Annie escorted them to the drawing-room door and across the hall to the front door. When she opened it, Bri turned and looked at her. She widened her eyes at him.
‘Thanks for coming, DCI Hunter,’ she said as the policeman and his cohort went off down the steps, bypassing Bri with suspicious glances.
‘We’ll be in touch,’ said Hunter, his eyes resting coolly on her face.
‘Look forward to it,’ she said, and went back inside to make a telephone call to the States.
Next day everything was quiet at the house. Annie phoned Layla to check that she was OK – which she was – and then spent the rest of the day on tenterhooks, thinking this is the calm before the storm.
Her mind was a whirl of anxiety after another sleepless night, and when daylight began to stream in through her window she was consumed with dread. Another day of waiting. Followed by another night when she would go to bed in the master suite and think of Orla dying in there. And all the while Redmond might be out there, waiting his chance to come and get her.
She sat alone watching TV late into the evening, putting off the evil hour when she would have to go upstairs. When Rosa tapped on the door, she nearly jumped out of her skin.
‘Señora,’ said Rosa, coming in, smiling.
Annie was clutching a hand to her chest. She had to swallow hard to get her breath. ‘Yeah, Rosa. What is it?’
‘It’s…’ started Rosa, then someone stepped past her.
‘It’s your worst nightmare,’ said Max Carter, coming inside, and closing the door behind him.
Annie felt her heart flip. Her chest was so tight it was a struggle to breathe. What had he just said? That he was her worst nightmare?
‘You’re not quite my worst nightmare,’ she said coldly, flicking off the TV. ‘You’re flattering yourself. As usual.’
Max came over to the big pair of Knole sofas. He sat down on the vacant one, opposite where Annie herself was sitting. Leaned back. Studied her for a moment. ‘Layla phoned me,’ he said, his dark blue eyes on her face. Annie kept her expression neutral.
She’d been expecting him to arrive ever since Layla had told her she’d been in touch with him, but the reality of it was still a shock. She found herself feeling… well, she didn’t know what she felt.
Up to this point, contact between them had been practically non-existent. Now here he was, and his physical impact on her was no less than it had ever been. He was still a stunning man, she had to admit that. Fit lean body, black hair, dark tan, hard dark blue eyes that gave him the flashy, dissolute air of a riverboat gambler. He was gorgeous. She could see that, could admit it to herself. And once, that might have made her weaken. But those days were long gone.