Palmer had been adamant Harriet wouldn’t lie and they should go rouse Andra out of bed. The deputy was a little too exuberant—probably because he’d only wanted to finish the investigation and get home to bed. Like you could solve a homicide in four hours.
John figured he’d likely spend the bulk of the month he was in Sanctuary occupied with this case. Hopefully it would be solvable but without the knife and with him having no access to testing equipment, that wasn’t looking good.
They sat and Father Wilson spoke. His gravelly voice smoothed out until the words sounded like poetry; praising God even when he was surrounded by the enemy. John had never felt the need to appeal to a higher power when he was in the thick of something—like being tied to that chair awaiting Alphonz. The idea was interesting, even if it wasn’t something he’d tend to do. Who wanted to admit they were helpless?
They stood again, while Father Wilson prayed and then dismissed everyone for coffee and treats.
Pat yelled, “Awesome!” The crowd rippled with laughter as they stood and dissipated.
John’s attention caught on the back of the room. Andra sat by herself in the back row. He knew the minute she saw him because she got up and left.
John turned to Pat. “Go with Matthias. I’ll be back in a minute.” He rushed out, but she was two buildings down already. He ran and was about to call out when she spun around. John pulled up. “Not staying for treats?”
She didn’t cower or respond. She just lifted her chin. “I didn’t expect you to be at church. I imagine you had a long night.”
“You heard about Betty Collins?”
Andra’s face didn’t give away anything. “Word spreads. Even to my corner of town.”
“Anything you’d like to tell me about that?”
“About my corner of town?”
John shook his head. “No, about Mrs. Collins.”
“Why would I have anything to say? She stayed away from me and I returned the favor. I spoke to her the first day I arrived, ten years ago next month. We’ve never had a single conversation since. But there are a lot of people I never speak to. I don’t come into town much.”
“And yet I’ve seen you three times in as many days.”
Her lips twitched. “Extenuating circumstances.”
“So that was you, last night in the barn? Team C?”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.” But her eyes said different.
“It would be better if you just told me. That way I can account for your whereabouts for at least part of last night. And if you told me where you went after the barn and whether you met up with anyone else, I’ll be able to get started working out who was where while the homicide took place.”
“So I’m a suspect?” Something flashed in her eyes. It could have been guilt, but there was so much genuine surprise he couldn’t be sure. Was it surprise he’d spoken with her so quickly, or surprise that he’d think it in the first place?
“If there’s someone who can confirm where you were and what you were doing between nine-thirty and ten-thirty, I’ll need to speak with them.”
She frowned. “I didn’t see anyone else after the barn. When I got to the rendezvous point for team C—which was actually just myself and Nadia Marie—she wasn’t there. She didn’t show up until a while after.”
“I need to know where Nadia Marie lives so I can talk with her.”
“Am I seriously a suspect?” Andra’s attention drifted behind him.
John turned to see people exiting the Meeting House. Most had on jeans, and more than a few folks wore working clothes. Bikers. Families. None of them were dressed up. Apparently not feeling the need to impress—which had seemed to him as a kid more important than what was being learned at church. It hadn’t mattered if John was listening or not, just that he was quiet. It didn’t mean these people were more or less earnest in their beliefs, just that they didn’t feel the need to put on airs.
“So? Am I?”
John looked at her face. What her molasses eyes hid wasn’t discernible. But she didn’t disguise the fact she was hiding something. It was obvious just looking at her. Andra wouldn’t be the kind of person who gave easily. Whatever experience she’d had in the past meant she’d withdrawn from people. Whether it was for her sake or theirs, was a different question.
“I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation.” The words came out with little thought.
So much of what he knew about investigating was ingrained in him, but was it the real him? John didn’t even know, outside of wearing a badge, what kind of a person he was. He’d lived and breathed cases and operations for so long he needed time to just be…himself. Too bad he wasn’t likely to get that conducting a murder investigation.
“Where is your place?” He grinned. “You know, in case I have any follow up questions.” She was a mystery. But he fully intended to solve it.
“You don’t find me. I’ll come to you.”
“And you’ll know when I need to speak to you?”
She backed up a step, slipping from the grasp of his attention. “Just mention it in town. It’ll get around.”
Right. “I don’t play things that way.”
“Too bad.” She smiled. “Because they’re my rules.”
John shook his head as she walked away, but he was smiling.
Nothing about this was going to be easy but for the first time he felt the rush of a challenge that didn’t require him to forfeit his life in the process. There were a handful of reasons why staying might prove more interesting. At least more interesting than leaving town at the end of the month and turning down the job. Andra was, without doubt, one of those interesting reasons.
“Dad!” Pat ran over.
John swung him up before the tackle and settled his son on his hip. “What’s up bud?”
“Um…”
John walked back inside the Meeting House, where Olympia stood in the center of her family. She spread her arms wide. “What’ll it be?”
“They want to know if we’ll come for lunch!” Pat’s eyes were wide, like he’d been offered a trip to Disneyland. The kid clearly didn’t know what genuine cause for excitement was. Too bad John couldn’t take him out of town for a weekend. Not for a while at least.
Olympia nodded, so John rubbed his stomach. “Lunch? I don’t know. I was planning a feast of frog’s legs and monkey poop.”
“Eew!” Reuben and Simeon joined in with Pat and then dropped to roll on the floor, pretending to throw up.
“Real food for lunch sounds great.”
They turned for the door as a group when the mayor flung it open, nearly hitting one of the boys. His face was flushed, like he’d run all the way there.
John set Pat down. “Let’s go somewhere and talk.”
“I don’t need to talk. I want to know why my wife’s—” He swallowed. “—body, has been locked away. I can’t even see her!”
John took his elbow and led him to the side but the mayor shook off his grip. “I want to see my wife.”
“I understand. But it’s necessary for Doctor Fenton to make sure that where she is, her body is safe.”
She had to be locked up, since there wasn’t the personnel to provide security. The “morgue”, such as it was, was located in the windowless basement of the medical center which had been designed for precisely that purpose. Doctor Fenton had secured the body behind a locked door but provided John with a copy of the new code.
“I can take you to see her, if that’s what you wish.”
The mayor sucked in a shaky breath, his red face contrasting the white of his hair and his usually pressed appearance was wrinkled like he’d slept in his suit. One of his shoes was untied. “I want to know when you’re going to bring the killer in. I want to know when Andra Caleri will be arrested.”
**
Andra took a step back. Anger rolled from the mayor in waves all the way across the room to the kitchen door.
Stupid. Why had sh
e doubled back just for some of the cilantro Olympia grew on the Meeting House’s kitchen window? Didn’t she know by now she was better off up the mountain where no one came by?
The mayor’s eyes narrowed and he launched at her. “You!”
She braced. There were at least eight people between them. The force of his emotion was so strong she stiffened anyway.
“You did this! You killed her!”
John grabbed him. “Easy.”
The mayor fought against his hold. “I want her arrested! She killed my wife!”
John looked at her but Andra couldn’t move. She hated that she couldn’t move. Someone touched her sleeve and she flinched. Olympia. Andra wanted to grasp the woman back, but she’d never initiated physical contact and Olympia seemed to understand the distance was something Andra needed.
The mayor was still yelling. Olympia held out a hand toward the kitchen. “Let’s step in there.”
Andra followed her. The metal counters were clear and the room was quiet. On the rare occasions Andra came down for meetings, the kitchen was usually a bustle of noise since offering food inevitably drew more people in. It was an effective tactic.
“Are you okay?”
The Spanish language Olympia spoke was both a source of comfort and of pain. Andra pushed that aside along with everything else. Olympia didn’t know better. After all, Andra was the one who’d initiated their conversations in the first place. “Si.”
“I think not.” She gifted Andra with a warm smile. “I think you like to pretend you’re strong but you do not have to do that with me. A broken heart knows a broken heart.”
Andra folded her arms. Defensive. She unfolded them and stuck her hands in her back pockets. “Who says I have a broken heart?”
The older woman chuckled.
“I only came back because I forgot to ask for cilantro.”
“Of course.” Olympia moved to the window above the sink and returned with the herb in a small pot. “This is for you.”
“No, that’s not necessary. I only need a small amount.” Andra tried to give it back but Olympia wouldn’t accept.
“My gift to you, since you won’t come to lunch.”
Andra relented. “Gracias.”
Olympia nodded a queen in an apron, bestowing riches on the populace with a grace that just wasn’t found anymore. “The mayor is crazy in his grief.”
“I know.”
“He did not mean what he said. Lies may soothe his pain now but they will not heal his heart. Only the truth can do that.”
Andra of all people knew truth was the only thing that let you move on. Especially when it wasn’t just a heart that was broken, but an entire life.
Olympia gave her a measured stare. “You know who said this, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Andra clenched her hands into fists. “I do.”
“The sheriff will find the truth and Harriet Fenton will be exposed for the liar she is.”
Andra shook her head. “I know that’s the best thing. I do. But—”
“No one believes you did it.”
Which just showed exactly how badly she had them all fooled.
“Listen to me. Anger is a tempest. You surrender to it and there is no control. Innocents always get caught up in the damage.” She sighed. “If you came to town more, maybe joined in—”
“No.” Except she had. Even if Battle Night hadn’t turned as planned, it had still been a great idea. They would just have to wait until next time to figure out what happened. “Nothing good ever comes of it.”
“What about the sheriff?” Olympia’s lips twitched. “I’ve seen him looking at you.”
“Don’t.” Andra sniffed. “He has a son.”
“And boys need a mother.”
“That might be getting a little too far ahead of things, since I only met the man yesterday.”
“So you see a future then?”
“Olympia.” Andra sighed. “I have no future.”
Only days and days and more days stretching out like a kind of prison sentence.
The older woman’s smile fell. Andra’s stomach churned, but it was better Olympia knew the extent of it now. She needed not to get her hopes up; even if she did keep telling Andra she needed to get out more. Meet a man.
“I’m sorry, child. I didn’t know.”
“It’s for the best.”
A throat cleared. The sheriff stood in the doorway, his eyes moving between Andra, who was still holding the potted herb, and Olympia.
Andra made for the back door and hit the safety bar. She didn’t want to know what nice thing he was going to say to make her feel better. She needed to pretend he would turn out to be a jerk, instead of a nice guy who loved his son. Nothing good was ever going to come of it.
She made it to the end of Main Street and then headed left instead of right. Harriet Fenton’s house was also half as big again as everyone else’s, like the mayor’s humble eyesore of an abode. Why those two couples alone in town needed the biggest, newest houses, was anyone’s guess.
Andra knocked, but it was more like pounding. Lingering heat from her pace mixed with frustration in her blood to pump warmth through her body. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone? She only wanted to live a quiet, solitary life and they all thought that was somehow wrong or that there was something wrong with her. And worst of all…it needed fixing.
Harriet pulled the door open and her smile died. Not who she’d been expecting.
“You’re telling everyone I killed Betty Collins?”
Harriet sputtered but recovered fast. “Of course you did. Who else hated her as much as you? I could just tell, every time you looked at her, you were so jealous. Of everything about her!”
“Jealous?” Andra blinked. Was she crazy? “None of you ever bothered to learn the slightest thing about me. How could you possibly think I wanted to be anything like her?”
“Not like her, just…her. Her life, her job, her style, all of it! Admit it!”
This was unbelievable. Andra lifted her hands and then dropped them. Shoot. She needed to not lose the cilantro. “Why would I admit that? I’m not the crazy one. You are.” She took a breath. “Look, I’m sorry your friend died. But that had nothing to do with me.”
Harriet sneered. Her gaze flicked past Andra’s shoulder and she screamed. Was the killer coming for her? Andra whipped around. John sprinted over, his jacket flapping to reveal the weapon under his arm.
Harriet shrieked. “She killed Betty. A-And now she’s here to kill me, too!”
Andra flipped around. Harriet screamed again, like Andra was in the process of attacking her and then she stepped back. The woman was certifiable. Andra backed up more and John passed her. “Don’t go anywhere.”
He went straight to Harriet. “Mrs. Fenton, go in your home. I’ll take care of this.”
Harriet gripped his arm. “Thank you. Oh, thank you so much.” Her voice even quivered. “I was afraid for my life, you know.”
“Lock your door. Everything is fine.”
Andra started walking.
“Hey.” His footsteps caught up to her at a jog. “I said, don’t go anywhere.”
She didn’t stop, forcing him to jog beside her.
“Maybe you should lay low. Try not to get folks all riled up.” His eyes were sad, but he didn’t look like a crazy person. Yet here he was, telling her to do what she’d been doing for the past decade up on her mountain. “I’ll figure this whole mess out and then we’ll see where we’re at.”
She rolled her eyes. “But not that I’ll be in the clear.”
“I can’t comment on an open investigation.”
She should probably count to ten. “So you do think I might have gone from the barn and side-tripped to kill a woman I don’t like. A woman I can’t say I’ve said two words to in ten years.”
“I’m not ruling it out.”
“This is unbelievable!”
“I’m not saying that’s what happened, either. I can’
t. I have to be impartial, that’s the whole point of coming from outside Sanctuary to be the sheriff. Look, if you’re innocent then you have nothing to worry about.”
Andra laughed. Even she wanted to wince at the sound. “You really haven’t been in this town long, have you?”
He stopped. “Now what is that supposed to mean?”
She shook her head and walked away.
“Andra!”
“I’m going home.”
Where else was there to go? Andra was going to do what she always did—retreat to her mountain. At least until the people of Sanctuary invaded her peace with more of their accusations. The minute Harriet had uttered those words it was only a matter of time before John arrested her. It didn’t matter what evidence there was, her fate was set and their judgment would be swift.
Once the sheriff read her file it would be out. She wasn’t going to kid herself that her past could be kept under wraps. There was no such thing as confidentiality, not in this town. Then everyone would know the person she had been and the things she’d done. No matter that it had all been in a life that seemed a million years ago.
But by the grace of God I am what I am and His grace toward me was not in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them, though it was not I but the grace of God that is with me.
And all of it would be for nothing.
Chapter 9
For years John’s uniform had been a bullet-proof vest, a shotgun and a jacket with US MARSHALS on the back. Monday morning he pulled on the tan pants, shirt and the belt Grant had given him. The collar was stiff and the material felt like it needed a week’s worth of wear before it would give enough he could sit down.
When he emerged from the bedroom, Pat looked up from his cereal. “Cool, Dad!”
John smiled. “Glad you like it.”
Pat changed out of his pajamas into jeans with a hole in the knee and a blue t-shirt and they headed downstairs.
A dark shadow filled the glass of the front door. John waited a second while he booted up his computer. The guy didn’t knock, so John strode over and unlocked it.
Sanctuary Lost WITSEC Town Series Book 1 Page 9