Sanctuary (54 page)

“You'd better start by calming yourself down,” she said evenly. “I'm of a mind that nothing happens to either of us. So we have to start thinking, and we have to start doing.”

“There are going to be rules, Jo. The first is that you don't go anywhere alone. You don't step off your own porch by yourself until this is over.”

“I'm not my mother, I'm not Ginny, I'm not Susan Peters. I'm not defenseless, or stupid or naive. I will not be hunted for someone's sport.”

Because a show of temper would only wound her pride and make her angry, he latched on to calm. “If necessary, I'll haul you off the island just the way I hauled you here tonight. I'll take you somewhere safe and I'll lock you in. All it'll take to avoid that unhappy event is your promise not to go anywhere alone.”

“You have an inflated image of your own capabilities.”

“Not in this case I don't.” He caught her chin in his hand. “Look at me, Jo. Look at me. You're everything. I'll take anything else, I'll face anything else, but I won't face losing you. Not again.”

She trembled once, not from anger or fear but from the swift, hard flood of emotion. “No one's ever loved me this much. I can't get used to it.”

“Practice—and promise.”

“I won't go anywhere by myself.” She let out a sigh. “This relationship business is nothing but a maze of concessions and compromises. That's probably why I've managed to avoid it all this time.” She sat back on her heels. “We're not going to stand around and just let things happen. I'm not the only woman on the island.” She trembled again. “I'm not Annabelle's only daughter.”

“No, we're not going to stand around and wait. I'm going to make some calls, gather any information on Kyle's accident that I might have missed before. I wasn't thorough. It wasn't an easy time, and I might have let something slip by.”

“What about his friends, his finances?”

“I don't know a lot about either. We weren't as close the last few years as we used to be.” Nathan rose to open the windows and let in the air. “We drifted into different places, became different people.”

“What kind of a person did he become?”

“He was ... I guess you'd call him a present-focused sort. He was interested in now—seize the moment and wring it dry. Don't worry about later, about consequences or payment. He never hurt anyone but himself.”

It was vitally important that she understand that. Just as important, Nathan realized, that he understand it himself. “Kyle just preferred the easy way, and if the easy way had a shortcut, all the better. He had a lot of charm, and he had talent. Dad was always saying if Kyle would put as much effort into his work as he did his play, he'd be one of the top photographers in the world. Kyle said Dad was too critical of his work, never satisfied, jealous because he had his whole life and career ahead of him.”

He paused, listened to the words replay in his head. And suffered their implication. Was it competition? A twisted need for the son to outdo the father? His head began to pound again, hard beats at the temples.

“I'll make the calls,” Nathan said flatly. “If we can eliminate that possibility, we can concentrate on others. Kyle might have gotten drunk, showed the photos to a friend, an associate.”

“Maybe.” It wasn't an area Jo wanted to push just then. “Whoever is responsible has a solid knowledge of photography, and quite a bit of skill. It's inconsistent, occasionally lazy, but it's skill.”

Nathan only nodded. She'd just described his brother perfectly.

“He would have to be doing his own developing,” she continued, relieved to be able to concentrate on practical steps. “Which means access to a darkroom. He must have had one in Charlotte, and then when he came down here, he'd have needed to arrange for another. The package I got here was mailed from Savannah.”

“You can rent darkroom time.”

“Yeah, and that might be what he did. Or he rented an apartment, a house, brought in his own equipment. Or bought new. He would have more control, wouldn't he, if it was his own place, his own equipment?” Her eyes met Nathan's. “That's what drives this. The control. He could go back and forth between the mainland and the island. He'd be in control.”

To control the moment, to manipulate the mood, the subject, the outcome. That is the true power of art
. His father's words, he remembered, neatly written on the page.

“Yes, it's about control. So we check photo supply outlets, find out if someone ordered equipment to outfit a darkroom and had it shipped to Savannah. It won't be easy, and it won't be quick.”

“No, but it's a start.” It was good to think, to have a tangible task. “He'd likely be alone. He needs the freedom to come and go as he pleases. He took pictures of me all over the island, so he's wandering around freely. We can keep our eye out for a man alone with a camera, though we're just as likely to jump some harmless bird-watcher.”

“If it was Kyle, I'd know him. I'd recognize him.”

“Would you, Nathan? If he didn't want you to? He'd know you're here. And he'd know that I've been with you. Annabelle Hathaway's daughter with David Delaney's son. There are some who might see that as coming full circle. And if that's so, I don't believe you're any safer than I am.”

J
O slept into midday and woke alone. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept until ten, or when she had enjoyed such a deep and dreamless sleep.

She wondered if she should have been restless, edgy, or weepy. Perhaps she'd been all of those things long enough, and there was no need to go on with them now that she knew the truth. She could grieve for her mother. And for a woman the same age as Jo was now who had faced the worst kind of horror.

But more, she could grieve for the years lost in the condemnation of a mother, a wife, a woman who had done nothing more sinful than catch the eye of a madman.

Now there could be healing.

“He loves me, Mama,” she whispered. “Maybe that's fate's way of paying us all back for being cruel and heartless twenty years ago. I'm happy. No matter how crazy the world is right now, I'm happy with him.”

She swung her legs over the side of the bed. Starting today, she promised herself, they were going to stand together and fight back.

IN the living room, Nathan finished up yet another call, this one to the American consulate in Nice. He hadn't slept. His eyes were gritty, his soul scorched. He felt as if he were running in circles, pulling together information, searching for any hint, any whisper that he'd missed months before.

And all the while he dealt with the dark guilt that his deepest hope was to confirm that his own brother was dead.

He looked up as he heard footsteps mounting his stairs. Working up a smile when he saw Giff behind the screen, he waved him in as he completed the call.

“Didn't mean to interrupt you,” Giff said.

“No problem. I'm finished, for now.”

“I was heading out to do a little work on Live Oak Cottage and thought I'd drop off these plans. You said how you wouldn't mind taking a look at the design I've been working up for the solarium at Sanctuary.”

“I'd love to see it.” Grateful for the diversion, Nathan walked over to take the plans and unroll them on the kitchen table. “I had some ideas on that myself, then I got distracted.”

“Well.” Giff tucked his tongue in his cheek as Jo walked out from the bedroom. “Understandable enough. Morning, Jo Ellen.”

She could only hope she didn't flush like a beet and compound the embarrassment as both men stared at her. She'd pulled on one of Nathan's T-shirts and nothing else. Though the bottom of it skimmed her thighs, she imagined it was obvious that she wore nothing under it.

This would teach her, she supposed, to follow the scent of coffee like a rat to the tune of the pipe. “Morning, Giff.”

“I was just dropping something off here.”

“Oh, well, I was just . . . going to get some coffee.” She decided to brazen it out and walked to the counter to pour a mug. “I'll just take it with me.”

Giff couldn't help himself. It was such a situation. And since he was dead sure Lexy would want all the details, he tried for more. “You might want to take a look yourself. Kate's got that bee in her bonnet about this sunroom add-on. You always had a good eye for things.”

Manners or dignity. It was an impossible decision for a woman raised on southern traditions. Jo did her best to combine both and stepped over to study the drawing. She puzzled over what appeared to be a side view of a long, graduated curve with a lot of neatly printed numbers and odd lines.

Nathan ordered himself to shift his attention from Jo's legs back to the drawing. “It's a good concept. You do the survey?”

“Yeah, me and Bill. He does survey work over to the mainland, had the equipment.”

“You know, if you came out at an angle”—he used his finger to draw the line—“rather than straight, you could avoid excavating over here, and you'd gain the benefit of using the gardens as part of the structure.”

“If you did that, wouldn't you cut off this corner, here? Wouldn't it make it tight and awkward coming out from the main house? Miss Kate'd go into conniptions if I started talking about moving doorways or windows.”

“You don't have to move any of the existing structure.” Nathan slid the side view over to reveal Giff's full view. “Nice work,” he murmured. “Really nice. Jo, get me a sheet of that drawing paper over there.” Nathan gestured absently. “I've got men in my firm who don't have the skill to do freehand work like this.”

“No shit?” Giff forgot Jo completely and goggled at the back of Nathan's head.

“You ever decide to go back for that degree and want to apprentice, you let me know.”

He picked up a pencil and began to sketch on the paper Jo had put in front of him. “See, if you hitch it over this way, not so much of an angle as a flow. It's a female house, you don't want sharp points. You keep it all in the same tone as the curve of the roof, then instead of lining out into the gardens, it pours through them.”

“Yeah, I see it.” He realized that his working drawing seemed stiff and amateurish beside the artist's. “I couldn't think of something like that, draw like that, in a million years.”

“Sure you could. You'd already done the hard part. It's a hell of a lot easier for somebody to look at good, detailed work and shift a couple of things around to enhance it than it is to come up with the basic concept in the first place.”

Nathan straightened, contemplated his quick sketch through narrowed eyes. He could see it, complete and perfect. “Your way might suit the client better. It's more cost-effective and more traditional.”

“Your way's more artistic.”

“It isn't always artistic that the client wants.” Nathan put his pencil down. “Anyway, you think about it, or show the works to Kate and let her think about it. Whichever choice, we can do some refining before you break ground.”

“You'll work with me on it?”

“Sure.” Without thinking, Nathan picked up Jo's coffee mug and drank. “I'd like to.”

Revved, Giff gathered up the drawings. “I think I'll just swing by and drop these off for Miss Kate now. Give her some time to mull it over. I'm really obliged, Nathan.” He tugged on the brim of his cap. “See you, Jo.”

Jo leaned against the counter and watched as Nathan got another sheet of drawing paper. Finishing off her coffee, he started another sketch.

“You don't even know what you just did,” she murmured.

“Hmm. How far is that perennial bed with the tall blue flowers, the spiky ones? How far is that from the corner here?”

“Nope.” She got herself another mug. “You don't have a clue what you've done.”

“About what? Oh.” He looked down at the mug. “Sorry. I drank your coffee.”

“Besides that—which I found both annoying and endearing.” She slid her arms around his waist. “You're a good man, Nathan. A really good man.”

“Thanks.” Normality, he promised himself. Just for an hour, they would take normality. “Is that because I didn't give you a little swat on the bottom when you strolled out here in my shirt—even though I wanted to?”

“No, that just makes you a smart man. But you're a good one. You didn't see his face.” She lifted her hands to his cheeks. “You didn't even notice.”

At sea, he shook his head. “Apparently I didn't. Are you talking about Giff ?”