“Show me your ideas,” Adam ordered.
Today must be her day for getting ordered around. First from Katie, who’d dictated, “We are going to see Sheriff Salazar.” Then from Salazar: “I will pick you up at two and escort you to Adobe Hills.” And now from Adam. “Show me...”
Didn’t anyone say please anymore?
Nevertheless, because he was a reference and a friend, she dutifully complied. That had been her assignment from him: come up with thumbnail sketches for the mural. She opened her art book and studied her drawings—done with colored pencils—that were her final choices for the design.
“Crisco’s story still makes people cry. It seemed a logical choice.” She turned the tablet so he could see that she’d created a time line, starting with Crisco being found with his head caught between the slats of fence, segueing to his rehabilitation and ending with now. Crisco, named because of how they’d managed to free him, now lived in luxury with a pool, plenty of food and a town full of fans who’d read his story in the paper.
“Maybe,” Adam said slowly, “you should add something, such as a pelt of real fur. Something for the kiddos to touch.”
Janie shrugged. Not what she’d pictured. For the last couple of years, Janie had called BAA home. The place was named after her brother-in-law’s little sister, who’d died years ago from complications of Down Syndrome. The real Bridget had loved animals, but Luke had taken the appreciation and healing she’d gleaned from animals to another level. BAA had struggled at first, but Luke had made it into a success story. Next month, BAA would start taking the first Monday of every month’s proceeds and donate them to the Down Syndrome research group.
Luke had made goals and kept them.
It was something Janie was trying to learn to do, with her art. She’d always been dedicated to the world her paints created and the projects she committed to. She had to get the bear mural finished by the end of March, plus help Adam finish the orangutan wall. It was his pride and joy, as he’d managed to add 3-D moveable parts to the vague likeness of Ollie, the actual orangutan.
In his heart of hearts, Adam was part caricaturist, part toy maker.
Janie looked at her thumbnails again. She—as always—had been going for realism with just a hint of Norman Rockwell plus a shot of Van Gogh on the side. “Everyone expects cute and fluffy,” she argued. “Anyone can draw it.”
“We’re a kids’ zoo. It’s what they don’t expect but need to know that makes the mural. If you don’t want something they can touch, add something interesting like a Seek and Find amidst your time line.”
Janie was aghast. “So I’d have a list of words written on the wall, and the children have to find the hidden pictures?”
He brightened. “Absolutely, give the kiddos something to do.”
Yup, there was no changing him from his trademark ventures. He did “engaged” murals. Janie hated to think of what he might do if BAA had any skunks.
She changed the subject. “Have you ever heard of Derek Chaney?”
Adam didn’t even blink. “No, why?”
“How about Brittney Travis? Do you know her?”
Adam stepped back, no longer looking at the thumbnails. “Yes, I’ve met Brittney in town. Why? What brings her up? She’s been missing more than two months, since Christmas.”
“Would Brittney ever run away, do you think?”
“No one who knows Brittney believes she ran away,” Adam said. “She’s a lot younger than me, so I only met her because she took tae kwon do at my father’s studio.”
Janie had gone to the studio once with Adam. Even though he’d started her in a beginners’ class, one he’d been teaching, she’d stumbled with the most basic of moves. Luckily, she’d been able to laugh at herself.
“That doesn’t mean she would never run away.”
“No, it doesn’t, but she’s just not that kind of girl. She was nice to my brother.”
Janie couldn’t come up with the words to respond. Having siblings with special needs was what had cemented Adam and Luke’s friendship all those years ago. Luke had had Bridget; Adam had his twin, whom he fiercely protected.
Being nice to his brother was akin to sainthood, at least to Adam. Right now, Aaron lived with Adam’s parents and worked at their tae kwon do studio. He was a helpful ten-year-old trapped in a twentysomething body and was always cheerful.
“What have you heard? Why are you asking this now? Has there been news about Brittney?” Adam asked.
“Nothing I can share,” Janie said.
Adam raised one eyebrow. His lips went into a thin line of disappointment. “Look—” he started to say.
And just like that, the anxiety enveloped her again. She couldn’t breathe, and the only thing she could do was seek escape. She managed to gasp, “I have to get out of here. I’ll talk to you later.”
She took off, running, ignoring the echoing shouts of Adam’s concern.
Nine years. It had been nine years since the walls had closed in on her, keeping her awake nights and searching for places to hide during the day.
Her sister had never shaken the anxiety. Even today with a husband and a baby on the way, Katie sometimes paced the living room unable to sleep or find peace.
Not Janie.
The minute she’d escaped their aunt to go live with Katie, she’d pushed the fear to some corner of her mind and fenced it in.
But today, it returned.
Her safe world had crumbled.
CHAPTER FOUR
TWO HOURS LATER, an hour later than he’d wanted it to be, Rafe pulled into a circular driveway just a mile down from BAA.
Belonging to Ruth Moore, who also owned the land BAA resided on, the minimansion was today a place where fund-raisers were held and where Ruth, along with Katie and her husband, Luke, lived.
Ruth was currently on her honeymoon. She and her new husband, Jasper, were overseas exploring the place where Jasper had lived before Hitler and the war made him an orphan.
Rafe exited the Jeep and walked around to the cottage out back where Janie lived. He had to knock twice before Janie opened the door. She’d changed into jeans and a button-down sky-blue shirt with ruffles.
“Do I really have to do this?” she questioned.
“Yes.”
She followed, and soon she sat beside him in his Jeep, no longer looking frightened. Fear had been replaced by exhaustion. They left the property and hit the main road.
“You did a good job with the CopLink photos today. I’ve given the names of the three students you picked out to the Adobe Hills police. Chief Summerside’s gonna go pick up the fourth, our local boy,” Rafe shared.
“I wish I could have done more. And I’m still not sure if the people I identified are just people I’ve seen at school or here at the zoo. Except for Tommy. You know him?”
Yes, Rafe knew Thomas Skinley. He’d been in and out of trouble for the last five years.
“How often does he come to the zoo, and are you sure you never saw him at school?” Rafe asked, trying not to show how disturbed he was by the name.
“No, not at school. He’s come to the zoo more than a few times with his sister. As I told your officer, Amanda Skinley is in my Monday/Wednesday class, Derek’s class.”
The