Sanctuary Lost WITSEC Town Series Book 1

by Lisa Phillips

  “Like roll call?”

  “Worth a try, don’t you think?”

  She had a point. “I want to talk to Andra first. See if she can remember more. I’m also waiting for Aaron to wake up and tell us what he knows.”

  “So you’re just going to sit here until something falls in your lap?” She shook her head and tsked. “Sheriff Chandler used to do that. And here I thought you’d be different.”

  “I have no idea what kind of a sheriff Chandler was, but I can tell you I’m nothing like him. Investigations take time.”

  “That’s your story, huh?”

  John couldn’t believe this. “It’s not a story.”

  “Why not just go rouse some suspects? Kick some doors in. Toss a few people’s houses and get the lead you need, instead of sitting around waiting for it to come to you.” She shot him a look. “Isn’t that what you marshals do?”

  “We catch criminals.”

  “So go catch one.”

  John folded his arms. “Is this your weird version of a pep-talk, with a little reverse psychology thrown in?”

  Dotty grinned. “It’s definitely something.”

  John shook his head. Why did she think she needed to do that? It was like no one believed in him enough to give him the space and time to figure this out on his own. What a great vote of confidence. I want an arrest. She killed Betty. Keep my wife and daughter safe.

  John ran his hands down his face. The responsibility of this job didn’t just mean protecting Andra and keeping her from being taken away from him and the life they could have. It was about taking care of all of them, at the same time as fielding the concerns of everyone else who knew about Sanctuary.

  Maybe they were right, maybe he wasn’t cut out for this job. Someone who knew more about regular day-to-day police work would be able to take all this in stride. But Grant chose John to be sheriff—even if he wasn’t the first choice—which counted for something, surely. Things should have been simple enough, safeguarding these people’s lives. And now he was faced with a mob that refused to have faith he could do his job.

  Pat was the only person in town who trusted him and even that was on shaky ground. Andra—who he wanted to believe in him, in them, more than anything—wasn’t even willing to trust him to help her.

  Palmer finally showed up. John looked at his watch. “Nice of you to join us in time for lunch.”

  The deputy ignored John’s comment.

  “Rough night last night?”

  Palmer slumped into his chair and set his hands on the desk in front, ready to work. Was that supposed to count for something?

  John glanced at the skin on Palmer’s knuckles. He was in the clear, for now. If he’d been there he hadn’t used his fists on Andra, at least.

  The thought of what happened to her made John’s fingers curl into fists. He wanted to pound on something. Someone. Why not Palmer? The man had a serious beef against Andra and he hadn’t bothered to hide it. It would make sense if he had been involved in her abduction.

  “Nothing to say?”

  Palmer shrugged. “I’m here aren’t I?”

  “You were supposed to start work at eight. It’s almost noon.” John gave him a minute. It seemed the deputy’s cognitive abilities were a little slow. “Where were you all morning, Palmer?”

  His face morphed into belligerence. He lifted both hands like he couldn’t see what the problem was. “Who cares? It’s not like there’s much for me to do around here anyway. Chandler never had a problem with me making my own hours. What’s the big deal?”

  “The big deal is Betty Collins was murdered.”

  “And I arrested Andra Caleri.”

  John leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “So where’s your evidence proving it was her, or even pointing in her direction?”

  “Bill and Sam said they saw her.”

  “Coercion, which would be inadmissible. Given the circumstances it barely qualifies as hearsay.”

  “Look at her history! She used to be an assassin, for crying out loud.”

  “I suppose no-one ever changes, and people can’t turn their lives around?” John walked over and put his palms on the deputy’s desk. “If you can’t take an objective eye and search out some other possibility than the first suspect who falls into your lap, then maybe Chandler was wrong. Maybe you’re not cut out for this job.”

  Palmer stood. “Says the guy who won’t even consider the fact she’s as guilty as sin.”

  “Why are you pushing this, why do you want Andra out of town so badly?”

  “Why do you want her to stay?” Palmer’s face went red. “You think you’re gonna get anywhere with a woman like that when—”

  “When she turned you down?”

  “That lying piece of—”

  “Palmer.” John’s voice boomed in the tiny office. “That’s enough. I would read the report for myself, only there isn’t one. So you tell me. A resident of this town assaults you, and you don’t file a report or press charges? Why is that?”

  Palmer sputtered. “It wasn’t worth it.”

  “You didn’t want her out of town then, but you want her gone now. Why is that?” John hadn’t even thought it through before he said it, but it made sense. Something had changed for Palmer since what happened between them. Whatever it was made him adamant Andra should be gone now.

  The idea his deputy could be behind all of this was next to the last thing John would have imagined. Looking at the man now, he could almost believe it. The question was what did he do with the theory? He could fire Palmer, but then the man would be home and—if it was true—back to scheming. John should keep him here, where he could see what Palmer was up to. He might not have been involved in the attack on Andra, but he could be the one who used John’s phone.

  All Grant had found in the satellite phone’s history was a three minute call placed to an unregistered cell. He’d run a trace last night while John had been on the phone with him, but come up with nothing. Which meant the phone had been used and switched off. That smacked of a pre-arranged time.

  What if John left the phone unattended again, but this time where he could see who used it?

  That idea was definitely worth considering.

  John’s desk phone rang. The display said Medical Center. “Sheriff Mason.”

  “Dad.” Pat sucked in a breath, winded. “Aaron woke up.”

  Chapter 23

  “Checks and balances.” Aaron shifted on the bed, his eyes glassy. “All Aaron.”

  John turned to the doctor. “We’re getting nowhere.”

  Fenton lifted one shoulder, motioning for John to step with him away from the bed. “The tests are as normal as they can be. The rest is down to Aaron. He either can’t say or he won’t. And to be honest, both of those choices might be best for him. He has to find a way through this. If it means falling back on what is familiar to him, so be it.”

  John couldn’t argue. “We don’t even know if he was talking about Betty Collins. For all we know he could have brought up what he witnessed years ago and mixed it up in his head, flashed back to his trauma.”

  “I doubt we’ll ever know.”

  “What would happen if he saw the person he talked to? How is he likely to react?”

  Fenton glanced at Aaron for a moment. “It wouldn’t be good. I doubt Aaron could control an extreme reaction. His ability to handle stress is even more limited, given he’s in the hospital.”

  “What will you do when he’s well enough to be released? I’m assuming he’ll need to be monitored.”

  “Olympia has already been by this morning. She said when he’s ready she intends to make sure Aaron has everything he needs to get better.”

  Of course she would. John smiled. The town needed a new welcoming committee and he couldn’t think of a better person to take the position. Hopefully Olympia would overlook the demise of the last woman who held it.

  John strode out, leaving the doctor to his examination. Aaron had b
een his best shot so far at clearing Andra’s name. The kid’s own defenses would make it so whatever he might have seen had been lost in his mind.

  “I got it!” Pat’s sneakers squeaked on the floor all the way down the hall. He stopped in front of John to hold up Aaron’s mail ledger.

  “Great.” He squeezed his son’s shoulder. “You okay, you need anything?”

  “I’m fine.” Pat looked like he was enjoying all this.

  “What about school, do you need to take a break here and give that some of your time today?”

  Pat screwed up his nose. “Mrs. Pepper said we couldn’t do school work because the internet is down, but one of the teenagers said we can do other stuff and she’s just faking it so she doesn’t have to work.”

  “Huh.”

  “So…do I have to go in?”

  “I’ll find out and let you know.” John grinned and sank into a crouch. “If you spend much more time helping out, I might have to deputize you…or enroll you in medical school.”

  Pat puffed out his chest. “I could be a deputy.”

  “Junior deputy.”

  “Would I get a badge?”

  John grinned. “I might be able to work that out.”

  “What about a gun?”

  “Water gun.”

  Pat’s eyes narrowed. “BB gun.”

  Oh, so he wanted to bargain, did he?

  “Nerf gun.”

  “Deal.” Pat grinned. At least John knew what to get him for Christmas now.

  “Listen, if you get bored or you need a break, let me know, okay?”

  Pat nodded. Beyond him, Bolton strode down the hall with Dan Walden, the farmer with the over-compensating horse. Thinking about it that way at least distracted John from remembering how huge the beast had been.

  He squeezed Pat’s shoulder. His boy with a soft heart that had been forgotten too many times, took the ledger to a young man he barely knew. Content to stay with him until he was better.

  “You okay?”

  John waited until his son closed the door to Aaron’s room and then glanced at Bolton. “Thanks for coming.” He included Dan in his statement.

  Dan, who stood almost hat-brim to hat-brim with Bolton, shrugged with a sideways tilt of his head. “Farrera filled me in on what’s been going on with Aaron and Ms. Caleri.” Dan hesitated. “Farrera said it was revenge. Did she kill Betty Collins?”

  John shook his head. “I don’t think she did. I just can’t prove it.”

  “I’d be more surprised if she had.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Got a request in for one-on-one discipleship a number of years back.”

  Bolton said, “Discipleship?”

  “Loosely, you could call it counseling. But more with a view to encouraging someone in their faith—usually a new Christian—and teaching them how to walk the walk they’re learning.”

  Dan paused for a second. “I pair the request with the person who fits, but who the heck matches up with an assassin? Although in this town, that’s not such a stretch as it normally would be. So I pulled in Nadia Marie and put it to her. She jumped at it herself, wanted to get to know Andra. I get regular updates, but they’re really non-specific because we want to respect a person’s privacy. As far as I know Andra’s been doing well for a long time. And I’m talking years.”

  John digested all that. “She’s been doing the discipleship thing all this time?”

  “At some point it turned into a solid friendship. It happens. It’s a good thing.”

  “So is it like a sponsor, like with Alcoholics Anonymous?”

  “After a fashion.”

  Bolton shifted. “With Nadia Marie?”

  Dan glanced at the other man with look in his eye and a slight smile. “What’s it to you?”

  The rancher’s eyes went wide. “No reason.”

  “Sure, man. Whatever you gotta say to convince yourself Nadia Marie is just another resident you’ll be forced to spend the best years of your life living alongside.” Dan grinned. “The minute you want to step things up, come see me. I’ll let you in on a few things you’re gonna want to know.”

  Bolton folded his arms. “Is that right?”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “Gentlemen.” John cleared his throat about ready to start laughing at their antics. Evidently there was a little friendly rivalry going on, that had nothing to do with Battle Night. He glanced between them. “Any of your men around Main Street Saturday night maybe saw Aaron, or a woman?”

  Dan was shaking his head before John even finished the question. “They wouldn’t have seen Aaron.”

  “Because he wasn’t out that night? Your team guys live in the same house as he does.”

  “That doesn’t make him any less invisible. I’ve already spoken with Bill and Sam.”

  John snorted, remembering the smell of their house and the affect that would no doubt have on their memories.

  Dan frowned. “They didn’t see him. And they say he wasn’t even out that night.”

  “He could have snuck out.” Bolton didn’t look happy. “And the kid is far from invisible.”

  “Bill and Sam told me they barely ever see him coming and going, and they live in the same house.”

  John said, “That’s likely due more to the weed than Aaron.”

  Bolton’s head whipped around. “They have weed as well?”

  “We’ll worry about that next week. Right now there’s a murderer loose and a woman—” John glanced at Dan. “—a member of your congregation, was abducted from jail and attacked.”

  “Weren’t you watching her?”

  John shot Dan a look. “I was within earshot.”

  “Don’t you have a security system?”

  “This isn’t the Federal Reserve. We’re a hick town, with barely any resources.”

  “Duh,” Dan said. “I’ve lived here my whole life. I know that.”

  “That’s right. How’d that work?”

  He nodded. “My dad was sent here in the seventies, couple of years before I was born.”

  “I’ll have to meet him sometime.”

  “He passed when I was fifteen.”

  John pressed his lips together, then said, “I’m sorry for your—”

  Bolton clapped Dan on the shoulder. “Probably saw the deer. Am I right?”

  Dan chuckled, shrugging off Bolton’s grip. “Likely that’s where the story came from, if you actually believe in all that. Which I don’t.”

  John nodded and moved his face to look gravely serious. “Good, because if it is true then I’m next.”

  Dan hissed out a breath between his teeth. “Sucks to be you, man.”

  Given everything which had landed in John’s lap since he arrived, even though he’d met Andra, even though Pat seemed happy, he couldn’t really disagree. “Brother, you are not wrong.”

  Dan smiled, though the sadness in his eyes was unmistakable. “So what now?”

  John said, “I find the killer or Andra gets shipped off to a life sentence on Monday.”

  “Not a problem, since she’s clearly the killer.” Bolton’s eyebrows rose, like a challenge.

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Bolton didn’t react. “Calm down, brother. I’m just saying what everyone in town is thinking. Seems to me like the only person who doesn’t expect Andra on that plane Monday morning is you.”

  “If they’re so sure she’ll be out of here, then why the attack?”

  “A warning,” Bolton said.

  Dan shot John another “duh” look.

  Bolton continued. “To her. To you. You name it. Either way, statement’s been made. Only one left to fall in line is…you.”

  Right. “You’re telling me you think she did it?”

  “Does it matter what I think?” Bolton shrugged. “I barely know the woman and I can’t say I liked Betty Collins much either. Life is life, doesn’t matter whose. But I gave up the fire of following leads, collecting evidence and
seeing the result come in when I left the life. It’s not in me anymore.”

  “Just like that, you quit?” John didn’t think he’d ever stop being a marshal, not even after he retired. It was part of who he was. “Suddenly you’re all about your cows…oh, but with a little looking into whoever’s making moonshine and where the weed came from.”

  It was Dan who spoke, “People see what they want to see. But that’s never the whole story.”

  Bolton shot Dan a look. “When did you become a sage?”

  But John couldn’t stop thinking about everyone’s being so sure Andra was responsible for Betty’s death. They expected her on the plane on Monday. A plan like that wouldn’t have originated in Sanctuary. Whoever wanted Andra would need to communicate with the person at this end. When the internet was turned off, their only method of communication in or out of town was John’s satellite phone.

  The attack on her aside, it fit. John was inclined to think it was revenge for what she’d supposedly done; meaning whoever did it really thought she’d killed Betty. The mayor? John would have to pay the bereaved husband a visit.

  “Where in the blue blazes have you been?”

  All three men turned to see doctor Fenton looking like a cherry sucker, given the color of his face versus the white lab coat.

  Harriet Fenton shrugged off her jacket. “What do you care?” The scrubs underneath were pink and somehow she managed to make them look good.

  John’s gaze moved straight to the doctor’s arm as it snaked out and he grabbed her, pulling her attention back to him.

  “I said, where were you.”

  “And I said, What. Do. You. Care? Suddenly you want to play the doting husband, the fabulous doctor saving the day. All because two hopeless cases got themselves hurt?” She slammed her hands down on her hips. “Big fat whoop.”

  Harriet grabbed a file off the front desk and flounced down the hall. When she saw the three men staring, she faltered and pasted on a smile, sashaying past them. “Fellas.”

  She stepped into Aaron’s room and John caught Bolton’s look. Within a few seconds there was a commotion. Someone yelled and then there was a louder yell that broke into a scream made by a lower pitch voice. Aaron.