her hands slowly over the keys, tapping out the words to Sappho’s poem.
Awed by her splendor
stars near the lovely
moon cover their own
bright faces
when she
is roundest and lights
earth with her silver
Jo studied the verse, aware of the tears filling her eyes, but indifferent to them. She returned to her charts and worked methodically, the stilled image of the two women gold on the television screen.
Marty shifted on the floor, snoring with a soft, contented buzz, Khadijah’s arm sprawled across her throat. The long shadows in the room began to lighten and grow blue, and Jo heard the faint piping of birds outside. At first, their gentle trilling disguised the sound at her elbow, Becca’s deep sigh as she stirred in her sleep.
A dozen expressions shifted over Becca’s dreaming face, rendering her a strong woman and frightened girl in swift turns. Jo reached out and almost touched her hair, her fingers inches from its lush softness. Becca murmured again, and her eyes flew open.
Jo made herself lower her hand to the arm of the sofa. “It’s all right, Becca. You’re safe.”
Becca closed her eyes and sighed again, in apparent relief this time. She lifted her head and blinked at Jo.
“Have you been awake all night?” Becca cleared her throat and peered at her through her tumbled bangs, managing to sound maternal and disapproving at the same time.
“I’ll lie down for a while later.” Jo kept her voice low, as much to soothe Becca as to preserve sleep for the others. She still looked shaken. “A nightmare?”
“An old one.” Becca lifted herself on one elbow and drifted her fingers through her hair. “Nothing I haven’t dissected with Rachel, ad nauseam.”
Becca’s expression cleared, and Jo knew the topic was closed. Jo was beginning to understand every nuance of Becca’s mercurial features, an honor the best psychiatrists in Seattle predicted she would never have.
Becca nodded at her sleeping friends and chuckled. “I don’t know if you planned on a group sleep-in, tonight. I hope you’re not too uncomfortable with all this company.”
“If they don’t eat my rations, I’ll let them live.” Jo was pleased with herself. That had sounded rather Xenic. “I don’t mind them. Do you think you can sleep a little longer? Today might prove pretty busy.”
Becca nodded and rested her head back on the cushioned arm. “I think Rachel has privileges at Western State.”
It took Jo a moment to track her train of thought. “Really? At the hospital where Voakes is held? I wonder if there’s any chance she’s interviewed him.”
“I doubt it.” Becca yawned into the pillow. “Rachel doesn’t specialize in criminal behavior; I don’t see why she’d know him. But she might be able to talk to his doctors for us.”
Rachel Perry might be able to get Jo into the most notorious psychiatric hospital in the state to meet with Voakes before he was released. She didn’t find it necessary to clarify her intent to go solo at the moment; Becca’s body was relaxing into the deep couch.
Becca blinked sleepily at the television, and a smile touched her lips. “Ah, Jo. This is probably my favorite scene ever.”
Jo looked at the stilled image of the warrior and the bard, the scroll containing Sappho’s poem between them. “Yes. Mine, too.”
Becca’s eyes were closing again. “Awed by her splendor,” she murmured. “Stars near the lovely moon cover their own bright faces…” Her voice trailed off as she drifted into sleep.
After a moment, Jo reached out and let her fingers brush gently through Becca’s hair.
Chapter Eight
“I don’t suppose you could—”
“Absolutely not.” Becca said this as firmly as possible around a mouthful of chocolate croissant. “I’m not calling Rachel again at eight in the morning, Jo. One voice mail is enough. She hasn’t been well, and this isn’t a big crisis.”
“Time is a factor, however.” Jo was in her relentless mode this sunny
Awed by her splendor
stars near the lovely
moon cover their own
bright faces
when she
is roundest and lights
earth with her silver
Jo studied the verse, aware of the tears filling her eyes, but indifferent to them. She returned to her charts and worked methodically, the stilled image of the two women gold on the television screen.
Marty shifted on the floor, snoring with a soft, contented buzz, Khadijah’s arm sprawled across her throat. The long shadows in the room began to lighten and grow blue, and Jo heard the faint piping of birds outside. At first, their gentle trilling disguised the sound at her elbow, Becca’s deep sigh as she stirred in her sleep.
A dozen expressions shifted over Becca’s dreaming face, rendering her a strong woman and frightened girl in swift turns. Jo reached out and almost touched her hair, her fingers inches from its lush softness. Becca murmured again, and her eyes flew open.
Jo made herself lower her hand to the arm of the sofa. “It’s all right, Becca. You’re safe.”
Becca closed her eyes and sighed again, in apparent relief this time. She lifted her head and blinked at Jo.
“Have you been awake all night?” Becca cleared her throat and peered at her through her tumbled bangs, managing to sound maternal and disapproving at the same time.
“I’ll lie down for a while later.” Jo kept her voice low, as much to soothe Becca as to preserve sleep for the others. She still looked shaken. “A nightmare?”
“An old one.” Becca lifted herself on one elbow and drifted her fingers through her hair. “Nothing I haven’t dissected with Rachel, ad nauseam.”
Becca’s expression cleared, and Jo knew the topic was closed. Jo was beginning to understand every nuance of Becca’s mercurial features, an honor the best psychiatrists in Seattle predicted she would never have.
Becca nodded at her sleeping friends and chuckled. “I don’t know if you planned on a group sleep-in, tonight. I hope you’re not too uncomfortable with all this company.”
“If they don’t eat my rations, I’ll let them live.” Jo was pleased with herself. That had sounded rather Xenic. “I don’t mind them. Do you think you can sleep a little longer? Today might prove pretty busy.”
Becca nodded and rested her head back on the cushioned arm. “I think Rachel has privileges at Western State.”
It took Jo a moment to track her train of thought. “Really? At the hospital where Voakes is held? I wonder if there’s any chance she’s interviewed him.”
“I doubt it.” Becca yawned into the pillow. “Rachel doesn’t specialize in criminal behavior; I don’t see why she’d know him. But she might be able to talk to his doctors for us.”
Rachel Perry might be able to get Jo into the most notorious psychiatric hospital in the state to meet with Voakes before he was released. She didn’t find it necessary to clarify her intent to go solo at the moment; Becca’s body was relaxing into the deep couch.
Becca blinked sleepily at the television, and a smile touched her lips. “Ah, Jo. This is probably my favorite scene ever.”
Jo looked at the stilled image of the warrior and the bard, the scroll containing Sappho’s poem between them. “Yes. Mine, too.”
Becca’s eyes were closing again. “Awed by her splendor,” she murmured. “Stars near the lovely moon cover their own bright faces…” Her voice trailed off as she drifted into sleep.
After a moment, Jo reached out and let her fingers brush gently through Becca’s hair.
Chapter Eight
“I don’t suppose you could—”
“Absolutely not.” Becca said this as firmly as possible around a mouthful of chocolate croissant. “I’m not calling Rachel again at eight in the morning, Jo. One voice mail is enough. She hasn’t been well, and this isn’t a big crisis.”
“Time is a factor, however.” Jo was in her relentless mode this sunny
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