“Do you know,” he says after a moment, “that I’ve asked her to move in with me a dozen times? She always had an excuse why she couldn’t. A long-term modeling assignment. A new film. The restaurant. For the first time, I realize it was something quite different. She didn’t want to be tied down to me. She wanted to be free to pursue other interests. Explains why she wasn’t around when I was in the hospital, why she didn’t come to see me when I was released. She was too busy with Rory.”
He’s probably right about that. At least the timing is right.
I don’t know what to say to David to make the truth less painful. I’m almost sorry I tracked him down. For the first time in our association, I’m unsure how to proceed. I don’t want to make him feel any worse than he already does and I don’t want to antagonize him further. I’m sure as hell not going to tell him what I’ll be doing for the next few days.
I clear my throat. “Um, David? I’m going to let you go. You take as much time as you need. Don’t worry about the business. We don’t have anything lined up. If a job comes up, I’ll handle it. You do what you need to do.”
The laugh that comes across the line this time is harsh with sarcasm. “What do you know?” he says. “Anna Strong, tongue-tied. Don’t believe that’s ever happened before. Well, I’m glad you’ve given me permission to take a leave of absence. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to hang up. I’d appreciate it if you don’t call here again. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you. Is that clear enough?”
It’s obviously a rhetorical question because before I can respond one way or the other, the line goes dead.
CHAPTER 15
WELL. I STARE AT THE PHONE IN MY HAND. I guess he’s serious. There’s a gnawing in the pit of my stomach that is as surprising as it is unexpected. That David would be angry and hurt at Gloria’s manipulation is understandable. That he would be so pissed at me is unacceptable. I’d march myself right up to that damned cabin if I didn’t have Gloria to take care of first. After that, regardless of what he said about not wanting to see me, he and I are going to have a talk.
The phone rings again. Once more, it’s a number I don’t recognize. When I open the connection a voice asks “Anna Strong?” before I have a chance to say hello.
The voice is a purr, soft, seductive. A tingle of excitement races up my spine. “Sandra?”
Her laugh is as melodious and sexually charged as the voice. “I’m flattered. You have been looking forward to my call.”
My heart is pounding and my palms start to sweat. She doesn’t say expecting my call, she says, “looking forward to.” Truth is, I was looking forward to it. A thing that makes no sense and one I’m certainly not going to admit.
“Culebra said you’d be in touch.” I hope my tone conveys nothing but casual indifference. Jesus, what kind of power does she possess to cast a spell over a telephone line? It has to be a spell. Nothing else can explain the wild physical reactions I’m experiencing. Heat rippling under my skin, a body aching to be touched.
“And you know why?”
Her words bring sanity rushing back. “Yes, you’re Avery’s widow. Listen, we have no quarrel. I am willing to relinquish his holdings. I don’t want anything to do with his estate. If you’ve talked with Culebra, you know I’ve not set foot in his house nor have I made any attempt to claim his property. If you need me to sign something, I will. Have your lawyer send it over.”
My words tumble out like debris on a flood-swollen river.
She laughs and says, “Please, Anna. Slow down. You are right. We have no quarrel. Still, we must meet. Are you free tonight?”
My thoughts flash on Gloria. I don’t know where my investigation will take me, but surely I should be free for a few hours this evening.
A few hours? What am I thinking is going to happen when I meet Sandra? Will we need a few hours? To do what?
Get a damned grip. Once more, I slip into brusque mode. “I have work today. I can make some time tonight. Where shall we meet?” An echo of last night. Your place or mine?
“At Avery’s.”
It’s not a suggestion. Immediately, my hackles go up. “No. Not there.”
The laugh again, infectious, bright, but this time with a sharp edge. “I’m afraid it must be Avery’s, Anna. Shall we say nine o’clock?”
My heart is doing that wild tattoo thing against my ribs. Memories of what happened in Avery’s house turn into a black serpent of despair that slithers up my spine. Still, I find myself saying, “All right. Nine o’clock.”
“That’s a good girl.” The purr is back. “Have a good day, Anna.”
She cuts the connection.
“That’s a good girl”? I wouldn’t take that condescending crap from a friend, let alone a stranger. I don’t know what kind of magic this were-woman is working, but before we meet face-to-face, I’m damned sure going to find out.
I stare at the telephone, feeling like a boat loosed from its mooring. What did I agree to? And why in the hell did I? For six months I’ve resisted every effort on Williams’ part to get me back into Avery’s house and in two seconds, Sandra got me to agree to meet her there.
Shit. I have to go see Gloria. First, I have to see someone else. I’m pretty sure I’ll catch him at home. He’s a teacher and he doesn’t drive. Where else would Daniel Frey be this early on a Saturday morning?
CHAPTER 16
DANIEL FREY LIVES IN MISSION VALLEY IN A large, upscale condo development overlooking the city. It’s a gated community and I lean out the car window to ring his unit.
In a moment he answers with an abrupt, “Yes? Who is it?”
“What kind of greeting is that?”
“Anna?” A pause. “You’re here to see me?”
“No. I’m here to see your neighbor. The cute old guy. Of course, I’m here to see you. Are you going to buzz me in or what?”
There’s another pause.
“Frey, what’s going on? Why aren’t you buzzing me in?” No answer. Another pause. Then, finally, the gate swings open.
I punch the accelerator and speed through before he changes his mind. What was that all about? I know I haven’t seen him since we stopped a demon raising last Halloween, but we parted on good terms. I saved his life, for Christ’s sake. Well, technically, an empath saved his life. I saved his ass, though, which allowed the empath to save his life, so that should count for something.
By the time I reach his door, I’ve worked myself into a pretty good sense of indignation. My finger is about to hit the doorbell when the front door swings open. Frey greets me with a frown and steps outside, pulling the door closed behind him.
“This really isn’t a good time, Anna,” he says.
For a minute, I’m too distracted by what he has on to be irritated by the less-than-hospitable greeting. He tries to pull a white terry robe closed, but he’s not quick enough and the robe isn’t big enough to keep me from seeing what he’s wearing underneath.
Frey is a shape-shifter whose other form is panther. His human job is teaching, at my mother’s high school, in fact. It’s how we met. He’s in his forties, tall, with salt-and-pepper hair and a face that reflects humor and intelligence. He’s a conservative dresser, leaning toward slacks and open-neck polos. So to find him in a pair of baby blue pajamas with black cats stenciled all over them provokes an openmouthed gape.
His mouth forms a thin, rigid line. “What’s wrong?”
Astonishment is giving way to an irresistible urge to laugh. Not the right reaction if I want his help. I swallow hard and struggle to erase the smile off my face.