We ring off. I place the phone on the kitchen counter and pick up the paper to finish reading the article about O’Sullivan’s death. I need the distraction. My gut is screaming that I’ve made a huge mistake agreeing to help Gloria. At least, whatever the outcome, David will be rid of her once and for all. If I find nothing and Gloria has been lying and she really did kill O’Sullivan, David still comes out ahead. Gloria will be in jail.

I scan the article. O’Sullivan is portrayed as a sterling citizen, reputable businessman and loving husband and father. Gloria, on the other hand, is characterized as a spoiled home wrecker who killed O’Sullivan when he refused to leave his wife. No surprise there. That description is offered by the grieving widow who knew of her husband’s affair—one she had been told was over. According to her, O’Sullivan had come back to the bosom of his family weeks ago only to be hounded by a scheming Gloria who would not leave him alone.

That’s too much for me to swallow. I hate Gloria. I also know Gloria. She’s too vain and self-centered to go begging after any man. Especially when she had a backup. She might have had a dalliance with O’Sullivan, but chase him? No. Not with David waiting in the wings.

David.

I snatch up the phone again and call David’s cell. It goes right to voice mail. Then I try the office number and punch in the code to check messages. There’s one.

From David.

“Left town. Don’t know when I’ll be back. Don’t try to get in touch.”

Ah, how like David. Short, sweet and completely devoid of any useful information.

I don’t give up that easily. I know he has a cabin in the Cuyamaca Mountains. I also know the caretaker’s telephone number.

The guy answers on the first ring. I tell him I’m David’s mother and there is a family emergency. David has turned off his cell and would he be so kind as to walk over to the cabin so I could talk with him?

I’ve never met the person behind the gravelly voice but I thank him profusely when he agrees. There’s about two minutes of silence while I picture the guy walking the hundred yards or so from the caretaker’s house to David’s cabin. No small talk. I like that.

Then I hear the knock on the door, his explanation of why he disturbed David, and in another few seconds, David is on the line.

“Mom? What’s wrong?”

“Uh, sorry, David. It’s me.”

Silence.

“I wanted to be sure you were all right. Not like you to disappear.”

“No, that’s more your style.”

His tone is clipped, hard. He’s more upset than I thought. “Okay. I deserve that. I admit, I’ve disappeared off the radar a few times—”

“A few times? I’ve always respected your privacy. I thought you’d show me the same courtesy.”

His voice is tremulous. With anger? With sadness? I wish I could see his face.

I wait a beat, then say, “I’m sorry about Gloria.”

The bark that comes across the line holds more disbelief than humor. “Right. You’re sorry about Gloria because she’s such a good friend of yours.”

Okay. Now his attitude is beginning to piss me off. “It’s hardly my fault that you didn’t see before this what a conniving bitch Gloria is.”

“Now that’s the Anna I know and love. You should be happy. I do see Gloria for what she is. I’ve always seen Gloria for what she is. What you don’t seem to understand is that it didn’t matter. I love her.”

He stops.

“I loved her. Past tense. It’s over now.”

“Then why did you leave?”

He doesn’t answer for so long, I start to think he isn’t going to. I’m about to ask if he’s still on the line, when he says quietly, “Because I can’t be around you right now.”

“Around me? What the fuck does that mean?”

This time, there’s no hesitation. “It means I don’t want to see your smug face every time something about Gloria is on the news.” He’s biting off each word and spitting it at me. “You won’t miss a chance to rub in what an idiot I’ve been. I can’t take that right now.”

His outburst stuns me into silence. Not that what he says isn’t true. I have hated every minute he and Gloria have been together. I’ve also let him know that I’ve hated every minute of it. This is the first time he’s acknowledged my antipathy. Always before he’s ignored how I felt about Gloria or made excuses for her. I’d begun to think the stars in his eyes made him deaf, dumb and blind to any criticism of his egocentric girlfriend.

“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.

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.”