What Janie Saw. Pamela Tracy

Katie asked.

      “No, you go on back to work. I’ll find—”

      “I’ll make sure she gets home,” Rafe asserted.

      Janie’s eyes narrowed. For some reason, Little Miss Vincent didn’t appreciate his offer.

      Rafe gathered up what he needed for court, and then followed Janie and Katie out his office door. Katie hurried toward the exit, checking her watch, too. Before Rafe could steer Janie toward the back room, she caught the attention of one of his auxiliary officers. The cop gave her an appreciative once-over before Rafe sent him packing. Then he gently guided Janie to the back room and set her up in front of a computer before summoning his chief of police, Jeff Summerside.

      It took her a moment to realize what he planned and then her only question was, “I’m surprised, as small as Scorpion Ridge is, that you’re not still using mug-shot books?”

      “I’m not even sure they still make Polaroid film,” he told her wryly. “As a border community, CopLink is a necessity. It saves time and manpower.”

      He typed in some keywords and soon Janie was perusing faces. It was all Rafe could do to walk from the room, away from her and what she was doing, and hurry to court. He wanted to be sitting next to her, noting her reaction, and seeing if any of the faces meant something not only to her but also to him.

      But he trusted his chief of police.

      He wasn’t sure he trusted the officer who’d given her the once-over. At least, not when it came to Janie.

      And that made no sense at all.

      * * *

      JANIE TOOK A deep breath and looked at yet another young, angry face. Chief Summerside had typed in various bits of information, bringing up the type of people who might be associated with Derek Chaney.

      Just as Janie was wondering what type of keywords Summerside had used in his search—scary, mean, glowerer must surely have been among them—the officer left to take a private call. Leaving Janie to sit on a hard chair and feel alone. Vulnerable. It wasn’t Janie’s first time at a police station. It was, however, the first time she’d entered the doors without a police escort. And this time her sister, Katie, had been escorting her in instead of out.

      Rafe’s words, I’ll make sure she gets home, had taken Janie back to a low point in her life. Janie had just turned thirteen, and her big sister Katie, now of legal age, had left Aunt Betsy’s.

      Alone with her alcoholic aunt, Janie had been terrified, and for a solid year the system couldn’t be convinced that an eighteen-year-old guardian—one who had a job, was in college and with no police record—was better than a fifty-year-old aunt who couldn’t hold a job, keep an apartment, and had lost her driver’s license thanks to her best friend vodka.

      “I’ll make sure she gets home.”

      Janie closed her eyes. He couldn’t have picked a worse declaration. During the year Katie had fought the system, Janie had run away eight times.

      Rafe wasn’t the first cop to see Janie safely home.

      Only in those days, there’d been nothing safe about the home she’d been escorted back to. He also wasn’t the first cop to sympathize with her.

      Empty words. It was easy to say “I’m sorry.” Janie knew from experience that a cop could only do so much, and that when the next call came in, she was just a report to be filed.

      And forgotten.

      Sighing, she refocused on the screen. After what felt like days, another officer, Candy Riorden, drove her home to her cottage behind the house where her sister and brother-in-law lived.

      Since it was only a ten-minute drive, there’d been little conversation aside from the cackle of the radio and a few directions from Janie. Just before Janie closed the police cruiser’s back door, Officer Riorden said, “Sheriff Salazar says he’ll pick you up later and escort you to Adobe Hills.”

      It was an order, not a suggestion.

      Given by a cop who’d said he’d make sure she got home and then had turned her over to someone else.

      Typical.

      Yet today, as she took her second shower in under twelve hours, she wondered if she just might have to rethink her own policy. The one she had about not trusting cops. Years ago, when she’d run away, it had always been a cop who had escorted her back to a place she didn’t want to go, a place where she didn’t feel safe, instead of to her sister.

      But in this instance, Katie wouldn’t be much help. Janie might actually be putting her in danger. For a protector, Sheriff Salazar might be the logical, and only, choice. And, he did look like someone who could keep her safe. He was tall, over six feet, and had the square jaw that boasted a five-o’clock shadow before noon. Were she the type of artist to paint people, she’d choose him. She’d make sure to emphasize his strong hands, knowing smile and piercing black eyes.

      Janie couldn’t deny he was easy to look at, if one went for the dark, brooding type.

      Appearances weren’t everything, though.

      Twenty minutes later, she headed through the front gate of BAA, waved at the cashier, and immediately headed for the building that housed her sister and brother-in-law’s office.

      It was empty; both were in the field.

      Good. Janie didn’t think she could go over the story again. But because she knew her sister would expect it, Janie took out her cell phone and texted, Where U?

      A moment later, Katie responded, Feeding Aquila. U? Aquila was the trained black panther that had brought the Vincent sisters to Scorpion Ridge, Arizona.

      Going 2 c George, Janie replied.

      Walking next to the employee lounge, Janie suddenly felt a knot forming in the back of her neck. Anxiety boiled through her, ready to send her into a full-blown panic attack.

      She wasn’t about to let that happen; it had been more than a year. And she’d kept it together last night, as well as this morning and afternoon at the police station. The best thing to do was take her mind off the present situation. When she was younger, she’d always been able to push aside her troubles. All it took was pen and paper.

      Today, it would take acrylics and cinder block.

      A few minutes later she stood by the Ursus Americanus house. George, the bear that belonged to her father, was sleeping under a tree in the shade. Otherwise, he might have limped over and greeted her. He’d always been an extremely friendly bear, and her favorite.

      Crisco, the bear they’d helped nurse back to health more than a year ago, was swimming in a tiny pool designed to resemble a natural pond.

      George used to weigh six hundred pounds. Now, he was an old man and starting to shrink. He had arthritis. Crisco was still a youngster, about two years old, and not so friendly.

      She didn’t blame him. Being mistreated, declawed and underfed was hard to overcome.

      At least she’d not been declawed.

      The mural for the bear habitat would be the first Janie would complete alone. Adam Snapp, who’d been painting murals around BAA for the last four years, was busy doing other projects outside the zoo. Projects that made him money. He was at BAA today, though, finishing up a few odds and ends, and now showing up just in time to help her.

      She’d wanted to be alone, lick her wounds, and try to cleanse her mind.

      Within minutes, Adam had already asked her a dozen times if she was all right. Maybe the fact that she’d been staring at the crowds of people—all going somewhere, smiling, acting normal—instead of getting ready to draw the bears gave him a clue something was amiss.

      He’d assumed her mood had to do with the mural she was about to start.

      He’d never been more wrong.

      “You’ll