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.