Pamela Tracy - What Janie Saw

Janie couldn’t deny he was easy to look at, if one went for the dark, brooding type.

Appearances weren’t everything, though.

Twenty minutes later, she headed through the front gate of BAA, waved at the cashier, and immediately headed for the building that housed her sister and brother-in-law’s office.

It was empty; both were in the field.

Good. Janie didn’t think she could go over the story again. But because she knew her sister would expect it, Janie took out her cell phone and texted, Where U?

A moment later, Katie responded, Feeding Aquila. U? Aquila was the trained black panther that had brought the Vincent sisters to Scorpion Ridge, Arizona.

Going 2 c George, Janie replied.

Walking next to the employee lounge, Janie suddenly felt a knot forming in the back of her neck. Anxiety boiled through her, ready to send her into a full-blown panic attack.

She wasn’t about to let that happen; it had been more than a year. And she’d kept it together last night, as well as this morning and afternoon at the police station. The best thing to do was take her mind off the present situation. When she was younger, she’d always been able to push aside her troubles. All it took was pen and paper.

Today, it would take acrylics and cinder block.

A few minutes later she stood by the Ursus Americanus house. George, the bear that belonged to her father, was sleeping under a tree in the shade. Otherwise, he might have limped over and greeted her. He’d always been an extremely friendly bear, and her favorite.

Crisco, the bear they’d helped nurse back to health more than a year ago, was swimming in a tiny pool designed to resemble a natural pond.

George used to weigh six hundred pounds. Now, he was an old man and starting to shrink. He had arthritis. Crisco was still a youngster, about two years old, and not so friendly.

She didn’t blame him. Being mistreated, declawed and underfed was hard to overcome.

At least she’d not been declawed.

The mural for the bear habitat would be the first Janie would complete alone. Adam Snapp, who’d been painting murals around BAA for the last four years, was busy doing other projects outside the zoo. Projects that made him money. He was at BAA today, though, finishing up a few odds and ends, and now showing up just in time to help her.

She’d wanted to be alone, lick her wounds, and try to cleanse her mind.

Within minutes, Adam had already asked her a dozen times if she was all right. Maybe the fact that she’d been staring at the crowds of people—all going somewhere, smiling, acting normal—instead of getting ready to draw the bears gave him a clue something was amiss.

He’d assumed her mood had to do with the mural she was about to start.

He’d never been more wrong.

“You’ll do fine,” he said, standing back, arms crossed and waiting for her to do something, anything. “You have a whole month to finish.”

Until yesterday, finishing this mural and adding it to her portfolio was the most important item on her to-do list. Today, taking the lead on a zoo mural that tens of thousands would see almost seemed frivolous. But Adam couldn’t understand her lack of enthusiasm because she hadn’t told him about last night, or this morning, or any of what had taken over her life. What she couldn’t stop thinking about.

He was her brother-in-law’s best friend, and for a short while, she’d thought about making him a bit more. But there’d been no chemistry beyond what they had in common.

They were artists.

Adam was making a name for himself, even as far as California and New Mexico. And now she was aiming to secure a spot as an artist in residence in South Africa.

Just last Friday she’d mailed in the last of her application. For the next month, she’d need to inform the judging panel about her ongoing projects, both in the community and at school. She felt confident about her application.

This was what she wanted to do: paint real animals in their natural habitat. She’d wanted it since the day Tyre, the black panther, had attacked her, since hearing someone say, “You can take the cat out of the jungle, but you can’t take the jungle out of the cat.”

“Show me your ideas,” Adam ordered.

Today must be her day for getting ordered around. First from Katie, who’d dictated, “We are going to see Sheriff Salazar.” Then from Salazar: “I will pick you up at two and escort you to Adobe Hills.” And now from Adam. “Show me...”

Didn’t anyone say please anymore?

Nevertheless, because he was a reference and a friend, she dutifully complied. That had been her assignment from him: come up with thumbnail sketches for the mural. She opened her art book and studied her drawings—done with colored pencils—that were her final choices for the design.

“Crisco’s story still makes people cry. It seemed a logical choice.” She turned the tablet so he could see that she’d created a time line, starting with Crisco being found with his head caught between the slats of fence, segueing to his rehabilitation and ending with now. Crisco, named because of how they’d managed to free him, now lived in luxury with a pool, plenty of food and a town full of fans who’d read his story in the paper.

“Maybe,” Adam said slowly, “you should add something, such as a pelt of real fur. Something for the kiddos to touch.”

Janie shrugged. Not what she’d pictured. For the last couple of years, Janie had called BAA home. The place was named after her brother-in-law’s little sister, who’d died years ago from complications of Down Syndrome. The real Bridget had loved animals, but Luke had taken the appreciation and healing she’d gleaned from animals to another level. BAA had struggled at first, but Luke had made it into a success story. Next month, BAA would start taking the first Monday of every month’s proceeds and donate them to the Down Syndrome research group.

Luke had made goals and kept them.

It was something Janie was trying to learn to do, with her art. She’d always been dedicated to the world her paints created and the projects she committed to. She had to get the bear mural finished by the end of March, plus help Adam finish the orangutan wall. It was his pride and joy, as he’d managed to add 3-D moveable parts to the vague likeness of Ollie, the actual orangutan.

In his heart of hearts, Adam was part caricaturist, part toy maker.

Janie looked at her thumbnails again. She—as always—had been going for realism with just a hint of Norman Rockwell plus a shot of Van Gogh on the side. “Everyone expects cute and fluffy,” she argued. “Anyone can draw it.”

“We’re a kids’ zoo. It’s what they don’t expect but need to know that makes the mural. If you don’t want something they can touch, add something interesting like a Seek and Find amidst your time line.”

Janie was aghast. “So I’d have a list of words written on the wall, and the children have to find the hidden pictures?”

He brightened. “Absolutely, give the kiddos something to do.”

Yup, there was no changing him from his trademark ventures. He did “engaged” murals. Janie hated to think of what he might do if BAA had any skunks.

She changed the subject. “Have you ever heard of Derek Chaney?”

Adam didn’t even blink. “No, why?”

“How about Brittney Travis? Do you know her?”

Adam stepped back, no longer looking at the thumbnails. “Yes, I’ve met Brittney in town. Why? What brings her up? She’s been missing more than two months, since Christmas.”

“Would Brittney ever run away, do you think?”

“No one who knows Brittney believes she ran away,” Adam said. “She’s a lot younger than me, so I only met her because she took tae kwon do at my father’s studio.”