Annie groaned, sweeping in from the kitchen. "If you two are donning your hairshirts to protect me and my reputation, you can forget it. I'm not telling anybody about anything. Now." She cast a cold look in Garvin's direction. "I need to see about Otto."
Sarah opened her mouth to speak, but Garvin held up a hand. "Forget it, Sarah. Annie's not going to let up. She's worse than her damned rottweiler when it comes to protecting you." He turned to her, not a happy man. "All right, we can go."
She sniffed and spoke to Sarah as if he weren't there. "Will you be all right?"
"Yes. Thank you, dear, I'll be fine."
Dear, Garvin thought. Hell.
"If you need anything," Annie said, "you have my number. Borrow a neighbor's phone. I'll come as soon as I can. You need time to think."
"Thank you."
"Just rest, Sarah, and don't worry about a thing. Vic Denardo hasn't been back, and Cynthia Linwood has been nothing but nice to me. I've met Ethan Conninger only once, but he was perfectly decent. They might be curious, but I don't think they're going to put a gun to my head and make me show them the painting. So, please don't worry about me."
Sarah smiled, settling back against her chintz cushions. "You're very sweet, Annie."
There was nothing sweet about her, Garvin thought, when she turned to him, tossed her head back, and led the way out.
He gave Sarah a parting glance. "For what it's worth, it's good to see you again."
She almost smiled. "And you."
"But I'll be back."
"I know."
Annie had to hustle to keep up with Garvin's long strides on their way back to his car, but she didn't let him get ahead of her. "You'll do anything to get what you want. Trod over anyone's sensitivities without any evidence, badger an old woman in her own home—"
"Sarah's not that old."
"Physically she is."
Garvin glanced at her, not slackening his pace. "You think I was too hard on her?"
"She's a tormented woman."
"You didn't know her five years ago."
"I know her now."
"Do you?" His voice was calm, deceptively so. "Annie, five years ago she was a compulsive gambler. She'd have sold her own soul for a good poker game. She didn't care about anyone or anything except her addiction."
"Maybe she's changed."
"Maybe she hasn't."
She clamped her mouth shut, standing back impatiently while he unlocked the passenger door. She could just walk home, she thought. It was a long way, but she and Otto needed the exercise.
Garvin pulled open the door, then swung back around at her. "Annie, look, I saw the woman you saw in there. I'm not heartless, but I need to keep an open mind."
"Sarah's not wanted by the police."
"That doesn't mean she told them everything she knows. They attribute her leaving to her family's ostracizing her because of her gambling and her relationship with Denardo, the tragedy she brought down on them. But I don't know. And I'm not sure it matters. If Vic's still out there, he's going to find her."
"She's in a horrible position," Annie said as she climbed in his car.
"We all are."
He shut her door. Otto barely acknowledged her presence and seemed eager neither for food nor a walk, no surprise to Annie. She breathed in, waiting for Garvin to get behind the wheel, not regretting her impulsive decision to drag him off. He'd wanted everything from Sarah now, without hesitation, and wasn't willing to get her story piece by piece or give her a chance to adjust to him.
"It's not as if I wasn't warned," she said. "Even Sarah told me you'd stomp on anyone to get what you want. Those weren't her exact words, but—"
"Is stomping on Sarah worse than badgering her?"
She shot him a fierce look. "Neither's commendable or necessary under the circumstances."
He met her gaze with a composure that would have defeated her. But his eyes glinted, gave away the intensity that lay behind them, despite his mild tone. "A good thing, then, that you intervened before I could whip out the thumbscrews."
Her shoulders sagged, and she sighed. "I suppose I'm being a little sanctimonious, and I've no place judging you after what you've endured. But you still weren't very nice in there."
"No," he said. "I wasn't."
She said nothing more as he negotiated the narrow, twisting streets. There was a turn taken too sharply. A hill too fast. Annie remained unperturbed. She stared out at the glittering skyline, catching glimpses of San Francisco's spectacular scenery. Up close, she noticed the plum trees with their pink and white blossoms, the rows of houses in pale pastels, deep browns, every shade of white. Her mother died never having seen San Francisco. She had lived most of her short life alone. She had her mother and daughter, yes, but not her husband.
"You're right about me, Annie." Garvin's ragged voice broke through her pensiveness. "I'm a cold-hearted son of a bitch. Don't put your faith in me. I can't protect you."
She peered over at him, the details of his face lost in the dark. "I don't recall asking for your protection, and I don't think you're cold-hearted. It'd be so much easier on you if you were."
He hissed under his breath, then said abruptly, "Would you like something to eat? Or won't Otto survive?"
"Oh, I think Otto'll survive."
"I thought as much."