Chapter Five

By the time Emile had Amy on the elevator headed down to the second floor, he was convinced that he had a certified psycho on his hands—and he was about to make her someone else’s problem. That’s what Star View Towers promised—your problems were theirs. Having a package delivered? It would be there waiting for you. Need your place cleaned? Absolutely, they would take care of it. Need your car washed? Don’t even think about it.

Take a lunatic stalker off your hands with no fuss? Well that’s what security guards were for.

When Amy had been rushing from room to room looking in cabinets and closets, Emile had taken advantage of the time to do a quick, but clandestine, Google search on Cameron Snow.

He’d been somewhat of a minor star tackle at Utah State and gone to the Kansas City Chiefs in the fifth round of the NFL draft, where he’d lasted one season and gotten little play time. Though Wikipedia hadn’t said so, apparently that’s when he’d set himself up as a sports agent, which would mean he hadn’t been to law school like Miles.

Maybe Amy was a stalker, though Emile couldn’t figure out why she would pick Snow to stalk. He didn’t seem all that impressive, though stalkers were probably not the greatest at making logical decisions. If they were, they wouldn’t stalk. She could have become enamored with him when he’d played football. She might even be a former girlfriend. Glaz had had to get a restraining order against Tewanda, a former girlfriend, who’d never gotten the message that they weren’t a couple anymore.

If Amy had dated—or even lived with—Snow at some point, that would explain why Lila knew who she was but had clearly found it odd that she was in the building. But even if Snow had a restraining order against her, a Star View Towers staff member would be unlikely to say anything since Amy had been with him. After all, he didn’t have a restraining order against her. He’d had a few stalkers, but it had never come to that.

Maybe Snow had moved out to get away from her, though Emile had found changing his elevator code to be sufficient. But who knew? Maybe Snow had never lived here at all. For all Emile knew, the man might not even live in Nashville. That would mean Amy was completely delusional, since she hadn’t balked at going to the condo office.

The elevator door opened, and she didn’t even wait for him. Obviously, she knew the way. As luck would have it Adam Fairly, the head guy, was here today, so there wouldn’t be any phoning around or, “I need to check with Mr. Fairly.” Emile didn’t have time for all of that. He had to go to practice.

To Emile’s surprise, Amy walked right past the receptionist without a word and opened Fairly’s door without knocking. Despite probably being mad as the hatter in charge of all the other hatters in Wonderland, Amy had shown good manners until now, but she was hanging by a thread. He hoped to be long gone before that thread broke—and he’d have no guilt, either. That’s why he paid an association fee.

“Hello, Peggy. We need to see Adam.” He smiled and nodded to the receptionist, but he didn’t slow down. He didn’t intend to miss a second of this. The woman looked confused, as confused as Lila had been.

Adam Fairly did not look confused, but confusion was not allowed in his occupation. It was his job to make sure the residents of Star View Towers remained happy at all times. Adam had once told Emile in confidence over a beer that the regular residents were harder to please than all the country music stars, Tennessee Titans, and Nashville Sound players combined. Emile found it odd that Adam was willing to say anything remotely negative about any of the residents in the building, but Emile liked for people to tell him things. Maybe Adam sensed that.

“Amy. Emile.” Adam called all the residents except the elderly by their first names. Maybe he thought it made them seem more like a family—and he knew Amy’s name. Doubt began to creep into Emile’s gut. Maybe Amy wasn’t so crazy. How many times had he changed his mind today? He didn’t know what to think.

She didn’t waste any time and she didn’t sit down. “Adam, my condo is being painted and my things are gone.”

He nodded. “Of course. That’s a service we offer—to arrange for packing, moving, and readying the unit for the market. We take care of our residents from first day to last—if there must be a last.”

“But we aren’t moving,” Amy whispered. “Where’s Cameron?” She dropped into a chair as if she couldn’t stand another minute. Maybe she couldn’t.

Adam took his own chair and gave Emile a questioning look.

“I gave Amy a ride back from Beauford this morning when Cameron failed to pick her up.” He settled himself in the chair beside Amy.

Adam closed his eyes and seemed to be searching for answers. Finally, he threaded his fingers together, placed his hands on the desk, and leaned forward.

“Amy, Cameron came to my office a month ago and told me y’all were moving. He made all the arrangements.”

“Moving where?” Amy demanded.

“California. He said he was relocating for his job. And you mean to say, he told you none of this?”

Amy shook her head. “There has to be some kind of mix-up.”

Adam tapped a few keys on his computer. “Here’s the file. He checked in with me twice by phone after our initial meeting. He emailed three more directives after that. The movers were to arrive at ten this morning. He sold the Audi first and the Jaguar a few days later. That would have been two weeks ago. The new owners were to pick up the keys at eleven. And I see by Lila’s notes that they have.”

“What? He sold my car?” Amy exploded. “He would not do that.”

So Amy wasn’t crazy or a stalker. Time for a save.

“Adam,” Emile said, “how is it that Cameron Snow could have done these things without Amy’s knowledge?”

Adam shrugged. “The unit was in Cameron’s name alone.”

Emile turned to Amy. “This is true?”

She nodded. “Cameron already lived here when I came to live with him. We weren’t married . . . It was something I never thought about.”

“But you were going to be married?”

She looked at her hands. “I thought so. We weren’t officially engaged, but I assumed. He always talked like we would. Or he used to.” Her face had gone from snow white to bright red. Now she was embarrassed.

“But her things,” Emile said. “And how could he sell her car?”

“Our directive was to have the contents of the condo packed. It never occurred to me that Amy didn’t know what was going on, but even if I had known, I could not have legally told her. As for the car, I have no knowledge of that. We had no part of that transaction apart from surrendering the keys to the people with proper ID.”

Emile reached out and put a hand on Amy’s shoulder. She jerked away. He could understand that—not wanting to be touched. Who would after such a betrayal?

“We will call the police. He stole your car. Probably forged your name.”

Amy didn’t look up, but shook her head.

“Don’t tell me you want to protect him? This man has stolen from you and abandoned you.”

“I’m trying to process it all.” When she finally looked at him, her face was filled with shame. “I have no legal grounds. Cameron thought I needed a new car. I found what I wanted online. He made all the arrangements. He handled my finances like he handles his clients’, so you see, he had access.”

“Well, not quite like his clients’. Else he’d be in jail.” This might be worse than Emile imagined. It sounded like she had money of her own.

“I’m sorry,” Adam said. “I am so sorry all this happened.”

“It isn’t your fault,” Amy said.

“I was expressing regret,” Adam said. “I wish there was something I could do.”

“Here’s the thing I don’t understand,” Amy said. “If he didn’t want to be with me anymore, why didn’t he just say so? Why go through all of this?”

Whoa, no. Hell, no. Giving a cute girl a ride was one thing. Discussing a relationship was another. Plus, Emile had about twenty minutes before he needed to head to the practice rink. It was only two blocks away, but he liked to be early. First, if possible.

He stood. “Is there somewhere I can take you? Your family? Are they in town?”

She shook her head. “They live in south Georgia.” Emile was a little sketchy on American geography, but he was confident he didn’t have time to make it to Georgia—south or not—in twenty minutes.

“Then a friend or a workmate?”

“I don’t work. I sold my business a while back, and I can’t work in my field for four more years.” Then a look of surprise came over her face. “I guess I haven’t really made any friends since I moved here.” She said it like that had just occurred to her. “There’s my hairdresser. And I sometimes talk to those nice girls at Foolscap and Vellum where I buy my bullet journals and wrapping paper, but I don’t really know them.” That was sad. Emile had at least ten places he could go if he needed somewhere to stay. Five of those wouldn’t even ask questions. Apparently, Amy had not even one.

Well, she wasn’t his problem. Even if she wasn’t crazy, there was nothing he could do. Let Adam Fairly deal with her. What had he said? “We take care of our residents from first day to last—if there must be a last.” Amy might not have signed any papers. Maybe she never paid any money—though he doubted that. But she’d been a resident. He might not have finished college, but he knew the definition of resident. To reside. She had definitely resided.

Now, how to get out of the room without looking like a dick? Was there a way?

She looked at her pocketbook, then picked it up and hugged it to her chest like it was her only possession. And it probably was.

Adam tossed him a frantic look, and Emile had his answer—there was no way to leave this room without looking like a dick, without being a dick.

He rose, took her arm, and urged her to her feet. “Come along, chérie. I will take you to my home.” Because what else, short of a homeless shelter? He didn’t know where to find one of those. Probably, Adam didn’t either. It wasn’t likely that had ever come up as one of the things that residents of Star View Towers needed, unless it was on a scavenger hunt list for one of those home association activities they did every few months.

“I can’t let you do that,” Amy said.

“Then what?” Emile asked. It was a valid question.

“Come along.” He pulled her toward the door, and she let him. “I must go to practice. You will be alone to rest and think. You’ve had a shock.”

How, how, how had this happened? He had no clue, but it had happened. He was in deep. This bastard Cameron Snow was in the wind.

But for now, he needed some ice under his feet.