What Janie Saw

by Pamela Tracy

  “Why didn’t your aunt Betsy just let you go?”

  “At first, Katie and I believed it was because my dad sent her money.”

  “Then why didn’t you call your dad and tell him that she was mistreating you?”

  “We quickly found out that money—Dad’s money, anyway—wasn’t the issue.”

  “You still could have called your dad and told him how things were.”

  “Katie tried to, right when we first moved in with Betsy. He screened his calls and never answered the phone, and after he died, we discovered that he’d never opened our letters, either. He didn’t want to know.”

  Rafe had no idea what to say. As a cop, he’d witnessed all kinds of neglect. Dads who beat their kids for no reason, dads who spent grocery money on beer and dads who walked out without saying goodbye. He pitied them. But, he pitied the kids more.

  “So why didn’t your aunt Betsy let you stay with Katie?”

  “Because she didn’t want to be alone. She liked the attention I brought. And because she got more handouts. Can you believe it? I was an extra box of food to her. And if she had free food, she could spend the money she didn’t spend on food on beer. She made me miserable all for an extra box of food! Try telling that to a cop.”

  “So you did try?”

  “Yup.”

  “And those cops pretty much ignored what you were saying.”

  “Yes. And at least one of them knew how bad it was. He’d been called to Betsy’s apartment a time or two when one of her parties got out of hand.”

  It wasn’t right, but Rafe understood what the cops had probably been thinking—there was a fine line between neglect and abuse. Neglect had to be pretty pronounced in order for the cops to intervene.

  He left the highway and turned onto one of Scorpion Ridge’s main thoroughfares. The Corner Diner was still open. Inside he could see his mother as she wiped down a table. “But you were being fed.”

  “Spaghetti and peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches, mostly.”

  “And you went to school.”

  “Perfect attendance until Katie moved out and they forced me back to Betsy’s.”

  “And you were clean.”

  “Katie made sure of that, and I prefer things neat, myself.”

  “So the cops took you back.”

  “And I started running away. I always ran to Katie. Every time, a cop found me and returned me to Betsy. They threatened Katie with kidnapping, with contributing to the delinquency of a minor, with harboring a fugitive.”

  Rafe wanted to say they were doing their job, but he couldn’t form the words.

  “How bad was it at Aunt Betsy’s?”

  “There were the lonely times. Those I could take. Then, there were the hard times. Betsy would steal any money I didn’t hide. If I didn’t have money, she’d sell my things. She sold my paints.”

  “Did anyone ever hurt you?”

  He wasn’t sure he could take her answer. If she said yes, he’d head for Texas, find this Betsy and...and what? Slam her against the wall? Yell? No, he’d been raised better than that. He’d never in his life hurt a woman, not even one resisting arrest with her teeth and fingernails. And what would yelling get him? Just a sore throat.

  And if Janie said yes, then he’d have to acknowledge that he was part of a system that didn’t always work, didn’t always do what it was supposed to do: serve and protect.

  “No, I was very lucky. I knew when to disappear and how. Plus, I was only there a year on my own. Before that, Katie was with me, and she’d call the police the minute Betsy started to turn ugly.”

  “And the police came. So, they were helpful.”

  “Just for Katie.”

  “Did you ever call them when you were by yourself with Betsy?”

  “Once.”

  “What happened?”

  “Two cops showed up, the same two cops who’d driven me from Katie’s the first time. When he recognized me, one of them rolled his eyes and checked his watch.”

  Rafe made a mental note to never roll his eyes while she was looking. “And you never called the police again.”

  “Katie gave me a cell phone the minute she had extra money, and I called her when I got scared. She’d come and get me, and I’d stay with her until the next day.”

  “You’re a strong woman. You survived.”

  “I didn’t feel strong, still don’t,” she admitted. “When Katie left Betsy’s, I started failing school. No one was around to make sure I did my homework. Some teachers noticed a difference and pulled me aside. Others didn’t care. One, though, Mrs. Freshia, she cared.”

  “So teachers are a bit like cops. Some are better than others. And,” he puffed up, exaggerating, “some are great.”

  That earned him a low chuckle from her. “I never thought about it like that.” She continued, “I stopped sleeping at night. I’d just get this sick, knotty feeling in my stomach. Anxiety. That’s when I really started drawing. I couldn’t stop.”

  “And you drew animals.”

  “I must have remembered animals being around when times were better.”

  “Then you should be pretty happy right now.” He turned his SUV into the driveway of Katie’s house.

  “Why? What do you mean?”

  A pack of wolves sounded in the distance. The scream of a peacock echoed in the wind. He’d not even parked or switched off the engine before Katie had the front door open and was hurrying down the front steps. Her husband was right behind her.

  “What do you mean?” Janie repeated.

  “You’ve got animals again. And here comes your sister. Times are better.”

  Janie opened the passenger door and exited before he could get out of his side and assist her. Waving at her sister, she came around the SUV and met him.

  “You’re right. Times are better, and I need to remember that.” To his surprise, she came close, stood on her tiptoes, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

  On the cheek!

  But what bothered him most wasn’t the kiss. No, it was that he wanted more than a quick kiss on the cheek.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “AMANDA’S HERE, AND she’d like to talk to you.”

  Janie glanced up from her work on the mural. Crisco, as if sensing he no longer had an audience, rolled over and fell asleep. Katie looked tired, and Janie felt a moment’s pang knowing she was the cause.

  “Why didn’t you text me instead of walking all the way over here?”

  “I was afraid you’d ignore the text. You have that habit.”

  Last night Luke and Katie had ganged up on her. You can’t keep working as the lab assistant for that class. Your life’s worth more than the internship in Africa. In the end, Luke, her brother-in-law, volunteered to pay her way to Africa. She could start the residency now. Or, if she didn’t get the residency, she could create her own program.

  But Janie knew he didn’t have that kind of money.

  Meanwhile, Rafael Salazar had lounged on one of the armchairs in the living room, as if he belonged there, and agreed with every word her brother-in-law said. It was just like when Janie had been a teenager, with adults making decisions for her, some of them wrong, and not taking her desires into consideration.

  This time, though, there was more at stake. There was a murderer lurking on the campus of Adobe Hills Community College, and Janie was sure she was his next target.

  “Give me a minute to clean up,” she said, snapping her attention to the present. “I’m done on the mural for the day.”

  “We’ll be upstairs in my office.” Katie rubbed her stomach, a pinched expression crossing her face.

  “You all right?” Janie asked.

  “Outside of ankles that look more like Cheeky’s than the
y should, I’m fine. It’s Amanda I’m worried about.”

  Cheeky was a three-cheeked camel whose name more than summed up the personality of BAA. Amanda was Janie’s art student as well as a friend of Katie’s. Before taking over as director of BAA, Katie had been an interpreter for the deaf. A few years ago, Katie had given Amanda a private tour of the zoo just for the chance to do one of the things she loved: interpret. It turned into a win/win friendship, as Amanda herded all her friends to BAA and they helped with fund-raisers.

  And Katie championed young Amanda much the way she championed Janie.

  “What’s wrong with Amanda?” Janie started to stand. She could leave her supplies. Amanda was more important, and with everything that had been going on...

  “It’s okay, she can wait a minute. Luke’s with her, and she’s got Tinker in her lap. He’s calming her down. He’s good at that.”

  For a moment, Janie wasn’t sure if Katie was talking about the cat or about Luke. Then Katie got a wistful look on her face and Janie knew she was talking about Luke. The man was a saint. After dinner last night, even while he’d almost hyperventilated over Janie’s day, he’d held Katie’s feet in his lap and given her a massage.

  What was it like, she wondered, to have a man love you that much?

  To love a man that much...

  Katie hadn’t dated much, if at all, before Luke. That was partly Janie’s fault, as Katie had single-handedly taken over raising her. Janie, on the other hand, had dated often. None of the relationships lasted, though. And no one had ever put a wistful look on her face.

  Katie waddled away, one hand rubbing the small of her back.

  Last night, Rafe had said that Janie was a survivor. But Janie had always believed that the only reason she’d survived is because she’d had Katie’s hand to hold.

  Getting the residency and going to Africa would accomplish one thing, for sure. Janie would finally be on her own, away from Katie. She’d finally discover if without her sister she’d sink or swim.

  If she survived her current nightmare.

  Once her art supplies had been washed and put away, Janie headed for the main office. It was one room, with windows on every side, and stood on top of the gift shop. The walls had been a dull brown when Janie had first showed up. Not long after, she’d painted the walls blue and added trees and BAA animals. She’d included all of the animals’ names and the year they arrived at the zoo. Now, when Katie and Luke took guests or business partners up to the office, they could show them the place’s history.

  Today, Amanda, her mother and Katie were crammed into the office. Amanda was sitting on the couch, clutching Tinker the cat and crying. Katie was signing to her frantically, words like calm you, no afraid, brave, job need done.

  Janie could sign, too, just not as well as Katie. They’d learned ASL at a neighborhood church when they were both young and searching for a safe place to escape to. So anytime the church offered a community workshop or class, the Vincent girls signed up. Consequently, Janie could sign, read music, build birdhouses and complete any obstacle course for ages twelve and up.

  If possible, Amanda’s mother looked more scared than her daughter. Katie, who always knew the right thing to do, relayed to Janie, “Amanda heard about Professor Reynolds on the news. She thinks maybe there’s something about the case she should share.”

  Amanda started signing frantically, too fast for Janie to follow. Katie did lots of nodding. Amanda’s mother rested her head in her hands and moaned, “I was sure Tommy was getting into trouble.”

  Amanda kept signing, and Katie interpreted for Janie. “Tommy and Derek were friends. Sometimes, Tommy would give her and Brittney a ride home from school. Often, Derek would be in the car. That’s how Tommy and Brittney met.”

  This was no surprise to Janie. Rafe had shared as much. “Did they date?” Janie asked.

  Katie didn’t even bother posing the question to Amanda, as she’d already given her the answer. “No, Brittney liked someone else. Amanda’s not sure who.” Apparently, in the time it had taken Janie to get from the bears’ enclosure to the main office, Amanda had done nothing but sign her story.

  “Did the police ask you about all of this?” Janie signed to Amanda.

  Again, rapid-fire answers came from Amanda’s fingers. Janie gave up trying to follow.

  Katie spoke. “Amanda told the police that they were all in a car pool together. Nothing else.”

  Janie pulled a chair up so she sat in front of Amanda. She didn’t touch the girl. She wasn’t comfortable doing that. Katie already had the emotional part under control. Amanda still cried, but she’d stopped signing. She glanced at her mother through shimmering tears.

  “I think,” Janie said, “that Amanda doesn’t want to go on if you’re upset, Mrs. Skinley.”

  “Oh, my goodness, Janie. You’ve called me Helen since you met me.” With that, Helen turned to her daughter and signed, Doing right thing.

  Amanda nodded and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her shirt. Katie reached in her pocket and pulled out a tissue. She was going to be an awesome mother.

  And she’d already had plenty of practice with Janie.

  Amanda’s fingers started flying again. One time before we left college town, we stopped at store for drinks. Derek was friends with someone in next car. Tommy and Brittney were inside store. I was in the backseat. Derek maybe forgot I was there. He maybe didn’t know I read lips.

  “I should call Rafe,” Janie said. “He should hear this.”

  Amanda read her lips and wailed. Her mother pulled her close. “I don’t want her to go to the police. Brittney’s probably dead. Her art teacher and Derek are certainly dead. I’m not putting my girl in danger. She’ll tell you everything and you can repeat it to the sheriff. You don’t have to mention where you heard it. Say you read it in an art book or something. That’s how this whole thing started, right?”

  Whatever Amanda was about to share, Rafe would certainly have the smarts to figure out the source. And he’d not settle for secondhand reports or hearsay. But for now, Janie made herself settle back and urged, “Go on.”

  For the next five minutes, as Katie translated the tale Amanda’s fingers spun, Janie studied Amanda’s facial expressions and body movements, noticing she held her stomach a lot.

  “Derek’s friend drove a blue car, four doors. Old. Two people in it. No coats.”

  “When?” Janie asked. “When was this?”

  “A few weeks before Brittney disappeared. I remember Halloween decorations on the window of the store.

  “One got out. Tall. Almost man. Short hair, big, strong. He put his arm around Derek, led Derek away.”

  There was no word for Derek, so Amanda signed each letter.

  “The man told Derek to leave us alone. We cause trouble. The man said someone could get hurt.”

  “Why didn’t you tell Rafe this?”

  This time, Amanda signed right to Janie.

  Man also said Tommy could get hurt.

  Helen Skinley wasn’t crying anymore. “That does it. We’re taking a vacation, moving, something. I’m not sticking around here for my children to get hurt.”

  “Tommy’s no longer a child,” Janie pointed out.

  “He’s not acting like an adult, either.”

  “But Helen,” Katie said, “what if taking away the only person who witnessed this man’s words, saw this man, causes someone else’s child to go missing? Can you live with that?”

  “What I couldn’t live with,” Helen said, “is something happening to Amanda or Tommy.”

  “Mom.” Amanda hardly ever attempted speech. That she did so now was what Janie needed to break through the wall she’d put between herself and the girl.

  Reaching forward, Janie put her hand on Amanda’s arm. “Can you draw him? This man?”


  Amanda shook her head.

  “Can you give me the details, so I can draw him?” Turning to Helen, Janie added, “And I’ll sign my name to the drawing. That will keep Amanda safe.”

  Amanda apparently didn’t care what her mother thought because she was already nodding.

  It took the rest of the afternoon, every magazine that Katie could find and fifteen pieces of paper. Janie didn’t even count the pencils she went through.

  They used People magazine to get the body type, settling on a young Bruce Willis. The nose was Bruce Jenner’s but a little wider. The forehead was Hugh Jackman’s. While Amanda asserted that the hair color was similar to Jackman’s, the style was not. They went through seven magazines before switching to the office computer and the internet. Finally Amanda reacted when they came to the picture of an army man with his hat tucked under his arm.

  Military cut? Interesting.

  The internet photos also helped Amanda identify bushy eyebrows, close-to-the-head ears and broader shoulders than even Bruce Willis boasted.

  All the while, Janie drew. Because Amanda was a budding artist herself, she added her opinions and sometimes wielded her own pencil.

  In the end, they had the image of a twentysomething male, slightly stocky, probably just under six foot, with short brown hair and an angry expression.

  Amanda nodded.

  Janie reached for her phone. The image was very similar to the one she’d re-created from Derek’s sketches. Maybe, just maybe, she and Amanda had just drawn Chad or Chris.

  * * *

  “I’LL GET THIS to the campus police Monday morning,” Rafe said, standing beside Janie in the now very crowded office. “They can show it around, see if they have any student ID photos that are familiar.”

  What Rafe didn’t mention was that he’d personally deliver the drawing. He wanted to watch how each member of the campus police reacted to it. Somehow, Derek’s art book had been lifted from the safe in their office. One of them might know more than they were letting on.

  “So,” Amanda signed via Katie, “this guy will be someone under suspicion.”

  “Yes,” Rafe said. “This might be one of the best breaks we’ve had.” He’d been about to say if only you’d come forward sooner, but the red-rimmed eyes of both Amanda and her mother stilled him. Then, too, there was Amanda’s recounting of the threat to Tommy. When this was over, he was going to have a little talk with Tommy Skinley. And, if his parents complained that Rafe had overstepped his bounds as sheriff, let them. The boy needed to hear some hard facts and hard truths. It could just as easily have been Amanda as Brittney.