by Pamela Tracy
“You have to talk to him,” Katie was telling Janie. “You can trust him. I promise.”
Janie didn’t appear convinced.
Behind them, his front-desk officer, Candy Riorden, hurried up. “I tried to tell—”
He halted Candy’s admonition, dismissed her with a wave of the hand, and motioned Janie and Katie toward the chairs facing his desk. Without missing a beat, he continued, “They’re here right now. But, to answer your question, Janie’s from Texas. Her sister and brother-in-law run BAA, Bridget’s Animal Adventure.”
“I need her to come here sometime today so we can question her.” Nathan didn’t sound interested in Janie’s connection to wildlife. “I’ve spent the last hour at Adobe Hills Community College, and I’ve got more questions than I have answers.”
“Questions about what? You haven’t exactly said why you want to speak with her.”
Janie was looking at the door as if she were ready to bolt.
“The kind that will help me solve a case!” Nathan snapped, bringing Rafe’s full attention back to the phone.
“Is it about—” Rafe started, but Nathan butted in.
“You’re aware she teaches at Adobe Hills Community College?” Nathan said quietly. “Well, Miss Vincent apparently read something in a kid’s art book last night, a kid by the name of Derek Chaney. I’ve spoken with the chair of the art department, Patricia Reynolds, but apparently your Miss Vincent is who I really need to speak with. Whatever she read might have been a murder confession about our missing coed.”
“Brittney Travis,” Rafe said slowly.
Across from him, Janie pressed her lips together and nodded.
Rafe gripped the phone, hard. He prayed—prayed that it was some kind of mistake, some kind of joke, that Brittney wasn’t dead, hadn’t suffered. He prayed that he could still save her.
This wasn’t the kind of closure Rafe had been hoping for.
“Yes.” Nathan’s voice was terse, guarded.
“Have you had time to—”
“We can’t do anything until we speak with Miss Vincent in person.”
“I’ll escort her myself,” Rafe promised. “I can free up my late afternoon.”
Katie reached across and took hold of one of Janie’s hands.
Nathan immediately snapped, “Late afternoon? I was hoping it would be sooner. And why do you have to escort her? You think she’s the type to skip?”
“No.” Rafe eyed Janie and Katie. “I don’t think that at all.” Katie couldn’t run, not in her condition, and while Janie was the type, she only ran when she felt no one was listening to her.
Well, if what she’d found was a true account of a murder, she’d have plenty of people willing to listen to her. Too bad it wasn’t Katie who’d read the art book. Solid, businesslike and driven, Katie would be the kind of witness cops dreamed about.
Janie, on the other hand, was flighty, whimsical and always believed the grass was greener on the other side. She acted and spoke without much forethought and a bit rashly.
Rafe said to Nathan, “I intend to be involved in every step of this new lead. So, along with you, I’m Janie’s new best friend.”
Janie raised one eyebrow and looked askance at her sister.
Actually, Rafe had a home-court advantage over Nathan. He might not be Janie’s best friend, but he knew her fairly well. He knew things like she only enjoyed coffee if she had French-vanilla creamer to add to it. That she could sit at a table at the Corner Diner and draw for an hour without being aware of anything that was going on about her. That if the very pregnant waitress happened to serve Janie, Janie tripled the tip.
His mother, Lucille, owned the diner and had noticed these traits first. She’d passed every observation on to Rafe, whether he wanted to hear it or not.
Mom had been playing matchmaker for Rafe over a decade now. She wasn’t very good at it, though admittedly, he’d always found both sisters intriguing. Katie Rittenhouse played with tigers. Janie Vincent painted them from a safe distance. Though the scar on the left side of her face indicated that hadn’t always been true.
“Is there something I should be aware of?” Nathan asked. “She ever been in trouble?”
Rafe had twice been called out to Bridget’s Animal Adventure, the animal habitat Janie’s big sister and husband managed, and where Janie spent much of her time. Once, he’d investigated the plight of two tiny bears, declawed and abandoned. On the second instance, he’d had to make sure the big cats were all accounted for, as there’d been a sighting in town. The cougars, leopards and mountain lions at BAA were all in their enclosures. Rafe never did find out whether it had been an actual sighting or whether someone in Scorpion Ridge owned a very large black domestic cat.
“No, she’s never caused me any trouble,” Rafe said.
It was a lie.
Janie Vincent had caused him trouble, but it was not the kind that made its way into a police report. No, it was the kind that messed with a man’s mind.
During the large-black-cat incident, he’d asked Janie out. He’d not been concerned about a conflict of interest because he’d been sure by then that the case was merely mistaken identity.
They’d gone out once, but he hadn’t called her for a second date.
It had been clear from the start that they were too different—she was a free spirit; he was rules and realistic.
He’d also very clearly gotten the sense that Janie didn’t have much use for cops, and that she’d only gone on the date to appease her sister.
“As a matter of fact,” Rafe continued, “she just walked into my office. Seems she wants to help.”
He wasn’t exactly sure want was the right word. More likely felt obligated to help was a better choice.
Nathan muttered a few choice expletives, all having to do with her being there and not in Adobe Hills.
Looking across his desk at the pretty woman in question, as she so impatiently held herself in check, Rafe thought maybe he’d been an idiot not to call her again.
“Okay, it’s good she’s there,” Nathan finally said. “But please see that she gets here, and soon. I don’t want her to forget anything. Apparently Brittney’s name and her death were chronicled in that art book. I want to know what it said, every detail.”
“I want to see this art book—” Rafe said.
Janie shook her head.
Rafe started to protest, but Nathan, still on the phone, gave a long sigh before saying in a tight voice, “This whole thing’s turned into a mess, which is why I need your help. Campus police locked the book up last night after Janie’s boss handed it over to them,” Nathan said. “Patricia, along with the dean of students and the campus police, opened the safe this morning. Then, they called me.”
“And—”
But before Rafe could ask his question, Nathan said, “It’s gone.”
CHAPTER TWO
NOW RAFE UNDERSTOOD why Janie and her sister had scurried to his office—bypassing the officer on duty. With the art book missing, Janie and her boss were the only people who had read an alleged murder confession. If Derek Chaney had changed his mind about wanting to confess, then he’d be sweating bullets about now, and Janie might be where he’d aim those bullets.
Rafe couldn’t cancel his court date, but now, returning the phone calls and the visit to the correctional facility would no longer be his top priority.
Today, Rafe would be spending time with Janie, lots of time.
“Did the campus cop who put the art book in the safe discover it missing, or was it a different campus cop?” Rafe asked.
“Same cop.”
“Did he happen to admit to looking at the art book?”
“He glanced at the first couple of pages, but not the whole thing. It was late and there’d been
a report of someone trying to break into parked cars on campus. He wanted to keep his eye on the monitors. Still, he filled out the report, so he knew what was in it.”
“Why didn’t they contact the police last night?”
Across from him, Janie—ever the teacher—raised her hand. Rafe bit back a wry smile.
“The confession is in Derek’s personal art book,” Janie burst out. “His art book! It’s supposed to contain thumbnail sketches and ideas for the project he was working on. I thought—hoped—he’d decided to write some sort of graphic novel. We had some doubt as to whether it was fact or fiction. Patricia Reynolds, the chair of my department, was going to notify the dean this morning and see what he wanted to do.”
“Hear that?” Rafe said into the phone.
“The dean called us just after eight this morning,” Nathan affirmed. “Our guy arrived at twenty after. He was there when they opened the safe.”
Rafe looked across the desk at Janie. “How did you find out the art book had gone missing?”
“The dean called me.”
Turning his attention back to the phone, Rafe asked, “What does Patricia Reynolds think of all this?”
Nate answered, “She’s coming to the station this afternoon to make a statement and try to recreate what she read. She admits, though, that she only scanned the first page then flipped to the last. Once she saw Brittney’s name, both she and Miss Vincent headed straight to campus police. Apparently there was quite a bit more to the art book, though, at least six pages.”
Rafe could only frown and stare across his desk at Janie. “How much did you see?”
“About six or seven pages. Only four pages had to do with Brittney.”
Was there anything after that? Anything you didn’t read?”
“Not sure, but I don’t think so.”
“What’s your gut feeling?” he asked. “Does the art book show fact or fiction?”
Her sister squeezed Janie’s hand. Janie, for her part, seemed more interested in fiddling with the edge of her shirt, tugging at some unimportant thread.
Janie might not have answered, but on the phone, Nathan didn’t hesitate. “I told you this whole thing’s become a mess. Kid might have been capable of murder, but not anymore. He died over the weekend in a meth explosion.”
Rafe almost dropped the phone. “Accidental?”
“We didn’t have reason to believe otherwise until we got the call about the art book this morning. Now there’s reason to look at the case again.”
“Does Janie know?”
“No.”
“Send me what you’ve got so far concerning Derek Chaney. I’d like a copy of last’s night police report, too. I’ll be by with Janie this afternoon,” Rafe said, ending the conversation and ignoring the raised eyebrow Janie shot him. No doubt she didn’t like him making promises for her.
Well, as a potential witness to murder, Janie was about to find out that certain obligations were not negotiable.
He studied Janie’s expression: fear battling compassion with a dash of shock at being in such a situation.
He understood that fear and shock, and was glad Janie had her big sister with her. The whole town knew Katie had pretty much raised Janie.
Small towns weren’t big on secrets.
“What don’t I know?” Janie asked.
He’d hoped she’d let that part of his conversation with Nathan slip by. But, as an artist, details were her life, whether she created them or observed them.
“Well?” she nudged.
As much as he wanted to protect her, he had to prepare her. “You don’t know how ugly this case might turn out to be.”
Janie and Katie looked at each other. He noted that Katie’s expression was starting to resemble Janie’s: it was one of fear.
He booted up the computer and retrieved the file on Derek Chaney that Nathan had already sent. Silently, he skimmed the words before turning to Janie, sliding over some blank sheets of white paper taken from the bin of his printer and giving the direction, “Recreate everything from the art book that you remember.”
“Everything? Can’t I just describe it to you?”
“I want it written and drawn. We can’t afford to miss something. And you should re-create it while it’s still fresh in your mind.”
“Can I do it at home?”
Not a chance. He wasn’t about to let her leave. She pretty much lived at a zoo. He couldn’t imagine a place with more distractions. Plus, she was constantly rushing back and forth between her own classes at the University of Arizona and her lab assistant duties at Adobe Hills Community College.
“No, I need you here. I want you to copy Chaney’s art book as closely as you can—presentation, margin, everything. If he wrote in pencil, I’ll get you one. If you need special artist supplies, give me a list.”
She looked a bit shell-shocked. “This might take a while.”
“Rafe,” Katie said, “I can see to it—”
“No, she has to be here.”
“But—”
“I’ll do it.”
Rafe wasn’t sure what had put a fire under Janie, but suddenly it was as if she had to get whatever she’d seen out of her.
He watched as she frantically arranged herself so his desk became a drawing table. She brushed aside bits of something he couldn’t see and, without asking, moved some of his belongings aside. She then placed two pieces of paper, one on top of the other, in front of her. She held the pencil as if she were afraid it would explode. The point merely broke and he handed her another one.
She made an attempt to draw something on the page. But it only took her a moment to wrinkle the paper and toss it in the trash. Two more pages quickly followed. Her hand was shaking badly—no wonder she couldn’t draw.
Katie watched, her lips pressed together. “What kind of danger is Janie in, Sheriff? Are you going to arrest the kid who wrote the art book?”
Of course that would be Katie’s first concern. She knew all about predators, though mostly the animal kind. Being a zookeeper did that. And she and Janie both understood what Rafe knew.
The human predator wasn’t all that different.
“Right now,” Rafe said, “we just have to focus on finding out what was in the art book so we can take the next steps. Derek’s not a threat to Janie.”
Janie’s fingers tightened around the pencil, but she didn’t look at the paper. Instead she stared at Rafe. “What do you mean he’s not a threat? How can he not be a threat if what I read is true?”
A case that already set his cop teeth on edge was going to get even uglier. She needed the truth. “Chaney’s dead. He died this weekend in a meth-lab explosion.”
* * *
GUILT PRICKLED UP the back of Janie’s neck even as she felt the floor tilt. She started to stand, wanting to run but unsure of where to go. Derek’s death wasn’t something she could escape from. Nor could she escape her guilt that she’d been relieved by Derek’s absence this past week.
She hadn’t realized it would be permanent.
She should have tried harder to reach the kid, to find out what made him so unhappy, so dark.
Katie opened her mouth to say something, but Janie settled back into her seat and stopped her. “I’m fine. Really fine. I know what I need to do.”
But crowded with three people, the walls of the office started to close in on her. The room was devoid of color.
It made her remember living with her aunt. They’d rented a barren apartment, with no real colors anywhere to brighten the mood of the place. Until she picked up her paintbrushes and created.
Rafe must have picked up on her assessment of his office. “We can do this somewhere else if you’d like? We have a nice conference room.”
No, the brown, black a
nd beiges of his office were fitting colors for what she was about to do. If they walked through the police station again, she’d have to see the men in uniform. She’d have to think about how they shone their flashlights while they searched for people on the run. Rafe was dressed like one of those cops, even though he was the sheriff. His badge was bigger, too.
“Here’s fine,” she managed to say.
Katie excused herself and went to find the ladies’ restroom. Janie relaxed a little bit. She should have come by herself, should never have dragged a pregnant Katie along.
“I’m sorry you have to go through this,” Rafe said.
She’d heard that line before, from cops even.
Rafe didn’t look like any of the cops she’d met, though. His black hair was somewhat short, straight, and only mussed where he’d run his fingers through it in frustration. His piercing eyes were as black as his hair. He gazed at her as if he could see past the facade she presented the public. He was a big guy, solid. He was the kind of guy who would catch you when you fell and not grunt because you weighed more than one-thirty.
She got the feeling he really was sorry.
But many of the cops she’d dealt with had been sorry for what they’d put her through. Rafe was no different. She didn’t need his sympathy. After all, he would only be sorry until he didn’t need her anymore. Then he’d forget her as the next day, the next crime, dawned.
Typical cop, or sheriff, or person in authority, or whatever.
Janie’d learned at a young age to only trust herself and her sister, Katie. That was why Janie drew animals. They gave no false pretenses, had no ulterior motives.
“Yeah, I get it.” Janie’s goal right now was the same as it always was when it came to the local authorities. If she couldn’t avoid them, do what they wanted so they’d leave her alone.
This time, however, she needed the cops. She just wished she believed, like her sister did, that the men in uniform were the good guys, defenders of the innocent and destroyers of evil.
Because evil had definitely rocked her world.
“It was just a typical evening, a typical class,” she muttered, amazed by how quickly normalcy had changed into nightmare.
