checking the area. His gaze snagged on a sexy woman with boobs spilling out of her bustier. He turned back to Amy. “Setting us up?”

“Because I can't trust Cyrus anymore.” It hurt to say it. “And the reason I wanted to meet you is that Lucas is alive.”

That got their attention. Hope sparked on Petra's face while Eric looked skeptical.

Petra grabbed Eric's hand. “He's not dead!”

“And you know this how?” he asked Amy. “You said they shot him in the neck.”

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to assemble her thoughts. Now they'd really think she was crazy, and she didn't want them to think that because she needed them. It didn't help that she had to scream over the music. “Lucas comes to me in my dreams. The paintings that he does…they're my dreams.”

Eric said, “Comes to you?”

“Yeah. We…talk. And stuff.”

Now they both looked skeptical.

“Lucas and I don't know each other as adults. So how did I end up in his paintings? You can't deny that's my face.”

They reluctantly nodded. Eric said, “But how?”

“I don't know. Until I saw the paintings, I thought they were just normal dreams.” Well, sort of normal.

“So how does that prove he's alive?”

“He came to me earlier today. He said they shot him with a tranquilizer gun. I asked where he was, but he didn't want me involved.”

Eric narrowed his eyes. “Lucas never mentioned any of this dream stuff to us.”

“Good,” she blurted out. “I mean, they're rather personal. Look, what matters is that he's alive.” A group of people walked by, and she waited until they passed before saying, “We have to save him.”

Eric said, “No.”

“What?”
both Petra and Amy said.