Sanctuary Buried WITSEC Town Series Book 2

by Lisa Phillips

  “What if I do it?” Bolton shifted on the bed. “Have Matthias take a turn for the worse, but tell everyone I reacted to the medication and died.” He shrugged. “Who’s gonna care?”

  Andra shot him a look. “I’ll talk to her.”

  “And we can all act really sad, like crying at your funeral.” Frannie liked this idea much better than Matthias pretending he was dead. Then she realized what she’d said sounded liked. “Not that we wouldn’t be sad if you died.”

  Bolton’s lips twitched. “Don’t sweat it, Frannie.”

  Matthias said, “I like this plan. Frannie and I can stick together, in case Father Wilson comes. Safety in numbers.”

  He was going to push for them to spend more time with each other? Frannie knew how he felt. It’d been obvious he didn’t want her to walk away from him, but what other choice was there? Matthias wanted something she didn’t have the time, or the energy, to give him. He wanted forever, and she didn’t even know if that was available. But it didn’t mean she stopped caring about him.

  Frannie didn’t want to be alone if Father Wilson was going to come after her again. But that didn’t mean she wanted to spend every minute with Matthias—realizing how easily he could have been more seriously hurt today.

  John looked between them. “I’ll have to convince Nigel.”

  “And Mimi.” Andra’s face portrayed how well she thought that was going to go down. “Nigel has to publish the paper, but Mimi has to not tell everyone…”

  “That she’s been sleeping with Father Wilson, too.”

  Everyone looked at Frannie.

  “What?” John’s voice didn’t betray any surprise, just intense curiosity.

  “Father Wilson told me…before you came in. He said Mimi thought I would figure it out, but that she was smarter than me—”

  Andra stiffened. “She’s not.”

  Frannie shot the woman a smile. “He…implied they were close.”

  “Which begs the question of how much your mother knew about Father Wilson’s activities and never mentioned it to anyone.”

  Frannie’s heart sank. “I knew she was selfish, but knowingly standing by while he murders people?” She blew out a breath. “I had no idea she was even capable of that.”

  Andra squeezed her shoulder. “John will get to the bottom of it.”

  “She thinks I can perform miracles.” John chuckled, making Frannie smile. “But I’ll talk to your mom.”

  “You mean interrogate her?”

  He nodded. “As much as is in my power, I’ll find out how far her involvement goes. But first we have to get Nigel to write tomorrow’s paper announcing Bolton’s death.”

  “What about Izzy?”

  Matthias said, “Or Diego?”

  Frannie said, “I can’t believe neither of them knew what Mom was up to. They hang out so much. I’d think Izzy, and maybe Diego, too, might’ve had an idea. Izzy knew she was seeing someone.”

  “I can talk to them,” Andra said. “If they know anything, I’ll find out.” John shot her a look that made Andra lift her hands, palms out. “I’ll be nice.”

  John slung his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close to his side.

  “Okay, okay.” Bolton’s protest was coupled with a smile. “Enough of that romantic stuff. I’m busy expiring over here.”

  Frannie looked at Matthias. He motioned with his fingers, so she walked to his side and set her hand in his. “Are you okay with this?”

  She nodded, despite her reservations of spending so much time with him. “I just want Wilson to not hurt anyone else.” And if that meant someone pretending to be dead, she wasn’t going to argue with the plan. But the fact was, Matthias was too well loved by the town and his family to be the one to be “dead.”

  Frannie couldn’t say the same about herself. The only problem with her being the one to do it—apart from convincing Wilson it was true—was the drama it would cause when Mimi and Izzy were told. Even if they believed her to have been killed, and not that it was a ruse, Frannie’s mom and sister would still milk the occasion for all the attention it was worth. It seemed like that was the only reason they did anything.

  “Will you stay here with me, until I can go home?”

  When he asked like that, his voice soft and him looking so vulnerable lying in a medical center bed, it was impossible to refuse him. Which didn’t bode well for the future, however things turned out.

  Frannie sucked in a breath and looked around—at her friends. “Can we pray first?”

  John nodded, his arm still around Andra. “That sounds like a great idea.”

  Chapter 24

  Stella’s husband leaned sideways toward her and bumped Frannie’s shoulder with his. “She loved you.”

  Frannie wiped a tear from under her eye. “I loved her, too. Very much.”

  “I know you did, kiddo. Stella knew that.”

  Frannie looked at Stella’s still, pale form on the bed. “What will you do now?”

  Harold swallowed, the weight of his grief evident in the slump of his shoulders. “I’ll be escorting the body to Mountain Home Air Force base. After Stella has been cremated, I’m going to go find my son.” Silence filled the space between them for a second. “Perhaps he’ll be able to say goodbye to her after all.”

  Frannie slipped her hand into his wrinkled, rough palm and held on. “Is it safe for you to leave Sanctuary?”

  He made a sound that was half-laugh, and half-sob. “It’s difficult to grasp the risk when you no longer have anything to lose. Let’s just pray I get to Steven before it’s discovered I’m in the open.”

  Frannie gave him a small smile. She didn’t like what he was planning to do, or the risks it entailed. But there was no way she could stop him trying to find his son. “I will pray. I do that now.”

  He smiled back. “I heard.”

  “There you are.” Mimi stood in the doorway, hands on the hips of her rhinestone encrusted denim mini skirt. “I’ve been looking for you all over.”

  Frannie squeezed Harold’s arm. “Excuse me.” She jumped up, bodily forcing her mom out of the doorway just from the speed at which she was walking.

  Mimi sputtered. “What are you—”

  “That man’s wife just passed away.” Frannie kept her voice low. “You should have a lot more respect for his grief than the display you just put on. But that would require you to be a decent human being, capable of considering someone other than yourself.”

  “Ha. Says Little Miss Selfish over here.” She motioned to Frannie with her red-tipped fingernails. “You’re the one who only thinks about herself.”

  All the frustration, all the years of working twice as hard so her mom and sister didn’t have to feel the effects of her testifying hit Frannie like a tsunami.

  “Why are you still here?”

  Her mom blinked. Some of the bravado she toted around on those stiletto heels slipped.

  “Do you get a rush out of stirring everyone up, playing people against each other and seeing just how far you can push every single one of us?” Frannie folded her arms. “I don’t think you get much out of us, except pure amusement. That’s what it is, isn’t it? You’re like that kid with the ant farm. You watch us all trying to make the best of our lives, and you just…poke, for the sake of seeing us scramble. You’re in the middle of all of this. Spreading your wares around town like you’re the Tuesday special. Nigel, Father Wilson. I’d wonder how many others there were, but I really don’t want to know.” Frannie shook her head. “You knew Father Wilson was a killer, and you never said anything. You made Nigel terrorize Maria—”

  “Neither of those little…factoids can be proven.”

  “You need to leave.” Frannie took a breath and prayed for strength. “I wonder that you’ve stayed so long, but it’s time for you to get out of Sanctuary. Forever.”

  “And what about your father? He’ll find me and kill me.”

  Frannie shook her head. “It’s me he wants dead.”r />
  “I’m supposed to put myself at risk because you don’t want me in your town?”

  “You never wanted to be here in the first place, and you’ve made that clear every day since. So take the Marshals advice and get a new look. Maybe if you lay low, no one will even notice you.”

  Frannie knew that was never going to happen, but her mom had to take control of her own life for once.

  Mimi’s eyes narrowed. “If I’m going to put myself at risk then I’ll need some walking around money.”

  “What?”

  “Cash, darlin’. And lots of it.”

  Frannie gaped. “You want me to pay you to leave?”

  “A hundred grand.”

  Frannie opened her mouth to tell her mom where to go.

  “Done.”

  She spun around and saw Matthias using the door jamb to hold himself up. “You can’t pay her.”

  His gaze flicked toward Frannie. “I can.”

  “You don’t have that kind of money.”

  “And you do?”

  Frannie pressed her lips together. If she did, she’d be able to afford to replace her second oven. “Not even after I sell my house. I’ll barely break even, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life living above the bakery.”

  Matthias’s eyes flickered. She saw something there that looked a whole lot like a promise, and for once it didn’t scare her. The idea of it matched something in her, deep in the place she’d buried trying to convince herself she neither wanted nor needed that kind of connection.

  He smiled. “This isn’t pity.”

  “I don’t care who pays me. Soon as I get the money, I’m out of here.”

  “Fine.” Matthias, again.

  Frannie glanced between them. She knew what that determination on his face meant. She’d seen it on Bolton’s, too, and wondered if the two men knew they shared it as a result of their friendship.

  Mimi spun around and strode out, her heels clacking all the way down the hall.

  Frannie moved to Matthias, wrapping his arm around her shoulder so she could take some of his weight. They walked to the bed and Matthias huffed. “I’m not worse than you are, but thanks.”

  Frannie waited while he settled back onto the bed. Her whole body did ache, but she wasn’t going to hold back from helping him. “Are you trying to tell me you have a hundred grand to spare?”

  He held her gaze with his. “Let me do this for you.”

  Frannie sighed. The newspaper Nigel had produced at the last minute the night before lay on the end of the bed, but Frannie didn’t want to read the fictitious story of Bolton’s death again. On the bedside table was a copy of a Carl Gabriel novel—the same one he’d been reading at her house.

  She sat back on the chair, and closed her eyes.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m not super excited for Father Wilson to show up here.”

  “Bolton’s hiding out downstairs in the morgue. He’ll be ready if Wilson shows up down there to see his handy-work first hand. John and Andra are in position, and Hal and the guys are watching Beth and her mother-in-law, because John thought it might be important.”

  “Why does he think that?”

  Matthias shook his head. “Don’t know. But do you know what really has been bugging me?”

  “What?”

  “The break-in’s here at the medical center.”

  “That was Izzy and Diego, right?”

  “I guess, but it just doesn’t seem to make sense. I heard Diego mention one, but there were more. Wilson didn’t do it. If he brought the Einetine with him, he had no reason to.”

  “So who did?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

  She shifted on the chair and felt her brow crinkle. “Who does John think did it?”

  “He was thinking Diego, but I haven’t had the chance to ask him more about Harriet Fenton’s murder.”

  “What does the doctor’s wife have to do with anything?”

  “It was murder.”

  “And Father Wilson did it, right?”

  Matthias shook his head. “There was no picture for Harriet Fenton on Wilson’s wall in his room. He didn’t take credit for it, and I’m not convinced he did it and just didn’t get the chance to put the picture up yet.”

  “So who did kill Harriet Fenton?”

  Matthias’s face was dead serious. “The only other person I can think would benefit from her death is Doctor Fenton.”

  “You think he killed her just because she was rude and a pain in everyone’s butts?”

  Matthias’s mouth twitched.

  “Yes, Matthias.” The doctor’s voice came from the doorway. “Do you think I killed my wife?”

  He shifted on the bed, placing himself between Frannie and the doctor. “I’m not the Sheriff.” Matthias’s voice was steady. “What do you care what I think?”

  Fenton held his tablet low in front of him with both hands. “Answering my question with a question. Interesting.”

  “This isn’t a game,” Matthias said. “Not when people have died, and other people’s lives have been threatened.”

  “But you think I’m part of it, despite swearing an oath otherwise?”

  Matthias kept his attention on the doctor. “That’s between you and the sheriff.”

  “I will not have my good name and my reputation maligned by some too-tanned rancher.”

  Frannie shot up. “You did not just say that.”

  Matthias’s arm came out, holding her back from stepping between him and the doctor.

  “I think you’ll find I did.” Fenton looked at her. “Too bad, like all of this, you can’t prove a thing.”

  Matthias got off the bed. “However beneath you that you consider me to be, it doesn’t negate the fact your wife was murdered.”

  “So you say. I’ve heard nothing about a murder. Harriet committed suicide.”

  “The sheriff never said that was the case.” Matthias’s stare challenged the doctor to contradict him. “He’s always maintained there was more to your wife’s murder than a suicide.”

  Frannie studied the doctor, looking for any sign of grief over Harriet’s death. But there was none. She could appreciate the fact he’d needed—or wanted—to continue working even after Harriet died, given he was the only doctor in town.

  “Well, thank you for this enlightening discussion.” Fenton sneered. “I’m going to return to treating my other patients. Hopefully none of them will accuse me of murder.”

  “Doc—”

  He turned back at the door. “Oh, and it was Bolton’s suggestion the two of you return to the ranch.”

  “You talked to him?”

  “I checked on him a few minutes ago under the guise of securing the body.”

  Frannie didn’t envy him that job. Matthias opened his mouth to say something, but she touched his arm. “Thank you, Doctor.”

  Fenton left.

  Matthias turned to her. “You don’t have to be nice to a murderer.”

  She shot him a look. “Maybe I do. You don’t know for sure he did it.”

  “I don’t think I’m ever going to understand you. Am I?”

  “Do you think maybe we should go back to the ranch?” There was safety here, being alone with him in a semi-public place. The ranch would be more private. Not that she thought she wasn’t safe from Matthias—at least not in the danger way.

  He studied her, like he saw something on her face. “We could head to my mom’s, if you want? Or Maria’s. Maybe Mama’s there with the boys.”

  Frannie nodded. “I’d like that.”

  **

  Matthias’s truck was parked outside the medical center, his keys in the visor. But that wasn’t why he was grinning. Frannie wanted to go with him to spend time with his family. That had to mean something good, didn’t it? For all the pushing him away she’d done, her actions told him a different story. Past the drama and the pain they’d both known in their lives, she wanted there to be some
thing between them—and whatever it was going to be, it would mean a lot to both. He knew that. He’d probably always known that.

  His mom answered Maria’s door. Matthias grinned bigger, expecting her to be ecstatic at the sight of Matthias with Frannie’s hand in his. But she wasn’t. Her eyes were distant in a way he hadn’t seen in a lot of years, back to the days he tried not to think about. Days that seemed to be coming up more and more recently.

  Olympia put on a forced smile. “Come in, both of you.” She latched onto Frannie’s arm. “I’m so glad you’re here, Precious.” Frannie frowned, but let go of Matthias’s hand to be pulled close to Olympia’s side. “Come into the kitchen, won’t you? Matthias, you go greet our guest.” She shot him a look he understood instantly.

  “Sure, Mama.” He leaned close to her and whispered, “The twins?”

  “Upstairs.”

  “And Maria?”

  She motioned to the living room with her head.

  “Okay.” He looked at Frannie and said in a low voice, “Go with her.” Frannie’s eyes were wide, but he figured she was grasping what was happening. “And call the sheriff.”

  His mom nodded. “I was just about to when you got here.”

  “Go, do it now.” Matthias strode toward the living room, trying not to betray how rough he felt after having nearly died from inhaling Einetine. His body was sluggish, but he figured he could off-set the effects with enough will power.

  But that had been how he’d always done things. Matthias took a breath before he stepped into the living room. God, I need Your help. I always have, I’ve just been too stubborn to ask. I’m sorry I waited until the people I love are in trouble. Help me now. Protect us all, especially the boys.

  Father Wilson sat perched on the edge of the couch like this was just another day in Sanctuary, just another pastoral visit. Maria was across from him in the armchair, wringing her hands together and betraying her nervousness.

  He wanted to cross the distance between them and punch the man for his audacity, to scream at him to get out of his family’s house. But he needed Wilson to stay put until John got there. What on earth was he doing here?