Sanctuary Lost WITSEC Town Series Book 1 (10 page)

John walked up and down, scanning the road.
When he passed the doctor, he said, “What can you tell me about
her?”

The doctor kept his eyes on his task but
spoke in a low voice that matched John’s question. “Betty is the
welcome coordinator, which you probably know. She’s met everyone in
town. Generally happy. Liked. She hangs out with my wife, Harriet.”
His eyes flicked aside to where she stood with the mayor. There was
something there that looked a lot like disapproval. “Although
apparently not as much as I’d previously thought. But that’s women
for you. Smiling sweetly, and when your back is turned they’re off
giving it to someone else.”

John didn’t nod, even despite the suspicions
he’d had regarding his own marriage. The truth hadn’t been
necessary, not when what he had known was bad enough.

Doctor Fenton sighed. “We get a new resident
maybe once every eighteen months, so Betty wasn’t all that busy.
Although she does like to stick her nose in social stuff and
organize the crap out of things which didn’t need overcomplicating
in the first place.”

“Anyone obvious you think might dislike
her?”

“Just the usual tension with some people who
don’t like how she does things. But we try not to ruffle each
other’s feathers if you know what I mean. We all have to live here.
But enough to murder her?” He shrugged.

“I have to interview the boys who found her,
so I’ll leave you to it.”

The doctor gently pulled what looked like a
meat thermometer out of Betty’s stomach and made a notation on his
clipboard. “Sounds good.”

John went back to Bolton. “Any word on Palmer
yet?”

“My guy isn’t back.” He motioned to the body
with his chin. “What’s the verdict?”

“That would require a trial.”

Bolton huffed. “You know what I mean.”

Maybe the guy wasn’t former law enforcement.
“I’m only at the beginning of my investigation. As soon as I have
any answers I’m sure it will be all over town before you can say,
‘damage control.’”

John strode to the two men who’d found the
body. “Masks off boys. Tell me your names.”

“I’m Sam. This is Bill.” They were both
spindly. Their revealed faces were dotted with acne and the smeared
remnants of their team letter.

John indicated Bill with his finger. “Stay
here while I talk with Sam.”

The kid nodded, relieved. John walked with
Sam until they were several feet away. “Talk me through what
happened, how you found the body.”

“We just came around the corner and there she
was.” He sucked in a breath. “We’d been around this way twenty
minutes before and nothing. This time, there she was. Just lying
there. You don’t see stuff like that outside of the movies.”

“Did you see anyone else in the area?”

“I dunno. It was dark.”

John gave him a minute. “But?”

“Maybe I saw something.”

“Care to share?”

“It might’ve been a woman. I’m not sure.” He
sniffed. “Small enough to be a girl. But she was in all black and
her hair was in a cap or something or short, because it wasn’t long
that I could see.”

John made a note in his book. “What was she
doing?”

“Running.”

He glanced up. “Where were you and where was
she?”

“Over there.” The kid pointed to the corner
at the end of the street behind John. “She was up there but she
ducked between Elmer’s—that’s the hardware store—and the mayor’s
office. She was bookin’ it.”

“In a hurry?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Did you touch the body at all or move
anything?”

“Eew. No way!” The kid paled. “I just told
Bill to stay here and I ran to the command center.”

“Okay. If you think of anything else, you
know where to find me.”

The kid nodded and then scurried off up the
street, leaving John to speak with Bill. Something made them seem
younger and John feel old. Technically he was old enough to be
their father. But only if you fudged the numbers a little.

When he was done with the second interview,
the mayor rushed over. “Enough of this standing around. My wife is
lying over there and what are you doing? Moseying around like the
new sheriff in town and chatting.”

“Mr. Collins, I’m very sorry for your loss.”
John paused. “This is not a process you want to rush. Investigating
takes time. If you want answers to what happened to your wife, then
I need you to let me do a thorough job, not a half-baked attempt
that doesn’t get to the bottom of it.” He let that sink in. “I’m
going to need you to walk me through your itinerary for the
evening.”

His mouth gaped. “I’m not some kind of
criminal.”

“I need to establish a timeline of your
wife’s whereabouts for this evening. When was the last time you saw
her?”

“At dinner. I didn’t stay long.” He sucked in
a choppy breath. “I was in my library by eight. I’m working on a
proposal I’m establishing for town expansion as well as a way to
generate revenue that will mean we’ll be able to rely less on
outside supplies.”

John spoke, just to get the mayor to stop
talking about his expansion project. “Did anyone come over, or did
your wife go out at all? Did any calls come in?”

“I was on the phone between eight forty-five
and nine oh-five.” The way he said it indicated he wasn’t going to
share the subject of the call, or who in town it was with. At least
not without a considerable amount of pressure. “I don’t know what
my wife was doing.”

“Is there anyone who might’ve wanted to harm
your wife?”

“What? No. Betty was loved.”

Right. “This might be my second day here but
I understand the responsibilities of this job. I’m going to find
out what happened to your wife and if this truly was a murder, then
the person who committed this crime will be brought to
justice.”

Beyond the mayor, Harriet stood with a balled
up tissue pressed to her face. Her eyes were wide and she looked
like she wanted to say something.

The doctor waved to get his attention.
“Sheriff?”

He would have to find time to talk with her
later.

John thanked the mayor and jogged back to
where the doctor crouched beside Mrs. Collins. “Yes?”

Deputy Palmer sprinted up to them, red faced
and breathing heavy like he’d run all the way across town.
“Good-ness. Was this a hit and run? Who did it?”

“That’s what we’re going to find out.”

Palmer swallowed, his eyes on the body. “I
don’t have to touch her, do I?”

John glanced down. The man’s shirt was
misaligned, buttoned in a hurry, and his hair was ruffled. “Why
don’t you go to the office and get us some coffee?”

“Right.” Palmer blinked and looked at John,
his face balmy. “Was it a hit and run?”

“Since she was stabbed six times, I’m going
with no.” Doctor Fenton turned to John. “And she’s been dead less
than an hour.”

John looked at his watch. 10:30.p.m. That
meant she was killed shortly after John saw the flag taken.

“No-o,” Palmer sputtered. “She wasn’t
murdered.”

John eyed him. “And you know this
because…”

“There’s no murder in Sanctuary.”

“Since when?”

Palmer blinked. “No, I mean ever. Not once in
the history of this town has there been a…
murder
. ” His head
shifted side to side fast enough John got dizzy just watching.

“Calm down, Deputy.”

“Do marshals investigate…this type of thing?”
Palmer motioned to the body. “Have you even done this before?”

“I’ve been involved with several, just never
took the lead.”

“I don’t even…I can’t…”

John crouched. The wounds were all located in
the victim’s abdomen. Palmer shifted behind him and wretched. John
lifted his eyes to the heavens and beseeched whoever was up there
that Palmer hadn’t just destroyed perfectly good evidence.

It was going to be a long night.

**

Hours later, John hauled the duffel bag of
evidence collecting equipment into the sheriff’s office. An elderly
man whose skin closely resembled a mummy sat in John’s chair, arms
folded across his chest. He might have been dead, except for the
drool running from the corner of his white, handlebar moustache.
The superior court justice looked smaller in real life, swallowed
up by John’s predecessor’s chair. He still looked like a mouse,
just an elderly one.

John locked the evidence in the safe, piling
the paper bags and containers on the shelf above the guns he’d
decided to store there. He had no idea where Palmer kept his. The
coffee pot was half full but cold, so he nuked some in his kitchen.
Matthias popped up on the couch but John waved him back down and he
was snoring again within seconds.

John sat in Palmer’s chair and got the
initial paperwork done on his tablet. He emailed his brother a
preliminary report that would be fun breakfast reading for him.
Then he shook the old man awake.

“Ha…what?” The old man smacked his lips and
blinked up at John. “The new sheriff, I presume.”

“Yeah and you’re in my chair.” The old man’s
laughter sounded like a monkey screeching. John turned away to hide
his grimace, dragged Palmer’s chair over and sat facing him. “John
Mason.”

“Justice Anthony Simmons.” The old man’s gray
bush eyebrows twitched. “Any relation of Grant Mason?”

“The director of the marshals is my brother.”
John linked his fingers on his stomach.

“Director Mason allowed me to maintain my
authority, but only within city limits. I have the power to grant a
warrant for arrest, contingent on the requisite evidence being in
place. Among a few minor things, such as my vote on the city
council, that is the bulk of the reach of my position here. With
the exception of being able to perform weddings.”

Simmons continued, “We do not hold hearings
in town. You make the arrest and they’re detained here, under
guard, until they can be taken out of town in the custody of the
marshals. They are then transferred to Boise where they will be
remanded without bail until their hearing—that’s part of the
agreement each of us made. If the outcome of the hearing is a
conviction, they are given a new WITSEC identity and serve their
sentence in the federal prison of the director’s choice. If they’re
acquitted, they come home or they can get transferred somewhere
else. Depends on the circumstances.”

John’s brain spun. Since it was almost four
in the morning he settled on the last thing that crossed his mind.
“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Live this life. Give up what you had
for…this?”

The old man shifted in his chair. “All that
power and position exchanged for what essentially amounts to
impotence?” He huffed but there was no humor there. “I’m an old
man, Sheriff. I’d achieved the highest position I could. You could
say it was stolen from me but then there would be little left for
me except bitterness. In this life, in this town, I have my wife,
my granddaughter and my great granddaughter here. I see my family
every day, all of them. We live a quiet life, closer than we ever
would in Washington D.C. with cell phones and busy lives.

“If my great granddaughter grows up and wants
to leave, go to college, that is her choice. I’ll likely be dead by
then, so I doubt I will care overly much.” He grinned, a face-full
of dentures.

John smiled. “No, I don’t suppose you
will.”

“You have your boy with you?” He glanced
around like it was brunch and they were having coffee, not the
middle of the night. “I thought I heard that.”

“You did. Patrick, he’s eight. It’s been a
while since we saw each other. My last undercover assignment ran
long, but I’m hoping we can build a life here. If we decide
Sanctuary is where we want to live.”

“Some of the locals call it death valley.”
The old man’s wrinkled face shifted with the force of his
expression. “Why not? We all come here to die.”

He shifted and stood, rising to a full five
feet in his shoes. “Well, the wife would be mad if I was remiss in
telling you she wants you and Pat over for dinner some time. She’ll
try and set you up with our granddaughter Cassie, since she feels
Gracie needs a father figure in her life. Like I’m chopped liver or
something. Anyway, I’ll expect to see you at dinner soon.”

“Yes, sir.” What else did you say when it was
a Supreme Court Justice asking? “Soon as the case is wrapped up
I’ll be sure to take you up on the offer. I’m not much of a
cook.”

The old man’s eyes narrowed. “My Cassie makes
a delicious meatloaf.”

“I’m sure she does, sir. I’ll look forward to
it.” John opened the door for him.

“Thank you for calling for me.” The old man
grinned. “This is the most excitement I’ve had in months.”

“Happy to oblige.”

He disappeared, the monkey screech laugh
echoing in his wake.

Palmer stuck his head in the back door. “Is
he gone?” He glanced around, strode in and blew out a breath.
“Phew, I though the old man would never leave.”

“Is there a problem between you and Justice
Simmons?”

Palmer shook his head. “He’s hardly anything
special anymore. Just an old man wishing for the good old
days.”

Yeah, that was exactly what John had gotten
from him. He nearly rolled his eyes. “Where have you been
anyway?”

Palmer took his coat off. “What are you, my
mother?”

No, but I am your boss.
John sat at
his desk and gathered his papers. “Did you find the murder
weapon?”

“No, and now I smell like trash since I had
to search through every single bag.”

“You know, in some places that job would be a
rite of passage for a cop.” John grinned, not the slightest bit
remorseful. “You can take a shower later. Right now we have work to
do.”

“It won’t keep until tomorrow?”

“Welcome to real police work. It doesn’t
respect the boundaries of the nine-to-five existence you’ve been
living.” John sighed. “Look, it’s late. I’m tired, you’re tired.
Why not just write up what needs writing up and then head home.
I’ll work figuring out what needs doing with the evidence.”