by Pamela Tracy
Janie glanced at Justin, waiting to be filled in.
“I knew Derek,” Justin explained to Janie. She detected a slight tremor in his voice, the briefest glimpse of sorrow. “Kid wasn’t as stupid as most. He didn’t make meth or sell it, just experimented with it. Didn’t use crack, either. I met him three years ago. I was pretending to be a senior in high school, he really was a junior.
“Thanks to Derek,” Justin said, “in the last three years, we’ve put at least two small-time dealers behind bars and confiscated almost a million dollars of marijuana and cocaine. I’m still trying to find the person who is the connection to the cartel. When I find him, the streets will be a bit safer.”
“Derek was a narc?” No way could she have missed that.
“No,” Justin said. “All I had to do was hang with Derek and I’d find what and who I was looking for. He wasn’t as jaded as most. He still trusted people, trusted me.”
“Why didn’t you try and help him?” For some reason, Janie felt indignant. Maybe because it was easier to feel than guilt. After all, she’d had a kid in her class who’d expressed himself through drawing, a kid who’d maybe been honestly trying to change his wayward life, and she’d not reached out to him. Instead, she’d done everything to avoid him.
Because he wasn’t easy to like.
She’d not been easy to like, either. She’d taken to wearing black. She’d been miserable and sullen. Yet, she’d managed to drop a sentence here and there, a plea really, to certain teachers, hoping someone would see past her facade and into the nightmare she was living.
One teacher had seen, and it had been her testimony that had swayed the judge to grant Katie custody.
What if the teacher hadn’t cared?
Janie continued, “Why weren’t you helping him if he still trusted people? Was it because you didn’t want to lose your in with the dealers?”
Justin shook his head, suddenly appearing as the mature professional he was instead of the immature kid he was pretending to be. “I did try to help. I liked Derek. I might have even called him a friend. It was my advice that led him to Adobe Hills Community College, and for six months, I didn’t see Derek at all.”
“Then what?” Janie queried.
“A few months ago, I run into him at a rave. Next, he shows up at a minor drug deal. Pretty soon, he was back in my scope, and I’m running into him just about everywhere. We turned this kid around for a while, and then someone else dragged him back down. I want to find out who.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
RAFE WANTED TO find out who it was, too.
And now it wasn’t just because of Brittney, it was because of Janie and how she’d stumbled into a dangerous situation.
Still, Rafe couldn’t help but notice the expression on Janie’s face: indignant. It amazed him that throughout the whole investigation, she’d started to sympathize more with Derek than with Brittney.
Somehow, Rafe needed to make Brittney more real to Janie.
With that in mind, Rafe guided the conversation back to the missing girl. He asked Justin, “Did you ever run into Brittney Travis at any of those places?”
The other man shook his head. “No. Nathan showed me her photo when she went missing. I came in thinking I’d go through the evidence bag from her case.”
Because Brittney had gone missing in Adobe Hills, their police force had jurisdiction. All the evidence from the case was stored here, no matter what Rafe preferred.
“Good idea,” Rafe said. “I’d like to take another crack at the evidence bag, too.”
“There’s not much there.” Nathan’s words were gruff, clipped. “After I left the school Thursday morning, I came back here, called you and then dug out everything we’d gathered on the Travis case. It was the first time I’d looked at it in over a month. All the evidence was circumstantial.”
Rafe understood that. “So there’s nothing there to link her to Derek.”
“Nothing,” Nathan said. “There’s one note, written to her, obviously from a boy, asking her out. But the handwriting’s not Derek’s. Plus, whoever wrote it sounds young and fairly innocent.”
“Do you have any new evidence that connects to Derek?”
“Friday morning, I got a call. A meth bust right inside county lines. At the scene, one of my deputies was handcuffing a female when she told her husband, ‘Hey, it could be worse. We could be Derek.’”
“Meaning it’s better to be busted than dead,” Rafe told Janie.
Before she could say anything, the phone on Nathan’s desk rang. He answered it, interrupting their conversation.
Settling back, Rafe crossed his legs and waited for Nathan to finish. He wasn’t sure how much attention Janie was paying to the call. She appeared to be studying Justin, who obviously enjoyed her appraisal. Rafe wanted to caution him that Janie was just sizing him up with her artist’s eye, and that she didn’t really like cops.
Then she turned her attention to Rafe, and not in an appraising way. She gazed at him with the same do-something expression she’d worn earlier. He’d seen that plea often, from victims of crimes, from parents of missing children, and even from his own officers who wanted to do more than the law allowed.
But Rafe was good at his job, and part of being good at his job was understanding when to act and when not to.
Right now, waiting was their only choice. If Nathan got any more agitated, Rafe might sever their tenuous partnership
At thirty-two, Rafe Salazar was the youngest man to earn the title of Laramie County Sheriff. He’d been elected because of how he’d campaigned, what he’d accomplished during his eight years on the force, and yes, because of his last name. When Rafe’s father had died in the middle of his term from a heart condition, Rafe was the only one who’d been willing to take the position. Still, his youth was something people talked about. Since winning the election, though, he’d more than won over the people of Scorpion Ridge—most of whom had known him from birth.
It was the neighboring towns that presented more of a challenge. A good four years older than Rafe, Detective Nathan Williamson clearly did not appreciate a much-too-young sheriff, especially one who made his office in the much-too-small neighboring town and who butted in on what Nathan considered to be his turf.
Finally, Nathan hung up the phone. His mood had gone from annoyed to testy. “I spoke to the woman we arrested. She admitted to knowing Derek, but not a Chad or Chris.”
“It’s as if they are ghosts,” Justin said.
“Speaking of people who personally knew Derek,” Rafe said, “when were you going to tell me about Justin’s connection to Derek?”
“I wasn’t going to,” Nathan admitted. “I was thinking you’d get to read it in a report stamped SOLVED.”
The testiness gone, Nathan suddenly looked tired.
“Anything else you’re withholding?” Rafe asked.
“Just how mad I am about drugs in my town and police evidence going missing,” Nathan said, unhappily. “I mentioned that I was at a meth bust on Friday. A landlord decided to stop by his rural rental property for a surprise visit. When the tenant took a shot at him, he called us. We found their meth lab. The renters were a man, his girlfriend and their two children, ages one and two. We took both children to the hospital. The one-year-old has respiratory problems.”
Rafe felt the burn begin.
Justin said something under his breath before saying, “You’d be talking about the Tanners. I’ve been to their place. They’re small fry. The bust is probably the best thing to happen to them because it might be a wake-up call.”
“Their children should be the wake-up call,” Nathan snarled. “They’re making drugs where their children breathe! I didn’t call you back right away, Rafe, because besides the respiratory problems, the one-year-old also had a few broken rib
s and a long burn on his arm.”
Rafe watched as Janie’s eyes teared up. She’d not had much of a childhood, either.
“For the past two days,” Nathan said soberly, “those two toddlers were my priority. I just don’t understand those people. Family is the most important thing.”
Rafe agreed.
“But then again,” Nathan continued, “the love of family didn’t keep my ex-wife from doing anything and everything she could to secure her next fix.”
He seemed to get a hold of himself and refocused on the case. Nathan showed Rafe what his cops had been doing, who’d they’d spoken to and where they’d been. Rafe read the reports on the campus police officers. None had criminal records; all were ex-police. Janie was once again scanning photos and going over her re-creation of Derek’s art book to see what she could add, change, delete.
“He’d included the license numbers on the car, but I just can’t remember them,” she mourned. “I mean, he had so many details.”
She’d redrawn the pages three times in fifteen minutes. With each likeness, she grew more and more frustrated. Finally, Rafe held out his hand to help her up from the chair. “You’ve done enough tonight. Let’s get you home. Tomorrow’s a new day.”
She took her purse from beside Nathan’s desk and slowly draped it over her shoulder. They said goodbye to Nathan. Justin had already left with his pretend buddies, all cursing at the top of their lungs about the Adobe Hills Police Department.
As Rafe bid good-night to the desk sergeant and held the door open for Janie, he relaxed a bit. The lobby was silent. “I’m not sure I needed to be a part of all that,” Janie said after Rafe escorted her back to his car and after she’d climbed in, took his place behind the wheel.
“It’s not how we usually do things,” he agreed.
“Then why are you doing it now?”
He hesitated, unsure of what to tell her or if he even should tell her. He figured spouting some empty platitudes would only piss her off.
He gripped the steering wheel a moment, then reached over to put the key in the ignition. Before turning the car on, though, he said, “You’re the one who read the art book. You’re the one who works at Adobe Hills Community College. You’re the one who might recognize some name, some obscure reference, some connection we might miss.”
“I’m only at the school a few days a week.”
“Yet, you were the one Derek chose to confess to,” he reminded her, then finally started the car. “You’ve made a difference. It’s not just me losing sleep over Brittney’s disappearance anymore. You’ve brought her back into Nathan’s and Justin’s focus.”
She stared out the window, silent. He tried to imagine what she was thinking. Probably that she wanted to run screaming from the whole situation.
Then, after a moment, he felt the gentleness of her hand as she reached over to touch his shoulder. She gave him a slight squeeze, letting him know she understood what couldn’t be understood.
* * *
IT WAS AFTER midnight when Janie finally walked through the door of her cottage. After she picked up her car from the school, Rafe had again followed her all the way home, walked her to her door and checked inside.
“I just need to grab some clothes and then wake up my sister and her husband.”
“There’s nothing else you want to share with me?”
She shook her head, although it wasn’t quite true. She hadn’t shared with Rafe that she was battling her attraction to him, even while she disdained his profession.
Though it was hard to keep that disdain after she’d listened to a cop bemoan the plight of two little children. Still, Justin admitted to knowing the couple, knowing what they were doing with two little kids in the house. Why hadn’t they taken the kids away months earlier?
But she understood now that cops had to weigh the short-term risk versus the long-term reward. But she didn’t have to like it. After walking her to the main house, Rafe seemed to realize that it was time to go. “Lock the door, and if you hear anything suspicious, call me.”
His footfalls sounded against the hush as he strode to his car. The cool late-night air stung her cheekbones. Or was it tears at what she didn’t want, couldn’t have.
As she listened to the departing sound of his engine, the silence of the Arizona night settled around her.
And she felt alone.
Usually she enjoyed being alone, especially in her own space. She appreciated the freedom of it all, being able to do what she wanted when she wanted to do it. And no one could make her do what she didn’t want to do.
The commanding Rafael Salazar threatened that. So why was it that the more time she spent with him, the less she wanted him to go away?
With no answers, Janie headed for the shower to wash the grime of the day off her body. Being at a police station still made her feel invaded. Turning the shower to blistering hot, she tried to analyze her attraction to Rafe.
With Adam, the only thing they’d had in common was art. Not enough to build a relationship on.
Rafe, however, was one conversation after another, from dealing with grieving parents to shaking hands with people who had voted for him, to putting a neighboring detective in his place.
She was starting to understand his world. And starting to question her too-little-too-late opinion of cops.
She’d always prided herself on her self-reliance. But now, the fact that she was in more danger than ever before, added a new dimension to everything she held close.
She couldn’t simply head for a wall and some paints anymore. There would always be a window—a window that allowed Janie to view her newly endangered world, but also allowing a killer to view Janie.
So, right now, she was thankful that every time Janie looked out the proverbial window, Rafe stood guard.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Rafe’s motivation: he hadn’t been able to keep Brittney safe, so he’d for sure keep Janie safe. After all, that was his job.
And she had to remember that’s all it was to him, no matter how personally involved he seemed.
* * *
JANIE DIDN’T SEE Rafe again until Wednesday. He sat in the back of the classroom where he could see the door, the students and her.
It was strange, having him there. On one hand, it was unsettling because he watched her every movement. She was also aware that he was very human and very male.
About halfway through class, he took a phone call and then left. The students barely noticed. Not so, Janie. She was on full alert until he returned.
The class seemed to take forever, but finally the last brush was cleaned, put away, and the last students exited the classroom.
Rafe joined her at the front of the room and cut straight to it. “We’ve got a leak somewhere,” Rafe started. Then he backtracked, looking a bit annoyed. “That is, Nathan has a leak. The main television station in Phoenix aired one of your re-created drawings on the news tonight. I guarantee the rest will be broadcast soon. Candy says we’ve been getting calls nonstop. My guess is the Adobe Hills station is getting them too.”
His anger simmered just below the surface, though he somehow managed to keep it in check, barely.
“This could be good,” Janie suggested. “One of the calls might give you a new lead.”
“Yes, but Nathan was already working with one of the major stations to control what would be released and how. He had a specific hotline number. Now people are calling Scorpion Ridge, Adobe Hills, Tucson, Phoenix, Gesippi. Calls are going everywhere. When calls are this disjointed, this spread out, it leads to mistakes.”
“Any idea who leaked the page?”
“Nathan’s looking into it. After I make sure you’re safely home, I’ll—”
“I can see myself home. I promise I won’t stop. I’ll
have my cell phone right next to me with your number showing, and I’ll call you the minute I walk through my front door.” It didn’t make him happy, but he finally agreed.
Not ten minutes after Janie walked through her front door and phoned Rafe, the first police car drove by. Every thirty minutes, all through the night, she was monitored.
At 6:00 a.m., the regular patrol car was replaced by Rafe’s SUV and Janie fell into a sound sleep, no longer awakening every half hour.
She was safe.
* * *
“YOU MIGHT AS well admit that you miss him.”
The problem with sisters, Janie realized, especially a sister who’d taken on the role of both sister and mom, was they saw too much.
“I don’t miss him. It’s just that the Brittney Travis case has pretty much taken over my life. I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“That’s only natural.”
For a moment, Janie hoped she’d succeeded in taking the focus off Rafe, but then...
“What’s not natural,” Katie continued, “is the way you look over your shoulder, as if expecting someone—”
“Every time I turn around, Rafe is there!”
“Not every time,” Katie teased, “and when he’s not there, the smile on your face disappears and the light in your eyes dies.”
“Oh, pooh,” Janie retorted. “You’ve been reading too many romance novels.”
Katie grinned. “That’s because the man who puts a smile on my face and the light in my eyes won’t let me do much of anything else until this baby is born.”
“And that same man—” Luke came up behind her, slipping his arms around her belly and holding both her and their soon-to-be baby in his grasp “—thinks it’s time for you to go and put your feet up. I’ll keep tabs on Janie.” He ended his request with a gentle kiss to Katie’s forehead.
Katie’d gotten lucky. There weren’t many men like Luke Rittenhouse around.
Janie could almost believe Rafael Salazar might be one.
Someone she could trust.
If only he wasn’t a cop.
