Sanctuary Buried WITSEC Town Series Book 2

by Lisa Phillips

  Maybe it made him weird, but Matthias had always known a wife and kids and a happy home was what he wanted. He was a simple man who took pleasure in simple things, but not everyone understood. He didn’t need to strive for more than what he had. The money he earned, he simply banked in investment accounts or used it to support people in town. He’d found he only needed to be good at what he did. Really good.

  Matthias wanted to be with someone who loved him. His sisters knew and teased him mercilessly about it. Diego just plain thought he was crazy.

  It had been a long, dry stretch of years since Cyan left Sanctuary. After her betrayal he’d almost thought his dream wasn’t ever going to come to fruition. He’d tried to trust God would bring the right girl in time, like his mom said, but when things looked impossible it wasn’t easy. Calling Frannie an answer to prayer wasn’t something he was prepared to do, yet. Even if she seemed like it.

  Matthias watched through the window, where Frannie was laughing with John’s son Pat. The boy was animated and far more outgoing than Matthias had been at that age. Not that he’d been a particularly effusive person anyway, even before the night his father died.

  Frannie looked up and saw him at the window. Her face broke into a wide smile, and she waved. Matthias smiled back as she walked over and opened the door for him.

  “Everything okay?”

  Matthias felt wrung out, physically and emotionally. Then he remembered the newspaper and the reason he’d gone to talk with the sheriff in the first place. “John’s going to talk to Nigel about the article.”

  If he told Frannie what happened the night his father died, would she let him go? Maybe she would jump at the chance to avoid yet another crazy family. If he told her she might well turn out to be everything he’d ever wanted, would she freak out?

  He didn’t want to scare her away. He was going to have to tread carefully, at least for as long as he could.

  **

  John locked the front door of the sheriff’s office. “I’m back. What’s up?”

  His brother’s voice came over the line. “Are you sitting down?”

  “Just tell me.” Bad news was bad however you delivered it. Nothing was going to lessen the sting, and he needed to get over and talk to Nigel. “Is it mom?”

  Grant sputtered. “It’s not mom.”

  “Then what is it? What happened?”

  There was half a minute of quiet and then Grant said, “It’s still early, but I’m getting real-time updates. For now only a few people know, and they’re going to wait as long as they can to announce it, but eventually it’s going to come out.”

  John gritted his teeth and sat down. “What.”

  “As of an hour ago the undisclosed freaking secret location where the president was meeting with the first lady was sieged.” Grant took a breath. “There was a period of time wherein every single secret service agent on the detail was out of contact. Local federal agents were tasked to visit the scene—a middle of nowhere chain hotel. They arrived six minutes after the last radio contact. No one was alive.”

  John could barely breathe. “What?”

  “They were in and out within minutes, and they left no one alive. It gets worse. Indications are the president suffered some form of physical torture. I’m not clear on the details, but before he died he wasn’t in a good way.”

  “The president is dead.”

  Grant’s voice was quiet when he said, “And Susan.”

  Beth. John gripped the edge of the desk. “Find the SEAL.”

  “He’s still out of contact.”

  “I don’t care. Figure out where he is and go there yourself. Get Beth’s husband here. Now.” John squeezed his eyes shut while his brain ran down the possibilities—and the implications. “So it’s whoever wants Beth dead, too? They want to know where she is?”

  “If they even had time to ask. It was minutes, John. What could they have gotten? But if I wanted the location of Sanctuary from the first lady, it’s what I would do.” Grant cursed.

  “So they’re looking for her still, and conceivably now know where she is.”

  Grant said, “We don’t know for sure they got the information. Maybe there was no time so they killed them and got out. Maybe they were after something else, not just the location of Sanctuary.”

  “We don’t know for sure either way. The whole scheme had to be way too elaborate for them to cut and run when time ran out, they had to have been sure they’d get what they wanted or the operation wasn’t worth the risk.” John got up and paced the room.

  If the team who killed the president and first lady were now coming for Beth, the whole town was in danger. It would take hours to evacuate every resident and get them to a safe location.

  “At this point, we don’t even know if this is about Beth.”

  John frowned, glancing around his empty office trying to figure out what he was going to do first. “What do you mean?”

  “It could conceivably be about any of the residents. At least three are high-profile enough targets it could induce whoever wants them dead to go after the president and first lady this way. And that’s just the ones at the top. All of these people are with you because the people who want them dead are so determined we have to hide them in an inaccessible location, virtually cut-off from the rest of the country.”

  “Because where else do we hide important people?” John gritted his teeth. “Did we shoot ourselves in the foot?”

  Grant cursed again. “That’s why we took the precautions we did. I really want to know who leaked the first lady’s location. I want their head on my desk.”

  “Where else could they go?” John sighed. “We couldn’t have kept her here when they wanted a visit. It’s been weeks, but maybe the secret service agent who betrayed them before wasn’t alone?”

  “I vetted this team personally.” Grant groaned. “I have to go. The vice president is calling me.”

  “I’ll break it to Beth.”

  “Give me an hour first.”

  John hung up.

  **

  “You really should put a scoop of mayonnaise in that, dear.”

  Frannie didn’t look up. Elma and May were in her kitchen, and they’d been making comments through all three batches of cupcakes—red velvet, chocolate and now vanilla.

  “It makes the cake moist.”

  Because her cake was normally dry? Frannie hit the button on the mixer and drowned out the old lady bleacher section. The whir of the mixer didn’t help her headache, and she couldn’t take more ibuprofen for another hour. Frannie grabbed the peppermint Olympia had mixed up and brought over earlier. Maybe it would ease the tension and help her stop coughing.

  Frannie braced her hands on the counter and hung her head for a minute.

  “Are you okay?”

  She looked up. Matthias was at the bottom of the stairs. His T-shirt had smudges of something on it, where he’d wiped his hands. “Is the water running now?”

  “I need a couple of parts from Lance, then it should work. Answer the question.”

  “I’m…okay.”

  Matthias came over. “Your head hurts?”

  She nodded, and he touched her cheeks, running his hands back into her hair where he massaged her head. Frannie groaned. “I’m not sure that’s supposed to feel so good.”

  Matthias chuckled. Frannie grabbed the sides of his T-shirt at his waist and held on. “Maybe you should go home.”

  “I have a few more things to get ready for tomorrow. Then I won’t have to get here as early.”

  “Okay.” His fingers slowed, changing to a softer motion. He was completely messing up her hair, but Frannie didn’t care. She reached back and pulled out her pony tail.

  “Any idea where you’re going to get a pull-out couch from?”

  “No.” She sighed, unable to muster up the energy required to figure out what she was going to put in the apartment once it was cleaned out, functioning and freshly painted.

  “Let me tak
e care of it, okay?”

  “Sure. Whatever you want.”

  He chuckled. “You might regret saying that.”

  The kitchen door swung in. Elma pulled up short, her eyes dancing with delight at Matthias standing close to Frannie, practically embracing her. Frannie dropped her hands from his waist. “What is it?”

  “Three uh…gentlemen are here to see you.” The older woman’s displeasure was clear. “They’re demanding you come out, and if you don’t they intend to storm your kitchen like Rudy Giuliani in a Bronx Italian restaurant.”

  Frannie laughed. “I’ll be right out.” She turned back to Matthias. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll come out with you.”

  She shrugged. “It’s your funeral.”

  Frannie trailed out of the kitchen where Sonny, Louis and Michael waited. She raised her hands, palms out. “Guys—”

  The bakery’s front door swung open, and Sheriff Mason stuck his head in. “Is Beth here?”

  Frannie shook her head while Pat ran to him. “Dad! School is done so we’re helping.”

  “I know, bud.”

  “Ms. Beth might be at the school building still. She stayed there after we all left.”

  “Thanks, bud.” John ruffled his son’s hair and waved at Aaron, intently wiping a table like the germs were an invading army he was determined to eradicate. “I’ll find her.”

  Matthias said, “Is everything okay?”

  John looked at Sonny, Louis and Michael like he wanted to ask them that same question. “I just need to find her.”

  He left, and the three men turned to her. Frannie folded her arms. “Did I miss a meeting?”

  Louis said, “You know it’s not until Sunday.” His T-shirt was a light shade of pink with three buttons at the collar. But it didn’t make him any less lethal.

  For half a second Frannie entertained the idea one of them could be the man who thought killing sick residents was a service. She dismissed it as quickly, since none of them would hurt her. Although, they would certainly kill—and had in the past—she knew the men wouldn’t do so unless they were forced into it. And certainly not assisted suicide.

  She was pretty sure.

  Frannie cleared her throat. “Well then, what’s up?”

  “We heard about the letters.” Michael’s eyes were soft.

  Matthias moved closer but didn’t touch or embrace her. Still, it was clear what he meant by it.

  Sonny’s eyebrow rose. “Like that, is it?”

  Frannie lifted her chin. “Whether it is, or not, is none of your business.”

  Michael stepped up to the counter and leaned toward her slightly, speaking low. “Angela, this man is not family.”

  Everyone heard him anyway. That was why Frannie said, “This is Sanctuary. We’re all family.”

  “And who exactly do you think will be walking you down the aisle?” Sonny said. “You be very careful in your choice, Francesca.”

  Frannie was ready to explode. “He’s right here. He can hear you, and who said anything about marriage?”

  Matthias put his arm around her shoulders. “They care about you. If Sonny, Louis and Michael have something to say, they are entitled to their opinion. But it’s your choice, and they’re going to support you. Because that’s what family does.” He looked at the three men across the counter. “And she’s right. We are all family.”

  Sonny stared at Matthias long enough Frannie shifted her stance, wondering what was about to happen. He looked at Frannie. “You know where I am if you need anything.”

  “I know.”

  Michael touched the back of her hand. “Angela mia.”

  “I’m okay.” Frannie gave him a small smile, and the three of them left. She squeezed Matthias’s arm and went to use the bathroom before she got back to work.

  When she came out a white envelope lay on the tile just inside the back door.

  Just like the other two, it was easy to try and convince herself it was going to be a payment, or a bill. It wasn’t mail day, and Aaron—who delivered all of Sanctuary’s mail brought in by the Air Force—was out front cleaning up. She’d already had today’s local mail delivery.

  Frannie looked back at the kitchen. No one was around. And why did that make a difference? She snapped up the letter and slipped her finger between the flap and the envelope, ripping it open. She wanted to know what this guy had to say for himself this time. Even before she pulled out the paper, the smell hit her. The headache.

  Frannie pulled out the paper and flicked it so it unfolded. The smell wafted toward her face. She inhaled, but the air got stuck. Her throat thickened.

  Frannie turned and took a step toward the kitchen. Matthias…

  Black spots sparked across the edges of her vision. She couldn’t get any air.

  And then everything went black.

  Chapter 14

  Matthias heard the thud, and raced into the kitchen. He’d figured Frannie dropped something heavy, but it was her on the floor. “Frannie!”

  Elma and May came trotting in, too. Matthias crouched. She was breathing, but barely, and her heartbeat was weak. “Frannie.” He patted her cheek. “Frannie, can you hear me?”

  “What happened?”

  “What should we do?”

  Matthias kept his eyes on Frannie. Should he lift her? “Call the emergency number.” They’d either get Dotty at the sheriff’s office, or the sheriff himself. “Call the medical center, too. We need the doctor here.”

  May pushed back out the door. A letter lay on the floor beside Frannie. It was open enough he could see it was another one from the killer. Had she fainted from the shock? Maybe he just needed something strong smelling to wake her up. But for now he needed to get the thing put away so no one else touched it. John could take it as soon as he arrived, but right now it was Matthias’s responsibility.

  “Get me a plastic bag that seals.”

  Elma opened a low cupboard, searching around until she located one. Matthias grabbed the letter with two fingers. The thing smelled awful. No wonder Frannie was having headaches, and coughing. The disorientation in her kitchen had really freaked him out. He dropped the letter in and looked at his fingers.

  White powder.

  Anthrax?

  Matthias looked at Elma. “Seal that up without touching it or breathing in the smell.” He went to the sink and washed his hands before going back to Frannie.

  May came back in, her eyes full of tears. “The doctor will be here in two minutes, but the sheriff will be longer.”

  He looked at Frannie. “The doctor will be able to help her.” He hoped, at least. God, where’s John? Help us. Help Frannie. Get the doctor here.

  The previous letter hadn’t had any powder on it, or any white residue. But the smell had been similar—although not as strong as this. How would they figure out what it was? Anything able to make Frannie this sick was either something she was naturally allergic to, or anyone exposed would react like this. Either way, it was methodical and intentional.

  The killer had reached out, making contact with her—looking to confess his sins. But more than that, was he deliberately trying to harm Frannie?

  “What happened?” Elma’s knees popped as she knelt on the opposite side of Frannie, who still hadn’t woken. “Was she hurt, or did she faint? What’s going on?”

  Matthias took Frannie’s hand. “She saw someone at the medical center Saturday night. He was trying to harm Stella, and he hurt Frannie. Now he’s sending her letters about how he helps those who are ill, or who want to die.”

  “Like euthanasia?” When Matthias nodded the older woman gasped. “That’s terrible! Who would do that?”

  “We don’t know, but—”

  The doctor rushed in with a bulky duffel bag. Matthias kept his hold on Frannie’s hand, but moved aside so Fenton could kneel by her.

  “You found her like this?” Fenton listened to her breathing with his stethoscope.

  Matthias nodded. “I think she’s
being poisoned.”

  “Explain.” He handed the doctor the bag. Fenton opened it and sniffed. “Einetine.”

  “What?”

  “Sounds feminine, but it’s deadly. Only thing in the world which smells like that.” He handed it back. “Seal that up.” The doctor unzipped his bag and pulled out a tablet. He tapped and swiped, and then said, “She’s allergic to codeine, which makes the reaction even worse. Otherwise prolonged exposure would simply mean death from what would appear to be natural causes. She’s reacting twice as fast, even with the significant amount on this letter.”

  The doctor shoved his tablet back into his bag. “Lift her carefully. We need to get her back to the medical center. She needs oxygen to start clearing the poison from her airways while I order the antidote. It’ll have to be delivered on an emergency transport.”

  Matthias half-listened while he gathered Frannie up in his arms. She felt so frail the knot in his stomach tightened. Had the killer known she was allergic to codeine? If he did, he’d gone from trying to kill her gradually to a vicious amount intended to kill her immediately.

  “Will she be okay until Monday?”

  “I’ll know for sure after I run a few tests.” The doctor shot Matthias a look. “You realize if I’d known about this when you asked me to come and observe her, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  He followed the doctor through the bakery and the sea of people watching. “I didn’t know it was the letters. I only knew something was off when she freaked out, but she seemed fine later. You said yourself Frannie seemed like she was just under the weather.”

  Matthias climbed in the golf cart with her on his lap. “At least now we know, and she’ll be able to get better. Right?”

  What if the killer wanted her in the medical center so he could present his offer and kill her there? Then Frannie would be in even more danger when she was supposed to be healing.