Wildest Hearts

Grace?”

    Sybil's expression became immediately wary. “What are you implying? That Jonathan might want to marry me for my money now that I can be certain of keeping it?”

    “It's something that needs to be considered.”

    “I've got news for you. Jonathan asked me to marry him weeks ago even though I told him there was a good chance you'd cut me off.”

    “I see. Sounds like the noble type. Would you feel a little more secure if I had Bolt look into his background?”

    Sybil scowled. “I don't know whether to be furious or flattered. Are you, in your own nasty, suspicious way, trying to protect me?”

    “You're part of the family,” Oliver said quietly.

    “I don't believe it.” But Sybil was suddenly smiling. “Youare trying to protect me.”

    “Maybe I'm just trying to protect your share of the Rain money.”

    “All right, I'll buy that. Still, coming from you, it's rather sweet.” Sybil laughed. “You must be in love, Oliver. Why don't you admit it? I hope for your sake that Annie loves you. I don't want to be within a thousand miles of you if it turns out she's just using you to save Lyncroft.”

17

    Annie eased her foot off the gas pedal as she rounded another curve in the narrow, winding road. Although it was only four-thirty, it was already dark. The thick woods that loomed on either side of the pavement didn't help matters. She told herself she could have done very nicely without the light fog that drifted in the beam of her headlights.

    There were no street lights on the old island road, and she had not passed a house nor seen another car for over a mile. The sense of being totally alone was unnerving.

    Annie brought the car to a complete halt when she came to a small signpost. She peered through the windshield, struggling to read the faded lettering. Marston Lane.

    According to the address Sarah had provided and the map Annie had brought with her, this was the right spot. She turned into the lane.

    The pavement was rough and broken, forcing Annie to slow her pace to a crawl. She saw the bulk of an old cabin in a stand of trees ahead. There were no lights in the windows and no car in the drive.

    Annie brought her little red compact to a halt, switched off the engine, and sat behind the wheel, studying Thorpe's cottage. The eerie silence made her nervous. She realized that having come this far, she was uncertain about what to do next.

    Oliver would have known what to do, she thought. Oliver always knew what to do.

    But Oliver wasn't here. He had been out of the office when she had called from the ferry dock. Something unexpected had come up, Mrs. Jameson had explained. He had left immediately after receiving a call from someone named Bolt. She had not known when he would be back.

    Annie retrieved the flashlight Daniel always insisted she keep in the glove compartment. Then she opened the car door. The chunking sound was very loud in the foggy silence.

    The biting cold attacked her the instant she stepped out of the warmth of the front seat. Annie fastened her coat and pulled on a pair of gloves. She wished very badly that Oliver was with her.

    This was ridiculous. She did not even know what she was going to do other than knock on the door and perhaps peek in the windows. It occurred to her that if there was someone inside the house, he might mistake her for a prowler if she was not careful.

    Annie forced herself to walk briskly to the front door of the cottage. She knocked loudly.

    “Is anyone home?”

    A faint sighing in the trees overhead was the only answer. But Annie felt an odd trickle of awareness go down her spine. She spun around, convinced for a terrifying instant that she was not alone.

    “Hello,” she called. “Is someone there?”

    The silent fog ebbed and flowed in the flashlight beam. Annie whipped the light across the space in front of her but saw nothing.

    “All right, calm down,” she told herself aloud. “You came here for answers. Don't panic or you won't get any.”

    She walked to the nearest window and pointed the flashlight through the dirty glass. The narrow beam picked out the dark shapes of a sagging couch and an ancient armchair. Magazines were scattered across the coffee table.

    Annie went to the next window and found herself looking into a kitchen. There were dishes piled on the drainboard. A box of cereal stood on the counter.

    The evidence of recent habitation made Annie take a quick step back. She stumbled over a clump of