Silent Run

stint in jail had left him with a cracked rib and a black eye. It probably wouldn't hurt to take a few days off.
    "You know what your weakness is?" Joe continued.
    "I'm sure you're going to tell me."
    "You're reckless. You forget that a good photographer stays on the right side of the lens." Joe reached behind his desk and grabbed a newspaper. "This was on the front page of the Examiner last week."
    Alex winced at the picture of himself being hustled into a police car in Colombia. "Damn that Cameron. He's the one who took that photo. I thought I saw that slimy weasel slinking in the shadows."
    "He might be a weasel, but he was smart enough to stay out of jail. Seriously, what are you thinking these days? It's as if you're tempting fate."
    "I'm just doing my job. A job that sells a lot of your magazines."
    "Take a vacation, Alex, have some beer, watch a football game, get yourself a woman -- think about something besides getting the next shot. By the way, the magazine is sponsoring a photography exhibit at the Legion of Honor. Your mother gave us permission to use the photographs taken by your father. You might want to stop by, take a look."
    Alex wasn't surprised to hear his mother had given permission. Despite the fact that she'd hated everything about his father's job while they were married, she had no problem living off his reputation now. In fact, she seemed to enjoy being the widow of the famous photojournalist who had died far too young. Alex was only surprised she hadn't pressed him to attend. That might have something to do with the fact that he hadn't returned any of her calls in the past month.
    "Why don't you check out the exhibit tonight?" Joe suggested. "The magazine is hosting a party with all the movers and shakers. I'm sure your mother will be there."
    "I'll pass," Alex said, getting to his feet. He needed to pick up his mail, air out his apartment, which was probably covered in six inches of dust, and take a long, hot shower. The last person he wanted to talk to tonight was his mother. He turned toward the door, then paused. "Is the photo of the Russian orphan girl part of the exhibit?"
    "It was one of your father's most famous shots. Of course it's there." Joe gave him a curious look. "Why?"
    Alex didn't answer. His father's words rang through Alex's head after twenty-five years of silence: Don't ever talk to anyone about that picture. It's important. Promise me.
    A day later Charles Manning was dead.
    * * *
    It didn't take Julia long to find the necklace tucked away in her jewelry box. As she held it in her hand, the white enamel swan sparkled in the sunlight coming through her bedroom window. The chain was short, made for a child. It would no longer fit around her neck. As she thought about how quickly time had passed, another wave of sadness ran through her, not just because of the fact that she'd grown up and couldn't wear the necklace, but because her mother, the one who had given it to her, was gone.
    "Julia?"
    She looked up at the sound of her younger sister's voice. Liz appeared in the doorway of the bedroom a moment later, the smell of fish clinging to her low-rise blue jeans and bright red tank top. A short, attractive brunette with dark hair and dark eyes, Liz spent most of her days working at the family restaurant, DeMarco's, a seafood cafe on Fisherman's Wharf. She'd dropped out of college a year ago to help take care of their mother and had yet to go back. She seemed content to waitress in the cafe and flirt with the good-looking male customers. Julia couldn't really blame Liz for her lack of ambition. The past year had been tough on both of them, and Liz found comfort working at the cafe, which was owned and run by numerous DeMarcos, including their father. Besides that, she was only twenty-two years old. She had plenty of time to figure out the rest of her life.
    "Did you set the date?" Liz asked, an eager light in her eyes.
    "Yes. They had a cancellation for December twenty-first."
    "Of this year? That's only a little over three months from now."
    Julia's stomach clenched at the reminder. "I know. It's really fast, but it was this December or a year from next March. Michael wanted December." And she hadn't been able to talk him out of it. Not that she'd tried. In fact, she'd been so distracted by the photograph she'd barely heard a word the wedding coordinator said.
    "A holiday wedding sounds romantic." Liz moved a pile of CDs so she could sit down on the bed. "More music, Julia?