Sanctuary Lost WITSEC Town Series Book 1 (35 page)

John cracked a smile. “Sure you don’t. But I
appreciate it anyway.”

Pat roused enough John didn’t have to carry
him, and they took the Jeep back to the sheriff’s office. It was
Friday night, which meant there were two days before Andra would be
flown out of town. Two days in which to figure out the real
perpetrator and make it so she didn’t have to leave at all. But
that would mean the murderer not only confessed, but also told him
the identity of the co-conspirator on the outside of Sanctuary who
wanted Andra within their grasp.

Pat walked up the stairs to the apartment
ahead of John. He glanced back. “What’s for dinner?”

John shrugged. “Let’s see what’s in the
cupboard.”

He found a box of macaroni and cheese and
tossed some cut-up hot dogs in with it as it cooked, while Pat
settled on the couch with the TV on. All normal things, but John
still couldn’t get rid of the unsettled feeling in his stomach. He
didn’t want to be responsible for an innocent person being sent to
jail, or for the real killer going free. But it was more than that.
The reality was it had everything to do with Andra—who thought he
had given up on her.

John grabbed his satellite phone, ready to
dial Grant’s number. Instead he looked at the unit for a moment. If
this really was a conspiracy, he needed proof. Whoever “borrowed”
his phone before might need to use it again.

After their late dinner, John tucked his son
into bed. They really did need two bedrooms, especially if John was
going to get rid of the twinge in his back from being kicked in the
middle of the night.

He sat on the side of the bed and smoothed
down the blanket. “I’m going to be downstairs doing some work. But
I’ll leave the door open, okay?” Pat nodded. He wasn’t going to
pull John down for a hug, like normal? “Everything okay?” Maybe he
was just tired.

“I’m fine, Dad.” He burrowed down into the
blanket, his eyelids drooping.

“Goodnight, Pat.”

His son’s eyes drifted shut. “Night, Dad.
Love you.”

John smiled even though Pat said it out of
habit. So they had a ways to go. That was fine, especially with
everything that’d happened between them and the stress of the last
week.

Downstairs, John grabbed his tablet but left
the satellite phone on his desk like last time. He flipped Dotty’s
light on and then sat sideways on the steps up to the second floor
apartment. Having his back to the wall wasn’t the most comfortable,
but he was going to have to deal with being old. He’d been on worse
stake-outs than this. An inch-wide vertical strip of dim light was
his only view into the sheriff’s office.

For more than three hours John studied the
case notes. The autopsy had confirmed the cause of death was
multiple stab wounds. The only other thing of note that the medical
examiner Grant had found to do the procedure had recorded, was a
high level of anti-depressants in Betty Collins’ blood. Tomorrow
John was going to have to talk to the doctor about that.

John hit stand-by on his tablet and set it on
the stair above him. Muted steps in the sheriff’s office passed the
crack in the door, casting John into full darkness for a second as
the person walked by.

Palmer.

He stopped by John’s desk, presumably going
straight for the phone. But John couldn’t see anything except the
deputy’s back. He swiped his tablet back on and found the app to
record sound, praying Palmer wouldn’t turn and see the screen light
of the tablet on the apartment steps. Even with the brightness
turned down, the deputy would still see the glow.

“It’s me.”

This was it. Proof Palmer had sold out
Sanctuary’s security for whatever he was being paid. What good was
it? Palmer couldn’t leave to spend it, and he couldn’t live large
here in the middle of nowhere. What deal had he made?

“It’s all coming together.” Palmer chuckled.
“The mayor even had his cronies pull her out of jail to beat the
tar out of her. I caught the end of it and it was a statement, let
me tell you. He’s convinced she did it.”

There was a break of silence and then he
said, “The sheriff should have her on the chopper Monday and I’ll
make sure I’m escorting her to the marshals at the other end.” He
paused. “The sheriff has to stay and protect the town. I’m the only
other option.”

John gritted his teeth. It figured Palmer
hadn’t worked out Bolton was more than just a rancher. He would
pick the former DEA agent in a heartbeat over Palmer, if it wasn’t
a risk to Bolton’s identity.

“Got it. I’ll make sure we’re there.”

Palmer wanted out of Sanctuary bad enough to
manufacture a murder investigation. Was he the killer? Was his need
to escape the town he’d grown up in enough for him to kill Betty
Collins, or had he gotten someone else to do it? It could have been
coercion or a partnership, since witnesses claimed the killer was a
woman.

“You’ll get what you want and I’ll get the
rest of my payment, right?” Palmer’s head bobbed. “Good. Because
you don’t get the woman until I get my money. I can hand her into
marshal custody easily enough and I’ll never have to explain
anything. I can still disappear.”

John wanted to jump out and arrest the man
right then. But he would never get the partner or the murderer that
way. The number Palmer had called was likely the same burner phone,
which would be switched off again by the time the trace was run.
Whoever was the money behind this would be in the wind, leaving
Palmer to swing for conspiracy and a murder he may or may not have
committed.

“Be that as it may, I’m the one who holds all
the cards here and don’t you forget it.” Palmer’s voice betrayed
him and the threat didn’t hold the weight it could have. “I’ll see
you Monday.” He set down the phone and left.

John ended the recording. The internet was
off, so he’d have to call Grant and get it reconnected long enough
to send the recording of Palmer’s end of the conversation to his
brother. This evidence didn’t absolve Andra of the murder charges.
It was, however, further proof something more was going on than a
simple stabbing.

John let a couple of minutes pass and then
grabbed his phone. Grant answered on the second ring, his voice
thick with sleep. “This better be good.”

“My deputy sold out Andra Caleri to someone
who wants her out of town and I think its Congressman Thane.”

“Okay, wait a second.” Muffled movement was
the only thing he heard, then a whispered, “I’ll only be a minute.
It’s John.”

A door shut.

“Okay, tell me what you’ve got.”

John laughed. He couldn’t help it. “So…how’s
Genevieve?”

“She’s fine, thanks for asking.”

Apparently. John swallowed the chuckle and
got down to business, catching Grant up on what had just
happened.

“So you’re going to do, what? Stop the
plane?”

John went back upstairs and slumped onto the
couch. “Actually I want him to think he got away with it. Can we
trace his bank accounts, see if he has the first half of a payment
stashed somewhere?”

“I’ll get someone to go back over his email,
too. See if they can find any communications with an account which
might be Thane.”

“Good.” John squeezed the bridge of his nose.
“Andra’s in recovery but she should be able to walk by Monday. That
will help things along. Palmer will be the one to transport
her.”

It goaded him though, since the deputy wasn’t
going to aid her. If it came down to it, her injuries would make
defending herself very difficult.

“I’ll assemble a team to follow him when he
arrives, see who he meets to hand her off to. Or have the marshals
take her into custody and sit on her. Assuming someone’s going to
try and abduct or kill her after she’s delivered.”

“That’s all good.”

“But—”

John squeezed his free hand into a fist. “I
want to be there. I need Palmer to think he got away with it, and
then I’m going to follow them.”

“I can’t get another chopper to town. The
military is never going to go for two in and out of Sanctuary in
one day. Not unless it’s a serious medical emergency.”

“So get a private chopper.”

“From where? I’m not made of money, you
know.”

John rolled his eyes, but then it came to
him. “You and I might not be. But we know someone who is, and he’s
currently in a period of downtime.”

Grant sighed. “Mom’s going to hit the
roof.”

Hal set the backpack on the end of Andra’s
bed. “You’re really gonna do this?”

She looked up at his bearded face but didn’t
say anything. He had the look of an aging biker, a veteran. A man
who somehow managed to freeze time within his world, keeping
everything the way he liked—the way he was comfortable with it
being. Andra had tried her best to do the same thing with her cabin
and keep her life the way she wanted it, but a town full of people
hadn’t let her do that.

He pressed his lips together, making his long
beard rise and fall. “You really are going to do this.” He sighed.
“You’re like the soldier in this book I was reading. He got an
edict from his king to stand down.”

In a way, he was exactly right. This was the
next part of her story, and the place God was leading her to. Maybe
He had something for her to do in prison.

“Why do you look happy?”

Andra smiled. “Just the idea of you reading a
book.”

“You’re not foolin’ anyone, girlie.”

She sobered. “I’m going to miss you.”

“Now why would you go and say a fool thing
like that?” Sure enough, his eyes got wet. Andra reached for his
hand. Hal had to move his closer so she could squeeze his fingers.
“Fine, I’m going to miss you too.”

“Miss helping me out?”

“I’ll miss my nights off from the radio,
that’s for sure.”

“Nadia Marie can take over from me.” Andra
let go of his hand. “She’s looking for something new.”

“Won’t be the same.”

“I know that—” Andra shifted and then cleared
her throat when pain ripped through her middle.

“All right, calm down.”

She fought to settle, but it was the cool
touch of Hal’s palm on her forehead which calmed her. It was
something he’d done when Andra was sick at his house. Something
about the sensation let her take her first full breath in days.

“You’re really not going to fight this?” His
voice was gruff.

“I can’t.”

“Because you think prison is what you
deserve?”

Maybe a little. But that wasn’t the whole of
it. “It’s not for me to fight this.”

“I’ve never understood that about being a
Christian. I’ve followed orders before, even when I didn’t want to.
But how do you even know for sure it’s what you’re being told to
do? You can’t even see God, or hear Him.”

“What if I could?”

Hal closed his mouth. He was silent for a
moment, while his gaze flickered over her face. “What does it even
sound like?”

“Spanish.” She felt the smile curl her lips
up. “But then so is my Bible and that’s my frame of reference.
So…”

Hal gave her a half-smile. “I don’t think
I’ve ever understood you.”

“I’m not sure you’re supposed to.”

“Ain’t that the truth?”

Andra chuckled, but low and soft since it
hurt. “I meant it when I said I’d miss you.”

“I know, darlin’.” He leaned down and laid a
scratchy kiss on her forehead. “Doesn’t mean I have to like
it.”

Hal left and Bolton glanced in the door,
looked around the room. He pulled it to behind him, but didn’t shut
it. Hal’s visit was the only break from the monotony of lying in
bed she’d had all night and all day.

Only one more day and she’d be able to get on
with whatever this was because she wasn’t entirely certain it was
going to be a life sentence.

At least, not one that meant years in
prison.

**

“First time out of Sanctuary, isn’t it?” John
looked over at Palmer in the passenger seat.

The deputy nodded, downplaying what John knew
was excitement. Palmer had packed a bag, given he was supposed to
be gone a few days. Only John knew the man wasn’t planning on
coming back at all. Who knew what he’d told his family.

John drove up to the house where Olympia had
settled the First Lady and her daughter. Pat climbed out of the
backseat and John walked with him. Susan opened the door even
before they got to it.

“Good morning.”

John set his hand on Pat’s shoulder. “I
really appreciate you doing this.”

Pat shuffled his feet. They’d already had the
conversation about not burdening Olympia or Matthias more than they
had. John felt a lot more comfortable leaving Pat with the first
family, especially after the president had explained to his wife
what was going on.

He turned to Pat. “Dotty is going to bring
your bag after Palmer leaves, in case I’m gone overnight.”

Pat nodded. John knew most of his reluctance
was not being able to help Aaron with the mail. Aaron couldn’t
leave the medical center yet, so Matthias was going to do the
hauling and sorting and Aaron would enter the information in his
ledger from his bed at the medical center. Pat badly wanted to
help.

“Have a good day.”

Susan smiled. “I’m sure we will. I heard
Sweet Times has some great cupcakes, but I’m going to need help
choosing which one to have. We might have to sample a few of
them.”

Pat perked up, and John caught Susan’s smile.
The first lady was a smart woman.

“I should head out.”

Pat wrapped his arms around John’s hips.
“Bye, Dad.”

Susan shot John a smile, which he returned
before he walked back to the Jeep.

Palmer didn’t say anything on the drive to
the medical center, and John didn’t feel the need to chat just for
the sake of keeping up the farce. Andra was in bed, on top of the
covers, fully dressed with her shoes on. Her bag was the same brand
as Palmer’s, making John wonder if the government ordered from one
company, or if they were standard issue for witness protection.