Sanctuary Lost WITSEC Town Series Book 1 (15 page)

“I’m glad.”

John didn’t seem like the kind of man who
ever had to work through anything. He simply…was. Sure, there was
likely some depth to him. Would he ever let her see it? And if he
did, how could she resist wanting to know more?

He ran a hand through his hair, shifting so
the light reflected off his badge. “I should get back to work.
Thank you for your time.”

She’d opened herself up and he was just going
to say, “See ya?” Could she even ask for more, though? Likely not,
when he was investigating a murder she may or may not have
committed. Not considering when he was done, he would never speak
to her again.

“One more thing.”

Andra waited.

“What do you do for work?”

“Work?”

“Yes. Everyone in town has to earn a living.”
He glanced around. “Your lifestyle doesn’t appear to require a
significant amount of means, but you still probably work. I’m
curious. Humor me.”

Andra shrugged off the whole “trust fund”
thing, since she got bored once in a while so she did actually have
a job. Was she supposed to be offended her life didn’t look like
much of anything in the opinion of Sheriff John Mason? He didn’t
have to live up here. This was what she’d chosen, for her own
reasons.

“I prepare taxes.”

“For everyone in town?”

“Some of them at least. I’m busy from January
to April, but the rest of the year I can kick back because I earned
enough to sustain my insignificant lifestyle.”

“Andra—”

“You’re right. You should be getting back to
work.”

**

John leaned back in his chair and ran his
hands down his face while the phone in the office rang. That hadn’t
gone well at all. Well, parts of it had been good. Like when Andra
told him about her school and her family, and her accent had
thickened. Despite the fact her parents essentially abandoned her,
a smile still played on the edges of her lips when she spoke of
them. Was there an old school friend she remembered? That could be
who had written the letter to her.

He liked that idea more than thinking on the
animosity Harriet and the mayor both had for her. Olympia and Andra
appeared to have a close relationship, though he hadn’t been able
to understand what they were saying. The soft look on Andra’s face
that said she welcomed Olympia’s mothering and the comfortable way
they had with each other spoke loud enough.

The phone rang again, so he turned to Dotty.
“Are you going to get that?”

One eyebrow rose. “That’s your satellite
phone. I’m not authorized.”

John straightened in his seat. “Right.
Sorry.” She waved away his concern, and he pulled the satellite
phone that was his radio off his belt. “Yeah, Mason.”

There was a second of silence on the other
end and then Grant huffed. “Nice to hear from you, too. I got your
delivery.”

“And the autopsy?”

“Should be completed within the week. Soon as
I have the results, you’ll be the first to know. I’ll send you hard
copies.” Grant paused a beat. “Do you know how difficult it is to
get the military to ignore a dead body? Let alone take my paperwork
at face value without asking a million questions. Getting shot was
more pleasurable than that experience.”

John gritted his teeth. He had to let Grant
get it out. There was no one else his brother could say something
like that to. “I’m sure.”

If he was base commander and the marshals
wanted to transfer a body on his runway, they’d sure have to
explain who it was and where it came from. Not to mention what they
were doing with it.

Grant said, “How is the investigation
coming?”

Palmer strode in a paper cup in one hand.
John could have used a coffee.

“No solid suspects, nothing conclusive as far
as evidence. No witnesses yet, just the two guys who found the
body. I have more people to talk to but it’s hard since I’m still
learning how things are done around here.”

The murder couldn’t have come at a worse
time. Well, for Betty Collins it probably would have been better if
it hadn’t happened at all. But John would’ve liked at least a week
or so to get the rhythm of this place and the people who lived
here. As it was, he was going on gut instinct trying to figure out
who was honest and who was stringing him along.

He didn’t like it. And if it put his son in
danger then heads were going to roll. He didn’t care the marshal’s
service had offered these people his protection.

“Murder weapon?”

John lowered the phone and looked at Palmer.
“Do we have the murder weapon?”

The deputy shrugged and turned to his
computer. “Nope.”

Great.
John’s stomach clenched. “It
hasn’t been found, yet.” The last word he tacked on more as a wish
than anything else. It didn’t matter how much he wanted it, that
wasn’t going to happen. Going out and scouring every inch of town
would up the odds but they might still never get their hands on
it.

“I want this wrapped up, Johnny.” Grant had
slipped into big brother mode. “The congressional committee is
breathing down my neck about the amount of money the tests on this
evidence is going to cost. I want to be able to report back that
the killer has been found. Tell me you have an idea of who it
was.”

“You know I can’t do that. I have nothing
more than accusations and I won’t have a witch hunt when there’s no
evidence to back it up. At least, nothing more than a grudge.”

“Who is it? Who is the finger being pointed
at?”

John squeezed his free hand into a fist.
“Andra Caleri.”

Palmer jerked. An interesting reaction but
not one John could follow up on just that moment. Grant reacted
also, his voice muffled but John heard a few choice words. “I don’t
believe that. Get to the bottom of this, Johnny.”

“What don’t I know?”

“Now I know you haven’t read her file.”

“I will.” He would rather she told him.

Andra had steered clear of that part of her
life at lunch but he needed her to be honest with him. Okay, more
honest than she already had been. He wanted to rule her out and he
needed her help to do that. There was no way she killed Betty
Collins. He just couldn’t see it, not with her beliefs dictating
her actions now. Surely Christianity didn’t advocate murder.

“You realize I barely know these people,
right Grant?” If they’d been talking in person—and kids—they would
have been rolling around on the floor punching each other by now.
But that was a long time ago. They both had different ways to
exorcize their frustrations now. “I need more than two days.”

“Just read her file.”

The bell over the door clanged. Two older
ladies toddled in, spoke to Dotty and got waved to a seat.

John gripped the phone. “I’m going to figure
this out. I get how important it is to you but don’t worry. You
didn’t make a mistake in bringing me here, even if this is a trial
period. I might not stay, but I will do my job.”

“I know that. But you’ve been pretending for
years now, undercover, playing the game, talking the talk. Are you
sure you can do this? It’s homicide.”

Rolling his eyes wasn’t going to look too
professional. “I’m good. How are things with Genevieve?”

“Don’t worry about my marriage, okay? Keep
your head on task.”

“Nate has a game tonight.”

“I’ll be watching.”

They hung up.

John figured some kind of apology needed to
be made, so he rounded his desk to Dotty’s card table in the
corner. He braced on hand on the desk and the other on the back of
her chair and leaned in to speak quietly. “I’m sorry I was short. I
should apologize for that.” He smiled. “Just smack me upside the
head next time, okay?”

Her eyebrow crept up again. “Perhaps.”

“You’re going to make me grovel aren’t
you?”

“Definitely.” She laughed at her own humor.
“These ladies are here to see you.”

“Right.” He straightened and smiled at the
two older women in the waiting area. Clearly sisters, he couldn’t
tell which was older. “Of course.”

A man opened the door. Suit. Forties maybe.
He glanced at both ladies and frowned. “Mom, Auntie May, you were
supposed to wait for me.” He shot John a commiserating smile.
“Sorry. They’re not supposed to be in here bothering you when there
are probably more important things you need to be doing.”

The ladies looked at each other. One tutted
and the other rolled her eyes as though both were perfectly
accustomed to having him question their antics.

Someone else pushed in behind the man, a
woman with a baby stroller and a toddler in tow. She was followed
by another couple of men older than him.

John glanced at each of them and then let his
attention settle on the ladies. “What can I help you with?”

They both stood. The one on the left spoke
first. “We heard you have a suspect.”

“We haven’t slept since it happened.”

“We’re scared to go out after dark.”

“We want to know when you’re going to arrest
the killer!”

People pressed in the door, which stuck open
as more and more townspeople pushed their way in. Dotty’s desk was
surrounded. John stepped back. Palmer rounded his desk, hands
raised. “Folks—”

They pushed him aside.

“What are you going to do about this,
Sheriff?”

“Someone was murdered!”

“My children are having nightmares!”

“When are you going to arrest her?”

“Andra killed Betty! I want her out of
town!”

“Yeah, get her out! She shouldn’t be
here.”

John stepped on his chair and then climbed
onto his desk. He stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled. The
sound pierced his ears, but they all shut up even if half of them
were wincing and he made the baby cry.

“Listen up.” He took a breath and then
launched in. “This is a murder investigation. It’s not about who
thinks who did what. Coming in here and pressuring me to make an
arrest with no evidence and no warrant does nothing but waste my
time and yours. Let me do the job I came here for.”

The crowd launched into a fresh round of
shouting accusations.

“Quiet!”

They hushed.

John folded his arms. “If you wish to make a
statement with regard to me as the new sheriff or my conduct or the
marshals service in general, then Deputy Palmer will escort you to
the Meeting House where you can sit down with him and have your
say. I have a case to solve, so when you’re all finally done and
Palmer can join me in finding the murder weapon, then we’ll do
that. Unless you would care to use up more time yelling about us
not making you safe when you’re the ones stopping us from doing
just that.”

Palmer’s face went from furious—apparently he
hadn’t liked the idea of taking thirty-five statements—to
admiration. At least someone was on his side.

“Preach it.”

John glanced over and Dotty winked.

“Does anyone want to make a statement?”

No one said anything.

“Thank you for stopping by. Please leave
now.”

Dotty cackled with laughter. Even Palmer
chuckled as the crowd filed out.

John blew out a breath. “Are they always like
that?”

Dotty thought for a minute. “Yes.”

“Great.”

“I think you handled them just fine, darlin’.
If this was a democracy you’d have my vote. But, sadly, the powers
that be installed you in this position and I had no say in it.” She
gave him a look. “Neither did those people. No one’s ever been
murdered here. This place is their sanctuary and all this probably
brings up memories they’d rather forget. Too bad the past will
always find you in Sanctuary.”

John stood. “I’ll try to be nicer next
time.”

“Oh, no, darlin’. You give it to ‘em
straight.”

He laughed. “Come on, Palmer. Let’s go find
that murder weapon.”

John slumped into the booth across from Pat.
The murder weapon was still nowhere to be found and the chances
that they’d find a blood-stained knife lying around were growing
smaller and smaller.

Then again, it could be anything; lots of
things could make an inch wide deep cut that weren’t necessarily
knives. If it had been cleaned, John would have to rustle up some
Luminol to test for blood. Did they even have any, or was he going
to have to wait a week for another delivery? Then there was the
question of whether it would actually have the killer’s prints on
it.

John didn’t know how homicide detectives did
it, considering they worked multiple cases at once.

Pat’s face was hidden. John pulled down the
plastic menu with his finger. “How was school?”

Pat’s nose wrinkled. “She just made me do a
bunch of worksheets and read a couple of chapters of this book
about a magic tree. I did some math problems, and we talked for a
while and she asked me about a whole bunch of stuff. She said she’s
going to get me set up with the computer. They do school first and
then go to the library and work on the computers because the stuff
they do is online. Then they’re done after lunch.” He shrugged his
little shoulders. “It sounds okay.”

“What time do you have to be there
tomorrow?”

“Like, nine-fifteen or something.”

Right. John would have to check on that.
Still, “Nine-fifteen? When I was a kid we had to be at school at
six-thirty and it was two miles away. We walked the whole the way.
And in the winter there’d be snow and freezing rain.”

Pat erupted into giggles. “You did not.
Grandma told me you rode the bus.”

“I can’t get away with anything, Grandma
always ruins it.” John smiled. “This one time, Uncle Nate and Uncle
Ben threw my backpack out the window and I had to get off the bus
to get it. Then the bus drove away while I was standing there.
They’d told the bus driver I was going home because I was sick. It
was cold and I had to walk all the way to school. Uncle Grant got
off and walked with me, though. He told the driver he was sick too.
We got to school an hour late and we were frozen, but it was fun.
We played a prank on Uncle Ben and Uncle Nate to get them back for
it.”