What Janie Saw(3)
Except for Katie.
Pulling out her cell phone, Janie started to call her big sister, but changed her mind. Katie was eight months pregnant and didn’t need the worry. Besides, this could be nothing. Just the crazy rant of a student wanting attention.
Right?
Patricia would still be in her office. Janie was supposed to take her the art books when she finished checking them anyway.
Holding the art book pressed to her chest, Janie hustled out the main doors and headed for the building that housed the faculty offices. Patricia didn’t leave until every class had ended and every light was turned out. Which was why in a hallway that housed more than a dozen faculty offices, hers was the only door open and the only beckoning light.
The cold finger of doubt tapped Janie on the shoulder. What if she was overreacting? What if Derek was just trying to scare her because she was young and new to her job?
She needed this opportunity, needed to do well at it and get a glowing recommendation so she’d have a shot at her dream: an artist residency in Africa.
Yet tonight, her feet didn’t falter; her mind didn’t change.
After all, she might have just read an art book detailing a murder.
When she finally got to the professor’s office, though, she wasn’t sure how to begin, so she simply stood in the doorway, trying to find her voice.
There were stacks of art supplies on every surface of the room, including chairs. Textbooks were stacked in towering rows. When Janie’d come in last August for her interview, she’d had to stand and answer Patricia’s questions.
Finally, she managed to clear her throat. Patricia turned around, all smiles.
While her office was a study in organized chaos, Patricia wasn’t. She wore a blue pantsuit with a red blouse underneath. Her hair was short and she had a thing for red high heels, almost stilettos. An angel pin was clipped just above her heart. It was her most cherished possession. Her father had given it to her before he died. It was solid white gold with a natural diamond.
Taking one tiny step into the room, Janie handed Patricia the art book. “I just read something, written by a student, and I think you need to take a look.”
“Personal issues? Is a student in trouble?”
Janie paused. Personal issues might be one way to sum up Derek’s art book. “It’s Derek, and I’m not sure.”
Patricia frowned. “What’s in it that concerns you?”
“Does the name Brittney Travis mean anything to you?”
Patricia leaned forward, her expression so stern that Janie almost took a step back. “Why are you asking?”
“Her name’s in his art book, and it’s worrying me. He wrote and drew pictures of her murder.”
Janie didn’t quite catch the interjection Patty muttered under her breath, but she could guess what it might have been. Patty scooted her chair to the left, lifted a manila folder and took a page from it. She scanned the words before handing it to Janie.
It was a campus email alerting faculty and staff that over the winter holiday an Adobe Hills Community College student had gone missing.
Brittney Lynn Travis.