“You stopped it, Frannie.” His blue eyes were soft. Kind. “Nothing happened because you were here right when Stella needed you. Whatever that man had planned, he couldn’t do it because of you.”
Frannie pushed out a breath and nodded.
“You said you didn’t know who it was?”
She shook her head. “He was wearing a mask.” Her voice was high and tight.
“I know.” His gaze softened. “If you think of anything else tomorrow, you need to come by and tell me. I’ll be around, whatever you need. I don’t want you to hesitate.”
“Uh…okay.”
“I want you to be careful. I want you to be aware of what’s happening around you. Keep your eyes open.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s a chance this guy thinks you can identify him. We have to see how it plays out, but I’m not willing to take any chances with your safety.”
“You think he’s going to come after me?”
“If your life was in danger, he likely would have killed you in that room instead of just pushing you aside.”
Frannie tried to swallow, but it got stuck.
John kept talking. “I think you just freaked him out, and he ran. I want you to be cautious. It’s not worth being caught unaware.”
“Uh…”
“Is there any way you can keep from being alone for the foreseeable future?”
It was dawning on her in increments, like pieces of a puzzle dropping into place. She had stopped an awful thing from happening to Stella, and now her life could be in danger. Again? Not from witnessing a murder, but from preventing one.
“I—” Her tongue got stuck in her mouth. She tried to breathe, but nothing was coming out. Frannie got up, but she must have done it too fast because she swayed.
Multiple sets of hands caught her, but she couldn’t shake them off.
Everything went black again.
**
Matthias divided the pan of eggs and sausage into twelve breakfast burritos. Sure, there were only four of them at the ranch, but they could have something else to eat mid-morning when they broke for more coffee and he went to church.
The kitchen door swung open, and Bolton stomped in from outside. “Eat up. We need to meet with the sheriff.”
Matthias moved the burrito away from his mouth. “Why?”
“Didn’t say.” Bolton shook hot sauce on his eggs. Then more. Then some more. Then he wrapped up the tortilla and took a bite.
Diego and Sean came in. Diego’s eye had retreated to a purplish-green. He didn’t say anything, but Matthias saw a look pass between Sean and his brother. Why Sean insisted on hanging with his brother was anyone’s guess. One day the guy was going to wake up and realize he’d thrown away what could have been some really good years for the sake of getting into trouble with Diego.
And didn’t that make Matthias sound like a bitter old man?
It wasn’t like his early twenties had been all about laughter and love, and fun. He’d mostly worked, and gone to the bakery when he couldn’t resist the urge to see Frannie. Maybe Diego’s way was better. He was certainly living a more interesting life than Matthias’s unrequited existence.
A relationship wasn’t going to work. When he forced himself to face reality he could accept that. The rest of the time he was too busy wondering what it would be like to kiss her to worry about how it would turn out. Maybe it would work, if he could swallow the risks.
Bolton grabbed two filled, hot cups and motioned to the door with his chin. Matthias followed him out to the truck, and they drove into town.
Before Bolton’s arrival, the rancher in charge had been barely worth anything, an old accountant who knew next to nothing about cows and left Matthias with the running of the ranch. Matthias had emailed a bunch of ranches around the country under the guise he was writing a paper for a class about animal husbandry and found out what to do.
The on-the-job learning had been rough, but between the information he got and Dan Walden’s direction, he’d managed to survive enough that when Bolton came, things were running pretty smoothly. His current boss had bought the ranch and made Matthias a full partner. Everything was split fifty-fifty, and they made all the decisions together. It was more than Matthias ever expected, even if he still considered Bolton the one in charge.
Matthias hadn’t been expecting any of Bolton’s side activities either. Not the fact his new boss would insist they all be trained to use every one of his weapons, along with self-defense, hand-to-hand combat and basic escape and evade tactics. Or that Bolton would have Matthias help him with surveillance.
It was like Bolton was expecting Sanctuary to suffer a full-scale attack.
Bolton held the steering wheel in a loose grip. “Judging by the scene back there, you didn’t talk with Diego yet.”
Matthias had been expecting the question. Still, he couldn’t help but react. “He never came home last night, so I didn’t get the chance. He probably waited until just before we left to come to breakfast so I wouldn’t have the chance.”
Not that Matthias even wanted to have a “talk” with his brother. Bolton insisted they have a good working relationship, but if Diego really thought Matthias was trying to be their father, there wasn’t much he could repair. Diego didn’t know him, and nothing Matthias could do was going to fix that.
“Anything on the screens?”
Matthias shook his head. Their surveillance system covered most of the forest area, but concentrated on the boundaries—the highest elevation of the mountains. Last night had been Matthias’s scheduled night to watch over town, but it’d been uneventful. Like always. Still, Bolton had enough weapons in place he could crush a coup if one was ever to take place in Sanctuary.
It goaded him there wasn’t more he could see, since he had no idea where Diego went when he disappeared. Into the woods surrounding town would have been his guess, but who knew? They didn’t watch every square foot of it. For a small town, there were entirely too many places to hide here.
As they drove past, Matthias didn’t get a good look at the bakery except to see the light was on. Bolton pulled around the back of Main Street, to the north, where Frannie’s bike was against the wall out back. They parked a few doors down, beside the sheriff’s Jeep. The back door was unlocked. When they entered the office, the sheriff was on the phone.
“I’ll let you know more later.” He hung up and waved them in. “Sit.”
Bolton leaned against the cabinet that housed the microwave and coffee maker and folded his arms. Matthias grinned and chose the chair behind what had been Deputy Palmer’s desk, back before he double-crossed them all and tried to kill Andra. He’d heard the sheriff’s fiancé had stabbed Palmer in the neck with a pen. It wasn’t any wonder that no one applied for the deputy position since.
What Matthias didn’t know was why he was here. Bolton was ex-DEA, so the sheriff consulted with him on any case that needed more than one pair of hands, or eyes. Bolton claimed he didn’t want the deputy job, but he was willing to help out if he could walk away to the ranch and the case didn’t follow him. Which Matthias figured meant that had happened before, maybe in his former life. Bolton probably didn’t want a repeat here, where he was supposed to be safe.
The sheriff sat forward in his chair. “I know you both have plenty to do, so I’ll cut to the chase. I’m not convinced Harriet Fenton committed suicide.”
Matthias said, “The doctor’s wife?”
The sheriff nodded. “It was well done, but every aspect does not add up. In the light of this fact, I’ve been through the previous sheriff’s files and compiled a list of five cases since Sanctuary’s inception which I think were murders either incorrectly investigated, or simply closed and labelled an accident or suicide because that was what they appeared on the outside.”
Matthias glanced between Bolton and John. “What does this have to do with me?”
“Two reasons. The first is that last night Francine Peters witnesse
d the attempted murder of Stella Noel, a terminal patient at the medical center. She walked in on what she says was a man attempting to inject a substance into Stella. The assailant ran at her and slammed her against the wall. She was knocked out, but there was no lasting damage except a bump on the head.”
Matthias was up and halfway to the door. He thought they might have called his name, but he didn’t know for sure. He needed to get to Frannie. Now. Bolton’s arm collided with his stomach, but he kept going. Nothing was going to stop him getting out the door. She’d been hurt, and the sheriff waited until now to tell him?
Matthias grabbed for the door handle but Bolton hauled his body backward. He wrestled against his boss’s grip. “Let me go!”
“I’ll put you down if I have to.” Bolton wasn’t even breathing heavy. “Don’t make me do it, Matt.”
“Let me go!”
John grabbed his arm and the two of them pushed him against the wall. The sheriff got in his face. “Give us a minute before you run off.”
Both of their hands held his shoulders pinned against the wall. Matthias tried to move but couldn't break free. Why couldn’t he go see her?
“Matthias, calm down.”
He jerked one more time and then exhaled. “Whatever it is, say it so I can go.”
“Don’t go to her like this.” Bolton’s jaw flexed and he said, “Get a hold of yourself. You go to her like this and she’ll shut down. You know that. If you want to help her, you need to get some control.”
He didn’t want to admit it, but Bolton was right. Frannie wasn’t going to respond well if he barged in. She was so private. She wouldn’t want her business spread around, even if the sheriff had only told him and Bolton. The way she responded to her mom and sister wading into the middle of the twins’ party by skedaddling, she for sure wasn’t going to want him to barge in when she’d been attacked.
He tried to breathe, but couldn’t catch it. “Back up.”
Bolton’s eyes flicked over his face. “You’re good?”
Matthias nodded and they stepped back. “I’m good.” He braced his hands on his thighs and sucked in a breath.
“She’s probably home. I’ll give you a ride on my way.”
He shook his head and looked up at Bolton. “She’s at work.”
“Seriously?” John looked baffled. “It was almost midnight before she went to bed. There’s no way the bakery is open this morning.”
“Her bike was there. She won’t let the church service go without desserts.”
“Well I’ll be.”
Matthias nearly smiled. That was Frannie all right. There was no way she’d let a bump to the head stop her from opening her store.
Matthias needed to know she was okay. “Let’s go.”
“One more thing.” The sheriff ran a hand down his face, looking tired now the rush had passed.
“Spit it out.”
John lifted his eyebrow.
Matthias didn’t apologize. He just wandered over to the four waiting area chairs and slumped into the closest one. “What is it?”
John glanced at Bolton, who nodded. So whatever this was, his boss already knew. Matthias decided he’d get mad about that later, when he knew Frannie was all right.
“The first case I found was your father’s.”
Matthias froze. “Mine?”
John didn’t say anything. “He had a heart attack.” It was the standard answer—one Matthias had said enough times the lie slipped from his mouth with the smallest measure of bitterness.
“Your dad’s autopsy came back inconclusive. The heart attack could possibly have been caused by elevated levels of a medication he was taking. It was a known side-effect.”
“Like someone gave him extra pills?” Matthias hesitated while his brain processed what John was saying. The fact his dad had been on medication wasn’t surprising. What was surprising was the fact the doctor had called it a heart attack. “And…you think he was murdered by whoever tried to kill Stella?”
John nodded.
Bolton said, “Matt—”
Matthias looked back at the sheriff. “How many cases did you say?”
“Stella would have been number six.”
Matthias squeezed the bridge of his nose. There was no way it was even possible this killer had fed his dad extra pills and given him a heart attack. The sheriff could very well be right about the others. John was a good cop.
He was just wrong about Matthias’s dad.
Chapter 6
He had to have heard by now, so why hadn’t he come? Frannie unlocked the bakery’s front door early Monday morning, determined not to think any more about Matthias.
She held the door wide while Susan glided in, a wide smile across her face. “Good morning.”
Frannie’s head still pounded, and she’d avoided acknowledging how dark the inside corners of her eyes were. When it was three-thirty in the morning, some things just weren’t worth facing.
Now it was just before eight and she needed to rustle up some “perky” fast, or today was going to seriously drag. Yesterday had been bad enough. Even though the volume of goods for the church was smaller than what she would make for the store, the down-side of delivering baked goods for service and looking rough was everyone asked if you were okay. They’d all wanted her to stop and chat. To stick around so she could “hear the message.”
Frannie realized the first lady was staring at her with her head cocked to one side.
“What?” Released from her lips, Frannie heard how short her tone was. She sighed. “Sorry. What is it?”
Susan shrugged off Frannie’s behavior. “Nothing, I just wondered for a second what your name used to be, that’s all. You don’t have to tell me, it was simple curiosity.”
Frannie shut the front door and they got to work, side-by-side. “It was Francesca, now it’s Francine. But I was always Frannie.”
Susan looked back for a second, one hand on the fridge door. “That doesn’t put you in danger, not having changed your identity?”
Frannie accepted the tray of chilled lemon bars and set them on the counter-top. “Not when you technically no longer exist. It would be hard for my father or any of his men to find us when there’s nothing to find. The only paperwork that exists is here in Sanctuary. A lot of people don’t bother changing their names at all. Although they’re still miffed we have to pay taxes under the table.”
Susan smiled. Maybe she was planning on talking to her husband about that. Frannie figured there had to be some advantages to pillow talk with the president of the United States.
“And there’s no paperwork anywhere else?”
Frannie shook her head. “When the director assigns one of us to Sanctuary our WITSEC file is brought with us and given to the sheriff. It doesn’t leave here, and neither do we. The only way there could be a breach of security is from within Sanctuary itself.”
“Wow.” Susan rested her manicured fingers on the edge of the counter, studying Frannie. “And a breach like that really happened with Andra, the previous school teacher and the deputy sheriff?”
Out of the three of them one was back in town, one was in jail and the last was dead. Deputy Palmer had sold out Andra’s safety in exchange for a life beyond the boundaries of Sanctuary’s mountains. The school teacher had been duped by Palmer into believing she would go with him. And while he was dead now, she got her wish—she’d left Sanctuary—she’d just done it cuffed, facing a lifetime behind bars and a gag order from the president.
“Have you thought about dying your hair red?”
Frannie blinked. “Red?”
“You have the coloring for it, and I figured after the couple of days you’ve had maybe you’d like some time off this afternoon to relax and be pampered.”
“Pampered?” Susan probably thought she was an imbecile, repeating everything she said back as a question.
Susan smiled. “You say that like it’s a foreign concept.”
“It isn’t.” Fran
nie was familiar enough with pampering just watching her mother, who took every opportunity to “treat” herself to a spa day. “I’ve just never actually done it myself.”
Who had the time for that stuff? Most days she worked, which meant little-to-no make-up and a ponytail. It wasn’t going to make any waves with potential suitors, but she had no time for that either. Especially not when she’d said yes to being part of the next theater production. Mimi and Izzy were going to die laughing when they found out about it. Frannie would—probably, hopefully—dazzle everyone during the two weeks of rehearsals and then wind up throwing up on stage in front of everyone opening night.
Susan smiled. “I can see you’re thinking about it.”
“Maybe.” Frannie smiled back. “Right now we have a ton of work to do, though. Since it’s Monday, everyone will be in to get the special.”
If Frannie didn’t love trying new sweets recipes, she’d probably loathe it. Dan’s fresh crop of strawberries from his geo-thermal heated greenhouse had been way too good to pass up. Once the Danish pastries were fully cooled, they carried the trays out front. Sure enough, a crowd had gathered at the door.
Frannie let them in, noticing as she moved that the first lady was dumping out the old coffee grounds and filling the pot. She should have done that already, before Susan did—even though the first lady didn’t seem to mind menial jobs at all.
A trio of gray-haired, knuckly old men shuffled through the door. Sonny, Louis and Michael. “Gentlemen.”
Sonny shot her a look and went to intercept the first lady, like it was her fault Susan was making the coffee. She’d be hearing about that later.
Louis pecked his papery lips on her cheek and squeezed her upper arms with more strength than he should have had, before he broke off and followed Sonny. Probably to flash his pearly dentures at the classy woman Frannie was going to have to figure out how to pay. Was Susan going to accept a check? This whole situation was beyond awkward.
Michael stopped in front of her. His dull gray eyes pinned her in place. He hugged her with his right arm and the stump that remained past his elbow on the left side. “How is your head this morning?”
Sanctuary Buried WITSEC Town Series Book 2 Page 7