Sanctuary

seen the print, Jo remembered as her stomach muscles fisted painfully. It had been only the two of them there, and he said he hadn’t seen it.
    “Does he know you came back to Sanctuary?”
    “Yes, I—” Jo cut herself off, closed her eyes. “Yes, he knows where I am. Oh, God, he knows where I am. I just talked to him this morning. He just called me.”
    “Why did he call you?” Lexy demanded. “What did he say to you?”
    “I’d left a message for him to get in touch with me. Something I ... I needed to ask him something. He got back to me today.”
    “Where was he calling from?” Kate flicked a quick glance over her shoulder.
    “I didn’t ask—he didn’t say.” With a supreme effort, Jo reined in the thudding fear. “It doesn’t make any sense for Bobby to have sent the prints. I’ve been working with him for months.”
    “That’s just the kind of relationship the police are going to be interested in,” Lexy insisted. “Who else knows where you are—that you’re sure of?”
    “My publisher.” Jo lifted a hand to rub her temple. “The post office, the super at my apartment building, the doctor who treated me at the hospital.”
    “That means anybody who wanted to know could find out. But Bobby stays top of the list.”
    “That makes me feel sick, sick and disloyal. And it’s logical.” Pausing, she squeezed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and fingers. “He’s good enough to have taken the shots—if he worked at it, took his time. He’s got a lot of potential. He still makes mistakes, though—rushes, or doesn’t make the right choices in the darkroom. That could explain why some of the photos aren’t as high-quality as others.”
    “What’s wrong with them?” Curious, Lexy slipped some of the prints out again.
    “Some of them have hard shadows, or the framing’s off. See here?” She pointed to the shadow falling over her shoulder in one. “Or this one. It’s not crisp, the tones aren’t well defined. Some are mottled in a way I’d say means he used fast film, then overenlarged. Or some are thin—underexposed negatives,” she explained. “And others just lack creativity.”
    “Seems pretty picky to me. You look good in most all of them.”
    “They aren’t as carefully composed, certainly not as artfully composed, as the others, as the ones taken in Charlotte or on Hatteras. In fact ...”—she began to frown as she went through them again, shot by shot—“if I’m remembering right, it looks to me as though the later the photo was taken, the less professional, the less creative it is. As if he’s getting bored—or careless.
    “See here, a first-year student with some talent and decent equipment could have taken this shot of me in the hammock. The subject is relaxed, unaware, the light’s good because it’s filtering through the trees. It’s an easy shot. It’s already laid out. But this one, the beach shot, he should have used a yellow filter to cut the glare, soften the shadows, define the clouds. That’s basic. But he didn’t bother. You lose texture, drama. It’s a careless mistake. He never made them before.”
    Quickly, she pulled photos out of the other envelope. “Here’s another beach shot, from Hatteras this time. Similar angle, but he used a filter, he took his time. The texture of the sand, the lift of my hair in the wind, the position of the gull just heading out over the waves, good cloud definition. It’s a lovely shot, really, a solid addition for a show or gallery, whereas the one from home is washed out.”
    “Was Bobby on assignment with you there? On Hatteras?”
    “No. I worked alone.”
    “But there’s a lot of people on Hatteras, compared to Desire. You might not have noticed him. Especially if he wore a disguise.”
    “A disguise. Oh, Lexy. Don’t you think I’d have clued in if I saw some guy walking around in Groucho glasses and a funny nose?”
    “With the right makeup, a wig, different body language, I could walk right up to you on the street and you wouldn’t recognize me. It’s not that hard to be someone else.” She smiled. “I do it all the time. It could have been this intern of yours or half a dozen people you know. Dye the hair, wear a hat, sunglasses. Put facial hair on or take it off. All we know for sure is that he was there, and he was here.”
    Jo nodded slowly. “And he could be back.”
    “Yeah.” Lexy put a hand over Jo’s. “But now we’re all going to be watching out for