Free Just Before Sunrise by Carla Neggers

"That's not what happened."
    Her heart pounded, and she knew it wasn't, knew before she'd even made her lame accusation. She turned down the narrow walk that led between the two upscale converted Victorian houses to her courtyard. Garvin, she noted, stayed with her. He seemed unaffected by the rain, the chilly temperature, the dark. She found his presence oddly reassuring, despite his doubts about her. She closed up her umbrella and leaned it against her storefront while she unlocked the door. Otto was pacing inside, impatient with being thrown off his routines. Not many men, Annie thought, spirited her off for coffee.
    She glanced back at the man who had. He was standing in the doorway, watching her. "Thank you for coffee." Her voice was steady, formal. "If that man comes back—whoever he is—I'll let you know."
    "For your sake, I hope he doesn't."
    She acknowledged his words with a nod before retreating into her workroom for Otto's leash. When she returned, Garvin MacCrae was still standing in her doorway.
    "Can I give you a ride home?" he asked.
    She shook her head. "I'll be fine. I don't live all that far away. Otto could use the walk." She swallowed, smiled. "Me too."
    Garvin walked briskly to her half-moon desk, whipped a page off a notepad, grabbed a pen, and jotted something down. "Here's my home number and address," he said, "and the number and address of my marina." He walked over to her and tucked the sheet into her tapestry bag. "Call me anytime."
    "Thank you."
    He remained close to her, close enough that she could smell the dampness of his thick dark navy sweater. "And when you see her next," he said softly, "ask Sarah about what I've told you."
    Annie started to speak, but he touched one finger to her mouth and shook his head, and a moment later, he was out the door.
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Chapter Four

     
    Later than usual on Monday morning, Garvin took the winding road down from his hillside house in Belvedere and headed toward the water. The winter rains had turned the usually golden Marin hills across the Golden Gate from San Francisco a lush spring green, and the bay sparkled in the morning sun. He had grown up in San Francisco, made his mark there, found love, endured loss. His parents, his two sisters, his brother all lived in the city. He had traveled extensively but had never lived anywhere else. He thought of Annie Payne packing up a rusting station wagon and a rottweiler and heading clear across the country to open an art gallery. Was she running away from her losses—or toward a new life?
    He'd been tempted to run after Haley's death. In a way, maybe he had. He'd moved out of the city, abandoned the financial district. If Haley came back to life tonight, she'd find him a different man from the one she'd married. She might not like what he'd become. She might not even recognize him.
    He seized his steering wheel and forced himself to concentrate on his driving. The bay sparkled in the late morning sun. It was winter, and not many boats were out. He rolled down his window, inhaling the cool air, tasting the salt on the breeze. But he remained tense, distracted by the certainty that Annie Payne was way, way over her head in Linwood troubles.
    He gritted his teeth, annoyed with himself. Any urge he had to protect Annie Payne was ridiculous, unasked for, and totally beside the point. She had crossed the country on her own. She'd set up a gallery on her own. She'd come to the auction Saturday on her own. She was not helpless.
    He swerved off onto a narrow road, veering down to a strip of land along the water where he owned a struggling marina. It had become his focus, his anchor, in the years since the murders. No one would mistake it for a posh San Francisco Bay yacht club. It was a working marina, with a boatyard, sheds, a marine supply store, a machine shop, and docks for those who didn't care about amenities.
    He found Ethan Conninger waiting for him out on the dock. He was dressed for his job as the Linwoods'