Wildest Hearts

into reverse, glanced over her shoulder, and sent the compact rocketing back down the drive. She didn't breath until she reached the main road. Then she jammed the pedal to the floor. If she hurried, she could make the next ferry back to Seattle.

    Annie didn't know what was going on, but she very much wished she had brought Oliver along for the ride.

    “What the hell do you mean, you don't know where Annie is?” Oliver snarled softly into the receiver.

    There was an instant of startled silence on the other end of the line. Oliver swore silently. Terrorizing innocents would not get him the answers he wanted.

    “Sorry,” Ella stammered. “Hey, look, she left around three and I haven't seen her since. I closed up the shop without her. She probably got hung up with a client.”

    “What is the name of this client?”

    “I don't know. I mean, I'm not even sure she went out on business. She just left. Said she had some errands to run or something. Maybe she went shopping. It's only six-thirty. Is something wrong, Mr. Rain?”

    “No. Nothing's wrong.” Oliver forced himself to speak calmly. “Thank you, Ella.”

    “Sure. Sorry I couldn't help. She's probably on her way home right now.”

    “Yes.”

    Oliver hung up the phone and looked at Bolt. “Ella last saw her around three o'clock.”

    “Are you going to call Joanna McKenna?” Bolt asked.

    “If I do, she'll undoubtedly panic. Ms. McKenna has had her doubts about me from the beginning. She is very likely to put an unpleasant construction on this current turn of events.”

    “It wouldn't surprise me.” Bolt's mouth thinned. “May I remind you, Mr. Rain, that we would not find ourselves in this situation if I'd been keeping an eye on Annie for you.”

    “I don't need you to tell me that, Bolt.” Oliver got to his feet, shoved his hands into his pockets, and began to prowl the study. “Are you certain she didn't leave a note?”

    “I searched everywhere. And I listened to the calls taken by the answering machine twice.”

    Oliver curled his hand into a fist inside his pocket. He was getting edgier by the minute. Something was very wrong, and he was utterly helpless. “Goddamn it, Bolt. We don't even know where to start looking.”

    “It's only six-thirty.”

    “She's always home by a quarter to six.”

    “True,” Bolt agreed. “Nevertheless, I must point out that you haven't lived with her long enough to know all her habits and idiosyncrasies. For all we know, she went out to one of the malls and got delayed in traffic.”

    “She should have called.”

    Bolt shook his head. “She doesn't have a car phone.”

    “Get her one. Better yet, make certain you drive her wherever she wants to go.”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “She's not single any more,” Oliver muttered. “She's supposed to keep me informed. She ought to let me know when she's going to be late.”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “Damn it to hell.” Oliver stared down at the carefully raked sand in the rock garden. The possibility that something had happened to Annie was turning his insides to ice. It was an unthinkable possibility that he had been pushing aside for the last forty minutes. Nothing had happened to her, he told himself. She was late getting home, that was all.

    Bolt stirred. “You're worried that there may be a connection between what happened to Cork today and the fact that Annie's missing, aren't you?”

    Oliver braced himself. “Yes.”

    “The odds are against it, I think,” Bolt said in a considering tone. “Regardless of what Cork might have been up to, there's no reason Annie would be a target. If someone wanted to see Lyncroft Unlimited broken up by its creditors, it would make more sense to get rid of you.”

    Oliver realized Bolt was trying to reassure him. “We don't even know if Cork was a target or just the victim of bad luck and bad driving.”

    The message that Barry Cork had been pulled out of a single-car freeway accident and taken, unconscious, to Harborview Hospital had reached Bolt shortly after three. He had immediately called Oliver who had left the office to meet him at the hospital. There they had learned nothing except that Cork might not live.

    A faint, discreetbong announced that the front door was being opened. Oliver spun around, galvanized by the soft, muted tone.

    “Bolt?” Annie's voice came from the foyer. “Oliver? Where is everyone?”

    Oliver started for the doorway. “I'm going to strangle