“No.” Jo shook her head. “No, she’s right. You’re right,” she said to Lexy, taking a good long look at the sister she’d allowed herself to think of as fluff. This time what she saw was substance. “And you’re asking the right questions—ones I never thought to ask myself. When I go to the police, they’re going to ask the same ones.”
“I expect they are.”
“Okay.” Jo let out an unsteady breath. “Help me out.”
“That’s what I’m doing. Let’s sit down.” She took Jo’s arm, sat with her. “Now, first think about the men.”
“There aren’t many. I don’t draw them like bees to honey.”
“You would if you wanted to, but that’s another problem.” Lexy waved it away with a flick of her hand. Something to be solved later. “Maybe there’s one you come into contact with regularly. You don’t pay much attention, but you see him, he sees you.”
“The only man I see regularly is my intern. Bobby was the one who took me to the hospital. He was there when the last package came in the mail.”
“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 possibilities. “He took care of me. He got me to the hospital.”
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.”
