"Well, isn't that handy?"
Jo's eyes widened. "Bobby? That's ridiculous."
"Why? You said he was your intern. That means he's a photographer too. He'd know how to use a camera, develop film. I bet he knew where you'd be and what your schedule was whenever you were on assignment."
"Of course, but-"
"Sometimes he went with you, didn't he?"
"As part of his training, sure."
"And maybe he has a thing for you."
"That's just silly. He had a little crush at first."
"Really?" Lexy lifted a brow. "Did you accommodate him?"
"He's twenty years old."
"So?" Lexy shrugged it off "Okay, you didn't sleep with him. He was a regular part of your life, he was attracted to you, he knew where you'd be, he knew your routine and he knew how to use a camera. Goes to the top of the short list, I'd say."
It was appalling, even more appalling than the faceless, nameless 'bilities. "He took care of me. He got me to the hospital."
possibly He said he hadn't 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 molded 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."