Sanctuary(60)

He looked at their )'sined hands. Hers was slim and white-her mother's hand, he thought with unbearable sadness. But he looked at her face, and saw his daughter. "I used to be pretty good at it, I guess."

"You were great at it. You still are."

Because his hand suddenly felt clumsy, he let hers go and stepped back. "I'll put the things away, then we'll head home. You probably just need some breakfast."

No, Jo thought as she watched him walk away. she needed her fa their. And until that moment, she hadn't had a clue just how much.

wasn't in a culinary mood any longer. Even the thought of food curdled in her stomach. she would go out alone, she decided. Over to the salt marsh, or down to the beach. If she'd had the energy she would have raced down and tried to catch the morning ferry back to the mainland. she could have lost herself in the crowds in Savannah for a few hours.

she washed her face with icy water, pulled a fielder's cap over her hair. But this time when she passed the darkroom she was compelled to go in, to open the file drawer, dig out the envelope. Her hands trembled a little as she spread the pictures out on her workbench.

But the photograph of Annabelle hadn't magically reappeared. There was just Jo, shot after shot. And eyes, those artfully cropped studies of her eyes. Or Annabelle's eyes. How could she be sure?

There had been a photograph of her mother. There had been. A death photo. she couldn't have imagined it. No one could imagine such a thing. It would make her insane, it would mean she was delusional.

And she wasn't. Couldn't be. she'd seen it, goddamn it, it had been there.

With a snap of will she forced herself to stop, to close her eyes, to count her breaths, slowly, in and out, in and out, until her heart stopped dancing in her chest.

she remembered too clearly that sensation of cracking apart, of losing herself. she would not let it happen again.

The photo wasn't there. That was fact. It had existed. That was fact, too. So someone had taken it. Maybe Bobby had realized it upset her and gotten rid of it. Or someone else had broken into her apartment while she was in the hospital and taken it away. Whoever had sent it had come back and taken it away.

Briskly, Jo stuffed the photos back in the manila envelope. she didn't care how crazy that sounded, she was holding on to that idea. Someone was playing a cruel joke, and by obsessing over it, she was letting them win.

she stuffed the envelope back in the file drawer, closed it with a slam, and walked away.

But she could confirm or eliminate one possibility with a single phone call. Hurrying back to her room, she pulled her address book out of the desk and thumbed through quickly. she would ask, that was all, she told herself as she dialed the number of the apartment Bobby Banes shared with a couple of college friends. she could keep it casual and just ask if he'd taken the print.

Her nerves were straining by the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Bobby?"

"No, this is Jack, but I'm available, darling."

"This is Jo Ellen Hathaway," she said crisply. "I'd like to speak to Bobby."

"Oh." There was the sound of a throat clearing. "Sorry, Miss Hathaway, I thought it was one of Bobby's ah, well ... He's not here."

"Would you ask him to get in touch with me? I'll give you a number where I can be reached."

"Sure, but I don't know when he'll be back exactly, or exactly where he is, either. He took off right after finals. Photo safari. He was really hot to put together some new prints before next semester."

"I'll leave you the number in any case," she said and recited it. "If he checks in, pass that along, will you?"

"Sure, Miss Hathaway. I know he'd like to hear from you. He's been worried about ... I mean, wondering. He's been wondering about continuing his internship with you in the fall. Urn, how's it going?"

There was no doubt in her mind that Bobby's roommate knew about her breakdown. she'd hoped, but hadn't expected, otherwise. "It's going fine, thanks." Her voice was cool, cutting off the possibility of deeper probing. "If you hear from Bobby, tell him it's important that I speak with him."

"I'll do that, Miss Hathaway. Ah-"

"Good-bye, Jack." she hung up slowly, closed her eyes.

It didn't matter that Bobby had shared her problem with his friends. she couldn't let it matter, couldn't let herself be embarrassed . It was too much to expect him to have kept it to him or upset over it.

self when his trainer went crazy on him one morning and was carted off to the hospital.

Her pride would just have to stand it, she decided. Shaking off the clinging shame, she headed downstairs. With any luck, Bobby would call within the next couple of weeks. Then she'd have at least one answer.