Sanctuary Lost WITSEC Town Series Book 1 (16 page)

Pat sighed big and loud. “That sounds cool. I
wish I had brothers.”

“I know buddy.”

It wasn’t going to happen. Even though John’s
mom had pulled him aside before they left and told him to be “open”
to relationships. Something about how Pat needed a complete family
and not just one in pieces like he had. As if John didn’t know
that.

For now all his free time needed to be making
up for the lost year with his son. And trying to figure out why
someone had killed the mayor’s wife.

“What’ll it be?” Maria, Matthias’s sister,
smiled at them. Her waitress uniform was yellow and she had on a
whole lot of make-up. Why did women do that?

John smiled. “Two cheeseburgers, fries and
two chocolate shakes.”

Pat nearly jumped from his seat.
“Awesome!”

“Coming right up.” She strode away, the
awkward movements of someone in pain and trying to hide it.

A dark figure stepped up to their table and
John looked up. And up. The man was over six-six. He looked like a
bear. A familiar bear. “Sam Tura?”

The man laughed. “In another life, I
believe.”

John stood and introduced himself, got his
hand crushed, and turned to Pat. “Sam’s a boxer.” He looked at the
bear. “I saw that fight against Pecos. That was rough, man.” It
just wasn’t the reason Sam was here.

“You fight?”

If John said yes, was he going to end up in
the ring? Did he want that? “A little.”

Sam pointed a beefy finger at the window. The
name on the building across the street was
Sleight of Hand
,
the gym John had seen on Battle Night
.
“The paint is
peeling, but the bags are heavy.”

The man was a bona-fide poet. Who knew? John
smiled. “That’s your gym?”

“For sure. You think I could survive in this
cage without an outlet?” Sam grinned. “It’s better than beating on
the locals by a long shot.”

“I’m gonna have to agree with you on that
one.” John pointed at his badge. “Sheriff and all.”

“Come by sometime. I’ll see what you’ve
got.”

John didn’t particularly like losing—or being
pounded on—but he’d pay money to be in the ring with Sam Tura.
“That sounds great.”

“Dinner’s on the house.”

“Seriously?”

Sam shrugged. “It’s my place. I can do what I
want and I don’t take no lip.”

The stenciled lettering on the front window
said
Estelle’s.
“This is your place?”

“Long story.” He pulled the white dish towel
from his shoulder. “Enjoy your dinner.”

Maria came back over carrying a tray and set
it on the table with a wince. “Here you go boys.”

Beyond her, Sam narrowed his eyes but didn’t
say anything. John met his gaze and Sam nodded. John was content to
let the man handle his own business. But he’d be sure to ask Sam
about what was going on with Maria when they met up at the gym.

After dinner John walked his son back to the
apartment so Pat could put on his Dolphins jersey and then they
headed back to the Meeting House. A screen had been pulled down
from the ceiling and groups of guys sat around the room, watching
the pre-game chatter. John pulled up the case file on his tablet
and read over his notes, making a list of people from the scene
he’d need to interview. Talking to the mayor again also wasn’t a
bad idea. He needed to see how the man was doing with his grief and
if he’d remembered anything else.

The lack of information was disturbing.
Murder didn’t happen for no reason and John wasn’t willing to
accept there might never be an explanation. Not at this point.

Pat whooped and John looked up. Nate ran down
the field, turned and caught the ball. He ran two yards and threw
it down.

“Touchdown!”

John grinned. The kid really needed a foam
finger.

Twenty minutes later Nate stood on the side
of the field. His forehead dripped with sweat. How hot was it in
Florida? It was after dark there, so the stadium floodlights lit up
the crowd of players. Nate looked at the camera and waved it
closer. He signed P-A-T with his fingers then blew a kiss to the
camera.

“He did it!” Pat jumped up. “Uncle Nate sent
me love!”

John laughed, as did several people sitting
around them. His son was going to win this town’s hearts over for
sure.

This was what John had missed for the past
year. His focus had been solely on the assignment. Situations like
that where you couldn’t just play the role but you had to live it,
there wasn’t much headspace to be worrying about home. Still, in
those quiet moments when he was alone, John’s heart had hurt for
his son.

Before long, Nate was helmeted up and back on
the field. John lowered his tablet to watch the play.

His brother ran down the field, turned and
was slammed by a Giant.

John winced. The guy climbed off Nate but
Nate didn’t move. Pat lowered his arms. John put his hand on Pat’s
shoulder but his son moved forward, parting two chairs so he could
get closer to the screen.

The Meeting House was quiet. On the screen,
medics ran across the field and crouched beside Nate.

John’s phone rang. He pulled it from the clip
on his belt and looked at the screen. It was Grant.

“Are you seeing this?”

John bit his lip. “Yeah, we’re watching.”

Pat glanced at him. “Is Uncle Nate okay?”

“I don’t know buddy. He got hit pretty hard.
But he’s wearing a lot of pads. We have to wait and see.”

“Gees, you suck at this.” Grant groaned.
“Tell him Nate’s gonna be fine.”

“That might work with your girls.” John
wasn’t going to lie to his son, not again.

This wasn’t telling him he’d be back soon and
then being gone for a year, but it was still important. Nate could
be seriously hurt. It could be something that would heal in time or
he could be back on the field in ten minutes. Pat needed honesty,
not truth so veiled it was basically just a disguised lie.

“Call me if you find out anything.”

Nate was lifted on a stretcher and carried
off the field. John crouched by his son.

He didn’t know if this was going to work, but
he had a hunch his son was enough like him it just might. “I’ll
call Grandma. I bet she’s worried. If you talk to her, do you think
you could cheer her up?” John smiled but he didn’t feel it. How
hard had Nate been hit? “I’ll make a call too, and we’ll find out
if Uncle Nate is okay. All right?”

Pat tore his eyes from the screen, where the
game continued. “That sounds okay. I bet Grandma is really
worried.”

His little fingers gripped John’s as they
walked back to the apartment. John slumped on the couch and Pat
came to sit on the other end. His son’s whole demeanor had
darkened. Maybe Grant had been right. “I’m sure he’ll be okay,
buddy.”

Pat sniffed and looked away. John had no idea
what to say to make his son feel better. He was so out of practice
it wasn’t the least bit amusing how much he sucked at this. He
didn’t know what his son needed. “Pat—”

“Can we just call Grandma?”

“Sure.” John dialed.

“H-Hello?”

“Hey Mom, it’s John.”

“Is Nate okay, do you know? Ben wants the
number for his coach or someone with the team, so he can call and
find out.”

“I’ll see what I can get while you talk to
Pat, okay?”

John handed the phone over and ran down to
his computer, which had internet access. He scoured the team
website and then sent an email to Grant asking if he knew how they
could find out.

Pat stood by the desk, holding the phone out.
“Grandma had another call coming in. She thought it might be Uncle
Nate.”

“You okay, buddy?”

“Can I watch a movie in bed?”

John sighed. “That’s fine.”

What was he supposed to do? Solving a murder
was logical once you broke it down into tasks. Eventually he would
get to the end, and find out who did it. Navigating his son’s
emotions was so much harder. Pat didn’t give anything up
easily.

**

Pat sat in the back of the classroom. He
wasn’t really reading from the book, even if it was more
interesting than what they were talking about. He still didn’t know
if Uncle Nate was going to be okay.

There were six kids in the class, but four of
them were big kids and the other was a girl. Pat was the youngest
because Matthias’s nephews weren’t in Kindergarten yet.

The school was only as big as one of the
classrooms at his old school, plus some bathrooms. There was a
playground outside but it didn’t even have swings, so what was the
point? They were out west of town almost at the road to the ranch.
Maybe if Matthias came into town Pat would see him drive past. But
he wouldn’t be able to go out and talk to him.

Pat probably couldn’t help Aaron with the
mail on Mondays, either. He’d just end up sitting here for years
and years until he was old and he could get a job doing…something.
A professional at BMX tricks would be cool. Bobby’s older brother
designed computer games where you shot people’s heads off and blood
spurted out. But Pat wasn’t allowed to play those, so he didn’t
figure his dad would let him do that.

“Okay.” Mrs. Pepper looked at the clock.
“That’s enough debate for today. Let’s all head over to the library
and get our work done, shall we?”

Pat grabbed his backpack and swung it over
his shoulder. The library was across the street, another building
all by itself. It wasn’t attached to the one next to it like the
ones on Main Street were. If they had to walk by the sheriff’s
office, he could at least find out if his dad knew something about
Uncle Nate.

The teenagers went out first. Pat followed
them and the twelve year old girl whose name he couldn’t
remember.

“Hey bud.” His dad was leaning against his
Jeep.

“Dad!” Pat ran over and hugged him. “How’s
Uncle Nate?”

“Just another sprained ankle. He’s gonna be
fine.”

Pat blew out a breath. “That’s good.”

“Your uncle said he’d call you later, when
you’re out of school.”

“You talked to him?”

His dad smiled. “He sounded funny. The
medicine they gave him made his voice slur and he kept laughing.
But I made him give the phone to a nurse who promised she’d make
sure he called you on my phone.”

“Okay, good.”

“Pat?” Mrs. Pepper stood at the edge of the
street, ready for him to go with her to the library.

“I gotta go.”

“Okay.” His dad pulled him close for a hug.
Pat squeezed him and then ran to Mrs. Pepper, who made him hold her
hand while they crossed the street like he was a baby.

The library was cool, but it was small and
they probably didn’t have any comics. Mrs. Pepper typed in his
log-in and password and had him tell her what he wanted it to be
for next time. He did the assignments he was supposed to while she
sat on a chair and read a book on her tablet-thing, only looking at
the teenagers every now and then to tell them to be quiet and get
on with their work.

One of his English assignments was to write a
story about himself. Pat thought for a while and then typed the
title.

Lost in Sanctuary

**

The mayor’s house was on the east end of
town, set aside from the rest of the residential streets to the
north of the road which led out toward Dan Walden’s farm. The house
was also twice as big as the row houses everyone else lived in.

Both the outside and inside looked to have
been repainted recently. The carpet was new, the fixtures were all
modern and nothing looked anything like John’s aging apartment.

John set the paper cup of coffee he’d gotten
from Sam at the diner down on the coffee table. The mayor was in a
suit, but it was creased like he’d been wearing it all night.

“How are you doing?”

The house was silent and John didn’t imagine
the little pillows would have been on the floor instead of the
couch before Betty’s death. He’d read up on the two of them before
he came over. The mayor had been involved in an extortion ring
involving a consortium and high-end money laundering. He’d turned
on his partner in exchange for a new identity and a fresh start.
Coming to Sanctuary had been their choice, and he’d been voted in
as mayor only months later. He’d been in the position ever since,
although Dotty had told John it was because no one saw much point
in running against him.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Father Wilson asked that. Spouted all these
platitudes about God’s plan, like this was supposed to happen.” The
mayor’s face morphed into disgust.

John knew plenty of people who believed that,
even if it didn’t always get expressed eloquently. It had only
helped ease the pain after his dad passed after he’d finally
accepted he couldn’t have prevented the old man’s heart attack.
He’d been out of state at school at the time, living above Grant’s
garage.

“No one knows what it feels like.” The mayor
sat with his hands by his knees like a rag doll. “My wife is gone.
Murdered by some heartless—” His voice dropped off into mumbled
rambling.

“Have you thought any more about who might
have wanted to do this?”

Collins snapped up straight. “I know exactly
who did this!”

John kept his tone measured. “Did Betty keep
files anywhere? Notes from her work welcoming people, papers or a
journal maybe? Anything like that?”

The mayor hauled himself off the couch. John
followed him upstairs to the end of the hall at the back of the
house. The two doors at the other end were open, beyond which was
an unmade king-size bed. “My office is on Main Street, but Betty
worked from home.” He stopped at the door. “I haven’t been in here
since—”

“You don’t have to come in. You can wait in
the hall.”

John accepted the key, wondering why a wife
would feel like she had to lock an office in her own home. What
secrets had Betty Collins been trying to hide in here?