Read Online Just Before Sunrise by Carla Neggers - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Carla Neggers
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and wanted to help her."
"Who—how was she found?"
"I found her."
Annie swallowed, twisted her fingers together. She'd seen death before. She'd been with her mother when she'd died, then, years later, with Gran. But they hadn't been snatched from her by the violent hand of another. They hadn't been murdered.
"There were no witnesses," Garvin MacCrae went on in a level, almost clinical, voice. "Ballistics tests showed she and Thomas were killed with the same gun. The police questioned Sarah. Again, she claimed ignorance."
"And Vic Denardo?"
"Nobody has seen or heard from Vic since the night he stormed out of the Linwood house. Sarah took off without a word to anyone two days after Haley's death." He paused, studying Annie. "She hasn't been heard from since. There's been a lot of speculation about what happened to her, how much she knew about the murders, how much she was involved."
Annie's head shot up. "Involved?"
"Some people think she could have put Vic Denardo up to killing her father."
"But that's horrible!"
"It's all horrible, Annie. Whether she was involved or not, whether she helped Vic get away or not, whether she was just as shocked and horrified as the rest of us, two people are dead."
"I'm sorry," Annie mumbled. "But all I did was buy a painting."
Garvin grabbed up the tray, got to his feet. He stared down at her. "No, I don't think that's all you did. In fact, I'm pretty sure Denardo's right and Sarah got you to buy that painting yesterday."
"I told you I can't discuss the details—"
"Right. Look, if you've made promises you're trying to keep, I understand. But now you have the facts. If that man was Vic Denardo today and he has unfinished business with Sarah and thinks you can lead him to her, he'll be back."
"Maybe I should just tell the police about him."
"Maybe you should. But they'll want to know why you paid five thousand dollars for that painting yesterday, and if you're in touch with Sarah—all of it. You'd better get your loyalties and promises straightened out before you start withholding information from the police."
"I never said—"
He ignored her. "Maybe you were just trying to do a good deed yesterday. But two people are dead, and their murderer is still at large. I'm not trying to be hard on you, Annie, but I wouldn't forget that if I were you."
Without waiting for her to respond, he started across the crowded shop. Cursing silently, Annie followed him out to the street, where a light, steady rain was softening the hard edges of the evening. She whipped an umbrella out from her tapestry bag and unfurled it without inviting Garvin MacCrae under its bright yellow canopy.
He didn't seem to mind. The rain, in fact, seemed to have a calming effect on him. Or perhaps it was this sudden conviction of his that she was in cahoots with Sarah Linwood—which she was. Annie gritted her teeth, leading him across Union. How could she have been such an idiot as to walk into the Linwood mansion yesterday without any facts, any background—without even the last name of the woman she was representing?
"Sarah must be pretty persuasive," Garvin MacCrae said calmly, "for you to have gone blindly into that ballroom yesterday morning."
Annie refused to answer.
"A little pissed at her for not giving you the facts, are you?"
"You're so sure you're right, aren't you?"
"Tell me I'm not."
"Why? You wouldn't believe me."
He gave her a half smile, a glimpse into a man she suddenly knew could be warm, understanding, a trustworthy ally. But she wasn't destined to experience that side of Garvin MacCrae when he thought—when he knew—she was withholding information from him. "You got that right, Annie Payne."
"Well, I don't believe that man today was this Vic Denardo character," she said huffily. "I think he's someone you dispatched to throw me off guard. Then you could swoop in, play the good guy, and try to get me to confirm this theory of yours that—"
"No, Annie." His voice was deadly serious.
"Who—how was she found?"
"I found her."
Annie swallowed, twisted her fingers together. She'd seen death before. She'd been with her mother when she'd died, then, years later, with Gran. But they hadn't been snatched from her by the violent hand of another. They hadn't been murdered.
"There were no witnesses," Garvin MacCrae went on in a level, almost clinical, voice. "Ballistics tests showed she and Thomas were killed with the same gun. The police questioned Sarah. Again, she claimed ignorance."
"And Vic Denardo?"
"Nobody has seen or heard from Vic since the night he stormed out of the Linwood house. Sarah took off without a word to anyone two days after Haley's death." He paused, studying Annie. "She hasn't been heard from since. There's been a lot of speculation about what happened to her, how much she knew about the murders, how much she was involved."
Annie's head shot up. "Involved?"
"Some people think she could have put Vic Denardo up to killing her father."
"But that's horrible!"
"It's all horrible, Annie. Whether she was involved or not, whether she helped Vic get away or not, whether she was just as shocked and horrified as the rest of us, two people are dead."
"I'm sorry," Annie mumbled. "But all I did was buy a painting."
Garvin grabbed up the tray, got to his feet. He stared down at her. "No, I don't think that's all you did. In fact, I'm pretty sure Denardo's right and Sarah got you to buy that painting yesterday."
"I told you I can't discuss the details—"
"Right. Look, if you've made promises you're trying to keep, I understand. But now you have the facts. If that man was Vic Denardo today and he has unfinished business with Sarah and thinks you can lead him to her, he'll be back."
"Maybe I should just tell the police about him."
"Maybe you should. But they'll want to know why you paid five thousand dollars for that painting yesterday, and if you're in touch with Sarah—all of it. You'd better get your loyalties and promises straightened out before you start withholding information from the police."
"I never said—"
He ignored her. "Maybe you were just trying to do a good deed yesterday. But two people are dead, and their murderer is still at large. I'm not trying to be hard on you, Annie, but I wouldn't forget that if I were you."
Without waiting for her to respond, he started across the crowded shop. Cursing silently, Annie followed him out to the street, where a light, steady rain was softening the hard edges of the evening. She whipped an umbrella out from her tapestry bag and unfurled it without inviting Garvin MacCrae under its bright yellow canopy.
He didn't seem to mind. The rain, in fact, seemed to have a calming effect on him. Or perhaps it was this sudden conviction of his that she was in cahoots with Sarah Linwood—which she was. Annie gritted her teeth, leading him across Union. How could she have been such an idiot as to walk into the Linwood mansion yesterday without any facts, any background—without even the last name of the woman she was representing?
"Sarah must be pretty persuasive," Garvin MacCrae said calmly, "for you to have gone blindly into that ballroom yesterday morning."
Annie refused to answer.
"A little pissed at her for not giving you the facts, are you?"
"You're so sure you're right, aren't you?"
"Tell me I'm not."
"Why? You wouldn't believe me."
He gave her a half smile, a glimpse into a man she suddenly knew could be warm, understanding, a trustworthy ally. But she wasn't destined to experience that side of Garvin MacCrae when he thought—when he knew—she was withholding information from him. "You got that right, Annie Payne."
"Well, I don't believe that man today was this Vic Denardo character," she said huffily. "I think he's someone you dispatched to throw me off guard. Then you could swoop in, play the good guy, and try to get me to confirm this theory of yours that—"
"No, Annie." His voice was deadly serious.
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