“He will. But right now, he’s got enough stress without me adding to it. Pushing Limits had to pull from the festival.” I know Troy. I know he’ll take the loss of the rock band hard because he’s made the festival too personal. He doesn’t have enough room in all that worry to pile this—the threat on my life—on top of it.
Something will eventually give—leaving him to crumple under the weight of it all.
And I’m scared. Scared at what cost it will be to Troy’s mental health.
Em gives an imploring shake of her head. “Jess, we’ve got to tell him. He’ll want to know about this.”
“Iwilltell him. But not now when he’s got so much on his plate.”
It’s bad enough clients are canceling their bookings with him because of my past. I can’t add more to his stress level than I already have.
Olivia wouldn’t be a burden to him.
My stomach twists and burns at the reminder.
“Please promise you won’t mention this to him. For his mental health,” I infuse a heavy dose of pleading in my tone, praying it’s enough for them to see reason.
Troy has too much going on with the festival, his company, volunteering at the Veterans Center, and the Warrior weekends. He doesn’t need me dumping my problems on him too.
“This is a matter for the police to handle,” I remind Emily and Kellan. Not that I have much faith in the Maple Ridge police department…or any police department.
Olivia isn’t risking Troy’s mental health. Her past isn’t harming his company.
“Okay, for now,” Kellan says, a slight stiffness to his voice. “You’re right. There’s nothing he can do about it, and he’s already trying to balance way too much.”
Noah and Officer Hunt arrive and ask the same questions as last time. Did I notice anything suspicious when we left the building or when we returned? Do any of us recognize the handwriting?
The building cameras didn’t give the police any clues as to who left the message last time. The man wore a hat that hid his hair and he made sure to keep his head down the entire time.
“Can you do me a favor?” I ask Noah once they’re finished and have bagged the evidence.
“What kind of favor?”
“Don’t mention this to Troy.”
The expression on Noah’s face warns me it’s too late. Troy knows.
Fuckers.For once,couldn’t the universe be on my side?
47
ANGELIQUE
April 1944
France
The storm cloudsoutside the flat window loom over Poitiers in a thick blanket. Anna is asleep in her cradle, her tummy full. Her tiny fist is pressed to her mouth. She looks so sweet and content.
I smile at the sleeping four-week-old, but inside I’m far from joyful. She’s not growing as she should. Soon, she will wake up hungry again, and my body won’t be able to meet her demands.
My stomach tightens into a knot, demanding to be fed. Lise has gone to find food, but I can’t imagine she’ll have much luck.
A persistent cough comes from the flat below ours. It belongs to the elderly woman who lost her husband to an illness last year. I’ve gone down a few times to check on her, but I’m at a loss as to how to help her. Without food and medicine, there is little I can do.
It doesn’t help the Germans are making things worse with their retaliation for what the resistance and the Allies are doing in preparation for the upcoming attack. More prisoners are being murdered as part of Hitler’s revenge. Morale could easily flicker out under these conditions.
But it hasn’t.
