Legend of the Sorcerer (5 page)

Jordy juggled the papers to one arm and shook his hand. She couldn’t imagine those long, graceful fingers punishing
someone’s skin. Stroking it maybe. She shook his hand quickly and let it go. “Jordy.” Her guard lowered slightly when he didn’t push for more.

“I guess I’ll go back to the ZippySnap and see what they can remember.”

Jordy made an instant decision. “Maybe I can help.” She didn’t like the shuttered look that returned to his eyes. “Let me put this stuff away, then we can grab a drink in the hotel restaurant. Ten minutes?”

He nodded, but the smile didn’t return.

Cai watched Jordy walk into the restaurant fifteen minutes later. The place was relatively quiet, but she’d be hard to miss, even in a crowd. She might be short, her figure nothing to write home about, but she had a definite presence.

She certainly didn’t seem like the type of wacko who could have produced those letters. She was obviously not the victim, but she’d kept something from him.

“I’m sorry, I took a bit longer than I planned.”

“Not a problem. I hope you don’t mind, I ordered iced tea. I’ll be glad to get you something—”

She waved him silent as she settled in her chair. “Tea is fine.” She was wearing a bright green tank top dress that set off her eyes and hair perfectly. He wondered if she was the type to plan out those sorts of details. He didn’t think so. No makeup to speak of, apparently unconcerned about the light scattering of freckles from the sun. Her hair was cut Audrey Hepburn short, windblown and unfussy. She wore several tiny silver studs in each ear. Earthy, he thought again. Uncomplicated. And an artist, she’d said. He looked at her hands. Slender fingers, short nails, no polish, just a slender silver thumb ring she was nervously toying with.

“So, do I pass muster?” She smiled. “I tried to get the magic marker off my hands, but—” She flipped her hands over to reveal a purple streak on one palm and shrugged.

Definitely not the calculated sort. “I didn’t mean to stare. Occupational hazard.”

“Let me guess. Psychologist? Police sketch artist?”

The smile came naturally. “I’m a writer. I have a tendency to observe people—it’s sort of a byproduct of characterization. Usually I’m not so obvious.”

“And I’m guessing now that you’re famous and I’m the only person on the planet who didn’t recognize your name.”

“Not hardly. I mean, I’m known pretty well around here, but I’m not Stephen King.” His smile stretched to a grin. “Not yet anyway.”

“I’m not a horror fan anyway. What do you write?”

“Fantasy.”

“Ah, that explains it then. I’m more a mystery and suspense reader.” She paused. “And romance. I’m a sucker for a happy ending.”

“Aren’t we all?”

She tilted her head. “You know, I might like your books.”

She was refreshingly natural. Cai found himself wishing they’d met under different circumstances. He’d come here looking for a victim or a nutcase. He hadn’t expected to find her. It had been a long time since he’d found himself attracted to someone. Too long, perhaps. Thank God Alfred wasn’t here. But there was still the matter of what she hadn’t told him. “If you can be of any help to me in this other mess, I’ll personally sign and deliver any book of your choice.”

She sobered. “First, I need you to explain something. If you dropped the film off, then why don’t you know what’s in the pictures?”

“I didn’t take them. I was just picking them up.” He noticed she was twirling her ring again. He realized something. “You lied, didn’t you? About not having my pictures. Tell me what you saw, Jordy.”

She sat back in her chair, not saying anything.

“If you really got them by mistake, you’ve involved yourself in something potentially dangerous. Just get them for me and you can be done with this whole thing.”

“I didn’t lie. Not technically. I don’t have them.”

“But you did.” She nodded. “What did you do with them?”

“I gave them to the police.”

“You did what? Why?” He waved his hand impatiently. “Skip that for a minute. If this was a simple mix-up, why didn’t you just take them back to the photo shop?”

“I did. They looked through the other envelopes, not too well I guess. I was really concerned that the ones I returned find the right owner. As I was leaving, I saw the clerk ditch the envelope in the trash. So, I took them back.”

“Why?”

“Listen, I drove all the way back down here to make sure she got them back. I couldn’t just abandon her like that, could I?”

“Drove back from where? I thought you worked here? And her who?”

“The woman in the photos.”

So it was real. Sweet Christ. There was a sick knot in his stomach. “Who is she?”

“I don’t know. But she’d been beaten. Badly beaten.”

Proof. They had proof. The threat was real.

Jordy leaned forward. “Do you know her?”

“No,” he murmured.

“Well, I didn’t know what else to do. So I went to the police. The officer seemed pretty outraged. I’m sure he’s doing all he can.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“For all I knew, you could have been the one who beat her up.”

He stared at her. “What?” Then he shook his head. “Never mind. I’ve got to get over to the police station.” He pulled his wallet out and threw some bills on the table.

“Wait, if you don’t know her, how do you fit in?”

“Someone is threatening me.” He headed for the door.

She caught up to him as he was unlocking his helmet from his motorcycle. “Let me come with you.”

“You got your pictures back. I can take it from here.”

“What about my book?”

“What?”

“You promised me a book.”

She wanted a damn book?

“I’ll have one sent over,” he snapped and straddled his bike.

She grabbed his arm. “I’m sorry, that was stupid. It’s just that I don’t want to walk away. All I’ve done for the past two days is worry about this woman. You can’t cut me out now. At least let me come to the station with you.”

He frowned but he didn’t refuse.

“They’ll probably be suspicious too. I mean, your name
was
on that envelope. I can vouch for you, help explain. I’ll follow you over in my car.” She didn’t wait for him to reply, but ran for her car.

Swearing, he tugged on his helmet, gunned the engine, and peeled out of the lot in a cloud of smoke and gravel.

J
ordy waited in the tiny reception area while Cai made some calls from Sgt. Winston’s desk. She knew the rest of the story now, though there wasn’t much more to it. They still didn’t know who the kidnapped woman was, or who was threatening Cai.

She doodled on a legal pad as she mulled over the whole thing. Cai was arranging to turn over the e-mails. The police were polite, but they’d made it clear he would probably face more questions. They didn’t seem to think Cai was directly involved, but Jordy knew they weren’t done pursuing him as a suspect either. To make it worse, the State Department would be brought into it because the e-mails were being sent from out of the country.

She angled her hand and made broad strokes across the paper. She’d just crawled out from two years of hell. What new hell had she gotten herself involved in here? The police had assured her they believed she was an innocent bystander, but she would likely be questioned by the State Department agents along with Cai. Did she regret her decision to come back? No. She had done her best to help that poor woman. She’d do it again. Her good deed had already been repaid. In returning to the Keys she’d discovered a path that might lead her to her own salvation.

“You didn’t have to wait for me.”

Cai’s deep voice startled her from her thoughts. She looked up to find him towering over her. His expression was grim, those distinctive eyes looked weary.

“Did they tell you anything else?”

He shook his head and held the door for her.

“It all seems so hard to believe. I mean, to get so crazed over one person like that.” She held up her hand. “No offense.”

“None taken. It seems bizarre to me too.” He seemed lost in his own thoughts. “Terrifyingly so.”

“I’m sure the agents will be able to trace those e-mails back to the person responsible.” She wasn’t sure of any such thing, but she felt compelled to erase that helpless look in his eyes. There were many times during the past two years when something as simple as a kind word would have meant the world to her. “They’ll find her. She’ll be okay.”

“For her sake, I hope so.”

“For both your sakes.”

Jordy could think of nothing else to add, but she was reluctant to let him go. She felt as if they were in this together and it didn’t seem right to just go back to her own life, never to speak to him again.

“Let me give you my number at the hotel. So if you hear anything, you can—”

“The police will let you know.”

He obviously didn’t have the same feelings of connectedness she did. And why would he? Feeling foolish, she stepped back. “Well, then, I guess this is good-bye. I’m glad we were able to piece together at least this much of the puzzle.”

He nodded and pulled his helmet off the bike.

It wasn’t until she went to get her keys that she realized she’d taken the legal pad with her. She smiled ruefully. “Now I’m stealing. And from the police.” She tore the top
page off and turned to go back inside. She was surprised when he grabbed her arm and pulled her back toward him.

“Wait a minute. Can I see that?”

His fingers felt hard against her skin. She liked it, liked the confidence in his touch. She slid her arm free. “This?” She lifted the pad.

He shook his head and reached for the sheet she’d torn off. “This.”

She glanced down as he smoothed the crinkled paper against the shiny black surface of his helmet. She hadn’t really been paying attention to her doodling. A dragon.

Her hand tightened on the legal pad. It seemed so ridiculous. But it was the first thing she’d drawn in months. It was far from great, or even good.

Maybe focusing her energy on something other than art and the damn court case had let her subconscious work through some barriers. She wanted to go off by herself somewhere and revel in this first breakthrough.

No. Being tucked away with her art all the time was what had got her into the mess with Suzanne in the first place. She liked being alone with her art and didn’t think that would change. But she’d promised herself she’d find a balance between art and life.

“It’s perfect,” he said, still staring at it.

His words brought her back to the moment with a laugh. “I wouldn’t go that far.” She shrugged off his compliment when what she wanted to do was dance. “It’s a habit of mine when I’m distracted.”

“I thought you weren’t into fantasy.”

It was the first time he’d really looked at her since they’d been in the hotel restaurant. His full, focused attention was a powerful thing. And something about the way he said the word “fantasy” made her insides heat up.

She cleared her throat. “In reading, no, I’m not.”

“Yet, you like dragons?”

“Adore them. Always have.”

He arched a brow in silent question.

“It’s hard to explain,” Jordy began.

“Please. Try.”

There was an urgency to his voice that she didn’t understand. Malacai L’Baan was turning out to be a very compelling man. “Conjuring up dragons and wizards, griffins and other fantastical creatures is what I do for a living. Or did anyway. I’m a sculptor.”

His pupils flared. Now she felt that connected feeling went both ways. It was intimidating.

She paused, trying to find the right words. “I tried to read a couple of fantasy novels when I was younger. The artwork on some of the covers is exceptional. But … I don’t know. I guess I couldn’t get lost in other people’s worlds. I was too lost in my own. Does that make sense to you?” She hoped she hadn’t insulted him, but one look in his eyes told her that he understood. Perhaps, too much.

“Could I pay you for this?” He lifted the drawing.

The question shocked her. She laughed. “Pay me? For that?” She looked from the sketch to him. “What do you want it for?”

He was studying the drawing once again. Oddly, she felt the attention to her sketch as intimately as if he were studying her. And perhaps he was.

He looked up. “It’s my dragon.”

“
Your
dragon?”

“Well, the dragon in here.” He tapped his forehead. “I can create complex, highly detailed worlds with words, but I must admit that I cannot draw a straight line, or a curved one for that matter. I’ve been trying to get across to my editor and the art department the dragon I want on my next cover. They kept sending me sketches of these fierce, soulless dragons. I needed one with heart.” He lifted his shoulders in a helpless gesture she found endearing. It so
contrasted his intensity. “I wanted something
there
in his eyes, some sense of the ability to feel some ancient wisdom.” He looked down at the drawing. “You’ve captured it here.”

“It’s just a crude sketch.” But there was no denying the nice buzz his praise gave her. It had been a long time since her work was looked at as something other than a generalized legal summation.