“No, she’s never caused me any trouble,” Rafe said.
It was a lie.
Janie Vincent had caused him trouble, but it was not the kind that made its way into a police report. No, it was the kind that messed with a man’s mind.
During the large-black-cat incident, he’d asked Janie out. He’d not been concerned about a conflict of interest because he’d been sure by then that the case was merely mistaken identity.
They’d gone out once, but he hadn’t called her for a second date.
It had been clear from the start that they were too different—she was a free spirit; he was rules and realistic.
He’d also very clearly gotten the sense that Janie didn’t have much use for cops, and that she’d only gone on the date to appease her sister.
“As a matter of fact,” Rafe continued, “she just walked into my office. Seems she wants to help.”
He wasn’t exactly sure want was the right word. More likely felt obligated to help was a better choice.
Nathan muttered a few choice expletives, all having to do with her being there and not in Adobe Hills.
Looking across his desk at the pretty woman in question, as she so impatiently held herself in check, Rafe thought maybe he’d been an idiot not to call her again.
“Okay, it’s good she’s there,” Nathan finally said. “But please see that she gets here, and soon. I don’t want her to forget anything. Apparently Brittney’s name and her death were chronicled in that art book. I want to know what it said, every detail.”
“I want to see this art book—” Rafe said.
Janie shook her head.
Rafe started to protest, but Nathan, still on the phone, gave a long sigh before saying in a tight voice, “This whole thing’s turned into a mess, which is why I need your help. Campus police locked the book up last night after Janie’s boss handed it over to them,” Nathan said. “Patricia, along with the dean of students and the campus police, opened the safe this morning. Then, they called me.”
“And—”
But before Rafe could ask his question, Nathan said, “It’s gone.”
CHAPTER TWO
NOW RAFE UNDERSTOOD why Janie and her sister had scurried to his office—bypassing the officer on duty. With the art book missing, Janie and her boss were the only people who had read an alleged murder confession. If Derek Chaney had changed his mind about wanting to confess, then he’d be sweating bullets about now, and Janie might be where he’d aim those bullets.
Rafe couldn’t cancel his court date, but now, returning the phone calls and the visit to the correctional facility would no longer be his top priority.
Today, Rafe would be spending time with Janie, lots of time.
“Did the campus cop who put the art book in the safe discover it missing, or was it a different campus cop?” Rafe asked.
“Same cop.”
“Did he happen to admit to looking at the art book?”