Sanctuary Buried WITSEC Town Series Book 2

by Lisa Phillips

  John nodded, and Frannie got in the back.

  Beside her, Beth smiled. “How was your date?”

  Frannie thought about the fire, sitting beside Matthias at the hot springs and his kiss. She felt her lips curl up into a smile.

  “That’s what I thought.” Beth was smiling too, but her eyes didn’t sparkle the way they had in the bakery kitchen. In fact…she looked sad.

  “I’m sure your dad will be able to get a message to your husband.”

  John reacted—shifted in his seat—but she kept her attention on Beth. She guessed the woman hadn’t told John about the baby, so she didn’t mention it.

  Beth looked away, out the window. Frannie wanted to draw her out, to let the woman know she could rely on her. If she even wanted to talk about it at all.

  John pulled up outside the medical center. “I’ll get your bike.”

  Frannie propped it against the outside of the building and knocked. Xander hit the access button, and she went inside. “Good evening.”

  “Good evening, Ms. Frannie.” Yet another person tonight who looked at her with sadness in their eyes.

  “She’s having a rough night?” Frannie squeezed his tree-trunk arm, and he nodded. “I’ll see what I can do to cheer her up.”

  It wasn’t until she stepped into Stella’s room that Frannie released the breath she’d been holding. Father Wilson sat in the chair pulled up to Stella’s bedside. His eyes were closed, and he prayed with lips moving silently. Stella’s face was almost gray. She opened her eyes…and winked.

  Frannie clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing, and managed to cough instead. Father Wilson lifted his bent head. Stella shut her eyes again, so that Father Wilson looked sternly at Frannie. “Amen.”

  Frannie nodded, trying to look respectful. “Father.”

  “Ms. Peters.” He stood then, and Stella opened her eyes.

  “Thank you, Father.”

  He nodded, but with his shoulders too so it looked like a bow. “I’ll be by tomorrow.” Father Wilson looked at Frannie out of the corner of his eye on the way past her, and then he was gone.

  Frannie rushed to Stella, who held her arms out.

  “So…a date with Matthias?”

  Frannie leaned back. “How did you even know that?”

  “Word gets around.”

  Of course it did. “I knew he must’ve been wrong. I knew you would never have agreed to let a crazy man kill you, like putting you out of your misery was something honorable.”

  Something shifted in Stella’s eyes. “Plenty of people have probably wanted to put me out of my misery a time or two in my life.”

  “Not just you.” Frannie settled on the edge of the bed. “When I read it in the letter, I didn’t believe it.”

  “I heard about that, too. Are you okay? It can’t have been a pleasant thing to read.”

  “It was weird, and creepy.” Frannie shook off the cloud the letter had brought with it. She didn’t want that in her life. “I’m glad John is working to figure out who it was in your room. That’s probably weird for you, thinking about someone in your room when you were sleeping.”

  Stella’s nose wrinkled. “Wasn’t the first time. Not when I need meds at all hours.”

  “You don’t know who it was…do you?”

  “The sheriff asked me that.”

  Frannie watched her friend. “You don’t want to have met him. Maybe he’s even a bit crazy, what with wanting to end lives. Like that will make people happy.”

  “I’m not worried about dying.”

  Frannie swallowed. “It doesn’t bother you at all?”

  Stella took her hand. “It shouldn’t bother you, either. It’s not weird, or bad. Not really. Not when I’m sure of what my faith tells me. I have peace.”

  Frannie straightened. “I don’t want any part of that if it means you’re not going to fight.”

  “I’m too tired to fight.” Stella rubbed the back of Frannie’s hand with her thumb. “I’m asking you to let me go.”

  “You’re going to let some delusional maniac kill you?”

  “I told him I wouldn’t do it until I talked it over with my husband, and with you.”

  Frannie shot off the bed. “You know who it is.” She couldn’t believe this. It was insane. Stella had talked to him. “You said you didn’t see who it was.”

  “He was here before, and I never saw his face.”

  “Then he won’t wait for you.” Frannie sucked in a breath. “He had a needle, he was going to do it before I interrupted him.”

  “Then you’d better get on board, darlin’. Because there isn’t much time.”

  Black spots flickered in the edges of Frannie’s vision. “This is… Don’t do this. Don’t let that monster do this to you.”

  “Ms. Frannie?” Xander stood in the doorway, glancing between her and Stella.

  Stella shook her head. “Everything is fine, Xander. Thank you.”

  Frannie nearly choked. Nothing was fine. Stella was inviting death because… Frannie took her friend’s hand. “I know you’re scared, I’ll be here with you.”

  Stella smiled, like Frannie was a confused child who didn’t understand the scope of what she was saying. “You don’t get it. I’m not scared at all.”

  Chapter 11

  The bell over the bakery door rang, and Mimi sauntered in. “Hello, darling.”

  Frannie sighed. “What’s up?”

  “I’m here to work, of course.”

  This can’t have been the help the first lady had been talking about. Although Frannie wouldn’t have put it past the woman to go by Frannie’s house and have a “talk” with her mom, she just didn’t think it had anything to do with getting Frannie the help she needed.

  “I’m glad you’re happy, darling.” Mimi squeezed her hand. “Matthias is a wonderful catch. A real man’s man. You hook that one good and don’t ever let go.”

  Frannie stared while her mom slipped on a pink apron. “I’m not sure that’s exactly how it works.”

  Mimi gave her a look. “That’s because you know next to nothing about men.”

  Frannie turned away. She didn’t need that lesson from Mimi. Not when the tips and tricks she’d have to offer were the ones that had wreaked havoc on their lives for years.

  Mimi came back from a bathroom break—not that she called it that—later that morning, a white envelope in her hand. “This was on the floor inside the back door.”

  Francine snatched it from her, not wanting her mom to have to deal with it if it was another letter from the killer.

  Then she froze.

  After everything, her instinct was concern for Mimi?

  Frannie would put up with a hundred of these letters if it meant she had proof she wasn’t like her parents—that she understood how to think of someone other than herself all the time.

  Frannie used the phone by the cashier’s log. Dotty answered on the first ring. “Yes, ma’am?”

  She probably thought it was Susan calling. “It’s just me.”

  “I know, dear.” Dotty chuckled. “You need the sheriff again? You didn’t get another one of those letters, did you?”

  Frannie sighed. “Can you just have him come by?”

  “He’s out at the reclamation center, but I’ll radio him right now.”

  Frannie tossed the letter on the counter. “It’s not going anywhere.”

  She hung up and looked around. The tables were clear, and there were only two customers in the corner huddled together in quiet conversation.

  Mimi picked up the letter. “What’s the deal with a letter, you have to call the sheriff?”

  “It’s from the person who tried to kill Stella. He’s some kind of assisted suicide nut, but he’s dangerous. He’s killed before.”

  “What are you talking about?” Mimi looked baffled. “There’s another killer in Sanctuary?” By the time she was done her voice was a screech.

  “Mimi—”

  “Open it!” S
he shoved the envelope in Frannie’s face.

  “You don’t want to know what it says. He’s delusional.”

  Not that Stella agreed with her assessment, but Frannie hadn’t figured out how she was going to convince her friend when she was so obviously suffering. It was selfish to want to keep her around, but Frannie didn’t have any problem being selfish in this instance.

  Losing Stella was going to be incredibly difficult whether it happened today—because she chose it—or in a few weeks. What was stalling Frannie was the anger. Fury that this had to happen at all roared through her, and she wanted to push back against it. She’d been trying to stay out of it, but that was before she’d talked with Stella.

  “Open it.”

  Frannie took the envelope from her mom and glanced at the window. The sheriff wasn’t here yet, and he hadn’t said she couldn’t read it. Maybe there was something in there to help her convince Stella this guy wasn’t the answer to her problem.

  She ripped into it, pulling out the folded paper and shaking it out.

  Her mom wafted a hand in front of her face and stepped back. “What is that?”

  “It’s just what it smells like.” Frannie set the paper on the counter and coughed into her elbow. The scratch in her throat was back, not that it had been gone for long. Whatever it was that made the letter smell like this must be exacerbating the virus she’d caught over the last couple of days.

  My dearest Francine,

  She flinched. “Seriously?” Having a crazy man grow more attached to her was not a good outcome.

  “What does it say?” Mimi was keeping her distance, probably because of the tangy chemical odor.

  Was that what was making her sick?

  Frannie held the paper farther away and read aloud. “I regret whatever harm I’ve caused you in the past. My work is important. However, your injury was the result of my impulsive actions. It is not in my nature to cause pain. I seek only to bestow peace to the suffering. Please grant me the gift of your forgiveness.” She paused for a shallow breath, shaking her head.

  The smell hit the back of her throat, and Frannie coughed. So much for trying not to breathe it in.

  “Do not fear me. It is needless. I reside not with the living, but only with those close to departing. I—”

  “Frannie.”

  She looked up. John stood in the middle of the bakery, his arms folded.

  “You didn’t say I couldn’t read it.”

  “You’re adding your fingerprints, which makes it harder for Grant to process considering your prints will get flagged as unknown and possibly being the killer’s.”

  “He’s testing the letters?”

  John nodded. “Of course. The first one was sent off on Monday’s transport. This one will have to wait until next Monday.”

  “Is he testing for—” Breath caught in her throat. She tried to suck more in, but couldn’t get enough air. She bent forward and hung her head down, coughing and trying to clear her throat. Grant needed to test for poisons.

  “Get her some water.”

  Mimi’s heels clapped out into the kitchen and John came over to stand by her. “Give yourself a minute. If you stress out or freak because you’re panicking, it’ll take longer to get your breath back.”

  She nodded, working on taking in more air every time her lungs hitched. It was like they were reaching for oxygen, trying to draw it in. Her head pounded with every cough.

  When she’d calmed somewhat, Frannie straightened and took the water from her mom. John walked her to a chair, and she slumped into it.

  “I’ll take the letter.” He looked at the paper on the table like he was trying to figure something out. “You should probably go home and rest. Let your mom look after the bakery.”

  Mimi blanched, but thankfully covered it up. She flicked back one side of her hair and said, “Of course. Darling, you should put your feet up.”

  If she’d finished fixing up the apartment upstairs, Frannie would only have had to walk up there. As it was, she pushed her bike back home. Riding seemed like it would take entirely too much energy and brainpower. It took some time, but she made it back to the house. She propped the bike against the wall beside the front door and just stood for a minute. One hand braced against the house, Frannie tried to figure out what she was going to do next. It felt like a jackhammer had taken up residence in her head.

  “What are you standing out here for?”

  Frannie turned her whole body so her neck stayed straight.

  “Gees, you look worse than you did last night.”

  “You remember that?” Frannie quipped. “I’m surprised you even knew what was going on, given how stoned you were.”

  Izzy smirked. “So you’re not as innocent as everyone thinks.” She jerked, and turned aside.

  Diego sauntered past her, planting a messy kiss on Izzy’s lips. “Later, darlin’.” He saw Frannie, and leered. “Sick and hot is still hot.”

  Frannie waited until he was out of earshot and then turned back to her sister. “Why do you hang out with him?”

  Izzy bristled. “It’s none of your business.”

  Frannie stepped inside. “How was that doctor’s appointment Mom mentioned?” She looked at the stairs, but couldn’t bring herself to put one foot in front of the other and climb them.

  “What doctor’s appointment?” Frannie glanced over just as Izzy shot her a weirdo look. “Mom probably had plans with her man. He won’t let her tell anyone they’re together. He wants it to be all secretive.”

  Frannie shook her head. The resulting pain was enough to make her clutch her forehead and almost fall. She braced her other hand on the wall and moved toward the living room. “I’m going to lie down.”

  “Whatever, I have plans anyway.”

  “Maybe you should go to work. Mom might need help.”

  “Nah. Mimi will be fine.” Izzy’s voice got quieter as she moved away. “The girls and I have plans.”

  Frannie tumbled onto the couch and the room spun.

  The front door slammed and another wave of pain crashed over her. Nausea roiled in her stomach. Frannie clutched her abdomen and prayed she wasn’t going to throw up. The scar on her shoulder tingled like phantom pain, remembering her father’s eyes and the booming sound of the gunshot.

  It was like something had crawled down her throat. Was this her punishment for wanting to have her own space, her own life…her own relationship? She would take it all back if it meant this would go away.

  She wanted to sleep, but it felt like her head was going to explode.

  When she opened her eyes again, the pain in her head was down to a dull thump-thump. Frannie braced herself and opened her eyes. The living room was halfway dark, except for the lamp light. At least someone in her house was capable of being considerate so she didn’t end up waking to complete darkness. Still, even the small amount of light exacerbated the pain in her head.

  Frannie stretched. Her foot touched something solid, and she shifted to see what it was.

  “Whoa, easy.” Matthias grabbed her ankle, then let go to rub where she’d kicked his leg.

  “Uh…hi.”

  He smiled at her.

  Frannie saw the book in his hand. How long had he been there? “Tias.”

  He didn’t move, his head still bowed and his eyes on the pages in front of him. “Hang on, I’m at the good part.”

  She looked at the book. Half an inch of pages were in his right hand, the greater portion of the book on the other side. Apparently the “good part” came near the end. When was the last time she’d read a book?

  Frannie set her chin in her hand and snuggled into the couch cushions to watch him—which should probably have felt strange, but it didn’t. Like she had nothing better to do than study the line of his jaw, and the way his hair kind of just fell wherever it wanted, even touching his ear.

  His forearm flexed, and he set the book in his lap. “Feeling better?”

  “I think so.” She sh
uffled up and sat back against the arm of the chair.

  “Your front door was unlocked. Is it okay that I came in?”

  Frannie shrugged. It would’ve been weird if she was upstairs sleeping but didn’t figure he’d have gone up looking. “How long have you been here?”

  “Maybe half an hour.”

  “What are you reading?”

  He cocked his head to one side. “You got another letter, and this is what you want to talk about?”

  “I’m not in denial. I’m just not giving him head space I can’t afford to lose.” She tapped the side of her temple with her index finger. “Prime real estate, right here.”

  He smiled but said, “I’m sorry. I know how busy you are.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. You rank higher on the list than a crazy madman.” Even if the letter-writer considered himself to be of sound mind, she was still going to think of him that way. He might be trying to make her sick. Who else than a psycho would do that?

  “Glad to hear I rank higher than the demented criminals of the world.” He turned the book, pulling a bookmark from the front and settling it between two pages. When he tossed it on the table, she read the author’s name. Carl Gabriel. Frannie had seen some of his historical adventure movies.

  “Can I borrow that when you’re finished with it?”

  “Depends.” He eyed her. “Do you fold the corners of the pages down to mark your place?”

  Frannie said, “What if I don’t have a piece of paper or something else handy to use as a bookmark?”

  “You should write the page number on your hand.”

  “What if I take a shower and it washes off?”

  He smiled. “You are feeling better. Are you hungry? I brought some tomato soup since I wasn’t sure what you’d have.” He stood, stretching his arms above his head.

  “Sat for too long?”

  “It was a good excuse to read, so thanks.” He grabbed the book and stuck it in a black backpack by the door. Was he planning on staying a while?

  “Soup?” She stood, pitched too far, and braced as he caught her.

  “Easy, Frannie. Don’t move too fast.”

  “Why am I lightheaded?”

  His frown wasn’t curiosity, it was genuine concern. “I don’t know.”