Man from Half Moon Bay (7 page)

“Are you sure you’re not seeing just what you want to see?”

For a moment Sara experienced a flicker of uncertainty. Then, as her gaze returned to Jordan across the room, she was reassured. “No, he’s really changed. Jordan used to hate parties. He’d
do anything to avoid one. Now look at him. He’s actually enjoying himself.”

“Is he?” Penny put her glass of wine down on the table beside the door. “Well, he gives that appearance … when he’s not watching you. I must run along, I have to catch a plane to L.A. early in the morning.”

“Watching me?” Sara frowned. “He hasn’t been watching me.”

“Not obviously, maybe.” Penny smiled crookedly. “But I’d bet he knew exactly where you were in this room every moment of the evening. Now, walk me to the elevator like a proper hostess. I want to tell you about the award Kelly O’Brian won for that picture we ran in the last issue.”

“That shot of the whale? That was great. Only Kelly could have captured that sense of vulnerability as well as strength.” She followed Penny out the door and across the hall to the elevator. “It was mesmerizing.”

“Yes, it was.” Penny stepped into the elevator. “Good night, Sara. It’s been a great party.” She turned on the switch and the elevator lurched and then started to move. “But beware of the volcano. I wouldn’t want you in the way when he decides to erupt.”

Sara laughed. “Penny, he’s not going—” She stopped. The elevator had carried Penny out of hearing. Her smile faltered as she felt a frisson of uneasiness. She respected Penny’s judgment, but her friend was mistaken this time. Penny didn’t understand Jordan or the effort he was making.
She heard a burst of laughter and turned back to the apartment, an eager smile on her lips. No, Penny didn’t understand.

Two hours later she closed the door on the last guest and turned to Jordan, sighing contentedly. “It was fun, wasn’t it? I love parties.” She started to gather up glasses and plates that had been left on the table by the door. “Lord, this place looks like a disaster area. I saw you talking to Raymond Vardeck. Was he trying to sell you one of his paintings? The poor man has been trying to acquire a rich patron for the last two years. He hates the life of a starving artist.”

“Then why does he paint?” Jordan picked up two glasses and an hors d’oeuvres tray and followed her to the kitchen.

“Oh, he loves painting, he just hates the starving part. He’s pretty good, really. That’s one of his paintings over the couch.” She stacked the dishes on the cabinet. “I traded him four goulash dinners for it. It’s called ‘The Chrysanthemum.’ ”

Jordan dubiously eyed the yellow and orange splotches on the ivory background of the canvas. “I believe one dinner would have been sufficient.”

“You’re too critical. I like it. It’s bright and cheerful.” She took the hors d’oeuvres tray from him and set it on the counter. “And it makes me happy to look at it.”

A smile lit his face. “Then it’s definitely a four-dinner masterpiece.” His gaze was searching on her face. “Why did you bother with Vardeck? I know it wasn’t for that clumsy painting.”

“I felt sorry for him. It’s not easy being an artist.” She started loading the dishwasher. “And he loves my goulash. Anyone who has the good sense to like my cooking at least has the right instincts. When he’s not whining, Raymond can be rather sweet.”

“And what about the others? You have quite an eclectic group of friends. Artists, sculptors, school-teachers, automobile mechanics.”

“I like people,” she said simply. “And I find most of them interesting enough to cultivate.”

“And they like you.” Jordan was regarding her intently. “Whenever I saw you this evening you were surrounded. Someone was always smiling at you, talking to you.” He looked away from her. “Touching you.”

She carefully positioned a glass in the upper section of the dishwasher. “Penny said she thought you were brilliant.”

“I like your friend Penny, but I don’t think she likes me.”

She poured detergent into the dispenser. “Penny doesn’t dislike you. She’s just a little wary on my behalf.”

Jordan nodded. “She loves you. I don’t blame her for not trusting me.”

She looked up at him. “You don’t?”

“She’s intelligent enough to see a good deal that other people don’t. What did she say to you?”

Her face lit with amusement. “She called you a volcano.”

He chuckled. “I’ve been called worse. Dormant, I hope?”

“She didn’t specify, but I gathered she thought you were reasonably active. I told her she had nothing to worry about.”

He went still. “You did?”

“I told her you weren’t the same person I knew at Half Moon.” She paused. “That I could trust you.”

He looked as if she had struck him. “That was … generous of you. I thought it would take a great deal longer to convince you I’m treading the virtuous path.” He glanced away from her again. “But then, you always were a very trusting person. It made it much easier for me to manipulate you in the past. I would have thought you’d have learned it’s dangerous to be so trusting, Sara.”

She looked at him in bewilderment. “But you told me to trust you. And you have changed, Jordan. I can see it,
feel
it.”

“Not that much.” A muscle jumped in his cheek as he turned away. “I’ve got to get out of here. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“What’s wrong?” Sara watched him stride across the room. “Jordan, did I say something to—”

“No, you didn’t say anything.” He opened the door and turned to face her. She inhaled sharply as she saw the torment that tautened his features. “I’m trying. God knows. I’m trying. But I’m only halfway there. Don’t trust me too far.” His voice suddenly grew harsh. “I like your friends, Sara, but I hated seeing them with you. I didn’t
want you to smile at them. I don’t want you to smile at anyone but me. It rubs me raw to see you—” He stopped and drew a ragged breath. “But you’re a woman people will always want to smile at and touch and—” He broke off again. “So I’d better get used to it, hadn’t I”

Before she could answer he had closed the door. A moment later she heard the metallic whirr of the elevator. Sara stood quite still, letting his words sink in, weighing the nuances. Then a radiant smile lit her face. He had warned her not to trust him too much and because he had given her that warning it made her trust him all the more.

She began to hum softly as she pressed the button to start the dishwasher.

The message light was lit on Jordan’s phone when he returned to the suite. It was a request to return Pedro Marambas’s call.

Marambas picked up the receiver on the first ring. “Kemp’s flown the coop.”

Jordan gripped the receiver so tightly, his knuckles whitened. “When?”

“I’m not sure. Sometime earlier tonight.”

“Both you and the New York police were watching him. How could you let him slip away?”

Marambas didn’t answer for a moment. “We know we have egg on our faces. I’m not making excuses. The New York police blew it too. Kemp evidently got away clean, but that doesn’t mean he’s headed for California.”

“It doesn’t mean that he isn’t either,” Jordan said grimly. “Have the New York police notified the authorities here?”

“We think so.”

“Don’t think. Make sure,” Jordan said through his teeth. “And I want you to put a watch on the warehouse tonight.”

“We’ve alredy set up additional surveillance. We won’t let anything happen to Mrs. Bandor, sir.”

“You’d better not. You also assured me you wouldn’t let Kemp slip away.”

“He shouldn’t have been able to get past us. We were working very closely with the local police to avoid any confusion.” Marambas’s voice betrayed how puzzled he felt. “I don’t know how he did it. We’re damn good, Mr. Bandor.”

“So I understood when I hired you.” Jordan’s tone was acid with sarcasm. “You’d just better earn that reputation or I’ll find a way of blackening it from here to Hong Kong. I don’t want my wife so much as frightened by Kemp. Is that clear?”

“I can understand how upset you are but—”

“No, you can’t understand. There’s no way on earth you can imagine how upset I am, Marambas.” Or how frightened, Jordan thought desperately. Bone-chilling terror was icing through him, twisting his guts and making him physically ill. “Keep me informed.” He hung up the receiver.

Kemp. He had seen a picture of him in the newspaper and had been filled with a kind of wonder at how ordinary he appeared. Men who killed and mutilated young women should have
some hideous marks on their face. Kemp had only looked … vacant.

“God,” Jordan muttered, “don’t let him hurt Sara.” It would make no difference to Kemp how loving and giving she was, how she shone with a warmth that was as rare as it was beautiful. He wouldn’t care. He would see her only as a victim.

He turned abruptly from the phone and dropped into the easy chair beside the desk. He couldn’t let Kemp hurt her. No matter how high the personal price he had to pay, he couldn’t let Kemp get to Sara.

“You’re getting out of here.” Jordan strode past Sara into the loft. “I wasn’t able to get reservations for Sydney until the Qantas flight at ten tomorrow morning, but we’ll move you to my suite at the Fairmont until then. Where are your suitcases? I’ll help you pack.” He moved swiftly toward her bedroom area. “Kemp has slipped away from the New York police and is probably on his way here.”

“I know,” Sara said softly.

He whirled to face her. “How? Did the local police call you?”

She nodded. “Lieutenant Blaise phoned me a few hours ago. I guess I don’t have to ask how you found out. All those efficient detectives you have on your payroll. Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter any longer.” She smiled wryly. “Lieutenant Blaise
was very polite and apologized for waking me up. Needless to say, I didn’t go back to sleep after I hung up.”

“I can see you didn’t.” His gaze raked her pale face, noting the purple smudges beneath her eyes. He felt a tenderness so intense, it brought a lump to his throat. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you.” He turned away. “You don’t need to pack everything. I’ll have someone send your things on later. Just take enough to last you until—”

“No, Jordan.”

He glanced back over his shoulder. “For God’s sake, this has nothing to do with anything between us,” he said roughly. “I’m not suggesting you move in with me. Well, I am, but not in the sexual sense. I just want to keep you from getting your throat cut. After they’ve caught Kemp you can come back here and I’ll jump through any hoops you set up for me.”

“I don’t want you to jump through any hoops.” Her voice was low. “And I told you last night that I trusted you.”

“Then you’ll come with me?”

“I can’t,” she said wearily. “Heaven knows I want to come, but it’s not possible. Not right now.”

He gazed at her in disbelief. “It has to be now. You’ve got to get out of her. This place is an open invitation to Kemp.”

“That’s why I moved in here.”

He froze. “I beg your pardon.” Each word was
enunciated with great precision. “I don’t believe I heard you correctly.”

“The police were getting nowhere trying to dig up new evidence to convict Kemp, but they knew they had one last avenue to explore.” She gestured to herself. “Kemp’s psychological profile indicates that he probably would attempt to carry out his threat against me. So the New York police and the local authorities here decided to join forces and try to get him on an attempt charge if there was no other solution.”

“Bait,” he breathed softly. “My God, you’re letting them use you for bait.”

‘It’s the only way we can think of to get him off the streets. It’s only a matter of time before he kills again. He’s like a time bomb set to go off.” She shivered. “While I was doing that story I studied him. I know what Kemp is.”

“And you’ve set yourself up to go off with him when he explodes.”

“It won’t be like that.” Sara frowned. “Lieutenant Blaise is very competent. He assured me—”

“Don’t tell me about competence,” Jordan interrupted harshly. “Not when they’ve just let Kemp slip through their fingers …” He stopped as the realization dawned on him. “They
let
him go. Those idiots turned their backs and let him go.”

Sara nodded. “They considered it the best psychological moment. Kemp’s frustration has been steadily building and—”

“All very logical and cerebral,” Jordan bit out.
“Your Lieutenant Blaise has it worked out, hasn’t he? If Kemp does come and they manage to capture him before he murders you, he gets him on an attempt charge. And if he does murder you, he gets him on an even bigger rap. Either way the long arm of the law wins and everybody gets promotions. And I suppose
World Report
will be overjoyed to get the exclusive no matter who’s alive to write it.”

“It’s not like that. No one is forcing me to do this. I agreed of my own free will.” She made a face. “And Penny and Mac would have a fit if they knew I was involved in this situation.”

“Then tell the police you’ve changed your mind. Tell them you’re not going to play their little cat-and-mouse game.” He took a step nearer. “
Tell
them.”

She shook her head. “He’s killed four women, Jordan. Perhaps even more that we don’t know about yet. I can’t let him take another life.”

“It’s not your responsibility. It’s the police who—” He stopped. Her expression held absolute determination. “Okay, let them use you, but not like this. Move to my suite at the Fairmont. Don’t make it so easy for Kemp. Let me be there to protect you.”

“And endanger you? I couldn’t live with myself if I did that, Jordan.”

“You may not live at all if you—” He broke off, trying to get hold of himself, trying to subdue the terror rising within him. “Stop being so damn brave. Let me
help
you.”

“I’m not brave,” she whispered. “I’m scared to death. I watched his face in that courtroom for four solid weeks. He’s not sane, Jordan.”

He moved instantly to take advantage of any hint of weakness. “Then he probably won’t do what those nice logical policemen think he will. How can they protect you if they don’t know which way he’ll jump?”

She moistened her dry lips with her tongue. “Please, I’m frightened enough as it is. And I
will
do this, Jordan.”