"Your car—"
"Out of sight. Pretty smart, huh? If you'd spotted a strange car out front, you might not have stopped. Interesting you should run to Garvin MacCrae after our little talk." He scanned her from head to toe. "You two got a thing going?"
"Mr. Denardo—"
"Has he been on your case too? He thinks Sarah hired me to knock off her old man. Then when Haley figured it out, I knocked her off too, to keep her quiet. Old Thomas was a character, I'll say that. I wouldn't have wanted to be his kid. Haley had his number, though." He squinted at Annie. "You cold? You're shivering."
She tensed her jaw muscles to keep her teeth from chattering. It wasn't the cold, she knew. It was his presence, their isolation. "I'm fine."
"So, have you taken Garvin to Sarah?"
"I hate to keep repeating myself, but—"
"But you can't help me," he said matter-of-factly. "An attractive woman like you, new in town—I'd think you'd fall hook, line, and sinker for a guy like MacCrae. He was a driven bastard when I knew him. Never figured him to give up the money business and take to running a marina. I guess you never know what guilt can do to a person."
Annie narrowed her gaze on him. "Why should he feel guilty?"
Vic Denardo shrugged, and she again noticed that as casual as his demeanor was, his eyes remained flat, unemotional. "A natural reaction. His wife was murdered. He found her." He rocked back on his heels, apparently unconcerned that Annie might jump him or knock him over the head with a rock. "You ever wonder why he was there that night?"
"Where?"
"The Linwood house."
"The newspaper accounts indicated he was looking for his wife when she didn't come home."
"So you've read up on the murders, huh?"
She made herself shrug. "After the rock I unwittingly turned over by buying that painting at the auction, yes, I thought it wise to understand the basic facts of the case."
He nodded, thoughtful. "I wonder if he and Haley would have made it."
"That's certainly none of my business—"
"None of mine, either. Doesn't mean I can't wonder. Haven't you?"
"Look," she said, for lack of anything else to say. She bit her lower lip and glanced at her watch. "I need to get back to my gallery. If you want to hang out here waiting for Garvin, that's your affair."
Her breath held, she started past him. She tried to walk with an air of confidence, as if she had no reason to believe he'd try to stop her.
He didn't touch her, didn't say a word.
She got all the way to her car.
When she had her door open and was climbing behind the wheel, he said softly from the walk, "I didn't kill those two people."
Annie looked back at him. Her throat was so tight, she couldn't swallow. "Then give yourself up for questioning. If you're innocent, you have nothing to lose by talking."
"Sure." He smirked, moving toward her. "You can have a front-row seat at my execution."
She gave a small, curt nod. "I really have to go."
"Tell Sarah I'll be in touch."
"You don't give up, do you?"
His eyes held hers. "Never."
Garvin was waiting for her when Annie returned to her gallery. He wore a thick burgundy cotton sweater and heavy canvas pants, everything about him competent, masculine. An unruly mix of emotions washed over her as he walked out from behind her desk. Relief at having him here, uneasiness, desire, trepidation. She couldn't sort out what she felt, why, and if any of it made sense.
"Michael Yuma caught up with you?" she asked.
He nodded, studying her.
She pushed back her hair, trying not to look as close to the edge as she was. She'd stopped by the marina after her encounter with Vic Denardo at Garvin's house. Michael Yuma had pried what had happened out of her and promised to get hold of his partner on his car phone, but she'd ignored his advice to stay at the marina. She'd had to get back to her gallery. Her work, coffee, Zoe, muffins —even sweeping the courtyard—had all seemed preferable to sitting in a marine supply store, waiting for Garvin MacCrae to show up. She'd needed her world, however fragile it was.
"Where's Zoe?" she asked.
"She went next door. I said I'd watch the place until you got back. I think she's keeping an eye on me."
"She's a smart woman."
Annie realized she was speaking almost in a monotone, as if she were disconnected from herself, not really saying anything. Otto trotted out from the back room, stretched, and she had a vision of him in Maine on the rocks. She could almost see the pale sunrise over the bay, hear the cormorants and the gulls, the tide whooshing in. She could almost smell the balsam branches, the wild blueberries, the cold salt air.
"Annie." Garvin touched her arm. "Sit down. Zoe said she saved you a muffin after all. You look as if you could use a dose of sugar."
"I'm fine—"