Sanctuary Lost WITSEC Town Series Book 1 (32 page)

“What—uh, yeah.” He strode further in the
room. Suddenly all business, folding his arms. “You think you can
ID who did this to you?”

Andra shifted on the bed, which was a good
idea but painful in execution.

Nadia gasped. “You know.”

She glanced at her friend. “Nadia—”

“No.” Nadia Marie jumped up from the bed. “If
you know who did this to you then you have to tell. You want them
to get away with it?”

“Most of them I couldn’t tell you who they
are.”

Bolton said, “But…”

“Everyone in town believes I killed Betty.
They’re going to think I’m only saying it out of spite. No one is
going to take my word for it except John and it won’t help him. I’m
not going to be responsible for his downfall.”

Nadia Marie touched her arm. “You don’t think
he’ll do the right thing?”

“He’ll think it’s the right thing.” She
shifted her arm to draw it away from Nadia’s attempt to connect
with her. She wasn’t going to budge on this. “If he believes me,
then it’s going to undermine his standing with the town.”

Bolton said, “So it was the mayor.”

Andra squeezed her eyes shut.

“He shouldn’t have done that to you.” Nadia’s
voice was quiet. “It doesn’t matter what you’ve done or what he
thinks you did, it wasn’t okay for him to hurt you like this.”

She knew that. In theory.

“But you’re going to keep quiet because of
John?”

Andra looked at her friend.

“You are,” Nadia said. “You think you’re
saving him.”

“It’s noble.” Bolton tucked his thumbs in his
pockets. “But you’re still going to have to live in the same town
as the people who did this to you.” He motioned to her face.

“Except not, if I’m leaving town on Monday’s
transport to be put on trial for Betty’s murder.”

Nadia Marie straightened. “We need to find a
way you can stay, and the mayor can pay for what he did.”

Bolton’s attention was on Andra. “Do you
think he killed Betty?”

She thought about it. “I honestly don’t
know.”

“They weren’t exactly friendly.” Nadia
nodded. “I say it’s definitely possible.”

“Either way, someone is going to end up
leaving town.” Andra shrugged one shoulder. “What does it matter if
it’s me?”

Now she’d had time to think on it, why
wouldn’t she come to the conclusion being away from John was best?
What was the good of seeing him every day and knowing what couldn’t
be? Surely a clean break, and the separation of miles and a murder
sentence, would be preferable. It wasn’t like the conviction would
be untrue; she just hadn’t murdered this particular victim.

Whether she ended up in a jail cell or she
was free to live on her mountain, she was still the same sinner
saved by grace through faith.

Nadia’s eyes flashed wide and full of hurt.
“You’re going to let them do this to you?”

“You mean, am I going to do this to you?”

“I’m not being selfish.”

Andra bit her lip. “But you don’t want to
lose your friend.”

Tears filled Nadia’s eyes. “How am I going to
live here without you?”

Andra swallowed.

She hadn’t thought of that.

**

Dotty twisted around in her chair. “Susan
seems content enough. I met the First Lady and her daughter last
night for dinner. Sam treated them like they were royalty.”

John smiled. “Good.”

“Beth is harder to read, but I’m guessing she
has a lot on her mind at the moment. With her husband being
gone.”

She probably did, given the attempts on both
of their lives and her husband being out of contact. Having no idea
when he was going to be home. The Navy SEAL didn’t even know what
was happening to her.

John looked at the flip calendar on his desk.
He turned three pages until it was on the right month and tracked
down to the day he and Pat had arrived in town. Tomorrow it would
be a full week since they set down in the helicopter and were
driven into town by Matthias. How had so much happened in just a
handful of days?

But the upheaval was likely to continue.
There were only three more full days before Monday’s transport took
Andra away. And no way he could stop it. Not when the town, Justice
Simmons, Grant, Congressman Thane and the President were all
pressuring John to get a result.

Given Andra’s silence, it would be the wrong
one.

And yet, why was there this niggle of doubt
that maybe Andra had done it? That would at least explain why
everyone seemed to think she had, more than just out of spite for
the one person in town who refused to be one of them. What if he
took a page from Andra’s book and refused to bow to their dictates?
The sheriff didn’t answer to the town, although Grant’s authority
was clear even if he wasn’t here. Congressman Thane was a gray
area.

John didn’t have to send her on Monday’s
transport. He didn’t have to send anyone, even if they demanded it
of him. If he wasn’t certain who the killer was, then he shouldn’t
do it.

“Is Andra talking?”

John pushed aside his thoughts and looked
over at Dotty. “Bolton spoke with her.”

“Did she say who attacked her?”

He shook his head. “She wouldn’t admit it, so
all Bolton could get from her was a statement as to the details. A
blow-by-blow.” That had been fun to read.

“Do you think it was Betty’s killer?”

“I think it was simple revenge by people who
believe she killed Betty. But unless she can identify them or we
can nail down who in town has bloody knuckles this morning, there
isn’t much we can do about it.”

Dotty shifted in her chair. “So we just have
to go on as if everything is fine? As if we’re not living in town
with a person who will stab a woman in the stomach multiple times,
and gangs who are little better than lynch mobs spreading their
hatred and hurting a possibly innocent woman.”

“Basically, yes.”

She shook her white hair. “I don’t like
it.”

John felt the smile on his lips. “Me
either.”

“You know, your desk phone has this function
where you can dial all the phones in town at once, sort of like an
intercom thing. You could make an announcement. Call a town meeting
and get everyone together where you can check their hands for cuts
and bruises like they’ve been in a fight. Or see who is
missing.”

“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.
Some
one
. 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.”

“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.”