by Pamela Tracy
In the background he heard Katie’s voice, sounding a little frantic. “What’s happening with Janie?”
Luke had barely disconnected when Candy called him. “She’s out past Mailbox Mesa. She’s moving, though, in a northeast direction. The next marker is Picture Rock.”
The name was beautiful; the area was not, not anymore. If there’d ever been a rock worth naming the area for, it was long gone. This wasn’t farmland; it was dilapidated mobile-home land. Most of the people who lived here kept big dogs because they wanted to be left alone. Most didn’t combine the words sheriff and helpful in the same sentence. Rafe had been out there more times than he could count. He took a shortcut.
“I want the name of every resident in a ten-mile radius. Cross-reference the names with any having to do with Derek Chaney’s case.”
“I’m on it.”
Justin called. “I’m following a blue Chevrolet,” he reported. “I can only see two people in it. A male and female.”
“Are they doing anything suspicious? Any chance the female’s Janie?”
“The female’s driving. Nothing suspicious, but they’re the only ones out here.”
“They make you?”
“I just spotted them. I probably have a mile or two before—wait, they just turned off. Mile marker 182. I’m gonna pass it and find a spot off the road to check if they just didn’t want someone behind them.”
“I’ll call Candy and find out who we have living near mile marker 182,” Rafe said.
“I was just about to phone you,” Candy said when he got her on the line. “We’ve three parcels listed in that area. One name is connected to Derek Chaney. CeeCee Harrington.”
“The teacher?”
“Yes, and do you want to know what her name was when she was married?” Candy asked.
“Yes.”
“It’s Williamson. She’s Nathan Williamson’s ex-wife.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
JANIE’S HANDS WERE tied behind her back. “They did that to me once,” Chad said. “Handcuffed me. My drill sergeant said the troublesome ones get treated harsher.”
Janie guessed she was troublesome.
A rag was stuffed in her mouth. It smelled like mildew and tasted like bad wine. When she tried to spit it out, it only choked her more. The sound made Chad glance at her. He’d wedged her into the floorboards of the backseat amidst textbooks, an old sweater, fast food sacks and even a backpack.
“Stupid kid. Stupid art book,” CeeCee said. “We had a good thing here. Eventually, given time, we could have made money, lots of it.”
“We should have just moved,” Chad said. “Started over somewhere else, changed our names.”
“I was hoping we wouldn’t have to.”
Chad shook his head. “After this, we will have to. Too many people have died. And this one, unless I miss my guess, has the sheriff’s eye. Bad move, messing with someone who belongs to a cop.”
Janie didn’t belong to a cop. Did she?
In that moment, trussed and terrified, she recognized the truth. For the last month and a half, Rafael Salazar had occupied her every moment. Had meant more to her than her art. She woke up thinking about him, spent her days either with him or wondering where he was, and when she went to sleep, she dreamed about him.
Yes, she belonged to a cop, and the biggest mistake of her life was that she hadn’t told him so. Oh, how she wanted to have that conversation now. She didn’t need to go to South Africa for adventure. She’d had more adventure in the last month than she’d had her whole life.
And she didn’t want to have any adventure alone.
“I still say doing this in the same place is a bad idea,” said Chad.
Same place?
“It’s the perfect place. No one’s even come close to it looking for Brittney.”
Janie closed her eyes. She didn’t need to see. She knew right where they were taking her. She’d drawn it.
“That other car turned off a ways back. It worried me,” CeeCee said.
“Probably going to the Stewart place. If they were following us, they’d have reappeared by now.”
Rafe? Could it have been Rafe?
Janie tried to move, but they had her facedown and in such a position that she couldn’t twist right or left without getting an elbow caught on the backseat or on the bottom of the front seat. Something sharp dug into her arm. She squirmed, but movement was not really an option. Still, she managed to shift a tiny bit, and that’s when she noticed it.
A tiny pin, an angel. Patricia’s missing pin. It was stuck on the bottom of the backpack on the floorboard of CeeCee’s car.
Patricia had trusted CeeCee, and she’d died as a result. CeeCee had been so uncaring that she’d taken the one thing that Patricia cared about.
Janie moved her tongue. The gag seemed to have a mind of its own and grew, filling her mouth even more. Quietly, she blew out, pushing with her tongue, not minding as saliva ran down her chin.
When she finally managed to spit out the rag, she took a breath. It was enough to draw Chad’s attention. He said a bad word, hunched over the seat and thrust the rag right back in her mouth.
She felt nausea rise. Because of the rag, she couldn’t retch, and she gagged instead.
“She’d better not throw up in my car!” CeeCee spat.
“She’s going to.”
The car came to a shuttering halt. CeeCee was out of the front seat in no time, dragging Janie by the legs. Janie fell to the hard gravel road, landing on her knees, feeling the ground bite into her skin. Janie tried to crawl, wanting to get away from the car, but her strength was gone. Instead, she lost all control and threw up. The rag flew out, almost hitting CeeCee’s shoe.
CeeCee backed up.
Right into the grip of Nathan Williamson.
* * *
NEVER BEFORE HAD Rafe used cell-phone tracking to prevent a kidnapping. Or a murder?
Jasper had searched all of BAA. Janie wasn’t there. One of the maintenance men had seen her go off with a woman, possibly mid-thirties. He said they appeared to know each other.
Janie knew CeeCee.
Candy kept a running dialogue as to what Janie’s cell phone was doing. The best news was that he was very close to her now. Meanwhile, Candy gave him the scoop on Nathan’s divorce.
“His wife was a decade younger, quickly got bored with being home alone a lot, and got into drugs. He tried everything. He even took a leave of absence. Apparently, he really loved her, was devastated when she left him.”
“I wonder when he figured out it was her?” Rafe said.
“Maybe he didn’t. Maybe something else happened.”
“No, he’s figured it out,” Rafe said.
“She’s stopped moving,” Candy announced. “You’re just two miles away.”
CeeCee would hear his vehicle, but Rafe wasn’t sure how to prevent that. Maybe she’d have second thoughts about hurting Janie if a car approached.
It wasn’t safe to go any faster. Rafe wanted to, but he’d be of no help if he overturned in some ditch. The road weaved to the left and then made a sharp right.
Rafe almost slammed on the brakes as he noted the scenery: tall trees, deserted road.
Janie’s drawing.
Brittney’s murder.
He gripped the steering wheel hard. Derek had claimed in his art book that Chad had managed to park the car off the road, so if they were at the same place, he should be looking both right and left, not just on the road.
Too soon the scenery changed, and Rafe hadn’t found anything. He slowed, searching for a place to turn around. He found a place where the trees weren’t right next to the road. It would give him enough space to turn. He had his SUV perpendicular when, through the trees, he s
aw them.
Nathan Williamson tightly held his ex-wife with one arm and in his other hand, he held a gun, pointed at another man.
Rafe blinked.
Chad Ruskey?
Chad Ruskey had Janie. He, too, had a gun.
It was aimed at Janie.
Chad didn’t notice Justin Robbins, moving in a crouch between the trees, coming toward them. CeeCee saw him and struggled to escape Nathan’s grasp, get his hand away from her mouth.
Rafe drove his SUV off the road, over a berm and scraping against trees. The vehicle bounced up once, twice, before stopping right behind Nathan. He practically fell out the door, trying to get to Janie. He grabbed at his sidearm, wanting to do something, anything, to get Chad’s gun away from Janie.
And get him to aim at him instead.
It worked.
Chad let go of Janie and pointed his gun at Rafe, pulling the trigger. Rafe had the driver’s-side door to thank for stopping the bullet. Nathan wasn’t so lucky as the second bullet hit him, knocking him off balance. But he didn’t release his hold on CeeCee.
Janie scrambled away from Chad, but he turned his gun back onto her.
Rafe took him out with one bullet.
CeeCee went to her knees, keening, and Nathan went down with her, holding her, rocking her back and forth. Only one word came from him, over and over, choked out through his tears. “Why? Why? Why?”
Justin was already talking on his radio, giving their location, although surely Candy already had backup on the way.
It took Rafe three steps to make it to Janie’s side and to pull her up, brushing the grass and twigs from her shirt and gently using his fingers to unclench hers.
“You’re all right,” he whispered. “You’re all right.”
“I knew you’d come.”
Rafe couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried. Maybe his dad’s funeral. No. Maybe as a young boy listening to his mom cry every December 3rd—the date Ramon had disappeared.
But he cried now and wrapped his arms around Janie, drawing her close and promising himself that he’d never let her go. His habit of making all cases—especially missing persons—his life wasn’t making him a better sheriff. It kept him from understanding that he needed other people, emotionally as well as physically. He couldn’t solve every crime, couldn’t change what had happened with his brother, but he could move forward and change the future.
His future.
Janie had never looked more beautiful. Her eyes were red and bloodshot. A deep scratch was at the edge of her mouth. It complemented the black eye that was just starting to fade. Her BAA shirt had dirt and something else on it.
“It’s all right.” Janie gave his words back to him as she touched his face.
It was Justin who handcuffed CeeCee. In the distance, the sirens sounded—help was on the way.
Nathan still held on to CeeCee, ignoring the blood pouring from his wound. “When Derek died at that farm, I worried. I knew Chris had a place nearby. But she seemed to be doing so well. She was working and hoping for a full-time position. But suspiciously, she was working at the very college where everything was going wrong. It was the angel pin, the one that went missing, that made me face the truth. Chris loved expensive jewelry. She could pawn it for top dollar. Still, I was hoping I was wrong. I mean, could I really have loved a killer? But the reporter this morning mentioned the pin, what it was worth, and I knew. I knew.”
He seemed to collapse, his voice growing softer. “I was waiting to speak with Chris. Then I heard the vehicle, heard it stop, and came to see what was going on. They had Janie. I’d figured it out, acted on it, too late.”
Rafe took one step in Nathan’s direction. The man was lying to himself; he’d figured it out before today.
Janie put a hand on his elbow.
“I’m all right.” She took his chin in her hands and turned him until he was looking her in the eyes. “Even more, we’re all right.”
“Forever,” he agreed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“BUT I REALLY don’t want to draw animals anymore,” Janie protested.
“We’re talking three months. This South Africa gig is the chance of a lifetime. You beat out five hundred applicants. That’s something.”
Janie shook her head. Just two weeks into a committed relationship and already Rafe assumed he knew what was best for her.
She gazed at the tablet in front of her. Then, she glanced over at Tabitha Jane Rittenhouse.
“I like drawing people. I’m good at it. I nailed Chad, didn’t I?”
Rafe frowned.
“I did,” she protested. “Amanda and I were spot-on. And the place where Brittney was buried, I had that, too.”
“And it’s given you nightmares ever since.”
Now it was her turn to frown. Her sister, Katie, was telling tales without Janie’s permission.
“I’ve never taken a vacation,” Rafe said. “I’ve got leave coming, and my chief of police has never been more capable.”
“Jeff will love that.”
Rafe walked over and set his chin on the top of her hair. Her pencil stilled.
“So,” Rafe continued, “I was thinking. I could go to South Africa, too. I’ve got the money. Maybe we could combine your residency with my vacation, get to know each other even more.”
The pencil fell from her grasp. Just her and Rafe, together, as a couple? Her and a cop!
She opened her mouth, but before she got her response out, Rafe’s phone rang. He rolled his eyes and answered it.
“Yes, doc,” he said.
It only took Janie a moment of listening to yet another one-sided conversation of cop-speak to figure out Rafe was talking to the police counselor from Phoenix. Rafe had already been put on administrative leave until the investigation into Chad’s death was concluded.
The Brittney Travis murder had captured the public’s heart. Even Nathan, who’d lost everything—his career, his reputation—had the public’s sympathy. After all, he’d given up everything for love.
CeeCee proved to be a piece of work. She’d been dealing to kids to support her own habit and line her pockets. She’d confessed to the three murders, as well as to stealing Derek’s book out of the campus safe, and to doctoring Amanda’s art book and planting it at Patricia’s.
“Yes, I donated blood,” Rafe was saying. “Why...”
He paused, uncertainty crossing his face.
“I didn’t realize I had donated blood for Nathan Williamson. But it makes no difference to me.”
Janie picked up her pencil and looked at her drawing of Tabitha Jane Rittenhouse. Already she could see the similarities between Tabitha and Katie: the curve of the cheeks, a certain smile.
“I have the same rare blood type as Nathan? You’re kidding,” Rafe was saying. “I... How old is Williamson? Thirty-six. Really?”
His voice slowed. “Four years older than me. No, no, I don’t need to come in and see you. I’m fine. Shocked. Is this solid enough that I can tell my mother?”
For a minute longer, Rafe remained on the phone. He nodded, grunted, and occasionally said yes. Finally, he hung up and Janie stepped into his arms.
“Nathan is Ramon?”
Slowly, he answered, “Appears so.”
“Are you okay with this?”
“It will take some getting used to,” Rafe admitted.
“Yes,” Janie agreed. Already in his arms, it took no time for her to nestle close, look into his eyes and move her lips close to his.
Almost kissing, not quite, she whispered huskily, “Imagine, you’ve gotten a brother and me on the same day.”
He didn’t wait for her to kiss him. He brought her forward, strong, ambitious, questing, needing.
“I’
m the luckiest man alive,” he said. “I’m in love, with you.”
She kissed him a “Me, too.”
Possibly the longest kiss in history.
* * * * *
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ISBN-13: 9781460332191
WHAT JANIE SAW
Copyright © 2014 by Pamela Tracy Osback
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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