Wildest Hearts

ideas.I'll get back to them later.”

    “Sure. Maybe you should go home.”

    “I might just do that. But first I want to make a phone call.” Annie pulled the telephone directory toward her. “Close the door, will you?”

    “Are you sure you're going to be okay?”

    “I'm fine, Ella. Just a little queasy.”

    Ella started to grin. “Hey, you don't suppose you're pregnant, do you?”

    “Close the door, Ella,” Annie said.

    “Right.” Still grinning, Ella shut the door.

    Annie's hands trembled as she opened the phone book to the listings under aircraft service and maintenance. She ran a fingertip down the list of companies until she came to a familiar name. It was the firm Daniel always used when he rented or chartered a plane.

    Annie had to punch in the number of the aviation service company twice. The first time her nervous fingers slipped. A woman answered after what must have been the tenth ring. She sounded as if she had been running. Annie could hear the roar of private aircraft propellers in the background as she identified herself.

    “Sure, Ms. Lyncroft. I remember you. I talked to you the day your brother disappeared. I'm Sarah.”

    “Oh, yes. The flight instructor.”

    “Among other things,” Sarah admitted dryly. “What can I do for you?”

    Annie closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. Sarah had been very kind to her that awful day. “Sarah, I was wondering if I could speak to whoever serviced the plane my brother used.”

    There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. Sarah's voice was muffled as she apparently spoke to someone over her shoulder. “Tell him I'll be out in a minute.” Her voice got clearer. “What? Right. The mechanic. That was Wally.”

    “Wally?”

    “Yeah. Wally Thorpe. He's not with us anymore.”

    A strange feeling of disorientation swept through Annie. “Where did he go?”

    “Don't know. He quit two days after Daniel disappeared. Just walked off the job and said he wasn't coming back. Haven't seen him since.” Sarah's voice grew muffled again. “I said I'll be right out. Damn it, tell him I won't charge him for ground time, will you?”

    “Sarah, please, I know you're busy,” Annie said quickly. “But could you give me Wally Thorpe's phone number? Or his address? I'm very anxious to speak to him.”

    “Hang on, I should have both in my file.” Drawers banged over the angry whine of a revving aircraft engine. “Got it. You ready? The address is on Bainbridge Island.”

    “I'm ready.”

    Annie hastily jotted down the number and address.

    “Ms. Lyncroft?” Sarah sounded concerned now. “What's this about? The authorities talked to Wally the day after Daniel disappeared. The maintenance records were all in order. The plane was in excellent condition. And Daniel always did a thorough preflight check.”

    “I know. This is about something else. Thanks, Sarah.”

    Annie hung up the phone and sat staring at the number on the pad in front of her for a long time. Then, slowly, she punched out each digit with great care.

    Annie let Wally Thorpe's phone ring for what seemed like forever. There was no answer.

    “Well, well, well.” Sybil surveyed Daniel Lyncroft's office with amused disparagement. She took in the metal file cabinets; plain, serviceable furnishings; and the sophisticated computer and shook her head. “Not quite your usual style, is it, Oliver? I know a designer who could do wonders with this place.”

    “I don't need a designer,” Oliver said.

    Sybil smiled coolly as she sat down. “No, I don't imagine you'll be running Lyncroft Unlimited personally for very long, will you? You rarely involve yourself in the day-to-day operations of any of your companies. When are you going to install a management team?”

    “Not for another few months.” Oliver hesitated. “It may not be necessary. Annie expects Daniel to return any day.”

    “I know. Poor Annie. I'll say one thing for her, she's born optimist.” Sybil crossed her legs and adjusted the hem of her pale-blue wool skirt. “She's been living with you for, let's see, nearly two weeks now, isn't it?”

    “Almost.”

    “Nearly two weeks of sharing your board and,” Sybil smiled blandly, “I assume your bed?”

    “Annie is my wife,” Oliver said coldly.

    “Ah, yes. Your bed. Two weeks of living quite intimately with you and she still isn't cured of her naïveté. Amazing.”

    Out of long habit Oliver forced himself to sink deeply into a