Wildest Hearts

until you get back. Then we'll start looking for the evidence we need,” Oliver said quietly.

    “That shouldn't be so difficult now that we know who and what we're looking for.”

    Oliver hung up the phone and dialed Annie's shop. Ella answered on the second ring.

    “Ella, this is Oliver Rain. Is Annie there?”

    “Uh, no.” Ella sounded startled by the question.

    “Has she already gone home?”

    “Mr. Rain, she went home over an hour ago. To meet you, she said.”

    “What are you talking about?”

    “She got your message,” Ella said quickly. “And she went straight home to meet you. I assume that's where she is now.”

    Oliver forced himself to keep his voice calm. “What message?”

    “The one Mrs. Jameson's assistant gave her. She said you had asked her to call Annie and have her rendezvous with you at your place ASAP. That's all I know about it, Mr. Rain.”

    Oliver hurled the phone into the cradle and ran for the door.

20

    It required all the willpower Oliver had at his command to take the elevator to the sixth floor, get off, and go down the hall to Bolt's apartment. Every instinct in him wanted to go straight upstairs to the penthouse, throw open the door, and find Annie safe and sound. He knew she was in the building because the doorman had seen her arrive.

    But logic told him he was far more likely to run straight into whoever had lured Annie back to the penthouse.

    The doorman had reported no sight of anyone matching John Gresham's description entering the building, but Oliver discounted that. It would have been easy enough for Gresham to disguise himself as a delivery person or any of a number of other seemingly innocent people. Once inside the elevator he would have access to the twenty-sixth floor. He could have gotten the elevator code from Sybil. Getting into the penthouse itself probably posed no more than a minor problem for someone of Gresham's background. The security system was good, but no system was fool-proof.

    Oliver unlocked Bolt's door and let himself inside. He needed information before he could plot strategy.

    The apartment was in darkness. It was six o'clock and although the ferries were still loading rush-hour traffic, the winter night lay heavily over the city. Oliver went to the intercom panel and systematically pressed the buttons. He listened carefully as he checked each penthouse room.

    There was silence from the kitchen, study, and living room. Silence everywhere. The tension that gripped Oliver's insides went up another notch when he pressed the bedroom switch.

    More silence.

    Perhaps Annie wasn't up there, he thought. That speculation did nothing to lessen his dread. Maybe he was already too late. She could be hurt, perhaps dying, somewhere upstairs while he fooled around with the damn intercom buttons.

    No. Oliver forced back the fear that could so easily induce panic. He had to think. He had to stay in control of himself or he would not have a ghost of a chance of taking control of the situation.

    He made himself run through the train of logic he had constructed on his way here from the Lyncroft offices. It was obvious Gresham had made his move. That was the only thing that could explain the phone call Annie had received at Wildest Dreams.

    That meant there were now two possibilities. Either Gresham had kidnapped Annie and taken her out of the building, a difficult project at best because of the doorman and the security cameras, or else he was upstairs with Annie now, waiting for his real target.

    Oliver pressed the intercom that covered the hallways. Still nothing. His finger poised over the button marked “greenhouse.” Slowly he depressed it. He sucked in his breath when he heard Annie's voice. It was sharp with indignation and accusation.

    “What did you do with Wally Thorpe?” she demanded. If there was fear underlying her words, it was well concealed.

    “Thorpe knew too much,” Gresham replied casually. “I had made certain all along that he didn't know who he was dealing with. I handled everything by phone. But he started getting cold feet after Lyncroft's plane went down. I was afraid he might go to the authorities and confess. I had to get rid of him.”

    “Was that why you tried to kill Barry Cork also?” Annie asked. “Because he knew too much?”

    “Cork was smarter than Thorpe. I handled him by phone, too, but he started to get suspicious. He put together enough information to try his hand at