"Same as before. Tell me where I can find Sarah Linwood."
His flat, dark eyes undermined his conversational tone. Annie pushed back her hair with one hand and told herself he could just be trying to persuade her to talk in the only way he knew how. But he wouldn't actually threaten her—physically or verbally—in such a public setting. Zoe would be arriving soon. Customers. Passersby. And Otto was just inside.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I can't help you."
He shook his head, disbelief compressing his lips. "Bullshit. She's here. She's gotta be. I've figured out that much. I've checked out all the neighborhoods she said she wanted to live in if she weren't a Linwood. No luck." He shrugged. "So here I am."
"I said I'm sorry." Ignoring her shaky knees, Annie started briskly across the courtyard toward her gallery. She glanced back at her visitor. He had to be Vic Denardo. He even had the look of a merchant marine about him. "But that's just not my problem. I really can't help you."
He followed her, no sign of irritation or impatience—or anything—in his dark eyes. "You mean you won't," he said calmly.
She felt a quick stab of fear, but Otto trotted into the gallery's open doorway, his ears back, his brow wrinkled. He gave a low, humming growl as he inspected their visitor. "Otto," Annie warned him, trying to hide her relief. "Be good." Not that there was a chance he'd do anything. She just wanted to pass him off as a rottweiler closer to stereotype.
The gray-haired man backed up a couple of steps. "Nice doggie. I'm not going to hurt the lady."
Otto ventured out to the courtyard and sniffed their visitor, who remained rock-still. Annie just let Otto do his thing. She took a small gulp of air, then blurted, "After the other day when you were here, I wondered—are you Vic Denardo?"
His eyes didn't change. "What if I am?"
"Then you're wanted by the police for questioning."
"You see any police around?"
She rearranged several pots of pansies just to provide an outlet for her nervous energy. Zoe would be there soon. This man, whoever he was, wouldn't accost her in the open, in broad daylight, with Otto "protecting" her. She straightened, aware of Vic Denardo's eyes still on her. Suddenly she wished Garvin MacCrae would burst down her walk.
"Look," she said, "I don't know why you think I know anything about Sarah Linwood. All I did was buy a portrait she happened to paint."
He smirked. "You do look innocent when you lie through your teeth. How come you've been hanging out with Garvin MacCrae? He want you to take him to Sarah too?"
Annie swallowed, not caring anymore if he saw that she was nervous. Her hands were shaking, even her knees as she considered the implication of his words. "How do you know I've been in contact with Garvin MacCrae? Have you been following me?"
"Nah, not following you. Otherwise I'd know where Sarah's got herself stashed. Just keeping an eye out here and there."
Annie called Otto over to her side, made him sit. She scratched his massive head. He looked like a big, goofy puppy to her, but Vic Denardo—if that was who he was—eased back another step. She returned her gaze to him. "I want you to leave. I have nothing to tell you. If I catch you following me, I'll call the police."
He grinned. "Tough little nugget, aren't you? Okay, kiddo. Have it your way. But you tell Sarah she's got to face me sometime. She knows what she did."
Annie bit down on her lower lip. He'd as much as admitted he was Vic Denardo, the chief suspect in two brutal murders. She would have to tell the police. There was no way around it. It was the only sane course of action. Tell them everything, and let them deal with the Linwoods and Vic Denardo.
And Garvin MacCrae.
"I didn't kill anybody," Vic Denardo said.
"I'm not the one you need to convince."
"You and me, kid, we stepped in the middle of one hell of a mess when we got mixed up with Sarah Linwood."
Annie licked her lips. "I never said I knew her."
He rocked back on his heels, his dark, flat eyes offering a slight glint of humor. "You're consistent, I'll give you that. Okay, sugar, if you didn't buy the painting for Sarah, where is it?"
"The painting's in a safe place. It's not in my gallery or my apartment." She took a breath, hating the position she was in. "Where is really none of your business."
He started to press her further, but Zoe glided into the sunlit courtyard in a whirl of black and ivory. "Morning, Annie. I can smell the coffee already. Youbrought muffins? What kind? No, don't tell me. Let me guess." She closed her eyes, breathed in deep. "Nope. I'll have to go inside. I can only smell flowers and coffee from out here."
Annie managed a faltering smile. She didn't want to drag Zoe Summer into an increasingly messy, even dangerous, situation. "They're cinnamon streusel. I put them up on the desk out of Otto's reach. I'll be there in a second."