What Janie Saw(77)

                “You should have called me the minute she started talking.” Rafe studied the drawing again. He didn’t recognize the man. It wasn’t someone who called Scorpion Ridge home.

                “They would have bolted,” Janie said. “Amanda’s mom was talking about the whole family leaving, going on vacation.”

                “I hope not. I may want to talk to her again,” Rafe said.

                Janie quickly filled him in on what they’d done to arrive at the final sketch. He was impressed. He’d only watched a sketch artist at work once before, and that woman had come with lots of stock pictures of noses, eyes, ears, facial shapes.

                “You’re good. Maybe painting animals is not what you’re meant to be doing.”

                She frowned.

                “Just giving you a compliment.”

                “He’s right,” Katie said. “I had no idea you could draw people quite this well.”

                “I’d have nightmares,” Janie said finally, “if I had to listen to people describing criminals who’d done horrible things. It was hard enough with Amanda. She kept crying, and I felt helpless.”

                “You’re not helpless,” Rafe said. “A helpless woman wouldn’t have put this, my first real lead in days, in my hands.”

                Unfortunately, even as he said the words, Janie backed away, shaking her head, rejecting the compliment.

                Rejecting him.





                                      CHAPTER THIRTEEN

                “DID YOU KNOW,” the student standing next to Janie said, “that art students accrue more debt than students with any other major?”

                Janie believed it. And, because it had been more than two weeks since she’d been able to work at the Adobe Hills Community College, she’d essentially just taken a salary reduction. Speaking of her major life change, she glanced around. Officer Candy Riorden leaned casually against a wall, checking something out on her cell phone, keeping Janie in sight.

                Janie only liked being cosseted when her bodyguard was Rafe, and lately, he’d more often been sending Candy or Chief Summerside to watch over her.

                The around-the-clock bodyguard detail was getting old, and unnecessary. With Patricia Reynolds’s death, the news media had seized on the story like a dog on a bone. They, more than anything or anyone, assured Janie’s safety.

                Too bad the stories hadn’t aired before the murderer decided to eliminate Patricia. Over three hundred people had attended the funeral. Of that number, at least a hundred had sought Janie out afterward, wanting to talk about Patricia. In the end, Rafe had put a protective arm around her and escorted her to his SUV and then home.

                A chill peppered Janie’s spine and she looked over at Candy. Having a bodyguard wasn’t all bad.

                Still, she was attempting to get her life back to normal. This morning, along with about thirty other university seniors, she was helping set up an art exhibit that she was participating in. Not just any art exhibit, but one that came with a prize.

                That Janie was desperate to win.

                “I’m glad you could help,” said one of Janie’s instructors.