And a liar, of course.
He double-parked in front of her building. He remembered living on a shoestring, working toward a dream. Not giving a damn about anything else.
She opened her door. "Thank you for the ride."
Her voice was soft, reserved. He narrowed his gaze on her. Her eyes shifted away from his. Guilt, he thought. Annoyance. He studied the shadows on the line of her jaw in the harsh light from the street, watched her throat as she swallowed. "Annie—Sarah Linwood was a troubled woman five years ago, and two people were murdered. I'd keep that in mind if I were you."
Her gaze came back to him. "I will."
The coil in his gut tightened even more.
She started from the car, but he leaned toward her, careful not to grab her arm, to touch her in any way. He'd be lost if he did. He knew it. Sprung loose, all the tension in him would send him spinning out of control.
"Why did you leave Maine?" he asked softly.
Surprise flickered in her face at his question. "What?"
"Maine. Tell me. What were you thinking when you packed up your car, packed up Otto, and headed west? What were you hoping to find out here? What did you dream about on the drive west?"
For a moment he thought she wouldn't answer him. Then she said, "I just wanted—I needed a chance to figure out who I am now that everything that made me who I was is gone. I don't know if that makes any sense to you."
He nodded, if anything the coil of tension tighter. "It does."
"I should go."
"Annie, Sarah can be very persuasive. She knows how to use her Linwood manners and bearing. She can exact promises from people they later regret making." He paused, but Annie Payne didn't jump out of the car and race into her apartment. She kept one hand on the door, listening. "Haley believed in her. She couldn't understand that Sarah was responsible for the choices she made about Vic Denardo and her gambling. Haley kept expecting her to snap out of it, kept believing she would. She saw her aunt as a victim of her father."
Annie frowned. "You mean Sarah's father? But he was killed—"
"Thomas Linwood was a harsh, controlling, difficult man. When Sarah first started painting—not long after Haley sat for her —and he found out, he was furious. He didn't mind her dabbling in art. It was a ladylike enough hobby. But when she started making noises about showing her work in public, he objected. He claimed he was trying to protect her from disappointment and humiliation."
"But you don't believe it," Annie said quietly.
Garvin shook his head. "No, I don't. I think he was a sanctimonious old bastard and a mean one. He couldn't stand Sarah doing something he couldn't control."
"How did she react?"
"She burned her canvases."
"What?" Horror drained the color from Annie's face; her grip on the door faltered. "But that's so self-destructive!"
"Sarah has a self-destructive streak."
"What about the portrait of your wife? How did it survive?"
"Haley had it. She presented it to her grandfather after Sarah had destroyed all her other paintings and insisted he hang it in his library. If he didn't, she vowed never to speak to him again. He doted on her, and he knew she meant what she said." Garvin paused, remembering Haley's laughter the day she'd told him that story. She'd been so damned proud of herself. "So he obliged her."
"She must have been an incredible woman," Annie said softly.
Garvin nodded. "She was. Sarah managed to capture her spirit in her portrait. I can't explain—"
"You don't have to. I saw it, too."
"Annie—" He inhaled, trying to get distance, control, where there was none to be had. "Tell Sarah about me if you haven't already. Ask her to let me see her. I'll go to her or I'll meet her anywhere of her choosing."
"Please, I—"
"I only want the truth, Annie. Nothing more."
She pushed open the door and leaped out of the car.
Garvin sighed. He could go after her. Pin her to the wall and demand she prove to him she wasn't in contact with Sarah. Scare her. Intimidate her. Damn it, make her talk.
Or try. There was always Otto.
In spite of himself, he smiled. He stepped out of the car and called to her over the hood. "I'm not giving up on you, Annie."
She didn't even glance back at him.
"If you need me, you can find me at my marina or up at my house. You have the addresses and numbers."
No answer. She opened the high gate to the walk that led back to her apartment.
And before he knew it, Garvin had crossed onto the sidewalk and was standing in back of her, casting a dark shadow over her. The tension had him in its grip. He couldn't get a decent breath. His mind reeled with images of carrying Annie Payne inside to her bed.
She turned to him, her brow furrowed. She didn't take a step back but still she said nothing.
Her eyes, however, never left his.
And he knew.