Pamela Tracy - What Janie Saw

“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.