What Janie Saw

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.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE OLD ART BOOK went into another baggie, which, to Janie, looked like an oversize sandwich Ziploc.

“I’m toast,” she whispered.

“No, there’s a chance they haven’t a clue Derek’s even—”

“They! I’ve got to worry about a they? As in, more than one?” This was going from bad to worse. She’d been thinking of who might be responsible. What kind of person would have access to the school’s safe? But it might be a who all was responsible, a what kind of people.

“You don’t know that for sure. All this could just be foolish fabrication.”

“Oh, right,” Janie said snidely. Since this morning, he’d been a man on a mission. No way could he shift his beliefs now. “Even if the art book hadn’t been taken from the school’s safe, I’d have a hard time believing you,” she finished.

Rafe’s hand went to his chin and he rubbed his thumb on stubble she’d not noticed before. It was dark, the same color as the circles under his eyes.

“So, what are we going to do?” she insisted. “Last night I was nervous about what I read. Today I’m nervous about who knows what I read. This is getting crazy.”

He didn’t disagree, and he kept rubbing for a moment. Finally, he said, “Everything points to the college. It’s where Brittney was last seen. It’s where Derek turned in the art book and where the art book went missing. We need to find a friend of Derek’s who’s willing to talk. And we also need to find out whose shoe is under his bed, and why it’s there.”

He finally stopped rubbing his chin and lifted the mattress, looking at the mess underneath: old food, socks, a girlie magazine.

Scattered there, too, were a few pieces of Lego bricks—red, blue and yellow. Finally some real color. Nearby was a well-worn baseball glove. Derek Chaney had been a boy, just like the ones who came to BAA and put their fingers in their mouths and made faces at Candy the spider monkey, and who fed pellets to the giraffes while being grossed out by the giraffes’ long tongues, and who dreamed about jumping into the pool with Aquila the black panther.

Just like the dark-haired man next to her had at one time been a boy, probably with his head in some Encyclopedia Jones book or insisting on playing I Spy over and over.

She bent down, wanting to move the Legos away from the girlie magazine. As if she could save Derek now.

“Don’t touch anything,” Rafe ordered.

She rolled her eyes. They’d been in the bedroom for a good fifteen minutes. Her prints were everywhere, and these Lego bricks weren’t the calling card for something sinister.

But Rafe was the cop and she the uncomfortable civilian.

When they finished in Derek’s bedroom, he led the way back to the living room and the bowl of sympathy cards. Rafe asked for the senders’ addresses, and Judy Chaney dug out her book to give him those she knew. Mr. Chaney went looking for envelopes for those she didn’t.

Every person who’d sent a card was meticulously recorded in Rafe’s little black book. No doubt Officer Candy Riorden would be assigned to find phone numbers and addresses to go with each name. Then, there’d be a visit.

Janie didn’t think she’d enjoy Rafe’s job.

Way too dark.

No wonder he saw the world in shades of brown.

And, boy, was he good at giving orders. She spent ten minutes sitting on the sofa with Derek’s high-school graduation photo staring down at her and listening to Rafe tell the Chaneys what to do. As soon as he and Janie left, they’d be going through Derek’s clothes searching for pieces that might not be his.

Clothes weren’t the only item. Rafe also asked them to check for out-of-place combs, wallets, books, videos, etc., and to widen the search to Jimmy’s old room, the backyard shed, the garage.