Sanctuary Lost WITSEC Town Series Book 1 (4 page)

“Are we going to have a house, or an
apartment like you have now?”

“A house, I guess. We’ll have to see.”

“With a yard?”

“Probably.”

“Can I bring my rat?”

Just before five the next morning, someone
moved through the darkened living room. John was about to sit up
when his son crawled onto the couch and snuggled against him.

John sat in the back of the black, unmarked
car. Beside him, Pat gripped the small cage housing his rat. They
pulled up to the Air Force base and the driver gave a set of papers
to the guard. When they were handed back, the guard moved to John’s
window. He rolled it down and handed back his badge and ID.

“Good morning, sir.”

John accepted his stuff back. “Good morning,
Sergeant.” He looked at his son. “Pat, you want to say hi to the
sergeant?”

“Hi.”

The sergeant grinned. “What’s up, little
man?”

John smiled and beside him on the leather
seat, Pat giggled.

“You guys are good to go.”

“Thank you, Sergeant.”

“Y’all have a good trip.

The car pulled forward through the barricade.
John left the window down and Pat leaned over his lap to get a look
at their surroundings. They drove through residential areas and
military buildings to an airstrip on which sat a huge plane that
would take them across country to Mountain Home Air Force Base in
Idaho. From there a helicopter would take them to Sanctuary.

By air was the only way in or out. Sanctuary
was inaccessible by road, since the closest dirt track lay fifty
miles away. The surrounding area was a stadium of virtually
impassable mountains it would take two days to hike over. John had
searched for it online, but the satellite image of the general area
showed only the ring of mountains with a bunch of grass in the
middle.

Sanctuary had its own water treatment plant,
waste management, medical center, a small school, a farm which grew
the bulk of their produce and a cattle ranch. Anything else they
needed was flown in by plane, which was also how the mail and
medical supplies were delivered. A dentist—which the town currently
did not have—was flown in once every six months.

Everyone in the town was required to perform
a service that kept the town running, for which they were paid.
That job was either their former career or their choice of a new
job.

Internet activity was contained to the
library and every resident was given half an hour a day to go
online, although their usage and activity was logged and monitored
by the NSA. Anyone who broke their WITSEC contract was taken away
by helicopter where they were either kicked out of the witness
protection program, or put in jail. The “Memorandum of
Understanding” each witness signed was a binding contract.

No one ever just left, or went on vacation,
as far as John could tell from the files. Any child born in town
who wished to leave when they came of age had to opt out of the
program and could never return—including going to school. If a
Sanctuary resident left to go to college they could never
return.

John held the door while Pat scooted from the
car. Their two suitcases were loaded onto the plane along with the
lockbox holding John’s weapons. He led Pat to where Grant stood at
the bottom of the steps.

“Ready?”

John looked at Pat, trying to figure out if
the boy was happy about this or not. He hadn’t said a word about
leaving his friends. What was John supposed to make of that? Pat
gripped the cage and gave John a small smile, apparently content to
let his dad lead. John ruffled his son’s hair. “We’re all set.”

“Call me when you get there?” Grant held out
his hand and they shook.

John pulled his brother to him and slapped
his back. “Sure.”

“I want weekly reports. Let me know if you
need anything or if you have any questions. When the month is up, I
want your final decision in writing.”

“Got it.”

John was eager to get the lay of the land and
figure out how this was going to work. The file had confirmed what
he’d suspected—there was little recorded crime in Sanctuary. But
who knew what went on beyond what was recorded on paper? It
depended on the people. And how the previous sheriff had chosen to
do his job.

Hours later, the military helicopter flew
over mountains separated by a snaking river. Civilization dropped
off to miles of trees and peaks topped with snow. When they rose
over the highest peak, John heard Pat gasp and they dropped into a
huge circular valley. It really existed.

Faced with the evidence of a secret town
hidden away in the Idaho mountains, he realized he’d doubted the
story. John stared at the place he might live the rest of his life.
The place his son would grow up—until he came of age and was able
to make the choice to stay or leave forever.

If they were to stay in Sanctuary, all the
conditions of residency would apply to Pat. When he grew up and
chose his own path, John might rarely see him. It was a high price
to pay for a job he wasn’t even sure he wanted.

The helicopter flew over fields of crops, a
barn and a farmhouse. They passed two strips of residential
streets. Three rows on the north and three on the south with a wide
street between that was likely Main Street—enough housing for two
hundred people. The town was a mile long with the ranch at one end
and the farm at the other.

To the north was all green—pathways and play
equipment at the town’s park. Beyond that was more trees, followed
by fields of cows.

The helicopter flew overhead to the ranch,
where a square of concrete had been turned into a landing pad with
a giant H painted on it. They circled once and the pilot set them
down. The radio in John’s headphones clicked. “Welcome to
Sanctuary.”

“Thanks for the ride.”

John climbed out, pulling out the suitcases
and his lockbox before he lifted Pat down. The rotors whipped up
his collar. Together, he and Pat dragged their belongings a safe
distance from the chopper before it lifted off, leaving them
standing on the asphalt.

A rusty, red pickup truck topped the rise,
driving toward them from the fields. A Hispanic man in his late
twenties jumped out. “Boss man says I’m to drive you into
town.”

His jeans and chambray shirt were worn. He
clearly didn’t see shaving or getting his hair cut as a priority,
since his dark hair curled from under his tan cowboy hat. “I’m
Matthias.” He pulled off his glove, sticking his hand out.

“Sheriff John Mason.” He might as well get
used to saying it.

“Yeah, I heard that. News travels fast around
here. How about you, little dude?”

“Patrick Garrett Mason.” He puffed out his
chest. “I’m eight and a half.”

“That half is very important.” Matthias
grinned. “You wanna ride in the back? It isn’t far to town, just a
mile.”

Pat looked at John, fear mixed with
little-boy excitement.

John smiled. “I’ll ride back there with you,
if you want.”

“Yeah!”

They loaded the suitcases and John lifted Pat
up before he climbed in himself. Once they’d settled, Matthias
climbed in the driver’s seat and slid open the back window. “Ready
for the grand tour?”

“Yeah!” Pat’s excitement was infectious and
John actually laughed along with his son as they bumped across the
field onto the gravel road.

Main Street was flanked by storefronts with
wooden walkways, a café, a diner. In the center was a meeting hall
that looked big enough to hold every resident at once. People
walked up and down the street, waving at the truck before they
stopped to chat with someone. John half expected to see a horse
tied up outside the hardware store, the whole place had such an
“old west” feel to it.

Aside from the ranch truck, John didn’t see
another vehicle. Not even in the parking spaces, or around the
island of grass and the tree dead-center in town. A golf cart came
around the corner, driven down the center of the street until the
man parked it nose-to-nose with the now crawling truck.

MAYOR was painted on the hood.

The driver hopped out. He had fully silver
hair and a trimmed silver beard. A woman climbed from the opposite
side of the golf cart, a purse on the shoulder of her pink
skirt-suit. She wore pearl earrings and a pearl necklace and she’d
done that thing women did to their nails, making them big with
white tips.

The man strode in his gray suit to the back
of the truck and shot them what could only be described as a
million-dollar smile. “You must be the new sheriff. I’m Mayor
Samuel Collins.”

Matthias gave the couple a wide berth and
lowered the back hatch of the truck bed. John caught the grin
Matthias shot Pat as he took the rat cage and then helped Pat
down.

John climbed out and shook the mayor’s hand.
“John Mason.”

The woman smiled. “I’m Betty Collins.”

The mayor squeezed her shoulder hard enough
she winced. “The old ball and chain.” He chuckled, but by the look
on her face his wife didn’t find it funny.

“We’re the welcoming committee.” Betty
smiled. “We’ll show you to your office, where you can meet Deputy
Palmer. Then there’s an eensy amount of paperwork and we’ll be out
of your hair. Lots of things to organize before the welcoming
dinner tonight.”

Pat shuffled closer to his side and John gave
his shoulder a squeeze. “This is Patrick.”

“Aren’t you darling?” Betty squeezed Pat’s
cheek and looked back at John, her face set like she didn’t know
what else to do when faced with a small child. She squared her
shoulders. “Ready to get started?”

The mayor chuckled and they followed Betty
across to the store-front with SHERIFF above the door. “Keeps me in
line, that one.”

“I’ll bet.” John smiled.

Matthias passed them, carrying John’s bags.
When he turned again to the truck, John followed. They dumped all
the belongings inside.

Betty said, “The sheriff’s office has an
apartment upstairs, which you’re welcome to utilize unless you’d
rather have a separate house. It’s a one bedroom apartment, so not
conducive to a family. We’ll let you decide. There’s an open house
but you may wish to be closer to the office.”

Betty glanced down at her clipboard. “The
sheriff’s vehicle is parked out back. It’s maintained by Max, who
takes care of all our vehicles. Deputy Palmer has a vehicle, the
ranch has two trucks. The farm has one plus his tractor and all
that stuff for harvesting and whatnot. There are also four ATV’s,
two with snow plow attachments and three snow mobiles. One is
currently broken. Gas is delivered on Monday mornings.”

John sucked in a breath at the flood of
information and looked at Pat, who had wandered to the open jail
cell at the back of the office and was looking around in awe,
touching the bars.

There was a door to the right of the room
marked PRIVATE, which he figured went up to the apartment. Three
desks, two of which were clean, filled the room along with a set of
floor to ceiling cupboards, a coffee pot and small fridge. Pat was
sitting on the bed in the jail cell, listening to Matthias, who had
crouched to speak to him. His son grinned and nodded. Matthias
ruffled his hair and strode out, giving John a nod.

“See you around, Sheriff.”

“Thanks.”

Betty Collins cleared her throat. “As I was
saying, keys for everything are on your desk and the paperwork
needs to be mailed off at the next pickup, which leaves Monday
morning. That’s once a week anything arrives in or leaves town. Due
to the nature of your position here there is a radio on your desk
which doubles as a satellite phone. You can also send texts and
basic emails from it.

“The unit is encrypted. It’s a DOD prototype,
so you can use it indoors or if there’s a lot of tree coverage.
Your computer, as well as Deputy Palmer’s, connects to the
internet. That’s something new. The rest of the town uses the
library. Your log-in and the code for the safe are on your desk.
You have twenty-four hours to change the passwords and set up a new
combination to the safe.”

She checked her clipboard. “Friday night is
movie night at the meeting hall. Town members are requested to
attend dinner before the movie, but it’s not mandatory. Since it’s
tonight, we’ll be having a welcome dinner for you and Patrick.”

“You can just call me Pat.” He hopped onto
the chair at the desk that said SHERIFF and toed off his sneakers.
“That’s what my dad calls me.”

John grinned at his boots.

Betty Collins started up again, but the mayor
slung an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll let you boys get settled.
If there’s anything else, we’ll let you know. And if you have any
questions ask us at dinner. It’s at six. Four doors down other side
of the street.”

“Got it.” John shook their hands again, even
though it made his shoulder throb. “I appreciate your being here to
welcome us.”

“You’re welcome.” Betty shot him a
beauty-queen smile.

The mayor and his wife wandered out. The bell
above the door clanged and then it shut. John turned to his son and
lifted his arms. “So…what do you think?”

“Pretty cool.”

“What did Matthias say to you before he
left?”

“He said he came here when he was six. He was
really scared. But not for long.” Pat smiled. “He said if it’s okay
with you, I can come out to the ranch sometime and he’ll show me
how to rope a steer.”

“Awesome.”

“Yeah.” Pat paused. “What’s a steer?”

“It’s a…uh…girl cow.” John cleared his
throat. “Want to check out the apartment?”

Pat hopped off the chair. “Can I leave my
shoes down here?”

John took the bags and suitcases up the
narrow staircase and unlocked the door at the top. He wasn’t too
sure about living this close to the sheriff’s office. What if he
had to arrest someone dangerous? He didn’t want to detain them so
close to where his son would be sleeping at night. A house might be
a good idea.