Sanctuary Lost WITSEC Town Series Book 1 (28 page)

“Because you believe yours is the one that’s
right.”

John nodded. “I do.”

Olympia got close to his face. “So prove
it.”

“What if I can’t?” John didn’t realize the
depth of his fear until he voiced the question. “What if I do
everything I can and it’s not enough?”

“Then you have to call on something deeper
than yourself.”

“You mean like God?”

Olympia shrugged. “That’s up to you.”

And here he’d thought she would give him
something useful. “I have to go. Palmer’s going to be all over this
thing. I think he’s been itching to book her into custody since the
murder.”

“Yes, well. A man’s wounded pride will do
that.”

John stilled. “She turned him down or
something?”

Olympia lifted her chin. “Or something.”

**

Pat could see Deputy Palmer and Andra through
the crack in the bathroom door. He couldn’t make out what they were
saying, except for a few words. And none of them were nice. Had
Andra really killed someone? Maybe the kids at school were right
about her. Maybe she did bury people in her backyard.

No, that was gross. And weird.

“—finally.” Palmer slammed the jail cell
door. “…serve you right.”

“Because I said no, or because I gave you a
black eye?”

Palmer’s body went all stiff.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have broken into my
house in the middle of the night.”

The deputy was the one who’d burned her house
down? Pat listened.

“What else did you think was going to
happen?”

Palmer stepped forward, where Pat couldn’t
see him anymore. He said something low that sounded almost
dark.

Andra laughed, but not like she was having a
good time. “That was never going to happen.”

“You ungrateful—”

Pat ducked out the bathroom and ran for the
rear door. He turned the handle and looked back in time to see
Palmer peer around the corner.

“Hey!”

Pat ran outside, tore across his dad’s
parking space and went left down the street. Where was he going to
go? Palmer was going to tell his dad he’d been listening and then
Pat would get into trouble. Never mind that Palmer was being mean.
His dad wasn’t going to do anything about an adult’s behavior. His
mom always said Pat was her only responsibility, not what anyone
else did.

Pat ran so far it burned when he tried to
breathe. He stopped and leaned forward, trying to suck in air.
Palmer hadn’t followed. He was probably busy doing all the stuff
sheriffs had to do when they arrested someone for murder.

“Pat?”

He flipped up straight. “Mrs. Pepper.”

“Is everything okay, dear?”

“Uh…” Should he tell her about Palmer being
mean? “I guess.”

She squinted like she didn’t believe him.
“Are you sure?”

Pat didn’t want Palmer to have said those
mean things to Andra. But what if she did kill all those people
like everyone said? And what if she killed the welcome lady? Andra
was nice to him, but what if she’d only been playing Go Fish with
him so she could look like someone who was nice to kids? Maybe
she’d spent the whole game trying to decide how to kill him.

Mrs. Pepper smiled. “Whatever it is, you can
tell me.”

Pat toed the ground with his sneaker. “Did
Andra really kill that lady?”

“I’m afraid so, dear.” She made a noise like
she had bad news. “Some people are simply evil creatures. They may
look nice and act nice, but inside they’re rotten. A bad seed.
Those are the people you have to watch out for because they can
seem good when they really aren’t.”

Pat didn’t want to believe that about Andra.
But what did he know? No one ever gave kids the whole story.

“Will you be careful around her, Pat? I
wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

Pat nodded. Andra was in jail, so what was
she going to do to him anyway? Still, Mrs. Pepper’s words gave him
a chill enough that he excused himself and started walking.

It was bright and sunny, but Pat wasn’t warm.
He liked Andra. Why did everyone think she’d done so many bad
things? Was Mrs. Pepper right, did he need to be careful in case
she did something to him?

Before long, he got to the park. Aaron was on
one of the swings, moving back and forth. But not like he was
trying to swing. “Hi, Aaron.”

Pat sat on the swing next to him. Aaron’s
eyes were weird. Maybe he was one of those people too, pretending
to be nice when they were…what did Mrs. Pepper call it? A bad
seed?

“Registration number…” his voice disappeared
into mumbling Pat couldn’t understand.

“You okay?”

Aaron flinched, shifting the swing to move
more. “Too much blood.”

Pat froze. “Where?”

“On the bricks. On her shirt.”

Pat had seen the stain on the wall where
Betty Collins’ body had been found. He didn’t need anyone to
explain what it was. “You saw Betty?”

“Checks and balances.”

“All Aaron.”

“Knives and blood. Clothes and bricks.”

“Betty Collins.”

“Leave it alone, Aaron. It’s nothing to do
with you.” Aaron’s voice was different, higher sounding, like a
lady. “Don’t touch. Don’t tell.”

Pat’s stomach twisted. “Did you see
something, Aaron?”

Aaron’s mouth moved, but no sound came out.
Then he said, “Checks and balances. All Aaron.”

Did he even want to know? Maybe he should run
and tell his dad Aaron might have seen something. He would, if he
thought Aaron would tell his dad what he knew.

“Aaron.” Pat tugged at the hem of his
t-shirt. “Did you see Betty?”

His voice was a whisper. “Don’t touch. Don’t
tell.”

**

With Palmer gone, John saw a difference in
Andra. She’d relaxed but she still wasn’t talking. “What happened
between you two?”

Andra lay on the cot, staring at the
ceiling.

“Fine, don’t tell me. Don’t give me anything
at all that might help you, since you’re so all-fired to take the
wrap for a murder you didn’t commit.” He slumped into his
chair.

“How do you know I didn’t do it?”

John opened his mouth to say, “Because I know
you.” But realized he didn’t, not really. He didn’t know any of
these people.

“What do I care if you go to jail for the
rest of your life?” The words made him sick. “I’ll still be here,
living in Sanctuary. Raising Pat and doing this job. You’re the one
who is going to be carted off to spend the rest of your life in a
cell.”

And why did it feel like he would be the one
in prison? It should be enough being here living his life. It
should be enough having Pat. He looked at her and saw her eyes were
on him. She would be gone. John and Pat would have to survive in
this town of people who had taken one look at Andra’s file and
deemed her little more than an animal.

“Why did you have to be an assassin?” He
shook his head. “You could have been anything. Why this?”

She didn’t say a word. John stood watching
her. It took a minute, then she finally sighed. “Whining isn’t
going to make your life easier. Things are what they are. I can’t
change them any more than you can.”

John was a grown man and grown men did not
pout. “I’m not allowed to ask?”

“They’re not always like this.”

“They’re ready to crucify you and you’re
defending them?”

Andra looked at the ceiling. John didn’t care
who she was beseeching, not if it might work for her.

“Olympia told me I should look to God to help
me fix this colossal mess-up.”

Andra’s eyes settled on him, her gaze
cautious; guarded but full of something that looked an awful lot
like hope. It was a good look on her. “Maybe she’s right.”

“Is it going to help?”

“You’re the only one who can find the answer
to that, John.”

Gees, he liked the way she said his name.

John ran his hands down his face. The reality
was, for the first time his judgment could be called into question.
Andra’s future rested on his ability to do this job impartially.
But more than that, he needed to find the real killer. Because if
something happened to her when he could have prevented it, the one
who wasn’t going to survive this was him.

Andra started humming, a warm sound that was
partly the song and partly the cadence of her voice. John picked up
his coffee cup and took a sip, finding a second to just breathe in
the middle of all this.

The back door slammed open.

John jerked. The coffee sloshed and spilled
on the leg of his pants. He shot to his feet. “Pat!”

The kid didn’t falter. “I think Aaron knows
who killed Betty.”

“He was right here.”

John turned, scanning the park while his son
did the same thing beside him. “He’s not here now. Tell me what he
said.”

Pat’s brow wrinkled. His face was red with
concern for his friend. “It wasn’t like he just said it. It was
like Aaron-speak, you know. Something about blood and bricks and
clothes. Don’t tell. Like that.”

“Okay.” John put a hand on his son’s
shoulder. “Let’s find him.” He reached for his radio. It wasn’t on
his belt. He must have left it on the desk. “Come on.”

They went back to the office, where Andra was
deep breathing. She was asleep, now? John’s full cup of coffee was
probably cold, and his radio wasn’t there. He snapped up the phone
and found Dotty’s home number in the list in his binder.

“Yes?”

“It’s Sheriff Mason. I need an address on
Aaron…I don’t know his last name.”

“No one does, dear. Try number thirty-two, A
Street. The house is on the north side, halfway down. It’s been
converted into one room apartments and his is in the loft, I
believe.”

“Thank you, Dotty.”

“When we get some time, I’ll show you how to
look up addresses on the computer.” John hung up and turned to Pat.
“Maybe you should stay here and keep Andra company.”

Pat glanced at her and back at John, a look
on his face. Okay, so she was asleep and she didn’t need company.
Parents weren’t always logical.

The boy lifted his chin. “I’m coming with
you.”

John didn’t waste time arguing. Who knew what
had happened? They drove to Aaron’s while John tried to figure out
where his radio was. He’d had it earlier at the sheriff’s office.
Before Palmer left, John set it on the desk. He needed to find it,
and soon, since it was the only point of contact between Sanctuary
and the outside world. Had somebody taken it? Was that why?

The yard at Aaron’s was a mess of weeds. The
flowerbed was just dirt and some grass that’d migrated toward the
house. John pounded on the door and then realized he probably
didn’t need to do that now he was a Sheriff and not a marshal. At
least he hadn’t yelled, “U.S. Marshals! Open up!” That would have
been embarrassing.

He relaxed his hand and tried to knock
politely.

The door swung open. Bill’s t-shirt was dirty
with Cheetos finger swipes. A distinctly sweet, earthy odor wafted
from inside and his eyes widened.

John shook his head at the smell. “Dude,
seriously?” If the kid’s testimony hadn’t already been
questionable, it definitely was now.

Bill sputtered. “What? I’ve been stressed
out.”

“I’m not here for that right now. I’m looking
for Aaron.”

“You and the little deputy came to the right
place.” His smile faltered. “Uh…I’ll…go get him for you.” He
glanced back over his shoulder. “Aaron!”

“I’d like to come in.”

“That might not be a good idea.” Bill
swallowed. “Sheriff.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.”

Bill frowned and looked back at stairs
covered with seventies-style floral carpet. “Aaron, get down
here!”

Pat ducked under Bill’s elbow and sprinted up
the stairs. Bill yelled, “Little deputy!” and ran after him.

John followed them up, making a point not to
look into the living room. He didn’t want to know what he’d see on
the coffee table. He’d deal with the fact someone was growing weed
they’d smuggled into Sanctuary. Later, when he wasn’t trying to
solve a murder. It wasn’t like any of them were going anywhere.

“Dad!”

The two of them crowded on the stairs. Aaron
was at the top, lying face down, with blood on the back of his
head.

“Who has been here?”

Bill jerked his head side-to-side. “No one,
man.”

“Pat, run for the doctor.”

Bill turned to him. “Be quicker if you took
him yourself.”

John checked Aaron’s pupils and took a look
at the wound. He gathered the young man up in his arms. When he saw
the smudge of blood inside on the frame of the front door, he
paused and looked at Bill. “Where did this come from?”

It looked like someone with bloody fingers
had touched the door on their way inside.

“I have no idea, man. That wasn’t me.”

John stepped outside and strode to the Jeep.
Aaron had been attacked and made it home to the place he felt safe.
Why had he tried to hide it? Who had done this?

**

Andra shifted on the bed but couldn’t seem to
open her eyes. Her head was a fog. This wasn’t her bed. The thought
was enough to pry her eyes open.

Bars.

She was still in the Sanctuary holding
cell.

Booted feet crossed the floor tiles, the
muted steps belonging to a dark figure Andra could barely make out
through the cloud obscuring her vision.

What was wrong with her? It was like her
brain was awake but her body wouldn’t cooperate with what she was
telling it to do. She couldn’t even lift her arms. Her head would
only turn a fraction. She tried to sit up. No, that didn’t work
either.

What was…what was going on?

The figure moved to John’s desk, then away to
the door and it clicked shut.

Andra tried to rise but she couldn’t.

Where was John?