take her to shower, make coffee, eat whatever it was she had for breakfast, then begin making phone calls.
At the very least he had ten minutes, even if she messed up the order of things.
Anneke entered the cottage and headed straight for the shower, where she sluiced off the salt water and shampooed her hair. Then, towelled dry, she dressed in sapphire-blue shorts and a matching sleeveless top.
Coffee, hot, sweet, strong and black, then she’d fill a bowl with cereal and fruit.
It was after eight when she crossed to the phone. Aunt Vivienne was first on her list, and, after eliciting news that Elise was fine, she gave her aunt relevant details and relayed the fact that until she contacted the police she had no idea whether they’d put a trace on the line or suggest she apply for an unlisted number. Either way, Aunt Vivienne’s permission was essential.
Next came a call to the phone company, who, on receiving relevant details, promised to check their records and ring back.
Which left the police. Two ‘on hold’s and two transfers later, she connected with a very informative young man.
‘Yes, ma’am. The complaint was logged in at twenty-o-five hundred hours last night by a Sebastian Lanier acting on behalf of Vivienne Sorrel, owner of the property. The duty officer advised appropriate action, which I understand is being taken, pending authority this morning from Vivienne Sorrel. Perhaps you might like to check with Sebastian Lanier?’
Check with him? She’d kill him! ‘Thank you.’ She replaced the receiver with care, then turned and marched from the cottage, closing the distance between both residences in swift, angry strides.
The back door was open, the screen door unlatched, and she knocked once, then entered to find Sebastian crisping bacon in the microwave while eggs simmered in a pan atop the stove.
‘What God-given right do you think you have to log in a report with the police on my behalf?’ Anneke demanded wrathfully.
The toaster popped up crisped bread, and he crossed to the servery, removed both slices and calmly buttered them.
‘You’re angry.’
Emerald fire flashed in her eyes, and she had to clench her fists to refrain from lashing out at him. ‘You bet your sweet life I am.’
He glanced up, and shot her a direct look as he extracted a plate from the cupboard. ‘I thought it wise to instigate immediate enquiries.’
‘Just who in hell do you think you are?’
He placed the toast onto the plate. ‘I promised Vivienne I’d keep an eye on you.’
‘Well, you can take your damned eye off me, as of now.’
Sebastian deftly removed the pan, slid eggs onto toast, collected the bacon, and carried both plates to the table.
‘Want to share?’
‘No, I don’t want to share anything with you!’ She drew in a deep breath and released it. ‘Nothing, nada, niente. Do you understand?’
He filled a mug with steaming aromatic black coffee, stirred in sugar, and savoured a mouthful. His shoulders lifted in a deliberate Gallic shrug. ‘That’s certainly specific.’
Anneke flung her arms in the air in a gesture of enraged despair. ‘You’re not going to do as I ask, are you?’
His eyes pierced hers, dark, dangerous and lethal. ‘No.’ He picked up cutlery and cut a neat slice from the corner of his toast. ‘Not until the nuisance calls stop.’
‘I’m twenty-seven years old, not seventeen. I’ve lived alone for seven years in a city known for its high crime rate. I can take care of myself.’
Sebastian forked a mouthful of toast and egg into his mouth, chewed and swallowed it, then proceeded to cut another slice.
‘You’ve forgotten one thing.’
The anger was still evident, simmering beneath the surface. ‘And what, pray, is that?’
‘I gave Vivienne my word.’
‘And your word is sacrosanct,’ Anneke declared with marked cynicism.
‘Yes.’
‘So get used to it?’
‘I’m simply telling you how it is,’ he said calmly.
‘In that case, there’s nothing more to say.’
‘No.’
There were several more words she could have uttered, many of them blistering and not in the least ladylike. However, restraint in this instance was a favoured option.
‘Fine.’ She turned towards the back door and walked from his kitchen, then crossed the stretch of lawn and garden separating each cottage.
Her car stood in the carport, and, making a split-second decision, she went indoors, changed her clothes, caught up her bag and mobile phone, then locked up the cottage, slid behind the wheel and reversed down the driveway.
Within minutes she gained the main road leading onto the northern highway. The Gold Coast was only two hours’ drive away. Shopping centres, movies, glitzy boutiques. Just the place to escape to, Anneke decided.
She had travelled less than five minutes when her mobile phone rang, and she automatically activated it.
‘Tell me where you’re going, and what time you expect to be home.’
Her stomach performed a backwards somersault at the sound of Sebastian’s voice on the line. It sounded impossibly deep, his accent more pronounced.
Anneke took a deep, steadying breath. ‘Go to hell.’ Then she cut the connection.
It should have made her feel better. Instead, she felt more and more like an angry juvenile kicking out against authority.
Examining the situation analytically, she was allowing emotions to overrule common sense.
Damn. She thumped a fist against the steering wheel. This contrary ambivalence was ridiculous.
Without further thought she slowed down and pulled off to the side of the road. She caught up her mobile phone and prepared to punch in digits she realised she didn’t have. Sure, he’d written down his number, but that was on a piece of paper tucked into a teletex in her aunt’s kitchen.
OK, all she had to do was ring directory service. Two minutes later she de-activated the call, and groaned with frustration. Sebastian Lanier’s phone number was ex-directory.
One car passed, then another. She didn’t notice the Range Rover ease to a halt behind her, nor was she aware as the driver slid out from behind the wheel and trod the bitumen to the passenger side of her car.
A firm tap on the glass was the first indication she had of anyone’s presence.
Anneke’s
