Sanctuary

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