11

WHEN THE PHONE RANG, Coltrane had trouble getting his muscles to work. Only after two more rings was he able to avert his eyes from the prints and pick up the phone. Concerned that Jennifer might have broken her word and decided to call, he kept his voice neutral, or tried to. The stress of having identified Duncan Reynolds made him hoarse. “Hello.”

“Not very enthusiastic.” Tash sounded mischievous. “I thought you’d be a little more pleased to hear from me.” Her tone was wonderfully sonorous.

“‘ Pleased’ is an understatement.”

“Did I wake you?”

“No. I’ve been working.” Coltrane frowned toward the prints. He continued to strain to adjust to what he had discovered.

“I’m sorry I took so long. I didn’t want to phone you until after I talked to Carl, but I’ve been ringing his number for the past hour and all I get is his answering machine.”

“That’s because he’s probably in a car up the street from me, watching my house.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Someone’s in a car up the street. It looks like the kind he drives.”

“Jesus,” Tash said. “I guess we were right to have me go home instead of to your place.”

“Maybe not. This time, he wouldn’t be catching me by surprise. Maybe I should go out there and-”

“No, there doesn’t have to be more trouble,” Tash said. “I think I can get him to calm down. I just need a chance to talk to him and make him understand that he got the wrong idea.”

“That’s something I’d like to understand, too,” Coltrane said. “What wrong idea are you talking about?”

“I promised to tell you, and I’m going to.”

“Then how about now?”

“No. Not like this. Not over the phone. I need to see your eyes. I need to make sure that you understand.”

“It’s that bad?”

“There’s nothing bad at all. But this is going to take awhile, and I remembered what you said about not using the cellular phone. Lyle and the state trooper are still with me. I had them drive me to a pay phone at a gas station on the Pacific Coast Highway. I’m not exactly where I can talk about this.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes. That’s another reason I’m calling. Do you have anything you can’t get away from for the next few days?”

“Only from seeing you.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment. “That gave me shivers.”

“The good kind, I hope.”

“In the right places. Can you meet me tomorrow morning at LAX?”

“LAX?” he asked in surprise.

“At the Delta counter? Nine-fifteen? That ought to give us enough time to buy our tickets and catch a ten-ten flight.”

“To where?”

“Acapulco. The estate I inherited. I can’t bear looking over my shoulder any longer. I want to get away to where no one knows who we are. Where no one can bother us – not Carl, not the creep who’s after me, nobody. Where it’s just the two of us. Where we can talk and swim and lie on the beach.”

“Sounds good.”

“Do other things.”

“Sounds better.”

“You’ll go?”

“Twist my arm.”

Tash laughed.

“I like it when you laugh,” Coltrane said.

“The only time I laugh is when you make me. Maybe in Mexico I’ll do more of it.”

“Delta. Nine-fifteen. I’ll bring the photographs I developed. I think I found something.”

“What?” Tash asked quickly.

“I’m still not sure what it means. A face. I’m curious if you’ll recognize it.”

“You think you found him?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s the best news.”

“I might be mistaken.”

“No. I’ve got a good feeling.”

12

COLTRANE TURNED OFF ALL THE LIGHTS IN THE HOUSE. Taking care that he couldn’t be seen, he peered past the blinds in his living room and surveyed the darkness outside. On the hill, a streetlight cast a glow, illuminating the upper part of the slope. The car was gone.

He couldn’t tell if he was relieved or more troubled.

ELEVEN

1

THE MOMENT THE DELTA AIRLINES 757 LIFTED OFF, its engines roaring, Tash said, “Let me see the photographs.”

But when Coltrane tried to lean forward to pick up the carrying case in the storage compartment under his feet, his seat belt prevented him. He started to unbuckle it, then thought better as the jet continued its steep climb. From his right-hand window seat, he noticed that they were passing above the yachts and sailboats at Marina del Rey. He had a painful mental image of Jennifer’s condominium down there. Saturday morning, she might be sitting on her balcony, drinking coffee, perhaps looking up at the jet flying over.

“I’d better wait until we level off,” he said.

“I could barely sleep for worrying that I wouldn’t be able to identify the face you’re suspicious about.”

“Identifying the face isn’t the problem. I already know who he is. The question is, will he look familiar to you?”

“You know who he is?”

“It came as a big surprise. In the photographs, there’s a man taking photographs of you. Randolph Packard’s assistant, Duncan Reynolds. Does that name mean anything to you?”

“No.” Confused, Tash searched her memory. “I don’t understand. What does Packard’s assistant have to do with me? Why would he single me out if I don’t know him?”

“Maybe you’ll soon have an answer.”

Glancing out the window again, Coltrane saw the gleam of sails on the wave-scudded ocean. Then the jet banked inland, heading south over the smog-shrouded L.A. basin. To the right, in the distance, he saw the tiny outline of Santa Catalina Island and was reminded that Packard’s mother and father had died in a sailing accident near there. Packard, then sixteen, had been the only survivor. According to his biographies, the family had just returned from a voyage to Mexico. Had they been to Acapulco, just as he and Tash were going there?

“The pilot isn’t climbing so steeply now,” Tash said.

His thoughts interrupted, Coltrane turned from the window and looked at her. Again, he was struck by her beauty. She had dressed casually: deck shoes, khaki pants, a yellow cotton pullover, and a linen jacket, it too khaki, the cuffs folded up. A turquoise necklace. Hardly any makeup, only subtle eyeliner that echoed something in the turquoise, and a touch of peach lipstick. But for all her casual appearance, she looked stunning.

“Yes.” He unbuckled his seat belt, leaned forward, and picked up the black case. When he opened it and handed her some of the photographs, he had never seen a more intense expression on anyone’s face.

“Which one?” Tash asked.

“I don’t want to prejudice you. I’m going to start with the first exposure I made. We’ll go through the locations in the order you visited them, starting with the Beverly Center.”

As Tash examined each one, she pursed her lips in concentration. “I don’t see anybody I recognize.”

“Here’s the next set.”

Again, Tash concentrated. “Nobody I recognize here, either.”

“No repeated faces?”

“None.”

She went through the third set with the same result. “There’s too much to pay attention to. I’m worried that I’m missing something.”

“Keep trying. Here’s the fourth set. We’re almost finished.”

Coltrane had put the photographs that troubled him into the middle, where they wouldn’t be conspicuous.

“Nope. Nothing on this one, either. And not on this one. And…” Words catching in her throat, Tash raised the next photograph, then went back to the three previous ones. Tensing, she looked at several of the next ones. “Him. The one with the camera.”

“I shouldn’t have mentioned the camera. It prejudiced you.”

“No. In fact, I went right by it. Your eyes for this are better than mine. But this man…” She tapped a face. “This man I recognize. He was with the attorney who came to my house and told me that Randolph Packard had included me in his will.”