Sanctuary Buried WITSEC Town Series Book 2

by Lisa Phillips

  Nothing was wrong with her

  **

  Thursday morning May and Elma, the elderly twins who lived with Elma’s grown son, showed up at the door. Frannie unlocked the bakery and admitted them.

  “We’re ready to work!”

  They breezed past her into the kitchen and came back tying aprons on over their velour pant suits—one pink and one purple. Their hair was matching white perms and their faces gave away how much they’d laughed through the years. Frannie had always admired their individuality.

  “Olympia sent you to help out?”

  “She sure did.” May grinned. “She told us you just want to bake. We’ll man the counter for you and serve the customers. Aaron and Pat will be in later to help bus tables and do dishes.”

  The door opened again. Matthias strolled in, a tan tool belt fastened low on his hips. Nadia Marie was right, it was very swoon-worthy. But maybe that was just Matthias in general.

  Frannie sighed. “Hi.”

  May and Elma erupted into whispering giggles. Frannie spun around. “Don’t you ladies have work to do?”

  They both snapped to attention, saluting her. “Yes, ma’am!”

  Matthias chuckled, his low voice reverberating in her chest like a bass guitar. “I’m going to head upstairs and get started on your plumbing.” He glanced at the closed kitchen door and stepped closer, planting a light kiss on Frannie’s lips. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  She said, “Just a tiny headache still, that’s it.”

  “Good.” He stepped back and turned to the hallway.

  A pre-teen boy biked past the front window, tossing a thin newspaper in front of the door. Frannie retrieved it and went back behind the counter. She unfolded the half-dozen or so pages Nigel issued every week. Not that much happened in Sanctuary, but if the former editor wanted to re-live the past, she wasn’t going to object. Although he could employ less fantasy and more reality. It was more like entertainment than news, even if he did sum up what was happening in the country and across the world. But that was like half a page. She lifted her cup and took a sip.

  Sanctuary News Exclusive: The Angel of Death Walks Among Us

  The scalding brew got stuck in her throat, and Frannie choked, wiping her mouth with her apron. It wasn’t just a revelation of what was happening—it was an interview with the killer.

  “Matthias!”

  He came bounding in, closely followed by Elma and May. “What is it? Did you get another letter?”

  She pointed to the front page article. “It’s Nigel. He interviewed…” She looked aside at Elma and May.

  Matthias snapped up the paper and read Nigel’s interview with the killer. “I’ll take this to John. We’ll figure it out.”

  “Does he mention the letters?”

  He scanned the article. “Not once. It could be fake, or the…guy Nigel spoke with might have simply not mentioned you.”

  Elma and May glanced between them, probably waiting for an explanation. Frannie didn’t have the energy to go through all of what had been happening. They could read the article—fictitious or not—for themselves.

  “I’m glad he kept me out of this. But how did Nigel get him to talk? Did he really figure out who it is, or did the man approach him?” Frannie groaned. “I feel like I’m in limbo, waiting around for whatever’s going to happen next.”

  Death, maybe. If the killer decided she was next. At what point was he going to snap and abandon his principles? Who knew how many people would be in danger at that point.

  “I’ll be back soon, okay?” He squeezed her arm. “Don’t worry about this.”

  Frannie nodded. May’s presence crowded her, and Frannie blinked, her brain recalling the moment the killer ran at her, shoving her aside. She’d assumed it was a man, but what if it wasn’t? May and Elma both had that short, stocky build. Their weight alone could give them the momentum to knock someone Frannie’s size back.

  “What is it, dear?”

  “Yes, dear.” Elma said. “What is it?”

  Frannie stepped back. “It’s nothing. This whole thing is just freaking me out is all. I’m going to go bake something.” She moved toward the kitchen and looked at them both, so concerned for her. Was it false? “You ladies will be great out here, I’m sure.”

  Frannie waited until the kitchen door shut and blew out a breath. She was going crazy. They were just two concerned older women; they weren’t killers. She’d been sure it was a man, now she thought it was twins? Only one person had been in the medical center.

  This was crazy. They wouldn’t hurt anyone.

  Would they?

  **

  “So deputize me.” Matthias slammed his hands down on his hips. “You’ve done it with Bolton, why can’t you do it with me?”

  Sheriff Mason leaned back in his chair. “Those were extenuating circumstances.”

  “Because it was your woman in danger, and now it isn’t? It’s just poor little expendable Frannie.”

  “I never said that.” John stood. “We aren’t going to go see Nigel. I am going to see him. Even if you were authorized, or qualified, you’re still too close to this. I can give you reason after reason why I wouldn’t let you get in the middle of it.”

  Matthias pressed his lips together. He was supposed to do nothing while Frannie was getting sick, and someone was killing people? She might be in danger even now.

  It was the not knowing that bothered him so much. If she was at risk for sure, he would protect her. He’d stand between her and the gates of hell just to kiss her good morning every day for the rest of their lives. But the killer hadn’t made a move. He’d only sent two letters—and what did that do? Maybe she wasn’t in danger at all. Maybe he was worrying about nothing.

  “I’m running through suspects, Matt. I’ll find out everything I can from Nigel, and I’ll talk to Stella again. I think she’s the key, since she’s the one we know for sure talked with him. Frannie told me Stella admitted to having a conversation with this guy.”

  “But she hasn’t told you who it was?”

  John shook his head. “She refuses to say, but made the point to tell me it didn’t mean she condones his actions. I talked to her husband. He didn’t want to upset her by being the one to try and get her to say who she talked to, either. It’s like they’re both okay with this guy helping their situation. Even if they won’t say it was okay for him to kill any others.”

  “And Doctor Fenton isn’t doing anything?”

  “We’re keeping watch on the situation. If the killer tries to meet with her again, then Xander or the day security guards will let us know. Doctor Fenton is trying to make things easier for her, but all that’s left is to make her more comfortable.”

  “So it won’t be long?”

  Frannie had indicated as much, but Matthias was sorry to say he hadn’t visited Stella or her husband to show his concern for her illness. He should ask Frannie if he could go with her next time.

  “The doc said it may be days, not weeks.”

  Matthias blew out a breath. “Then Stella will pass away simply because of her sickness, and we’ll never figure out who it is. The killer doesn’t have to do anything.”

  “Not unless someone else in town is close to dying, or wants out of Sanctuary badly enough.”

  “Not really something we can fake.”

  John nodded. “I’ll figure it out. Testing could come back with something from Frannie’s letters to indicate who it is. Or he’ll make a move and reveal himself somehow. Maybe this article is it, and Nigel will give up his source. But if no one dies, there’s nothing immediate to investigate and little hope of new evidence. There are only cold cases, and it’s not like I can start exhuming bodies on a hunch and some letters.”

  Matthias wasn’t going to count on any of those things. “How do you do it? It’s like you trust everything’s going to turn out fine.” It sounded a lot like naiveté to him, but
he wasn’t going to tell his friend that.

  “I have faith. That’s something new. I can only run down so many leads and ask so many questions in one day. That’s how investigations are done. One person, one question at a time. It’s not like I can wait around for crime to strike and jump in with my cuffs.”

  “Shame.”

  John laughed. “Don’t I know it.” He motioned to the now unoccupied deputy sheriff’s desk. “You don’t want a job, do you?”

  Matthias eyed him. “Will you let me interview Nigel?”

  “No.”

  “Then no.”

  John sighed. “It was worth a try.”

  “I’m going back to the bakery. You’re going to figure this out, right? Because I need to know if she’s in danger.”

  John’s eyes narrowed with amusement. “I’ll let you know when I know. For now just keep your eyes open. I know Bolton trained you in weapons and tactics, so I’m not worried about Frannie if you’re there to help.”

  “Thank you.” Matthias didn’t mind all the hours of Bolton hammering home the methodology on fighting styles and handling everything from a steak knife to a high-powered rifle. Not if it meant Frannie would be safe.

  “You should tell her that’s why you’re there.”

  Tell Frannie he was watching her? “I’m fixing up her apartment.”

  John shook his head. “Yeah, but you’re also playing bodyguard. So tell her that, because you suck at lying, and I don’t think you’ve ever been able to hide anything important before.”

  “Since when?”

  “Oh, so you are hiding something?” John studied him.

  “Walked into that one, didn’t I?”

  “Why don’t you start by telling me what happened when your dad died? Because I implied this “Dark Angel” is the one who did it, and you got this look on your face. Like there was no way, because you knew conclusively it wasn’t true.” John watched him for a minute. “Maybe it wasn’t this suspect, but I’m thinking maybe it wasn’t heart failure like the report says.”

  Not given how much blood Matthias had seen. “Maybe I killed him.”

  John laughed.

  “Maybe I did.”

  John sighed. “You’re not a killer, Matthias. But I think if it was someone you loved, then you would keep that confidence all the way to the grave.” He paused. “Maybe it was self-defense. Maybe he was going to hurt someone—your sisters, maybe, and someone stopped him.”

  Matthias sank into a chair and ran his hands down his face. What was the big deal? John wasn’t going to spread it around, not if it was truly self-defense like he said. John just wanted to know what had happened in town so he could be informed.

  Matthias sighed. “I’ll tell you what happened.”

  Chapter 13

  Matthias hung his head so low it was almost between his knees. For years he’d kept the secret of what happened the night his father died.

  If John knew, would that mean he’d betrayed his family’s confidence?

  The sheriff’s eyes sobered. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  Matthias was glad his friend wasn’t pushing him. He could get up and walk out if he wanted, but a heavy part of him wanted to stay—to speak the words and finally be free of the burden. The steel bands that tightened across his chest, cutting off his air.

  John said, “I know it’s easy for me to say you can trust me, even more so since we’re brothers in Christ. But you have to decide for yourself. I won’t be offended if you choose not to tell me.”

  “It’s not even my secret to tell.” Matthias gave himself a minute, time enough to contemplate the truth wrapped within the lie. “If it gets out it will affect all of us. Maria…” His voice trailed off, and he realized he couldn’t do it.

  “Did Maria kill him?”

  Matthias froze, his hand on the doorknob.

  “She must have been…what, eleven? Twelve? I can understand trying to stop him if he was hurting her. Or you. I can understand doing whatever it takes to protect the people you care about. That’s a good thing, Matthias. It’s an honorable thing, but it’s not a burden kids need to carry. If you—”

  Matthias stared, unseeing, at the closed door in front of him. “The screaming was so loud I ran downstairs. Maria was under the kitchen table, and Papa was…”

  Matthias had grabbed the closest thing—a light-framed kitchen chair. He’d slammed it across his father’s head and shoulders. How was he supposed to know the shock would send his old man into a heart attack? Or that his father would grab his hand and force him close…to watch him die.

  He turned then. John had made his way over to stand in front of Matthias.

  “It isn’t like Maria changed. She was always different, even before.” He didn’t want to speculate on the why of it. “His death didn’t help any, that’s for sure. But it wasn’t the cause.”

  When fall rolled around it was like she became more and more fragmented. Accusing Antonia of sleeping with Tom was only one symptom. Spring was when Maria seemed to heal. The weather got warmer, and she started to come out of her shell some. But first they had to survive the holidays.

  John spoke then. “I know you were a kid, but do you know why it was covered up? If your dad was killed in self-defense there would be no reason to conceal it. There was no danger of anyone being convicted of his murder.”

  Matthias didn’t know, and he hadn’t asked. “The doctor came, then the sheriff. We never talked about it. There was never a reason to. Not when he was gone, and we were better. Mama smiled. For a few months, Maria actually acted like an annoying big sister.”

  A thought Matthias had considered—not frequently, but enough over the years—came to the front of his mind again. Namely, how the way Maria was might not be isolated. It could be hereditary, considering his mom.

  Though not to the same degree, Matthias’s mom did have similar tendencies. This time of year was rough on all of them, but maybe the way Maria acted wasn’t all her fault. She’d been through a traumatic experience as a kid, and the weaknesses in her personality made her the way she was. Mama was just able to hide it more.

  “You realize it wasn’t just them, right?” John studied him. “Your mom and Maria might have felt better after your dad’s death, but you saw it too. You were just a kid, and you saw it. Your sister was traumatized by it.”

  “I’m not brushing it off. It just wasn’t about me.”

  “You were there. I’m not saying you have full-blown PTSD, but that diagnosis even covers a wide range of…repercussions. It’s conceivable you’ve been affected in some way after witnessing a shocking event at such a young age.”

  John didn’t even know the extent of it, and he’d figured out what Matthias refused to acknowledge. Now he didn’t know what to say. He shrugged one shoulder.

  “Will you tell me if you need anything, or if you want to talk more?” When Matthias nodded, John said, “And I will be praying for each of you.” He grinned. “I do that now.”

  Matthias laughed. “I bet you do a lot of things now.”

  “Thankfully pre-marriage counseling with Dan isn’t too traumatizing, even if I have to talk about my feelings.” John shuddered.

  “Father Wilson isn’t doing it?”

  John shook his head. “I talked to him, but he never followed up with me. I guess Dan is over that stuff, anyway. Small Bible studies, counseling of all kinds, anything people need beyond Sunday’s service. He seems more like a pastor in a lot of ways, even though its Father Wilson’s church. But I’m new at this. What do I know?”

  Matthias hadn’t really thought about it, but he supposed that was true. He must be one of those people who didn’t need anything past Sundays and mass. “Is Dan good at that stuff?”

  “Really good. It’s been great getting to know him better, and seeing how he lives what he believes. It’s not just all talk, you know? Everyone who works for him at the farm, they all get together every morning to pray before they take care of the crops.”


  “That’s cool.” What else was he supposed to say? They were talking about church, and all he could think about was his dad’s dead eyes.

  Bolton wasn’t likely to have morning prayer meetings, ever. Matthias’s boss must have had a bad church experience, because he was pretty adamantly against organized religion of any kind. Bolton didn’t bad-mouth Matthias for his beliefs, but he made it plain he didn’t understand why any of it was necessary.

  “If you’re going to be in town looking out for Frannie, maybe we could do that?”

  “You want to pray?”

  “Sure.”

  “Because of what I just told you?”

  John shook his head. “No, just a start-the-day type of thing.”

  “Why?”

  “Isn’t that what church people do?”

  “I suppose.” But when had Matthias actually said a prayer, aside from briefly a couple of days before? And yet, hadn’t he thought about doing it more anyway? “Yeah, I suppose we could.” Taking his faith more seriously probably wasn’t a bad idea, and if praying helped keep Frannie safe, then why not? Matthias didn’t figure he had much—if anything—to lose.

  He lifted his chin. “When’s the wedding?”

  John immediately grinned. “Christmas eve. My brothers all did their duty the first time I was married, so it’ll just be Pat standing up with me.”

  Matthias had been an usher when Maria married Tom, but that was years ago in the early days of her pregnancy with the twins. It hadn’t been an altogether happy occasion when the bride threw up from morning sickness right before walking down the aisle. Plus Frannie hadn’t been the bakery owner yet, so the cake had been so-so.

  “Why do you look like you just swigged bad milk all of a sudden?”

  Matthias shook off the detour down memory lane. “Just thinking about something.”

  The satellite phone on John’s belt started ringing. “I’ll catch you later.”

  Matthias left the sheriff’s office thinking about Christmas lights and wedding cake. Only it wasn’t John waiting at the altar for Andra in his mind. It was him, waiting while Frannie walked excruciatingly slowly toward him in a white dress that was demure and simple, but incredibly sexy at the same time.