prove to herself she could live away from her peninsula in Maine, to put a few of her dreams to the test. That was all she'd wanted. Now, it seemed, she'd gotten herself mixed up in the problems of a prominent, wealthy, troubled family.
She licked her lips, glanced back at her visitor. "Who?"
His gaze remained steady. "Sarah Linwood," he repeated. "She painted that portrait you bought yesterday. She gave you the five grand to buy it. She back in town?"
"I'm afraid you have me at a loss, Mr.—"
"Sarah's good at getting people to do her dirty work for her."
He spoke calmly, even matter-of-factly, but the undertone of bitterness was unmistakable. Whoever he was, he clearly had a bone to pick with Sarah Linwood. Annie just hoped it had nothing to do with the murders of Sarah's father and niece.
She took a breath, glad for every stereotype of the fierceness and unpredictability of rottweilers, and wondered if hers could sense her growing uneasiness. "My purchase of the painting yesterday is a private matter. I'm sure you understand. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to finish closing up. A friend's meeting me here in a few minutes." She made a show of glancing at her watch. "In fact, he should be here now."
The intruder grinned. "Is that a fact?"
"I have nothing to tell you. Please leave."
His grin faded. "If you made a deal with Sarah Linwood, kid, you're in way over your head."
"You're upsetting my dog," Annie said.
"Yeah, well, your dog's upsetting me."
But he sighed, plainly frustrated with his situation. He wanted answers about Sarah Linwood, but Annie wasn't cooperating and Otto wasn't going to let him pry them out of her. She tried to look as if she had nothing to hide.
"Okay, I'll leave," he said finally. "But you can tell Sarah that me and her still have unfinished business. I'm going to find her. One way or the other. I'm not giving up."
His voice was low, calm, virtually without emotion. Annie felt a chill that had nothing to do with the damp weather. She managed to speak, her jaw muscles aching with tension. "Who are you?"
Otto gave a deep, low growl, almost a purring sound. It surprised Annie as well as her intruder.
"I think he senses my tension," she said.
The man grunted. "I hate dogs."
She didn't think Otto would bite or rip off a leg or anything, but he could knock the man down and keep him down while she went for help. But she didn't know if the man was armed, if he'd shoot Otto or knife him if he felt threatened, if the police would end up arresting her and demanding her dog be put to sleep for attacking innocent people.
"It's okay, Otto," she said soothingly. She raised her eyes to the gray-haired man. "I really don't know anything about Sarah Linwood."
He smirked in disbelief. "Sure, kid."
But without another word, he withdrew into her workroom, pulling the door shut tight behind him.
Otto shot to the closed door and barked loudly, growling as if he had delusions of being a proper watchdog. Annie waited until she heard the back door, which led out to the alley behind her building, shut before she moved.
She put her ear to the workroom door, heard nothing, and finally pushed it open, motioning to Otto. "Go ahead, Otto. You go first."
Eager to do so, he bounded into her workroom and sniffed a trail to the outer door while Annie checked to see if anything had been disturbed. But the shelving unit where she kept her framing and office supplies was intact, the sawhorse table she used for framing, her tools, the two projects she had waiting for her. Nothing seemed to be missing or out of place. She peeked into her small half bath, smelled the goat's milk soap she'd bought from Zoe. All was well there, too.
The metal back door showed no sign of a break-in. She pushed the deadbolt back in and made a mental note to speak to her landlord about an alarm system, never mind that her peculiar visitor must just have slipped in back when she and Otto weren't paying attention.
"Well, Otto." She was
She licked her lips, glanced back at her visitor. "Who?"
His gaze remained steady. "Sarah Linwood," he repeated. "She painted that portrait you bought yesterday. She gave you the five grand to buy it. She back in town?"
"I'm afraid you have me at a loss, Mr.—"
"Sarah's good at getting people to do her dirty work for her."
He spoke calmly, even matter-of-factly, but the undertone of bitterness was unmistakable. Whoever he was, he clearly had a bone to pick with Sarah Linwood. Annie just hoped it had nothing to do with the murders of Sarah's father and niece.
She took a breath, glad for every stereotype of the fierceness and unpredictability of rottweilers, and wondered if hers could sense her growing uneasiness. "My purchase of the painting yesterday is a private matter. I'm sure you understand. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to finish closing up. A friend's meeting me here in a few minutes." She made a show of glancing at her watch. "In fact, he should be here now."
The intruder grinned. "Is that a fact?"
"I have nothing to tell you. Please leave."
His grin faded. "If you made a deal with Sarah Linwood, kid, you're in way over your head."
"You're upsetting my dog," Annie said.
"Yeah, well, your dog's upsetting me."
But he sighed, plainly frustrated with his situation. He wanted answers about Sarah Linwood, but Annie wasn't cooperating and Otto wasn't going to let him pry them out of her. She tried to look as if she had nothing to hide.
"Okay, I'll leave," he said finally. "But you can tell Sarah that me and her still have unfinished business. I'm going to find her. One way or the other. I'm not giving up."
His voice was low, calm, virtually without emotion. Annie felt a chill that had nothing to do with the damp weather. She managed to speak, her jaw muscles aching with tension. "Who are you?"
Otto gave a deep, low growl, almost a purring sound. It surprised Annie as well as her intruder.
"I think he senses my tension," she said.
The man grunted. "I hate dogs."
She didn't think Otto would bite or rip off a leg or anything, but he could knock the man down and keep him down while she went for help. But she didn't know if the man was armed, if he'd shoot Otto or knife him if he felt threatened, if the police would end up arresting her and demanding her dog be put to sleep for attacking innocent people.
"It's okay, Otto," she said soothingly. She raised her eyes to the gray-haired man. "I really don't know anything about Sarah Linwood."
He smirked in disbelief. "Sure, kid."
But without another word, he withdrew into her workroom, pulling the door shut tight behind him.
Otto shot to the closed door and barked loudly, growling as if he had delusions of being a proper watchdog. Annie waited until she heard the back door, which led out to the alley behind her building, shut before she moved.
She put her ear to the workroom door, heard nothing, and finally pushed it open, motioning to Otto. "Go ahead, Otto. You go first."
Eager to do so, he bounded into her workroom and sniffed a trail to the outer door while Annie checked to see if anything had been disturbed. But the shelving unit where she kept her framing and office supplies was intact, the sawhorse table she used for framing, her tools, the two projects she had waiting for her. Nothing seemed to be missing or out of place. She peeked into her small half bath, smelled the goat's milk soap she'd bought from Zoe. All was well there, too.
The metal back door showed no sign of a break-in. She pushed the deadbolt back in and made a mental note to speak to her landlord about an alarm system, never mind that her peculiar visitor must just have slipped in back when she and Otto weren't paying attention.
"Well, Otto." She was
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