Sanctuary Lost WITSEC Town Series Book 1 (34 page)

John shrugged.

“Maybe she was just in the wrong place at the
wrong time.”

“You really think that?”

Harriet considered it for a moment and then
said, “Betty said someone had called her, told her to meet them
where she was…killed. I bet it was Andra.”

“She doesn’t have a phone.”

“Still, it must have been her since she was
the one who stabbed Betty all those times in her stomach.”

John digested that. Word got around, but were
the details of the murder common knowledge?

“She probably borrowed someone’s phone.”
Harriet sneered. “It isn’t that hard to do.”

Did he really believe any of that was the
truth?

**

Andra released the grip on her waist and took
a breath before she glanced back at Pat, who had pushed the
wheelchair down the hall for her. She should go back to her room
now. The alternative was to waltz right in—or as much as you could
waltz in a wheelchair—and get the soda, like it was no big deal
Harriet was framing her for murder.

“Outside of her former occupation and your
personal feelings toward Ms. Caleri, what makes you think she
killed Betty?” John’s voice was even, like the question was about
whether or not she thought ironing was worth the work.

Pat didn’t say anything; he just gripped the
handles of the wheelchair. It was plain on his face he knew what
was happening. His faith in her was tentative and this was going to
destroy it.

“You said so yourself and everyone knows.
She’s a killer. She totally stabbed Betty.”

Andra looked at the ceiling. Of course, it
made total sense someone with a career of poisoning people would
break a decade-long drought by falling off the wagon and stabbing a
woman just for being annoying.

Harriet went on, “I heard Betty was going to
get her evicted from her cabin. You know it’s not legal she lives
up there. It might even violate the terms of her Memorandum of
Understanding.”

Andra could see the look on the woman’s face.
Tight smile. Smarmy, just like when she’d declared Andra’s arm
wasn’t broken and told her to sit in the waiting area for hours. At
least Andra wasn’t the one who had to clean up the mess after the
pain got so bad. Her stomach did a backflip just remembering it.
The meds were wearing off. Pretty soon the doctor would want to
give her more, but she couldn’t weather this if she wasn’t thinking
straight.

“What’s the big deal about where Andra lives?
She’s still in town.”

Harriet sputtered. “It’s the principle of the
thing. Living up there like she’s lording it over us. Better than
everyone else, too good to live in town. And then showing up at
church on Sundays, all holier-than-thou.”

This was the best the woman could come up
with? If anyone had been lording it over anyone else, it was the
mayor and his wife for sure. But that wasn’t Andra’s purview.
Evidently, in trying to live a quiet life she’d become a source of
speculation because she didn’t fit in with the rest of the town. Go
figure. She’d never fit in anywhere, even without the assassin
thing over her head.

John spoke next. “Maybe she does need taking
down a peg or two.”

Andra held her breath.

“I’m sure a murder conviction will take care
of that.” He chuckled. “It’ll certainly get her out of town, which
seems to be fine with everyone.”

“You’re not going to defend her?”

“What’s the point?” Andra heard his hands
slap down. “Everyone knows she did it. For all I know, she probably
is the murderer.”

Andra tasted blood, so she relaxed the bite
on her lip. He really thought that? Please, please, please, let him
just be playing devil’s advocate and not starting to wonder if she
was the killer. Or…this killer, at least. She didn’t need that, not
from one of the few people who didn’t look at her like she was some
kind of abomination who did the unthinkable for money.

John’s faith in her had been part of what
kept her going all this time. His face across from her at her table
was what she’d thought about in the middle of getting punched and
kicked. He’d brought her through that and he didn’t even know
it.

She knew he had to stay impartial, and she
knew he couldn’t tell her even if he didn’t think she was guilty.
Still, John was the first man in a position of authority over her
who didn’t make her afraid.

“I knew she killed Betty.” Like Harriet
hadn’t been the one to implicate Andra in the first place and she
was just now finding out.

“Guess I can stop looking for the killer,
since she’s down the hall.” John chuckled and the sound sliced
through Andra just like the killer’s knife had sliced through
Betty.

“I’m so glad you’ve realized, Sheriff.”

She could imagine Harriet leaning forward to
touch his thigh and give it a gentle squeeze. Andra was going to
throw up. She reached down and gripped the wheels. She was ready to
go, even though Pat was behind her still holding the handles.

“I’m so glad you see her for what she really
is.”

We’re not going anywhere.

The look on his face said anything but, and
she’d hung onto that. Now she knew what he really thought.

They had no future. Instead of hanging on to
hope, Andra had to face the fact he’d given up on her. John wasn’t
going to fight the battle she couldn’t fight herself. She had to
let go of the hope he might be how God resolved things for her, if
He planned to at all.

Andra had to face the fact she was going to
prison for life.

“Ms. Caleri will be out of town on Monday and
then all of us will get what we want.”

John stood, not willing to spend another
moment in the presence of someone so quick to believe Andra would
kill Betty. He strode out, squeezing the back of his neck. This was
getting entirely too personal. He just couldn’t bring himself to
care.

Down the hall, Pat wheeled Andra back into
her room. John’s steps faltered. Had she heard what he said?

He still couldn’t believe how convinced the
town was as to her guilt. He’d joined in for a moment—albeit
sarcastically, though that might not have been obvious. Despite the
sick feeling it gave him, John had considered things might be
easier with this over and done. It didn’t mean he wanted Andra on
the transport, especially not when she would be convicted of murder
and sentenced to life in prison. And especially not when the move
brought her directly into the path of whoever wanted her out of
town.

But what if sending her away meant he found
out who framed her? He could clear her name and discover the truth.
Not just who the killer was, but find out who was behind this
entire conspiracy.

“Thanks for helping me, Pat. I appreciate
it.” Andra’s voice was tight. John looked into the room as she lay
back on the bed, her lips pressed into a white line.

“I bet my Uncle Nate has nurses helping him.”
Andra frowned at him, so Pat said, “He’s the quarterback for the
Dolphins, but he sprained his ankle again on Sunday.”

“I’m sure he has lots of help.”

“Plus my Grandma went to Miami to help him
out, too.”

John leaned against the doorway. “Of course
Nate has help. But he’s home now. He has enough money he can hire
whoever he wants to cook and clean and do anything he needs.” By
the time he’d finished talking John knew it wasn’t the right thing
to say. He sighed. “Pat—”

His son turned to Andra. “I’m going to see if
Doctor Fenton needs me to do anything else.”

Pat squeezed past John without speaking or
looking at him.

John gripped the back of his neck and looked
at the floor.

“You think maybe Pat would rather he was
there, than your brother fork out some of his vast amounts of cash
to hire people to help him?” Andra tipped her head to the side.
“I’m guessing.”

John folded his arms and rested his hip on
the end of Andra’s bed. “We can’t leave. Pat knows that’s the deal.
Not until the end of the month and we make the decision to stay
forever, or go for good.”

Her eyes flickered. Apparently she hadn’t
known. “You’re leaving?”

“Maybe. We haven’t decided. This is a
probationary thing.”

“So it really wouldn’t bother you if I was
carted off to prison, then. You’ll just leave anyway and the town
will continue on with Palmer as the sheriff, unless your brother
brings in someone else.” She paused. “Is there someone else?”

“I have no idea.”

“So you just go back to your life and pretend
this unfortunate episode never happened?”

“No, that’s not what this is about.” John
blew out a breath. “I haven’t decided yet. There are a lot of
factors involved, not the least of which is Pat.”

The focus of her good eye moved over his
face, but she didn’t give a thing away. Why did some women do that?
What was so bad about letting him know what she was thinking?

Finally she said, “I don’t blame you, you
know.” But it wasn’t absolution, not when she looked sad.

“You think I’m giving up?”

“I heard you tell Harriet you’ve decided I
really did kill Betty.” She picked at a loose thread on the
blanket. “I’m not worried about going to prison, John. I’ve been
through worse and I’m no innocent.”

He knew that, logically. Only, was he really
supposed to let her go? He could plan for every eventuality and
stake all his bets on this conspiracy idea. But in the end, sending
Andra off as the arrested suspect might only end in a guilty
sentence. It was a long-shot, so there wasn’t much point in getting
her hopes up. She was resigned to her fate, whether he tried to
help her or not. Whoever was behind the murder and intent on
framing Andra needed to believe she was left with no one to help
her, which meant they also had to believe John had turned his back
on her.

“I just wish you could have believed in me.
Apparently that was a lie, too.”

John’s chest tightened. She was going to make
this easy for him. But if that was the case, why did it hurt so
bad? He sucked in a breath. “I guess it was.”

“You talk a good game, John Mason. But at the
end of the day you’re no different than Drew, hiding your agenda
behind your skewed idea of duty.” She brushed at the blanket on her
lap, never looking at him. “Good thing I’m being arrested for
murder, given the track record of my last marriage. It’s been a
while, but how do I know history won’t repeat itself and I’ll be
forced to do the worst to someone else I care about?”

John didn’t think she would get into a
relationship and end up killing the person. He would be more
inclined to believe Andra intended to avoid relationships
altogether, and thereby eliminate the risk of betrayal. If he
stayed in Sanctuary with Pat and all this worked out so Andra could
come home, would he have to see her week-in and week-out and
pretend he didn’t want her in his life? All the while she would be
battling fears he figured were unfounded anyway.

John lifted his chin. “Looks like it’s all
going to work out.” At least he hoped so, maybe enough he’d have to
say a prayer about the whole thing just to be sure. Too much could
go wrong for him to relax.

“One more thing.” He reached to his belt for
his handcuffs. “You’re a murder suspect, so no more leaving this
room.” He cuffed her left wrist, and then cuffed the other end to
the bed rail so she had some movement. “I’ll be in the hall. If I
need to leave, someone else will be guarding the room.”

“Because I’m such a danger to everyone?” She
rolled her eyes. “I can’t even walk.”

“It’s procedure.”

“Of course it is. Now get out.” She shifted
on the bed to face away from him, but John caught the flash of pain
on her face that came with moving.

**

Andra sniffed away tears. They never did any
good anyway. What was it with men? They always said one thing and
then did completely the opposite. She’d honestly believed John
might be different. That maybe he would be the one person who never
lost faith in her, even when she was forced to lay down her faith
in herself.

Everyone was guilty of something and still
innocent in many ways, at the same time.

Andra had trusted for a long time now that
God had brought her here for a reason. If He wanted to take her
away from Sanctuary, it wouldn’t be because John decided she was
guilty. Only because God had allowed it.

Now John had written her off. Pat wasn’t hers
to take care of. Helena didn’t need her. There was only Nadia Marie
and Hal, both of whom had other people to support them. Andra had a
feeling Nadia Marie might find comfort in the arms of a certain
rancher, given how he’d been looking at her in the hospital room.
Although if he did like her, Bolton needed to wake up and do
something about it or Nadia was going to move on.

A tear slipped from her eye. Andra swiped
away the moisture even though it hurt to touch her cheek.

If she was ever going to fight for a long
life, there had to be a pretty compelling reason to want to
stay.

And right now, she just couldn’t see one.

**

John sat in the hall until the sun went down
and Pat’s occupying the chair beside him turned into his son’s
weight slumped against his side. Aaron still hadn’t told the doctor
anything to help identify the person who killed Betty, and neither
Matthias nor Bolton had been able to get anything useful out of
him.

Boots echoed in the dim hallway and Bolton
strode toward them with to-go boxes from the diner stacked in his
hands.

“You brought us dinner,” John said quietly
when Bolton stopped in front of him. “How kind.”

“Yeah, right.” The rancher grinned. “These
are for me. Shift change.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t got nothin’ better to do with my
evening than sit on a prisoner for you.”