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Chapter 30: Mistaken Identity

Nikola stared at the man standing before her. Until only a half hour before she thought that she liked him and had some idea of who and what he was. Now he was a complete stranger who was clearly using her in some way. He was obviously involved in whatever was happening around her. She couldn't help but wonder what part he played, and what he planned to do with her next, but she was afraid even to think about it. She had no idea what he was capable of, so she decided to play it as cool as possible.

"How did it go with the guy who was following me?"

"Not so well. He didn't lead me anywhere, and we wound up getting into a fight on the subway."

"Oh, really?" Nikola just looked at him. She couldn't help but wondering if they were working together. How much of this is a show for my benefit?

"He didn't tell me anything, just asked where you were. Seems like quite a single-minded guy. He probably wouldn't have told us that much anyway, and at this point, I'm just glad to be back. So, I see you made it here in one piece."

"Your directions were great, I didn't have any problems there."

"Good. Glad to hear it. Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thanks." Nikola watched as Alex got himself a can of soda and sat down across from her in the armchair. He didn't look nearly as ferocious as Nikola had imagined him when she first found the gun. After a moment's hesitation, she decided that she had to ask him about the name. It was too obvious to miss, and she was anxious to hear his explanation.

"I couldn't help but notice that the name on the mailbox for this apartment was not Greg Richards, but Alex Miller. I was wondering how that happened." Nikola looked at him carefully when she spoke, anxious for any clue to what he was thinking, but his face was impassive. If he was surprised at her question, he didn't show it.

"I have a confession to make. I haven't been totally honest with you," he said slowly. He paused before continuing and Nikola waited patiently, wondering if the information she was about to get would be fact or fiction.
"As you may have already guessed, Greg Richards isn't my real name. Alex Miller is. And I'm not an art reporter, but a private investigator. I was hired to follow and report on you. I posed as a reporter to meet you and do just that."

"Who hired you?" she asked as calmly as she could. So far, what he was saying fit with what she had found in the desk. She felt hurt and betrayed, but she determined to maintain her calm until she found out what was really going on with him.

"A law firm by the name of Morse, Chester and Associates."

"Morse, Chester? That's interesting..." Nikola's curiosity was aroused. "They buy a lot of paintings from me. What did they want from you?" 

"They were very vague. All they really said was that they wanted to get to know you better."

"Doesn't sound like the type of thing you'd hire a private investigator for."

"No, it didn't to me either, but I needed the job, so I took it."

"When did you start?"

"About two weeks before I interviewed you."

"Was sleeping with me part of the assignment?" Nikola asked bitterly. The anger and hurt that she had been trying to control came up to the surface, released by a bit of relief. When the door had opened a few moments before, Nikola half-expected to be bound and gagged or held at gun-point, but when he responded instead with an explanation that could possibly even be true, she felt that the worst of her fears would probably not be realized.

"No, of course not..." interjected Alex, but Nikola was no longer listening.

"And to think," she continued, "I was really starting to like you. I trusted you. I can't believe that you deceived me in this way. This is incredible. I thought that we had something special together, and it's all fake. One big lie." She stood up, too agitated to remain seated. She couldn't help raising her voice as she paced in front of the couch. "I suppose this charade with that guy following me was all staged so you could observe me under stress, so you can go back to that law firm and tell them all that I'm crazy."

"No, I've never seen that guy before. I don't know anything about him. Actually, they fired me last week. I was doing this because I like you and I care about you and I want to help find out who's threatening you."

"They fired you? What for? Weren't you watching me closely enough? Not enough dirt?"

"No, nothing like that, at least I don't think so. They didn't actually give me a reason for firing me, but I think it has something to do with Grove..."

There was a sharp conflict within Nikola: between betrayal and curiosity. Every muscle in her body tensed towards the front door. She wanted to run out of the apartment, and frequently glanced towards the door to make sure her path was clear. But she also wanted to hear what he had to say. What was in Grove? It's probably just a trick, she thought angrily, and headed for the door. I'm an adult and can take care of myself as I always have. It's the only safe way to live.

"I don't want to be here anymore. I can't trust you. I don't even know who you are," she stated as she went for the door.

Alex jumped between her and the door and grabbed her firmly by the shoulders. "I really care about you Nikola, or I would never have brought you here tonight. I never would have lost this assignment, if I hadn't been going out of my way to figure out who was persecuting you. I can help you solve this mystery, Nikola, and I want to help. I can also help you find your parents, if you let me. You don't know how many times before now I've wanted to tell you who I really am. I really do care about you and I didn't like deceiving you."

"Then why did you?" she asked as tears formed in her eyes. Having him this close and feeling his touch brought back all her feelings for him. As she looked up at him, more than anything, she wanted to believe what he was saying, to put her arms around him, lean into him, and tell him that it was all right, but her intellect kept her stiff and distant, constantly reminding her of his deceptions.

"I felt I had to. It was my job and I needed the money. But that's over now. I promise I'll never lie to you again."

"How can I believe anything you say?"

"Look, I'll let you read all the reports I submitted to the law firm. You'll see that I'm being above board now." He took a deep breath and continued with, "I don't want anything to happen to you. I really want to help you through this, and you could use my expertise."

Nikola had been staring at him during the entire speech. Looking right into his eyes, trying to read his mind. She wanted to believe him. She really wanted him to be telling the truth. But how could she trust him after all this? She knew that she probably shouldn't trust him, it was clearly not the wise thing to do, but her instincts had shifted over to his side and she couldn't let him go. 

Nikola decided to follow her heart, and keep her guard up at the same time. She really needed an ally now, and she wanted it to be him. She felt that she had nothing much more to lose by trusting him, and a lot to gain. He was still holding on tightly to her shoulders: she was painfully aware of his strength. She knew she could never fight her way out of here, so she basically had to trust that he didn't wish to harm her. If he wanted to do that he could have done so already, many times.

"I will trust you for now. But I want to see those reports. I intend to read them all thoroughly tonight."

Alex exhaled with what sounded like a sigh of relief and let go of her shoulders. He smiled down at her, and from the expression on his face, it was easy for her to believe that he loved her. But he knows how to control his face, Nikola warned herself.

She backed away from him and turned back towards the living room. Nikola still didn't trust him, but she was willing to listen and read. As he promised her, he went to his desk and pulled out the stack of reports that she had found there before. He handed them to her. So far, everything he was saying corresponded to the evidence she had found in the desk. That made it much easier to believe him.

The reports were clearly labeled with Alex's name and Morse Chester's name on the first page. "This is definitely the same law firm that buys my paintings, including the three from the last show that they insisted on having immediately. I wonder what they could want with me. What did they tell you?"

"Nothing. They just told me to watch you. They said they wanted to find out more about you. A number of times I tried to get more specific information out of them, but they wouldn't say anything about who their client really is."

"So are you telling me that you have no idea who is really behind this?"

"Exactly."

"Hmm," she grunted as she turned back to the reports. Once again, she wondered if he was telling her everything.

"Look, stick with me and we'll find out who their client is and what they're after. I just need a little more time."

"We'll see about that. Let me read these first."

"Okay, no problem. I'll put on a pot of coffee."

"Great. I could use a cup."

While Alex moved around his small kitchenette preparing the coffee, Nikola looked down at the reports in front of her. There were four reports in total. They were dated one week apart, each on a Monday, and covered the previous week's activities. They were obviously typed on the old fashioned electric typewriter that sat on his desk or something similar: they exhibited the slight unevenness between characters that one didn't see with computer printouts.

She was almost afraid to open the first one. Especially with the writer in the room, hardly a dozen feet away, looking directly at her. Until a few hours ago, she had been getting fairly comfortable with this man, and now he felt like a hostile force that could pounce at any moment.

She gathered her courage and opened the cover of the first report. It was neatly typed and double-spaced. She leafed through the entire report before she actually started reading. There were headings for each day of the week, followed by a paragraph or two of prose. Occasionally, there was a day heading followed by several pages of description, one of which she recognized as the day of her gallery reception. Towards the end of the report was a section entitled background information that covered several pages. In all, the report was about ten pages long. She glanced through the other three reports and found that the structure was consistent. As she glanced through, she noticed numerous instances of her name, which sent shivers down her spine. She tried to brace herself for the reading. 

"How do you like your coffee?" Alex asked.

"Milk, no sugar," she replied.

He fixed two mugs of coffee and brought one to her.

"What was your assignment exactly?" she asked as he handed her one.

"Not very specific. They asked me to watch you and report on your lifestyle. I actually found the whole thing rather strange, most people who hire me have a specific objective, like, say, catching a cheating spouse. But in this case the law firm said they just wanted to get to know you better."
"Who are these people? I feel like there are a lot of people out there who know a lot more about me than I'd like. Why do they feel that they have the right to do this?"

"Well, finish reading, and then we'll get a plan together for solving this."

"Okay, I'll read," she said as she bent her head over the reports, "but no guarantees."

Alex grabbed a magazine and sat in the armchair across from her. Hard as she tried to ignore him, she felt him watching her. But whenever she lifted her head, his eyes faced downwards, apparently intent on the magazine in his lap.

From the moment she opened the first page of the first report, Nikola felt violated. She noted that Alex was obviously much better at his job than her more recent follower. She had had no clues of his presence before he introduced himself as a reporter. And even the vague sensation, or intuition, of being followed, while present ever since she arrived here, had only gotten strong recently. She tried to picture his car, or any car that frequently parked in front of her apartment building, but her mind was drawing a blank. She was amazed at how easily someone could follow her around without leaving more of a trail. It made her wonder what other things people may be doing around her, or to her, that she had no knowledge about.

Reading was very difficult in the beginning. The tone of the reports was very professional, even clinical. She was referred to as the Subject, like an object under study rather than a living human being. As she read the frighteningly well documented accounts of almost every time she left her apartment, two thoughts ran constantly through her mind. The first was the image of him out there, obviously within clear view of her apartment building door, and the second was the over-riding question of who hired him.

The reports listed dates and times for all of her gallery, museum, and even grocery store, visits. They also documented every person who visited her, as well as the comings and goings of other people in the building, many of whom she didn't even know existed. It was frightening to see her movements so well documented.

Alex himself had proposed the interview in the first report. He listed it as a way to get to know her better and follow her movements more closely. After she read that, she had to stop to catch her breath. She had never, as she had recently believed, been noticed by the American art press. There would be no article published about her work. She felt stupid for dismissing all her previous concerns about Greg's skimpy art background, and angry about being lied to.

The second report contained a detailed account of her exhibit, with every painting listed and described. Even the Woman in Red series was mentioned, as well as its unusual disappearance before the opening reception. The reception itself, including the dinner afterwards, was chronicled with names and descriptions of the attendees, most of whom Nikola herself had since forgotten. Her friendship with Eddie, visits to the Maple bar and law office, were all there. It concluded with Eddie's artists party, which was described as quite a wild affair, wilder than Nikola remembered. Somehow, he missed her brunch with Alan. Nikola felt proud of this, as if she had put one over on him, especially considering that Martha was one of her candidates for his employer.

The third report described the interview with his usual severe detail. She was surprised to read that some of the questions were suggested by his employer. They included all the personal questions he asked: about her decision to become an artist and her experiences growing up in the orphanage. Was someone planning to use this against me or were they genuinely curious? And why?

The last report provided the most surprises of all. It described their tour of the city and the note she received afterwards. She was relieved to see that there was no mention of their physical relationship, or of the dreams and other very personal things she had told Greg afterwards (Alex! she corrected herself). It did, however, contain an account of a trip he had taken to Grove on his own. Apparently, he had decided that a visit to the town of the postmark was important long before she ever thought of it. Although he didn't come to any conclusions about the note's origin, he provided a description of the town, its residents, and culture. It sounded like a typical small resort town supported to some extent by its proximity to New York City, as well as some agriculture. She found herself almost looking forward to going there, even though it would mean spending the day with Alex. She felt as if she needed to get away from this city, and it would give her a chance to re-evaluate this man in light of her new knowledge.
The final surprise of the last, and longest, report was that Alex had indeed taken steps to get an article about her and her work published. He had submitted the tapes of her interview to a professional writer, Don Field, who was currently preparing an article for submission. While they had no agreements with any art magazine yet, according to the report, Don was well-established with a regular column and good connections in the industry. It was not what she had hoped for, or even been led to believe, but at this point she was happy for any small consolation.

When she finished the last report, she sat back for a moment and thought about them. While their very existence, and the role Greg/Alex played in them, was appalling, she did have to give the man credit for a certain amount of grace. The professional, impersonal tone had spared her some humiliation, and he made no references to the nature of their relationship. The reports were just factual descriptions of recent events, which made Nikola more inclined to trust him again, although she was still having a hard time adjusting to the fact that his name was Alex and not Greg and that he was a private eye. Between that and the other new information she had about him, he seemed like a completely different man. But that was almost minor compared to everything else going on around her, and, apparently, closing in on her.

"Well, what do you think?" he asked.

"I wouldn't recommend any literary prizes, but it was interesting reading. Are you really going to get that article about me published?"

"I hope so. I think the odds are good, Don's a very experienced writer and I think he has a good chance. What did you think of the rest of it?" he added tentatively.

"Well, you didn't insult me and you didn't write anything that I feel is a secret, so I suppose I can consider forgiving you one day."

"You never told me any secrets."

"That's not entirely true, but it always takes me a while to warm up to people before I can tell them private things. Now I'm glad that's the case."

"I can't say that I blame you."

"When did they fire you?"

"Right after that last report. The only thing that I can figure is that they didn't like me going to Grove. So I think that's where we should continue this investigation. If you still want to work with me, that is." Alex put his magazine aside and leaned forward.

Nikola looked over at him long and hard before answering. She knew she couldn't trust him, but she needed his help and his expertise. She also felt that she needed to take some proactive steps, because clearly someone was after her. Finally, she decided to accept his help.

"Actually, I would. I don't think I could do this myself, I wouldn't even know where to begin. I couldn't pay you anything though, at least not until I sell more paintings."

"No. I don't want any money. Spending time with you is enough payment."

"Flirting with me will get you nowhere. I consider this a business arrangement, and I will pay you when I can. I trusted you and you deceived me and broke my heart. The man I fell for was a mild-mannered art reporter not a gun-slinging private eye..." Nikola stopped as soon as she said it and regretted her words.

"What did you say?" Alex asked, approaching her.

"Nothing."

"Why did you call me a gunslinger?"

"Well, I just assumed..."

"You went through my desk, didn't you?" Alex walked over to the desk and opened the top drawer. He picked up a small corner of paper, turned it over in his hand and said, "You did, I have the evidence. Why?"

Nikola stared at him mutely for a few moments before amassing her courage and saying, "What was I supposed to do? The mailbox had a strange name and you clearly removed your calendar from the desk in anticipation of my arrival. What would you do?"

"Exactly what you did. You're a sharp woman."

"Don't forget it. Do you still want to work with me?"

"Absolutely."

"Good, so where do we go from here?"

"Well, we're obviously not wanted in Grove, so I think that's the best place to start. How are you with a camera?"

"I can take a decent picture."

"Good, we can pose as a writing team. I'll be the writer, and you can be my photographer. We'll be writing a travel and historical guide of New York State."

"You like posing as a writer, don't you?" Nikola asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, it's a great excuse for asking a lot of questions. And, I guess, I've always liked the idea of writers, it seems like such a romantic profession. Kind of like artists."

"In reality being an artist not nearly as romantic as it sounds. It has more than its share of difficulties, especially when it comes to earning a living. But I suppose it does offer its freedoms as well. As, I imagine, does your profession."

"Mine also has it's difficulties. Like when you have to lie to someone you love."

Nikola could see where this was going, and didn't want to touch it. She was exhausted and they had a big day tomorrow. "Shut up and find me a sleeping bag."

"Take the couch, it folds out. I'll take the floor."

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