He studied Janie’s expression: fear battling compassion with a dash of shock at being in such a situation.
He understood that fear and shock, and was glad Janie had her big sister with her. The whole town knew Katie had pretty much raised Janie.
Small towns weren’t big on secrets.
“What don’t I know?” Janie asked.
He’d hoped she’d let that part of his conversation with Nathan slip by. But, as an artist, details were her life, whether she created them or observed them.
“Well?” she nudged.
As much as he wanted to protect her, he had to prepare her. “You don’t know how ugly this case might turn out to be.”
Janie and Katie looked at each other. He noted that Katie’s expression was starting to resemble Janie’s: it was one of fear.
He booted up the computer and retrieved the file on Derek Chaney that Nathan had already sent. Silently, he skimmed the words before turning to Janie, sliding over some blank sheets of white paper taken from the bin of his printer and giving the direction, “Recreate everything from the art book that you remember.”
“Everything? Can’t I just describe it to you?”
“I want it written and drawn. We can’t afford to miss something. And you should re-create it while it’s still fresh in your mind.”
“Can I do it at home?”
Not a chance. He wasn’t about to let her leave. She pretty much lived at a zoo. He couldn’t imagine a place with more distractions. Plus, she was constantly rushing back and forth between her own classes at the University of Arizona and her lab assistant duties at Adobe Hills Community College.
“No, I need you here. I want you to copy Chaney’s art book as closely as you can—presentation, margin, everything. If he wrote in pencil, I’ll get you one. If you need special artist supplies, give me a list.”
She looked a bit shell-shocked. “This might take a while.”
“Rafe,” Katie said, “I can see to it—”
“No, she has to be here.”
“But—”
“I’ll do it.”
Rafe wasn’t sure what had put a fire under Janie, but suddenly it was as if she had to get whatever she’d seen out of her.
He watched as she frantically arranged herself so his desk became a drawing table. She brushed aside bits of something he couldn’t see and, without asking, moved some of his belongings aside. She then placed two pieces of paper, one on top of the other, in front of her. She held the pencil as if she were afraid it would explode. The point merely broke and he handed her another one.
She made an attempt to draw something on the page. But it only took her a moment to wrinkle the paper and toss it in the trash. Two more pages quickly followed. Her hand was shaking badly—no wonder she couldn’t draw.
Katie watched, her lips pressed together. “What kind of danger is Janie in, Sheriff? Are you going to arrest the kid who wrote the art book?”
Of course that would be Katie’s first concern. She knew all about predators, though mostly the animal kind. Being a zookeeper did that. And she and Janie both understood what Rafe knew.