"Why did you run?"
"Because I didn't know what else to do. I blamed myself for putting Father and Haley in danger. I don't know for certain Vic killed Father and Haley. But my relationship with him, the lifestyle I led at the time—they caused pain and dissension in my family and likely led to the deaths. I couldn't stay. I believed my presence would only lead to more heartbreak and violence. At the time, leaving seemed the only proper option." She leaned back in her chair, exhaustion graying her face, bringing out the lines of age and pain. "And I left, Garvin. I didn't run."
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Annie pacing in the kitchen, arms folded on her chest, gait stiff. Garvin had no doubt she was listening to every word and blamed him for Sarah's being upset.
"The past can't be helped, Sarah," he said. "That's not why I'm here."
She leaned forward, ashen-faced. "You're after Vic."
"He seems to have a bone to pick with you. And he seems willing to intimidate Annie—possibly even hurt her—to get to you."
"But he hasn't been back—"
"He will be."
She slumped back in her chair. "I know." She inhaled, choking back a sob, and Garvin could see a hint of the Sarah Linwood of old, who would have hated the idea of crying in front of anyone. "Oh, God. I never intended any of this. How could he think I tried to blame the murders on him? I only want the truth—"
Garvin stood close to her. "Did you set him up, Sarah?"
Her head jerked up. "No."
"What could Haley have learned that would have gotten her killed? Nothing irregular was found in your records—nothing that wc didn't already know about your gambling—but I don't believe she wasn't killed for a reason. I think she found something."
"If she did, she never told me, and I don't know what there could be, beyond the evidence of my terrible addiction to gambling."
"Do you think Vic's guilty?"
"I don't know," she croaked, shutting her eyes, tightening her hands into gnarled, imperfect fists. She shook her head as if in great pain. "I don't want to believe it."
"Sarah," Garvin said, steady, "you need to tell me everything you know."
"I have."
Annie shot him a nasty look. By her standards, he would be badgering an infirm woman in her own home. He didn't want to be cruel, but Sarah Linwood's emotional comfort could stand some jostling if it got them all closer to the truth about what had happened five years ago.
"I wish I did know something." Her eyes were open now, leveled on him. Color was creeping back into her cheeks. She'd be fine, Garvin thought. Sarah Linwood could always hold her own. He wondered if she'd come to believe that herself, as her father never had. But Haley had. Haley had always sensed her aunt's strength and resourcefulness. "I wish I could snap my fingers and bring whoever murdered my father and Haley to justice, but I can't."
Annie swung around, clearly agitated. "Otto hasn't been out all afternoon. He needs a walk."
"Then go walk him," Garvin snapped back.
She dropped her hands to her sides in tight fists. "He's getting hungry. If I don't get him home soon, he'll eat out the back of your car."
"I don't care."
"I want to go home now, Garvin."
Her back was ramrod straight and her cheeks as pale as chalk, and Garvin doubted she was going to give up anytime soon. She was another one whose strength and resourcefulness were not to be underestimated.
He growled under his breath and shifted back to Sarah. "You have the painting here?"
"It's in my bedroom."
"Cynthia Linwood's suspicious of Annie, possibly Ethan Conninger, as well, and obviously Vic is. I'm not sure John has a clue. If any of them asks Annie to produce the painting she bought for five grand and she can't—"
"As you did," Annie shot across to him.
He ignored her. "It'll only further fuel their suspicions."
"She can tell them she represented me at the auction. I'd asked to remain anonymous, and she complied with my wishes."
Garvin studied her a moment and saw her resolve, but that's all there was. That Linwood determination. He'd seen it in Haley a hundred times. Never mind if she was happy with what she'd made up her mind to do, if she thought it was right, necessary, good. Once resolved, a Linwood did what a Linwood had determined to do, as Haley must have the night she'd returned to the scene of her grandfather's murder.
"Your heart's not in it," he told Sarah.
She gave a short bark of a laugh. "Does that matter? I'm afraid, Garvin. I don't know if I'm ready to—to let my brother, his new wife, my friends see me again. That's the truth. But it makes no difference, and you know it."
"You're right."