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?

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