“He glanced at the first couple of pages, but not the whole thing. It was late and there’d been a report of someone trying to break into parked cars on campus. He wanted to keep his eye on the monitors. Still, he filled out the report, so he knew what was in it.”
“Why didn’t they contact the police last night?”
Across from him, Janie—ever the teacher—raised her hand. Rafe bit back a wry smile.
“The confession is in Derek’s personal art book,” Janie burst out. “His art book! It’s supposed to contain thumbnail sketches and ideas for the project he was working on. I thought—hoped—he’d decided to write some sort of graphic novel. We had some doubt as to whether it was fact or fiction. Patricia Reynolds, the chair of my department, was going to notify the dean this morning and see what he wanted to do.”
“Hear that?” Rafe said into the phone.
“The dean called us just after eight this morning,” Nathan affirmed. “Our guy arrived at twenty after. He was there when they opened the safe.”
Rafe looked across the desk at Janie. “How did you find out the art book had gone missing?”
“The dean called me.”
Turning his attention back to the phone, Rafe asked, “What does Patricia Reynolds think of all this?”
Nate answered, “She’s coming to the station this afternoon to make a statement and try to recreate what she read. She admits, though, that she only scanned the first page then flipped to the last. Once she saw Brittney’s name, both she and Miss Vincent headed straight to campus police. Apparently there was quite a bit more to the art book, though, at least six pages.”
Rafe could only frown and stare across his desk at Janie. “How much did you see?”
“About six or seven pages. Only four pages had to do with Brittney.”
Was there anything after that? Anything you didn’t read?”
“Not sure, but I don’t think so.”
“What’s your gut feeling?” he asked. “Does the art book show fact or fiction?”
Her sister squeezed Janie’s hand. Janie, for her part, seemed more interested in fiddling with the edge of her shirt, tugging at some unimportant thread.
Janie might not have answered, but on the phone, Nathan didn’t hesitate. “I told you this whole thing’s become a mess. Kid might have been capable of murder, but not anymore. He died over the weekend in a meth explosion.”
Rafe almost dropped the phone. “Accidental?”
“We didn’t have reason to believe otherwise until we got the call about the art book this morning. Now there’s reason to look at the case again.”
“Does Janie know?”
“No.”
“Send me what you’ve got so far concerning Derek Chaney. I’d like a copy of last’s night police report, too. I’ll be by with Janie this afternoon,” Rafe said, ending the conversation and ignoring the raised eyebrow Janie shot him. No doubt she didn’t like him making promises for her.
Well, as a potential witness to murder, Janie was about to find out that certain obligations were not negotiable.