Sanctuary (60 page)

On top of her neatly organized files was a stack of prints. Her head went light, her skin clammy as she stared down into her mother's face. She'd seen this print before, in another darkroom, in what almost seemed like another life. Over the roaring in her head, she could hear her own low moan as she reached out for it.

It was real. She could feel the slick edge of the print between her fingers. Breathing shallowly, she turned it over, read the carefully written title.

She bit back a whimper and forced herself to look at the next print. Grief swarmed over her, stinging like wasps. The pose was nearly identical, as though the photographer had sought to reproduce one from the other. But this was Ginny, her lively, friendly face dull and lax, her eyes empty.

“I'm sorry,” Jo whispered, pressing the print to her heart. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

The third print was certainly Susan Peters.

Jo shut her eyes, willed the sickness away, and gently set the third print aside. And her knees went to water.

The last print was of herself. Her eyes were serenely closed, her body pale and naked. Sounds strangled in her throat as she dropped the photo, backed away from it.

She groped behind her for the door, the adrenaline pumping through her, priming her to run. She backed sharply into the table, knocked the radio onto its side. Music jangled out, making her want to scream.

“No.” She fisted her hands, digging her nails into her palms until the pain cut through the shock. “I'm not going to let it happen. I'm not going to believe it. I won't let it be true.”

She rocked herself, counting breaths until the faintness passed, then grim and determined, she picked up the photo again.

Her face, yes. It was her face. Taken before Lexy had cut her hair for the bonfire. Several weeks, then. The bonfire had been at the very start of summer. She carried the photo closer to the light, ordered herself to study it with an objective and trained eye.

It took her only seconds of clear vision to realize that while the face was hers, the body wasn't. The breasts were too full, the hips too round. She set the photo of Annabelle beside it. Was it more horrifying, she wondered dully, to realize her face had been imposed on her mother's body? Making them one, she thought.

That's what he'd wanted all along.

 

 

BRIAN steered the Jeep down the maintenance road of the campground. Several of the sites had been left in disarray. With the way the storm was rolling in, he figured that wasn't going to matter much. The wind was already ripping like razors through the trees. A gust shook the Jeep around him, had him gripping the wheel tighter. He calculated they had perhaps an hour to finish preparations.

He had to fight not to hurry this check run. He wanted to get to Kirby, lock her safely inside Sanctuary. He'd have preferred shipping her off to the mainland, but knew better than to waste his breath or his energy arguing with her. If one resident stayed put to ride it out, she would stay put to treat any injuries.

Sanctuary had stood for more than a hundred years, Brian thought. It would stand through this.

There were dozens of other worries. They would undoubtedly be cut off from the mainland. The radio would help, but there would be no phone, no power, and no transportation once they were hit. He'd fueled the generator to provide emergency power, and he knew Kate kept an ample supply of bottled water.

They had food, they had shelter, they had several strong backs. And after Carla did her worst, strong backs were going to be a necessity.

He continued to tick off tasks and options in his mind, growing calmer as he assured himself there were no stragglers in the camping areas. He only hoped there weren't any idiots hiding out in the trees, or staking in near the beach, thinking a hurricane was a vacation adventure.

He cursed and stomped on the brakes as a figure stepped out on the road in front of the Jeep.

“Jesus Christ, you idiot.” Disgusted, Brian slammed out of the vehicle. “I damn near ran you over. Haven't you got the sense to stay out of the middle of the road, much less the path of an oncoming hurricane?”

“I heard about that.” His grin spread wide. “Amazing timing.”

“Yeah, amazing.” Resenting every second wasted, Brian jerked a thumb at the Jeep. “Get in, I might be able to get you down for the last ferry, but there isn't much time.”

“Oh, I don't know about that.” Still smiling, he lifted the hand he'd held behind his back and fired the gun.

Brian jerked back as pain exploded in his chest. He staggered, fought to keep the world from revolving. And as he fell, he saw the eyes of a childhood friend laughing.

“One down.” Using his boot, he nudged Brian's limp body over. “I appreciate the opportunity to fix the odds a bit, old pal. And the loan of the Jeep.”

As he hopped in, he gave Brian one last glance. “Don't worry. I'll see it gets back to Sanctuary. Eventually.”

 

 

RAIN began to lash at the windows as Kirby gathered medical supplies. She was dead calm as she tried to anticipate every possible need. If she was forced into triage, it would work best at Sanctuary. She'd already faced the very real possibility that the cottage might not survive the night.

She understood that most of the islanders would be too stubborn to leave their homes. By morning, there could be broken bones, concussions, gashes. The house trembled under a hard gust, and she set her jaw. She would be there to treat any and all injuries.

She was hefting a box, heading out to load it in her car, when her front door swung open. It took her a moment to recognize the figure in the yellow slicker and hood as Giff.

“Here.” She shoved the box into his arms. “Take this out, I'll get the next one.”

“Figured you'd be putting this kind of thing together. Make it fast. The bitch is coming in.”

“I've nearly got everything packed.” She pulled on her own slicker. “Where's Brian?”

“He was checking the campground. Isn't back yet.”

“Well, he should have been,” she snapped. Worry dogged her heels as she ran in for the rest of her supplies. The wind shoved her backward when she tried to step out on her porch. It whistled past her ears as she bent low and fought her way forward.

“You all secure here?” Giff shouted over the pounding of the surf. He grabbed the box from her and shoved it into the Jeep.

“As much as possible. Nathan helped me with it this morning. Is he back at the house?”

“No. Haven't seen him either.”

“For God's sake.” She pushed back her already streaming hair. “What in hell could they be doing? We're going by the campground, Giff.”

“We don't have a lot of time here, Kirby.”

“We're going by. Brian could be in trouble. This wind could have taken some trees down. If he wasn't at Sanctuary when you left, and you didn't pass him along the way here, he could still be over there. I'm not going in until I make sure.”

He yanked open the Jeep door and bundled her inside. “You're the doctor,” he shouted.

 

 

“GODDAMN son of a bitch.” Nathan beat the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. He'd loaded the most precious of his work and equipment into the Jeep, and now it wouldn't start. It didn't even have the decency to cough and sputter.

Furious, he climbed out, hissing as the rising wind slapped hard pricks of rain into his face. He hauled up the hood, cursed again. He didn't have time for the pretense of fixing whatever was wrong.

He needed to get to Jo and he needed to get to her now. He'd done everything else he could.

He slammed the hood down and, abandoning his equipment, began to trudge toward the river. He'd have to go a quarter of a mile upstream before he could cross, and the hike over to Sanctuary through the woods promised to be miserable.

He heard the ominous creak of trees being shoved and tortured by the wind, felt the hard hands of it playfully pushing him back as he lurched forward. Lightning snapped overhead, turning the sky to an eerie orange.

The wind stung his eyes, blurred his vision. He didn't see the figure step out from behind a tree until he was almost upon it.

“Christ, what the hell are you doing out here?” It took him nearly ten baffled seconds to see past the changes and recognize the face. “Kyle.” Horror tripped over shock. “My God, what have you done?”

“Hello, bro'.” As if they were meeting on a sunny street, Kyle offered a hand. And as Nathan shifted his gaze for a blink to stare at it, Kyle smashed the butt of the gun into his temple.

“Two down.” This time, he threw back his head and roared. The storm empowered him. The violence of it aroused him. “I didn't feel quite right about shooting my own brother, irritating bastard though he is, in what some would call cold blood.” He crouched down, whispering as if Nathan could hear. “The river's going to rise, you know, trees are going to go down. Whatever happens, bro', we'll just figure it's fate.”

He straightened and, leaving his brother lying on ground soaked with rain and blood, started off to claim the woman he'd decided belonged to him.

R
AIN gushed over the windshield of the Jeep, overpowering the wipers. The road was turning to mush under the wheels, so Giff had to fight for every yard of progress.

“We're heading in,” he told Kirby. “Brian's got more sense than to be out in this, and so do I.”

“Just take the west route back.” She prayed it was the storm making her heart thump and freezing her bones. “That's the way he'd have gone. Then we'll be sure.”

“South road's quicker.”

“Please.”

Abandoning his better judgment, Giff muscled the Jeep to the left. “If we get back in one piece, he's going to skin me for keeping you out here five minutes longer than necessary.”

“That's all it'll be, five extra minutes.” She leaned forward, struggling to see through the waterfall streaming down the windshield. “What is that? Something on the side of the road up ahead.”

“Probably some gear that fell out of somebody's camper. People were scrambling to get the hell off before—”

“Stop!” Shouting, she grabbed the wheel herself and sent them into a skid.

“Jesus Christ, you aiming to send us into a ditch? Hey—” Though he reached out to stop her, he only caught the tip of her slicker as she bolted out into the torrent of rain. “Goddamn women.” He shoved open the door. “Kirby, get back in here, this wind's liable to blow you clean to Savannah.”

“Help me, for God's sake, Giff! It's Brian!” Her frigid hands were already tearing open the bloody shirt. “He's been shot.”

 

 

“WHERE could they be?” While the wind pounded the walls, Lexy paced the main parlor. “Where could they be? Giff's been gone nearly an hour, and Brian twice that long.”

“Maybe they took shelter.” Kate huddled in a chair and vowed not to panic. “They might have decided not to try to get back and took shelter.”

“Giff said he'd be back. He promised.”

“Then he will be.” Kate folded her hands to keep from wringing them. “They'll be here in a minute. And they'll be tired and wet and cold. Lexy, let's go in and get coffee into thermoses before we lose power.”

“How can you think about coffee when—” She cut herself off, squeezed her eyes shut. “All right. It's better than just standing here. Windows all boarded, you can't even look out for them.”

“We'll get hot food, hot coffee, dry clothes.” Kate reeled off the practicalities, picking up a flashlight as a precaution as she took Lexy with her.

When they were gone, Jo rose. Her father stood across the room, his back to her, staring at the boarded-up window as if he could will himself to see through the plywood.

“Daddy, he's been in the house.”

“What?”

“He's been in the house.” She kept her voice calm as he turned. “I didn't want to say anything to Lexy and Kate yet. They're both frightened enough. I'd hoped they'd get on the last ferry, but with Brian still out ...”

Sam's stomach began to burn. “You're sure of this.”

“Yes. He left—he's been in my darkroom, sometime in the last two days. I can't be sure when.”

“Nathan Delaney's been in this house.”

“It's not Nathan.”

Sam kept his gaze hard and steady. “I'm not willing to take a chance on that. You go in the kitchen with Kate and Lexy, and you stay with them. I'll go through the house.”

“I'm going with you.”

“You're going to do what I tell you and go in the kitchen. Not one of you takes a step without the other two.”

“It's me he wants. If they're with me, they're only in more danger.”

“No one's going to touch anyone of mine in this house.” He took her arm, prepared to drag her into the kitchen if necessary. The front door burst open, letting in wild wind and flooding rain.

“Upstairs, Giff, get him upstairs.” Breathing fast, Kirby sidestepped to keep the pressure firm on Brian's chest as Giff staggered under his weight. “I need my supplies out of the Jeep. Now,” she ordered as Sam and Jo raced forward. “I need sheets, towels, I need light. Hurry. He's lost so much blood.”

Kate dashed down the hall. “God, sweet God, what happened?”

“He's been shot.” Kirby kept deliberate pace with Giff, never taking her eyes off Brian's face. “Radio the mainland, find out how long it'll take to get a helicopter in. We need to get him to a hospital, and we need the police. Hurry with the supplies. I've already lost too much time.”