Pamela Tracy: What Janie Saw

Rafe reentered the room as Janie was bending to check an unzipped backpack that was stuffed to the side, books and papers spilling out. Janie riffled through it for a moment, then she pulled an art book from a side pocket and flipped it open. Derek’s inked name was on the cover. She thumbed through the pages.

He touched her arm and angled her so he could read over her shoulder.

“This is his, this is the right one. He’s done most of these thumbnails or scrapped them. No writing yet, but maybe there’s something at the end, some reason he didn’t want to turn this one in to me.”

He noticed how carefully Janie held the book—for a witness, she was getting too involved.

It only took her a moment to make it to the final pages, but it felt much longer to Rafe. Then her face turned white. He took a step toward her. She didn’t notice; she was focused on the art book, not on him.

Derek’s final drawing told Rafe exactly how much danger Janie was in.

Two dark trees, lots of dirt, and an open grave with a body in it. Derek had penned a few words underneath:

I have to tell somebody. I can’t live with this. But if I confess, whomever I tell will be in as much danger as me.

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