Sanctuary (16 page)

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Authors: Nora Roberts

BOOK: Sanctuary
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“The snazzy little convertible there. That's Kirby's. Just park behind it.”
“Right.” Jo maneuvered the Land Rover into position and found when she cut the engine that the air was full of sound. The humming and peeping and rustling of the little world hidden behind the dunes and beyond the edge of the forest. It was ripe with scent as well, water and fish and damp vegetation.
She climbed out of the car, relieved to step into so much life.
“Jo Ellen!”
Kirby dashed out of the dark and grabbed Jo in a hard hug. Quick, spontaneous embraces always caught Jo off guard. Before she could steady herself, Kirby was pulling back, her hands still firm on Jo's arms, her smile huge and delighted.
“I'm so glad you came! I'm so glad to see you! Oh, we have a million years to catch up on. Hey, Lexy. Let's get your gear and pop a couple of tops.”
“She brought wine,” Lexy said, pulling open the cargo door.
“Great, we'll pop some corks too, then. We've got a mountain of junk food to go with it. We'll be sick as dogs by midnight.” Chattering all the way, Kirby dragged Jo to the back of the Land Rover. “Good thing I'm a doctor. What's this?” She dived into the grocery bag. “Pâté. You got pâté?”
“I nagged Brian,” Jo managed to say.
“Good thinking.” Kirby hefted the food bag, then hooked Lexy's six-pack. “I've got these. Ginny's getting the fire going. Need a hand with the rest?”
“We can get it.” Jo shouldered her camera bag, tucked her bedroll under one arm, and clinked the bottles of wine together. “I'm sorry about your grandmother, Kirby.”
“Thanks. She lived a long life, exactly as she wanted to. We should all be that smart. Here, Lexy, I can get that bag.” Kirby beamed at both of them, deciding she'd just about cut the edge off the tension that had been snarling in the air when they'd arrived. “Christ, I'm starving. I missed dinner.”
Lexy slammed the rear door shut. “Let's go, then. I want a beer.”
“Shit, my flashlight's in my back pocket.” Kirby turned, angled a hip. “Can you get it?” she asked Jo.
With a little shifting and some flexible use of fingers, Jo pried it out and managed to switch it on. They headed down the narrow path single file.
Site twelve was already set up and organized, a cheerful fire burning bright in a circle of raked sand. Ginny had her Coleman lantern on low and an ice chest filled. She sat on it, eating from a bag of chips and drinking a beer.
“There she is.” Ginny lifted the beer can in toast. “Hey, Jo Ellen Hathaway. Welcome home.”
Jo dumped her bedroll and grinned. For the first time, she felt home. And felt welcome. “Thanks.”
 
 
“A doctor.” Jo sat cross-legged by the campfire, sipping Chardonnay from a plastic glass. One bottle was already nose down in the sand. “I can't imagine it. When we were kids, you always talked about being an archaeologist or something, a female Indiana Jones, exploring the world.”
“I decided to explore anatomy instead.” Comfortably drunk, Kirby spread more of Brian's excellent duck pâté on a Ritz cracker. “And I like it.”
“We all know about your work, Jo, but is there someone special in your life?” Kirby asked, trying to steer the conversation in Jo's direction.
“No. You?”
“I've been working on your brother, but he isn't cooperating.”
“Brian.” Jo choked on her wine, sucked in air. “Brian?” she repeated.
“He's single, attractive, intelligent.” Kirby licked her thumb. “He makes great pâté. Why not Brian?”
“I don't know. He's ...” Jo gestured widely. “Brian.”
“He pretends to ignore her.” Lexy sat up and reached for the pâté herself. “But he doesn't.”
“He doesn't?” Kirby looked over, eyes narrowed. “How do you know?”
“An actor has to observe people, their role playing.” Lexy waved a hand airily. “You make him nervous, which irritates him. Which means you irritate him because he notices you.”
“Really?” Though her head was spinning, Kirby finished off her wine and poured another glass. “Has he said anything about me? Does he—Wait.” She held up a hand and rolled her eyes. “This is so high school. Forget I asked.”
“The less Brian says about anything, the more it's on his mind,” Lexy told her. “He hardly ever mentions your name.”
“Really?” Kirby said again and began to perk up. “Is that so? Well, well. Maybe I'll give him another chance after all.”
She blinked as a light flashed in her eyes. “What's that for?” she demanded as Jo lowered her camera.
“You looked so damn smug. Shift over closer to Lex, Ginny. Let me get the three of you.”
“Here she goes,” Lexy muttered, but she flipped her hair back and posed nevertheless.
It was rare for her to take portraits, even candid ones. Jo indulged herself, letting them mug or preen for the camera, framing them in, adjusting the angle, letting the burst of light from her strobe flash illuminate them.
They were beautiful, she realized, each in her own unique fashion. Ginny, with her bottle-blonde frizz and wide-open smile; Lexy, so self-aware and sulky; Kirby, carelessly confident and classy.
They were hers, Jo thought. Each one of them, for different reasons, was part of her. She'd forgotten that for too long.
Her vision blurred before she knew her eyes had flooded with tears. “I've missed you all. I've missed you so much.” She set the camera aside hastily, then rose from her crouch. “I've got to pee.”
“I'll go with her,” Kirby murmured as Jo rushed out of the clearing. She snagged a flashlight and hurried after. “Jo. Hey.” She had to double her pace to catch up, grab Jo's arm. “Are you going to tell me what's wrong?”
“My bladder's full. As a doctor, you should recognize the symptom.”
When Jo started to turn, Kirby simply tightened her grip. “Honey, I'm asking as your friend, and as a doctor. Granny would have said you look peaked. I can tell from this brief session that you're run-down and stressed out. Won't you tell me what's wrong?”
“I don't know.” Jo pressed a hand to her eyes because they wanted to fill up again. “I can't talk about it. I just need some space.”
“Okay.” Trust always had to be gained by degrees, Kirby thought. “Will you come and see me? Let me give you a physical?”
“I don't know. Maybe. I'll think about it.” Jo steadied herself and managed a smile. “There is one thing I can tell you.”
“What?”
“I've got to pee.”
“Well, why didn't you say so?” Chuckling, Kirby aimed the light on the path. “You go running out of camp without a light, you could end up gator bait.” Cautious, Kirby scanned the thick vegetation fringing the near pond.
“I think I could walk this island blind. It stays with you. I missed it more than I realized, Kirby, but I still feel like a stranger here. It's a shaky line to walk.”
“You haven't been home two weeks. Give yourself that time you said you need.”
“I'm trying. Me first,” Jo said and ducked into the little outhouse.
Kirby started to laugh, then found herself shuddering. The minute Jo closed the door she felt completely alone, completely exposed. The sounds of the slough seemed to rush toward her, over her. Rustles and calls and plops. Clouds drifted slyly over the moon and had her gripping her flashlight in both hands.
Ridiculous, she told herself. It was just a leftover reaction to her experience in the woods that afternoon. She was hardly alone. There were campsites pocketed all through the area. She could even see the flicker of lights from lanterns and fires. And Jo was only a single wooden door away.
There was nothing to be frightened of, she reminded herself. There was nothing and no one on the island that meant her any harm.
And she nearly whimpered with relief when Jo stepped out again.
“You're up,” Jo told her, still buttoning her jeans. “Take the flash. I nearly fell in. It's black as death in there, and nearly as atmospheric.”
“We could have walked over to the main toilets.”
“I wouldn't have needed them by the time I got there.”
“Good point. Wait for me, okay?”
Jo hummed assent and leaned back against the door. Then almost immediately straightened when she heard footsteps padding softly to her right. She tensed, told herself that the reaction was a by-product of city living, and watched a light bob closer.
“Hello, there.” The male voice was low and pleasant.
She ordered herself to relax. “Hello. We'll be out of your way in a minute.”
“No problem. I was just taking a little moonlight walk before I turned in. I'm over at site ten.” He took a few steps closer but stayed in the shadows. “Beautiful night. Beautiful spot. I never expected to see a beautiful woman.”
“You never know what you'll see on the island.” Jo squinted as the light from his lantern reflected into her eyes. “That's part of its charm.”
“It certainly is. And I'm enjoying every bit of it. An adventure in every step, don't you think? The anticipation of what's to come. I'm a fan of ... anticipation.”
No, she realized, his voice wasn't pleasant. It was like syrup—too sweet, too thick, and it carried that exaggerated drawl that Yankees insultingly believed mimicked the South.
“Then I'm sure you won't be disappointed in what Desire has to offer.”
“From where I'm standing, the offerings are perfect.”
If she'd had the flashlight, she would have abandoned manners and shined it in his face. It was the voice coming out of the dark, she told herself, that made it seem so eerie and dangerous. When the door creaked beside her, she turned quickly and reached for Kirby's hand before Kirby had stepped all the way out.
“We've got company,” Jo said, annoyed that her voice was too high and too bright. “This is a popular spot tonight. Number ten was just passing through.”
But when she looked back, raising Kirby's hand that held the flash, there was no one there. With a panicked sound in her throat, Jo grabbed the flashlight and waved it frantically over the dark grass and trees.
“He was here. There was someone here. I didn't imagine it. I didn't.”
“All right.” Gently, Kirby laid a hand on Jo's shoulder, concerned by the trembling. “It's all right. Who was he?”
“I don't know. He was just there. He talked to me. Didn't you hear?”
“No, I didn't hear anything.”
“He was almost whispering. That's why. He didn't want you to hear him. But he was there.” Her fingers gripped Kirby's like a vise, the panic beating like bat wings in her stomach. “I swear he was right over there.”
“I believe you, honey, why wouldn't I?”
“Because he's gone, and ...” She trailed off, rocked herself for a moment to regain her balance. “I don't know. Christ, I'm a mess. It was dark, he startled me. I couldn't see his face.” She blew out a breath, dragged her hair back with both hands. “He creeped me out, I guess.”
“It's no big deal. I got spooked in the woods today walking to Sanctuary. Ran like a rabbit.”
Jo let out a little laugh, scrubbed her clammy palms dry on the thighs of her jeans. “Really?”
“Jumped gibbering into Brian's arms. Made him feel big and male enough to kiss me, though, so it wasn't a complete loss.”
Jo sniffled, grateful that she could feel her legs solidly under her again. “So, how was it?”
“Terrific. I believe I'll definitely give him another chance.” She gave Jo's hand a squeeze. “Okay now?”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
“No problem. Spooky place.” Her grin flashed. “Let's sneak back and scare the hell out of Lex and Ginny.”
 
 
AS they started off, hands linked, he watched them from the shadows. He smiled to himself, enjoying the music of quiet female voices drifting away. It was best, he realized, that she had come with the other one. He might have felt compelled to move to the next stage if Jo Ellen had wandered so neatly into him alone.
And he wasn't ready, not nearly ready, to move from anticipation to reality. There was still so much to prepare, so much to enjoy.
But, oh, how he wanted her. To taste that sexy, top-heavy mouth, to spread those long thighs, to close his hands around that pretty white throat.
He closed his eyes and let the image of it roll through his brain. The frozen image of Annabelle, so still and so perfect, shifted into hot life and became his. Became Jo.
A portion of the journal he carried with him played through his head.
Murder fascinates us all. Some would deny it, but they are liars. Man is helplessly drawn to the mirror of his own mortality. Animals kill to survive—for food, for territory, for sex. Nature kills without emotion.
But man also kills for pleasure. It has always been so. We alone among the animals know that the taking of a life is the essence of control and power.
Soon I'll experience the perfection of that. And capture it. My own immortality.
He shuddered in pleasure.
Anticipation, he mused as he turned on his light again to guide his way. Yes, he was a huge fan of anticipation.
NINE
T
HE cheerful whistling woke Nathan. As he drifted in that nether-world just under full consciousness, he dreamed of a bird chirping happily on the near branch of the maple tree outside his window. There had been one in his youth, a mockingbird that sang its morning song every day for a full summer, greeting him so reliably that he had named it Bud.

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