"I never thought—" Sarah inhaled, as if breathing in the steam from her tea. "I never thought Vic Denardo would dare show his face in San Francisco. Tell me everything, Annie. Please."
Annie sighed, watching Sarah take a biscuit and carefully cut it in half, then spread it with butter and jam. Her movements were precise and finishing-school delicate, even with her swollen, twisted joints. Would any of her family and friends believe this was the same woman who had taken up gambling and had a scandalous affair with a merchant marine? Would anyone recognize her? Had there been any signs of the disease that now swelled and twisted her joints? Had she worn mismatched socks and Keds? Annie couldn't imagine what Sarah Linwood had been like five years ago. She only saw her as she was now.
Finally, she simply did as requested and told Sarah everything, leaving out only her complicated emotional and physical reaction to Garvin MacCrae.
When she finished, Annie could feel her pulse racing. "Sarah, do you—do you believe Vic Denardo killed your father and your niece?"
Sarah suddenly looked very gray and tired; she reached for another biscuit, a slight tremble to her hand. "I don't know."
Not the words Annie had hoped to hear, had told herself last night and all day that she would hear. She wanted Sarah to tell her that the man who'd hidden in her workroom—if Vic Denardo— was, without doubt, innocent. "Do you have any idea what he meant when he said you and he have unfinished business?"
"He thinks I framed him."
"What?"
Sarah's vivid, striking eyes filled with tears as she fought back a sob, visibly struggling to compose herself. The murders of Thomas Linwood and Haley Linwood MacCrae weren't an intellectual exercise, Annie realized. The pain of them lingered, even after five years. The unanswered questions. The horror.
"Vic thinks I framed him. He thinks I..." Sarah broke off, her voice croaking and ancient-sounding, barely audible. A thin stream of tears worked its way down one cheek into the lines around her mouth. "He thinks I killed my father and—" She gulped, breathed out, made herself say it. "My father and Haley."
Annie had gone still. She noticed the picturesque, sun-washed city sprawled along the hills and valleys below the little pink house, noticed the hum of the refrigerator, the occasional sound of traffic outside in the distance.
She could be sitting here having tea, Annie thought, with a murderer.
Which was a loony idea. Truly loony. She glanced over at a canvas tucked up against the wall by the front door. A rose garden in the sun. It compelled the viewer into the world Sarah had created. Pink roses, yellow roses, warmth, beauty. Annie was there. She could feel the sun on her cheeks, smell the roses.
She forced herself to turn back to her hostess. "If he thinks you're guilty, then that must mean he's innocent."
"No." She shook her head, cleared her throat, but left her tears to dry on their own. "No, it doesn't. It could just mean he's trying to avoid responsibility for what he's done by blaming me."
"But it's been five years. He's avoided the police all this time. Why risk exposing himself?"
"Because that's Vic," she said firmly.
Annie gave her a faltering smile. "Maybe I'll be lucky and the man yesterday wasn't Denardo. That piece I told you about in the paper brought out all kinds. What about Garvin MacCrae? I don't suppose there's any hope he'll back off?"
"Not if he thinks you can lead him to Vic. Or to me."
A man with a mission, Annie thought. His apparent concern for her yesterday—the cappuccino, the biscotti, the effort to be patient—didn't mean Garvin MacCrae didn't have his own agenda. Annie pushed the unsettling thought aside. Her attraction to him was probably only transitory anyway, a not unexpected product of the tension and surprises of her weekend, her isolation in California.
"That must mean he thinks you might have some information that could help settle things. He told me he's trying to keep an open mind—"
Sarah scoffed. "Oh, it sounds it."
"I know," Annie said dryly. "If it's any consolation, I don't think he believed a word I said."
"Did you lie to him?"
"Not exactly. I just was careful in my choice of words and didn't tell him everything."
Sighing, Sarah reached across the table, took Annie's hand into hers. Her skin was warm, softer than Annie would have expected. "Listen to me, Annie. Garvin MacCrae is one of the most tenacious men I've ever met. He'll want to see whoever killed my father and Haley brought to justice. If he sees you as a means to that end, he won't back off. He'll use you, Annie, in any way he feels he must. And I can't say in his place I wouldn't do the same."