In her mind’s eye, she could see the beseeching look Brittney had aimed at Derek and feel the suffocating fear in the air. She could hear the crunch of their boots breaking through the brittle grass and the deafening sound of the bullet.
She could smell the metallic copperness of Brittney’s blood as it stained the dirt black.
After an hour, she was done, both literally and figuratively.
This morning, in the predawn hour—still dark and spooky—Derek’s words settled around Janie like a blanket forcing her to accept the desperate truth.
She’d witnessed a murder through the words of one of her students.
Janie hit the save button on her computer and headed for bed. She didn’t expect to sleep, but she did—the dark, unnatural sleep of someone who wanted to hide from the world and wasn’t quite succeeding. No matter where she hid, the killer found her.
When someone started pounding on her door, it blended into her dream. Only it sounded like howling, like Yoda the wolf dog. It wasn’t until the pounding increased in volume that she awoke. Janie slid from her bed, threw on a robe and headed for the door.
“You should fix your doorbell,” Rafe said.
“You should get a life,” Janie muttered.
The expression on his face didn’t change, and Janie regretted her words. Rafe wasn’t looking too hot. Dark stubble peppered his chin. His hair, in need of a haircut, was today decidedly spiky—as if he’d run his fingers through it so often it had taken a different shape. But it was the dark circles under his weary eyes that changed Janie’s mind about what to do and say next.
“What do you need from me, Rafe?”
“I’m heading over to see Brittney Travis’s parents this morning. I was thinking it might be a good idea to have you along. You did a great job of connecting with Derek’s parents. Maybe you can do the same with the Travises. They’ll let you in her room. Maybe you can go through her things and identify anything that might connect her to Derek or—”
“I’ll go. When?”
“Now.”
“Rafe, I just woke up. I’m hungry. I’m a mess. I—”
“Well, I didn’t sleep at all. But I’ll feed you first. And, by the way, if what I’m staring at is what you consider a mess, then I’m a firm believer in mess.” Something in his expression changed, softened, pulling at her and making her want something she reminded herself was totally wrong for her.
Especially when he added, “You look perfect.”
“The Travises already think I’m coming,” Janie guessed.
“They don’t care about your appearance,” Rafe said. “They’re willing to do anything for just the chance you’ll connect a dot, see a T that isn’t crossed. You’d be surprised at how much a stranger can glean from a room. And you’re a master of observation,” Rafe added.
“What?”
“If I handed you colored pencils and paper, could you draw my office?” Rafe asked.
“As if that would be hard. I’d only have to draw fish photographs followed by football and baseball stuff. And then that decrepit Bible that’s on your desk.”