Sanctuary Lost WITSEC Town Series Book 1 (2 page)

John strode back out. “You want some
coffee?”

“There’s no need. This won’t take long.” She
set her purse down on the couch—if she put it on the floor the
bottom would get dirty—and opened the latches of her lawyer-bag to
pull out a manila envelope, which she set on the breakfast bar.

“We already got a divorce.”

She didn’t smile. “Those are custody papers.
I had them drawn up.”

All the fatigue in him dissipated. “If you
think for one second I’m going to give up my right to—”

“Perhaps you could make that claim if you
ever actually saw your son.” Ellen’s already tiny lips thinned into
a pressed line. “But be that as it may, you’re home now. I’m not
waiting any longer. Stefan was offered a position in Boston and he
has taken it. I’m to join him as soon as possible and I’m afraid
this move is not conducive to bringing a small child.”

“Our boy is cramping your high-falutin’
lifestyle?”

“Can you, for one second, not be the
hick-town boy so we can have a civilized discussion?” Her body
tightened so much she looked like a popsicle stick. “I have been
the lone parent of our child for long enough, John Mason. It’s time
for you to quit being so selfish and be the parent now.”

“Fine.” John folded his arms across his
chest. “Where is Pat?”

“I dropped Patrick at your mother’s this
morning.”

“If I take him, I want full custody for good.
No changing your mind.”

Her lips pulled back to reveal unnaturally
white teeth. “I am not the bad guy here. You’re the one who hasn’t
seen his son in a year.”

“I was on assignment.”

“You didn’t have a phone?”

“You know it doesn’t work like that. You of
all people know what this job entails.”

“The job of being a marshal, or the job of
doing everything possible to make your brother proud of you?”

Neither of them needed to go there.
“Ellen—”

“I signed the papers. All I need now is your
signature and I will file them with my attorney. I want two weeks
in the summer and alternating Christmases.”

“Fine.”

John would have his son with him permanently?
He had no idea what position he’d be in next. Surely Grant would
make sure John got home for dinner regularly.

He almost said, “Whatever you want” but that
was never a good idea with Ellen. He’d worry about how this was
going to work with his job later. She was right, even if he didn’t
like the fact she was essentially dumping Pat on him.

It was his turn to be the parent.

John strode to the counter, signed the forms
and then handed them to her. “If we’re done here, I’d like to get
to Pat.”

Ellen took the papers and collected up her
purse and leather briefcase. “I almost feel as if I should say
something. Mark this occasion somehow. After all, it’s been a whole
fifteen minutes and we’ve managed to not shout at each other.”

John felt his lips twitch. “Let’s not get
carried away.”

“Take care of him, John.” Sadness edged into
her gaze, darkening her face despite the light blond shade of her
hair and the peach color that flashed every time she blinked. “I
knew Stefan didn’t want children of his own. I thought that meant
he was content to be a step-father to Patrick. But this move will
be good for us. The time alone means we can…re-connect.”

Was she going to stop talking sometime soon?
John wanted to know if his son was okay. Now. He swiped up his
keys.

Ellen sighed. “I don’t expect you to
understand.”

“Good because I don’t. You’re giving up your
son for your marriage?”

She looked down her nose, despite being two
inches shorter than his five-foot-eleven. “You gave him up for your
job.”

“I’m not arguing with you.” He clenched and
unclenched the hold on his truck keys. Was she going to leave
already? Ellen stared back at him.

John sighed. “Take care, darlin’.”

Her stern face melted. “We did have some good
times, didn’t we?”

Yeah, and currently the good part of their
marriage was at his mom’s house in who knew what state. “I guess we
did.”

Right up until John started working
undercover. It had been a step in the right direction for his
career, but ended up costing him his marriage when his wife of five
years decided she didn’t want to be a single parent. Then she
divorced him so she could become one anyway, with the added bonus
of child support.

“You’ll call me if Pat needs anything?”

“Sure.” But he wouldn’t.

John was done with undercover and he was
going to make sure Pat didn’t need anything ever again.

**

He didn’t knock on his mom’s door. John
grabbed the hide-a-key from the crack in the siding and let himself
in. “Mom, it’s me.”

It was Grant who strode from the living room,
his hair still more brown than gray even though he was pushing
forty-seven. “She’s at bingo.”

“She left?” John ran a hand through his
already disheveled hair. He needed to get it cut.

“Pat promised her he was fine. He’s stubborn,
like someone else I know.”

“Where is Pat?”

The little man stepped into the hall, which
was lined with cardboard boxes. Pat’s stuff? John zeroed in on his
son’s face—a mini version of his own but with Ellen’s nose before
she had it fixed. Pat looked at his feet, rubbing one shoe against
the toe of the other.

“Pat?”

His son looked up.

John bit his lip. “Hey, kid.”

Grant frowned. John’s brother and his wife
had three girls—now teenagers—so he might think he was the expert
on parenting, but Grant had never understood the bond between
father and son. At least, John hoped they still had one. Maybe he’d
killed it.

He rubbed his chest, right above his heart.
Pat’s eyes were wide but he didn’t look angry or upset. That was
good, right? John sank to his knees in the foyer, ignoring the pain
in his shoulder. He rubbed his forehead, his fingers scratching at
the bandage. Right. His head. He’d forgotten about that.

“Dad?” Pat’s voice shook.

John lowered his hand. “I’m okay.”

He tilted his head and motioned Pat over.
Okay, that hurt
. Thankfully Pat didn’t hesitate, so John
didn’t have to suffer Grant watching him fail as a father for the
seven-billionth time. It was bad enough without an audience.

Pat’s steps gathered speed as he crossed the
foyer. John opened his arms and Pat hit him at a full tackle,
knocking John onto his backside. He wrapped his arms around his
eight-year-old son and held him for the first time in a year. The
assignment wasn’t supposed to have taken this much time, but he’d
known going in it would be as long as it took to complete the
job.

“I’m sorry.”

Pat’s body jerked. “You don’t want me to live
with you?”

“Buddy—”

“I can stay here with Grandma. It’ll be
fine.”

John touched his cheeks, the same way Pat had
done with him in the picture. “Listen to me now. I’m not going
anywhere, not anymore.”

He hoped Grant heard him, just as much as
Pat. Because John didn’t want any more assignments.

And if his brother didn’t like it, he was
going to quit.

“I can’t believe you’re not mad at her. I
would be furious.”

John flashed his badge to the lone security
guard at the rear entrance and followed his brother Grant into the
back of the Congressional building, re-holstering his weapon. “I am
mad. Why do you think I’m not? But it’s not like I can be angry at
Ellen for leaving Pat—”

“Abandoning him.” Grant clipped down the
strap holding his gun in place.

“Not when I essentially did the same thing a
year ago.”

Grant stopped, the clip of his dress shoes
echoing in the abandoned hall. “That wasn’t your fault.”

Why weren’t there more people around? “I took
the assignment.”

“I was the one who gave it to you.”

John cracked a smile. “So we’re both to blame
then. But neither of us are hypocrites.

Grant smiled back a
bigger-and-better-at-everything version of John. Ellen’s words had
hit a little too close to home. But who didn’t have someone in
their life whose opinion mattered more than anything?

“How’s your head?”

John could feel the bandage but other than
that... “I guess I have a hard head.”

Grant clapped him on his shoulder. “Knew that
already.”

John backed away, wincing. “My shoulder is
sore, though.”

“Sorry. You could probably use some
down-time, huh?”

“That was the plan. Now mom is taking Pat to
a movie and for some reason I’m here with you.”

“Because I’m your boss.”

John sighed. “So what are we doing here?”

“In this hallway?”

“In D.C. In this building.” John shrugged.
“I’ve got better things to do than watch you politicking.”

Grant folded his arms. “Not if you want to
keep your job.”

“Fine, Mr. High-and-Mighty Director. What’s
the deal? Why are we here?”

Something crept into Grant’s eyes. A
satisfaction borne of cunning John hadn’t realized his brother
possessed.

“Okay, spill. What is this?”

“You want time with your son, you get a new
assignment.” Grant turned and continued down the hall. “Maybe.”

Seriously, why was this place so desolate? It
was like the grocery store during the Super-Bowl. “What is this
maybe?”

Grant opened the door at the end a cavernous
room with plenty of chairs, all empty. Four people—one woman and
three men—sat at a high table at the front. Evidently Grant had an
appointment at a congressional hearing and no-one else had been
invited. The panel all wore suits in shades of drab. The woman was
smiling, glancing from the men beside her to Grant and back with a
light in her eyes.

A stout, older man left of center looked up.
“Director Mason, nice of you to join us.”

Grant stopped behind the table but didn’t
sit. “This hearing is scheduled for five-thirty, is it not?”

John stopped at the first row of chairs and
checked his watch. Five-twenty. He sat on the opposite side of the
aisle.

“We moved up the timetable. Your secretary
was informed.”

“She was. The amendment was forwarded to me,
but I’m a busy man. Last minute changes designed only to disrupt my
schedule and throw me off my game aren’t something I intend to
acquiesce to.”

The stout man picked up a pair of spectacles
and focused on the page in front of him. “The rest of us have
things to do, so let’s get on with this.”

Grant didn’t react and he hadn’t brought any
papers with him. Still, there was no way he was unprepared. John
had rarely seen him lose his cool over anything.

The stout man, who John decided to refer to
as
pompous windbag
, cleared his throat. “The town of
Sanctuary has been in operation for thirty-eight years. There are
currently one hundred eighty-two residents—”

“It’s actually one hundred eighty-three.
There was a birth recorded two weeks ago.”

“Be that as it may, the federal witness
protection program has chosen to seclude each of these high-profile
targets for a reason.” He lowered the paper and looked over his
glasses. “And you wish to close the town?”

Grant rested only his fingertips on the desk,
his eyes on the panel. “Sanctuary started out as an experiment. It
was never designed to continue on a permanent basis. Yes, several
of the witnesses are recognizable household names. But we’ve
relocated famous people before. There’s a strategy in place.
Sending them to Sanctuary to see if they could survive as a
community in their own right is a gigantic security breach waiting
to happen.”

John wasn’t looking at his brother any
longer; he was looking at the director of the U.S. Marshals. A man
he didn’t see too often outside of the occasional briefing they
were both present at.

“I’m honestly surprised we’ve managed to keep
the lid on an entire town for this long. But the potential threat
is something which cannot be ignored. If anyone discovered
Sanctuary exists, the result would be catastrophic. Everyone in the
town would need to be relocated immediately and not without great
expense to the tax payer.”

Pompous windbag’s eyes widened. “And I
suppose you think we’re going to overlook the astronomical expense
of relocating each of these families now, providing them with a
stipend until they can find employment and arranging for housing.
Not to mention the personnel required to transport each of them to
their new homes, should the town be closed.”

“It would be a lot. But—”

“And all because you feel that the potential
security risk is too high.”

John glanced at the Thane, recognizing him
now he was able to put the name with the face. The guy was never
happy about anything, constantly on news programs complaining about
one thing or another.

Grant’s shoulders stiffened, but John figured
only he noticed it. “Congressman Thane, with all due respect, my
job is to understand the risks and take the necessary steps to
protect these people.”

The congressman to Thane’s left huffed. “And
our job is to sign the checks.”

“Which is why we’re all here.” Grant sighed.
“I suppose you have made your decision then?”

The female, Congresswoman Stefanie Shafer,
nodded like the teacher’s pet, sure she knew the answer. “The town
will remain open.”

Congressman Thane didn’t look at her.
“Sanctuary will indeed remain as is. If you wish to keep these
people safe, then do so. But not at further cost to taxpayers. You
want to avoid a security breach? That’s your job. We’re not
spending more on this. Granted, some of these people are likely
innocents. But the vast majority of them turned state’s evidence to
escape a sentence of their own. That cannot be ignored.”