What Janie Saw

by Pamela Tracy

  “And why did he kill Brittney?”

  “All we have now is speculation, but it seems he was under orders from his girlfriend.”

  “Who is...?”

  “We’re not sure. But we’re hoping when we figure that out, all the pieces will fall into place.”

  “Why was Brittney killed? Have you figured that out yet?”

  “I think it has to do with drugs. She saw something or someone she wasn’t supposed to, but until we find her killers, we can’t say what.” He sat the last plate on the table and bowed. “Dinner is served.”

  As she took her seat, she wondered out loud, “Can we make it through a meal without talking blood and gore and death?”

  He reached over and took her hand, aiming the palm toward him, and gently traced her fingers with his own. Heat started to pool in her heart.

  “I’m willing to try,” he said.

  So they talked art and animals and favorite movies.

  When the meal was over, they loaded a movie into the DVD player and sat on the couch. He carefully put his arm around her. For the next two hours, all he did was hold her, the warmth of his body mingling with hers until she didn’t think she could ever be cold again.

  The DVD ended and the TV automatically switched to the news. Janie reached for the remote. What she was feeling didn’t call for background noise.

  He was tightening his fingers around her shoulder, drawing her closer.

  But before she could hit the off button, the news anchor said, “New developments in the Brittney Travis case.”

  Both she and Rafe turned around, the mood broken, and settled back to watch.

  The picture from Amanda’s art book was displayed, plus the two numbers from the license plate she’d drawn, as well as the type of vehicle she’d identified.

  “This time we utilized the press. Which means you can relax a little,” Rafe said. “Not completely, not until we find Chad. But we hope we’ve given the girlfriend and Chris, the ones we haven’t identified, a false sense of security.”

  “This doesn’t give me a sense of security,” Janie muttered.

  “Then let me give it to you,” he offered. This time, he reached for the remote, aimed it at the TV and clicked it off.

  That’s when her phone rang.

  Janie bit her lip. But the caller ID announced Katie’s name. Katie knew that she and Rafe were alone; she wouldn’t call if it weren’t important. Janie shrugged and answered the phone.

  “Tonight you just might be an aunt!” Katie sang. “We’re on our way to the hospital.”

  * * *

  THEY SPENT HOURS at the hospital. The nurse who’d worked on Tommy was still there. She merely raised an eyebrow at Rafe’s presence and tried to make Katie comfortable.

  Rafe paced in the hallway with Luke and stopped by to check on Tommy until fatigue drove him home.

  Janie promised to stay at the hospital and sleep.

  Monday dawned cold, gray and dreary. Fitting for the funeral of a young man who should have had more time to enjoy life. Rafe wondered if becoming a father would have turned Derek around.

  He’d already been trying to change.

  Now, they’d never know.

  He met Janie at the hospital. Somehow she’d managed to get home and change into something that was somber, especially for her. Black silk pants hugged her long, lithe legs. A black-and-gray-striped shirt with a black jacket over it completed the outfit. She wore sensible shoes. As she walked beside him to the SUV, he realized that at no moment had he imagined going to Derek’s funeral alone. He’d always believed she’d be beside him.

  Unlike Patricia’s funeral where he’d tried to keep track of everyone, this time, his job was Janie because he wanted it to be.

  “Do you really think the killer might show up?” she asked.

  “It’s happened before. I’m counting on you to tell me the minute you recognize someone connected with Derek from Adobe Hills Community College.”

  “Believe me, I won’t leave your side. The fact that Chad is AWOL is enough incentive for me.”

  The Adobe Hills Funeral Home was a redbrick house that dated back to the late 1800s. Rafe couldn’t remember when it had not been a funeral home. His grandfather had had his service here.

  Rafe didn’t like funerals; he’d been to far too many.

  Nathan was outside, parked on the street. Rafe nodded for Janie to stay put and headed for him. “What did you get from Dime?”

  “Just finished questioning him thirty minutes ago. The man’s addicted to prescription drugs. He’d been getting them from Derek. The night the art book went into the safe, Barry got a call from Chad. He threatened to reveal to the college president a few indiscretions that Barry had hoped to keep buried forever. Until today, Barry’s wife didn’t realize he had a problem. He’s hoping his kids will never find out.”

  “So all along this campus police officer could have pointed us to Chad.”

  “Yep, but drug addiction is a powerful vice.” Nathan spoke low, his voice sad, his eyes even sadder. “It brings the strongest man to his knees and makes him do things he never thought he’d do.”

  Rafe could only nod and return to Janie who was fidgeting with her purse. He now knew she only fidgeted when she had to go somewhere she didn’t want to go. He agreed. Funerals were nerve-wracking, especially for a life cut too short.

  A news van was parked to the side of the funeral home. Nathan was already walking over to the reporter. No doubt asking her to respect the parents’ privacy.

  He took Janie’s arm and ushered her inside before they were noticed.

  “It’s weird being here,” Janie admitted. “In reality, I only knew him from class. Since reading his art book, however, I feel like I know him quite well.”

  “His parents will appreciate you being here.”

  She nodded as they entered the foyer where a man stood by a podium and suggested they sign in.

  Janie’s signature was big, flowing and artistic—no surprise. His was tiny and in print. Years of filling out reports and trying to get in every detail did that to a cop. He studied the guest book, scrutinizing every name, recognizing a few. After they signed in, they walked down a hallway and into a room filled with pews, six on each side. Janie stopped so suddenly, he almost ran into her.

  “Been to many funerals?” he asked.

  She didn’t answer, just shook her head.

  He realized that right now, she needed him.

  Rafe wasn’t sure what to make of how protective he was feeling. It wasn’t typical. Usually, he was the master of keeping a respectable distance. At the moment, though, he wasn’t the master of anything. Last night at her place had certainly proved that. He’d been planning the whole let’s-get-to-know-each-other scenario.

  “This is my second funeral,” she said. “I’m told I went to my mother’s. I’ve always felt guilty because I didn’t go to my dad’s.”

  It occurred to Rafe that he’d never really heard either of the Vincent sisters talk about their dad except that he’d abandoned them. They talked about their mother, who’d died when Janie was very young, and about each other, and growing up in Texas.

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Katie was adamant that she wasn’t going. Quite honestly, back then, I was content to follow her lead. Given the chance again, I’d make up my own mind. Katie’s had a hard time forgiving my dad for sending us to live with Aunt Betsy.”

  Rafe’s dad had been the cornerstone of the Salazar home. Every morning his mother made sure his dad’s uniform was pressed and his lunch packed. Rafe had grown up watching his mother kiss his father right before Dad headed out the door. During the day, she took care of the house and planned a meal Dad would appreciate. After he died, she’d bought the Corner Diner and turne
d it into something special.

  When Rafe was a kid, every afternoon, minutes before his father was due home, he’d be at the screen door, waiting.

  “A watched pot never boils,” his mother would say.

  Yet, until his father came through the door, the day would somehow be incomplete.

  Rafe had been in his late twenties when his father had died. Jerry Salazar’s funeral had been standing room only, too, but it had been held at the church. In the Main Street Church, there’d been friends, family, policemen from Scorpion Ridge, from Adobe Hills, from more than five other counties.

  The church was where his father had lived and died.

  “And you’ve forgiven him?” Rafe asked.

  “Sad to say, I was never angry. I never considered him much of a parent. My only goal was to be with Katie. The first funeral I remember, you were with me. It was Patricia’s. It didn’t feel like this one.”

  Rafe agreed. “Patricia’s was more of a celebration. She’d lived a good life, and—”

  Before he could continue, Derek’s mother stepped up. “Thank you so much for coming.”

  Beside him, Janie’s hand tightened on his elbow. Rafe faced Derek’s mother. He couldn’t say, I’m hoping your son’s killer shows up today and that’s mainly why I’m here. Instead, speaking for both himself and Janie, he said, “We wanted to pay our respects.”

  Rafe thought back to the names in the guest book. His name was number twelve, hers thirteen. Nathan hadn’t signed in; Rafe didn’t blame him.

  “A few of Derek’s teachers are here,” Janie whispered to Rafe as Mrs. Chaney moved away.

  “From the college?”

  “Yes, I’m not familiar with his high-school teachers.”

  “Make sure to introduce me. Any students?”

  She nodded and then stepped aside to lean against the wall.

  Rafe headed for Mr. Chaney. Like Janie, he seemed miserable. Except while Janie had her arms crossed, as if shielding herself from pain, Mr. Chaney’s hands were buried deep in his pockets. He leaned against the wall looking like he wanted to disappear. Rafe was searching for the right words to say when Mr. Chaney beat him to the punch. “You find any new information?”

  “We’re not sure yet,” Rafe responded easily.

  “Last month, about this time,” Derek’s dad said, “I was sitting at my desk thinking maybe over the summer we’d rent a cabin, maybe up in Orchard, the whole family. Over some trout fishing, maybe I’d get Derek to open up.”

  “And if Dad couldn’t, I would try.” Another man came to stand beside Mr. Chaney. The similarity was enough to give Rafe pause. “This is my oldest boy, Jimmy.”

  Mr. Chaney would soon stop saying “oldest boy” because the phrase would remind him that at one time he’d had a youngest boy.

  “You expecting any of Derek’s friends to stop by?” Rafe asked Jimmy.

  “I think one or two will, with their parents. They’ll be the kids he was close to in junior high and the start of high school.”

  “No one from recently?”

  “We don’t know any of his current friends,” Mr. Chaney reminded him.

  “None of his current friends,” Jimmy said. “They have better sense than to show their faces.”

  “We appreciated you stopping by the station and going over mug shots.”

  “I only recognized two,” Jimmy said. “Tommy Skinley, who hasn’t been around in a while, and Joshua Beardsley.”

  The media hadn’t caught on that Tommy was involved and in the hospital. They would soon, though, since a whole church had witnessed his meltdown.

  And as for Joshua Beardsley... When he gazed into the mirror, Justin Robbins gazed back.

  “Dad,” Jimmy said suddenly, “go take care of Mom.”

  Mrs. Chaney was standing next to a woman and boy. The boy was poised to bolt. The woman was shaking her head.

  “Who’s the boy?” Rafe inquired.

  “He used to be our next-door neighbor. From the time Derek was eight until about two years ago, they hung around a lot together. Then the family moved. Mom says they left because his dad got a better job and they could afford a better house. But, in reality, they moved so Billy would be away from my little brother.”

  “Would Billy know any of Derek’s current friends?”

  “No, if anything, Billy was probably secretly relieved to move.”

  Before Rafe could ask anything else, a tall man in a black suit started herding people into a small room set up with folding chairs. As he went to fetch Janie, he glanced at the guest book. It was up to twenty names.

  Billy was the only teenager, and he stayed glued to his mother’s side during the entire service. The minister conducting the eulogy obviously hadn’t met Derek. After twenty minutes of generalizations, followed by a few funeral-specific scriptures, the service was over.

  Mrs. Chaney just stared ahead, shell-shocked.

  Her husband had no expression at all.

  It was Jimmy who was holding it together. He helped his mother to her feet and led the way out the door.

  “I hate funerals,” Janie muttered.

  Rafe could only shake his head. The minister who’d performed his dad’s funeral had been a family friend. He’d cried during the service, and Rafe overheard his mother comfort the man with “It’ll be all right. Now, now.”

  Of the twenty at the funeral today, only eight attendees made it to the burial. Nathan missed it. Rafe had seen the other officer take a call and leave soon after.

  In the end, Rafe even acted as a pallbearer.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  IT SEEMED TO Janie that being by Rafe’s side was becoming a way of life. Yet, after Derek’s funeral, she couldn’t imagine anyone she’d rather be with. Only he could understand the sense of loss she felt.

  “I’m surprised Justin wasn’t there.”

  Rafe’s phone beeped. Keeping his eyes on the road and one hand firmly on the steering wheel, he answered, “Salazar.”

  Janie got to listen to another one-sided conversation.

  “Yes, he was at the funeral. No, he left early and didn’t attend the burial.”

  She guessed he was talking about Nathan.

  “No, I’ve not tried to call him. If he’s not answering, then he’s obviously busy. If I hear from him, I’ll give you a call.”

  “Nathan missing?” Janie asked.

  “Apparently he’s not answering his phone. He was due at court thirty minutes ago. I gather there’s one unhappy judge who’s threatening to suspend Nathan.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “It is. As for Justin, he didn’t dare show at the funeral. If he’d come undercover, alone, it would have raised questions. And if he’d come as himself, well, there’d be even more questions.”

  Janie shook her head. “It’s not easy being a cop.”

  “No, but when you’re doing a job that makes the world a better place, a safer place for our children, then the hardship is worth it.”

  “Children mean a lot to you.”

  Rafe was silent for a moment. “I’ve never told you about my brother, have I?”

  “No. Gloria at the zoo mentioned something about you losing a brother, but you said it wasn’t her story to tell.”

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve shared the story with anyone. It’s one of the reasons why solving Brittney’s case means so much to me. I couldn’t help but think, as we said goodbye to Derek, that he was the last thread to Brittney. That we buried her whereabouts with him.”

  “We’ll find her. We know a whole lot more than when we started.” It didn’t escape Janie’s notice that she was saying “we,” speaking almost as if she was his partner.

  She sure didn’t want to be a cop.

>   So what did she want?

  She hurried to speak again before an answer she wasn’t ready for occurred to her.

  “You mentioned that missing-persons cases are your specialty.”

  “I don’t remember saying that, but they are the ones that keep me up at night. And, funny, it doesn’t matter the age of the missing person. About a year ago, we had a ninety-year-old woman wander off. She was missing for two days before we found her.”

  “I remember. She’d gotten on a bus and somehow made her way to New Mexico before someone realized she really had no destination and no more money.”

  “For two days, I didn’t sleep. I did for her exactly what I did for Brittney. I interviewed all her friends. I walked the streets near where she lived. I visited her doctors. When the police in Albuquerque called, I’m the one who drove to get her.”

  “I had no idea you did all of that.”

  He was silent for a moment, then blurted, “Somewhere I may have an older brother.”

  “I thought you were an only child.” She recalled the pictures in his office. There was one baby photo, dead center on a shelf. She’d assumed it was Rafe. In some of the photos, he’d been standing by other men, but if he had a brother, he’d have mentioned the man, or Katie would have. She didn’t go a day without sharing something about Rafe with Katie.

  “No, my older brother is missing.”

  Janie had no idea what to say to that. It made sense, though. She remembered that first day in his office, when he’d pulled a stack of missing person fliers from his top desk drawer. There’d been something poignant in the way he’d held them.

  “My mom had trouble conceiving. She’d about given up. Then she got pregnant at age forty. This made her high risk, so she was supposed to go into Phoenix to have a C-section. Her blood pressure had shot up.”

  “You seem to know the story well.”

  “I’ve heard it a million times.”

  “So, what happened?”

  “They, my dad and her, only made it to Gesippi. If anything, their hospital is even smaller than the one in Scorpion Ridge. It would have been better to go to Adobe Hills.”

  Janie wasn’t sure if he was comparing the quality of the hospitals, or commenting on what happened next.