Sanctuary (37 page)

“That would be nice. Kate, I'm really on my way out.”

“Sorry.” She stuck the pencil back behind her ear and smiled distractedly. “Lost my train again. I've been doing that all morning. I've got your mail here. I was going to drop it off in your room, then the phone rang and I haven't budged from this spot in two hours.”

As if to punctuate the statement, the phone jingled again, and behind her the second line beeped, signaling an incoming fax. “If it's not one thing, it's two, I swear. There you go, honey, you got a package there.” She picked up the phone. “Sanctuary Inn, may I help you?”

Jo heard nothing but the beehive buzz in her own ears. She stepped forward slowly, could feel the air around her thickening like water. The manila envelope felt stiff in her hand when she reached for it. Her name had been printed on it in block letters in thick black marker.

The warning in the corner stated clearly: PHOTOS. DO NOT BEND.

Don't open it, she told herself. Throw it in the trash. Don't look inside. But her fingers were already tearing at the seal, ripping open the flap. She didn't hear Kate's exclamation of surprise as she upended the envelope, shaking the photographs out onto the floor. With a little keening sound, Jo dropped to her knees, shoving through them, pushing one after another aside in a desperate search for one. The one.

Without hesitation, Kate hung up on the reservation she was taking and rushed around the desk. “Jo, what is it? Jo Ellen, what's wrong? What is all this?” she demanded, holding Jo under one arm as she stared at dozens of pictures of her young cousin.

“He's been here. He's been here. Here!” Jo scrambled through the photos again. There she was, walking on the beach. Asleep in the hammock, on the edge of the dune swale, setting up her tripod at the salt marsh.

But where was the one? Where was the one?

“It's got to be here. It's got to.”

Alarmed, Kate hauled Jo up to her knees and shook her. “Stop it. Now. I want you to stop it this minute.” Because she recognized the signs, she dragged Jo over to a chair, pushed her into it, then shoved her head between her knees. “You just breathe. That's all you do. Don't you go fainting on me. You sit right there, you hear me? You sit right there and don't you move.”

She rushed into the bathroom to run a glass of water and dampen a cloth. When she dashed back in, Jo was just as she'd left her. Relieved, Kate knelt down and laid the cold cloth on the back of Jo's neck.

“There now, just take it easy.”

“I'm not going to faint,” Jo said dully.

“That's fine news to me, I'll tell you. Sit back now, slowly, drink a little water.” She brought the glass to Jo's lips herself, held it there, grateful when color gradually seeped back into them. “Can you tell me what this is all about now?”

“The photos.” Jo sat back, closed her eyes. “I didn't get away. I didn't get away after all.”

“From what, honey? From who?”

“I don't know. I think I'm going crazy.”

“That's nonsense.” Kate made her voice sharp and impatient.

“I don't know that it is. It's already happened once.”

“What do you mean?”

She kept her eyes closed. It would be easier to say it that way. “I had a breakdown a few months ago.”

“Oh, Jo Ellen.” Kate eased down onto the arm of the chair and began to stroke Jo's hair. “Why didn't you tell me you'd been sick, honey?”

“I just couldn't, that's all. Everything just got to be too much and I couldn't hold on anymore. The pictures started to come.”

“Pictures like these?”

“Pictures of me. Just pictures of my eyes at first. Just my eyes.” Or her eyes, she thought with a shudder. Our eyes.

“That's horrible. It must have frightened you so.”

“It did. Then I told myself someone was just trying to get my attention so I'd help them break into photography.”

“That's probably just what it was, but it was a terrible way to do it. You should have gone to the police.”

“And tell them that someone was sending me, a photographer, pictures?” Jo opened her eyes again. “I thought I could handle it. Just ignore it, just deal with it. Then an envelope like that one came in the mail. Full of pictures of me, and one ... one I thought was of someone else. But it wasn't,” Jo said fiercely. She was going to accept that. If nothing else, she was going to accept that one thing.

“I imagined it. It wasn't there at all. Just those pictures of me. Dozens of them. And I fell apart.”

“Then you came back here.”

“I had to get away. I thought I could get away. But I can't. These are from here, right here on the island. He's been right here, watching me.”

“And these are going to the police.” Simmering with fury, Kate rose to snatch up the envelope. “Postmark's Savannah. Three days ago.”

“What good will it do, Kate?”

“We won't know that till we do it.”

“He could still be in Savannah, or anywhere else. He could be back on the island.” She ran her hands through her hair, then let them drop into her lap. “Are we going to ask the police to question everyone with a camera?”

“If necessary. What kind of camera?” Kate demanded. “Where and how were they developed? When were they taken? There ought to be a way of figuring some of that out. It's better than sitting here being scared, isn't it? Snap your backbone in place, Jo Ellen.”

“I just want it to go away.”

“Then
make
it go away,” Kate said fiercely. “I'm ashamed you'd let someone do this to you and not put up a fight.” Kate snatched up a photo, held it out. “When was this taken? Look at it, figure it out.”

Jo's stomach churned as she stared at it. Her palms were damp as she reached out and took the photo. The shot was slightly out of focus, she noted. The angle of light was poor, casting a bad shadow across her body. He was capable of much better work, she thought, then let out a long breath. It helped to think practically, even to critique.

“I think he rushed this one. The marsh at this spot is fairly open. Obviously he didn't want me to know he was taking pictures, so he hurried through it.”

“Good. Good girl. Now when were you down there last?”

“Just a couple of days ago, but I didn't take the tripod.” Her brow furrowed as she concentrated. “This had to be at least two weeks back. No, three. Three weeks ago, I went out at low tide to do some studies of the tidal pools. Let me see another print.”

“I know it's difficult for you, but I like this one.” Kate tried a bolstering smile as she offered Jo a photo of herself cradled in Sam's lap. Shade dappled over them in patterns, making the study almost dreamy.

“The campground,” Jo murmured. “The day I was locked in the showers and Daddy let me out. It wasn't kids. The bastard. It wasn't kids, it was him. He locked me in there, then he waited around and he took this.”

“That was the day Ginny went missing, wasn't it? Nearly two weeks now.”

Jo knelt on the floor again, but she wasn't panicking now. Her hands were steady, her mind focused. She went through photo by photo, coolly. “I can't be sure of each and every one, but those I can pinpoint were all taken at least that long ago. So I'll assume they all were. Nothing in the last two weeks. He's held on to them. He's waited. Why?”

“He needed time to print them, to select them. To decide which ones to send. He must have other obligations. A job. Something.”

“No, I think he's very flexible there. He had pictures of me on assignment at Hatteras, and others of me in Charlotte. Day-to-day stuff. He isn't worried about obligations.”

“All right. Get your purse. We're going to get the boat and go over to the mainland. We're taking this, all of this, to the police.”

“You're right. That's better than sitting here being afraid.” Very carefully she slipped photo after photo back into the envelope. “I'm sorry, Kate.”

“For what?”

“For not telling you. For not trusting you enough to tell you about what happened.”

“And you should be.” She reached out a hand to help Jo to her feet. “But that's done now, and behind us. From now on you and everyone else in this house are going to remember we're a family.”

“I don't know why you put up with us.”

“Sweetie pie,” Kate smiled and patted Jo's cheek, “there are times when I wonder the selfsame thing.”

“
H
EY, where y'all going?” Lexy spotted Kate and Jo as they stepped out the side door. Her eyes were bright, her smile brilliant. She was nearly dancing.

“Jo and I have to run over to the mainland on some business,” Kate began. “We'll be back by—”

“I'm going with you.” Lexy raced through the door, zipping by before Kate could grab her arm.

“Lexy, this isn't a pleasure trip.”

“Five minutes,” Lexy called back. “It's only going to take me five minutes to get ready.”

“That girl.” Kate heaved a sigh. “She's always wanting to be someplace she's not. I'll go tell her she has to stay behind.”

“No.” Jo tightened her grip on the pair of envelopes she held. “Under the circumstances it might be better if she knows what's going on. I think, until we find out something more, she needs to be careful.”

Kate's heart skipped a beat, but she nodded. “I suppose you're right. I'll tell Brian we're going. Don't you worry, sweetie.” Kate flicked a hand over Jo's hair. “We're going to take care of this.”

BECAUSE she was afraid of being left behind, Lexy was true to her word. She knew Kate would have balked at the little shorts she'd had on, so she changed in record time to thin cotton pants. She brushed her hair out, tied it back in a mint-green scarf in anticipation of the boat trip. On the drive to Sanctuary's private dock north of the ferry, she freshened her makeup and chattered.

Jo's ears were ringing by the time they boarded the reliable old cabin cruiser.

Once there had been a glossy white boat with bright red trim. The
Island Belle
had been her father's pride and joy, Jo remembered. How many times had the family piled into it, to sail around the island, to streak out over the waves, to take an impromptu run to the mainland for ice cream or a movie?

She remembered steering it, standing on her father's feet to give her a little more height, with his hands laid lightly over hers on the wheel.

But Sam had sold it the year after Annabelle went away. All the replacements since had gone unnamed. The family no longer took dizzying rides together.

Still, Jo knew the routine. She checked the fuel while Lexy and Kate released the lines. Automatically she adjusted her stance to accommodate the slight sway at the dock. Her hands took the wheel easily, and she smiled when the engine caught with a kick and a purr.

“Daddy still keeps her running smooth, I see.”

“He overhauled the engine over the winter.” Kate took a seat, and her agitated fingers twisted the gold chain that draped over her crisp cotton blouse.

She would let Jo pilot, she thought. It would help her stay calm. “I've been thinking the inn should invest in a new one. Something spiffier to look at. We could offer tours around the island, stop off at Wild Horse Cove, Egret Inlet, that sort of thing. 'Course that means we'd have to hire on a pilot.”

“Daddy knows the island and the water around it better than anyone,” Jo pointed out.

“I know.” Kate shrugged her shoulders. “But whenever I bring that up, he mutters under his breath and finds something else he has to do. Sam Set-in-His-Ways Hathaway is not an easy man to move.”

“You could tell him how he'd be able to keep an eye on things better if he was in charge.” Jo glanced at the compass, set her heading, and started across the sound. “He could make sure people didn't trample the vegetation or upset the ecosystem. Put someone else on it, they're not going to care as much, be as vigilant.”

“It's a good angle.”

“You buy a new boat, he'll have a hard time resisting it.” Lexy readjusted the knot in her scarf. “Then you mention how you need to find the right pilot—not only one who's experienced and competent, but somebody who understands the fragility of the environment and how it needs to be explained to the tourists so they understand why Desire has stayed pure all these years.”