“See to it.” Rafe nodded to Brandon Long as the officer stepped away, and then turned on the ignition. With no other cars to maneuver around, it only took a moment before they were on their way back to Scorpion Ridge.
Rafe gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles were white. And he was speaking to himself under his breath. He probably didn’t even realize he was doing it.
“Solving the case?” she asked.
He jerked, started to deny it, and then said, “Lots of rabbit holes on this one.” He paused, and for a moment, she feared he wasn’t going to share. But finally he said, “There’s got to be a college connection. The campus police are investigating every angle, trying to figure out how they lost the art book.”
“They were lax.”
They left the city limits of Adobe Hills and entered a nearly empty Interstate Ten.
“Most of them are retired cops. Two of Adobe Hills’ campus police worked with my dad. They’re savvy. Plus, we have someone who not only knew that Patricia had a nut allergy but knew exactly what to do to make her think the brownies came from Georgia.”
“Lots of people were aware of her nut allergy.”
“Students included?”
Janie nodded. “Art’s a relaxed class. Students would often bring in food, so everyone was told that she couldn’t have nuts.”
“But they wouldn’t know about the plate from the teacher’s workroom, or about putting a note that said ENJOY.”
“Most wouldn’t,” Janie said slowly.
“If we add students to the list of suspects, we’ll be investigating for a year.”
“Do you think Chris and Chad are students?”
“Chris, possibly. Chad, no. Chad’s name is unusual enough that we could eliminate him from the first day. Chris is a little different. It could refer to a male or a female, be a nickname, or his full name. It could also be spelled with a K.”
“Derek wouldn’t misspell it.”
“Why not? Maybe he didn’t know.”
“Artists pay attention to details. Derek didn’t have a single misspelled word in his art book.”
Rafe didn’t seem convinced, but he did seem to be considering her words.
“His attention to detail,” Janie pressed out, “is why I was able to create the crime scene.”
“Which would never stand up in court, as you created it from a perception that cannot be documented.”
“That’s because you—”
“Don’t say it.”
“Aw, you’re no fun.” She threw out the words in jest, but to her surprise, he didn’t respond in jest.
Instead, he stared at her, and she stared back, taking in his black hair spilling down his forehead and his piercing dark eyes which now held weariness, purpose and something else. Something that made her shiver. His next words, though, made her shiver more.
“I can be fun.”