Sanctuary Lost WITSEC Town Series Book 1

by Lisa Phillips

  The flashlight jabbed her in the back. Andra held her breath, lips pressed together. Her life had been fine the last decade. Why did God seem to think things needed disrupting like this? What good could possibly come of it?

  She glanced up at the stars.

  I’m trusting You, Lord. You gave me all this, I don’t believe You’d take it away now. But I know You’re doing something big.

  Palmer waited at the top of the trail while Andra crossed the clearing and went inside. She walked through the living area without switching on the light. The lack of curtains had never bothered her before.

  Andra lit a fire and sat on the floor, staring while it fanned to life. She must have dozed off because she sat up straight some time later when the fire was only glowing embers. She winced at the crick in her back and her neck. She was way too old to be sleeping on the floor, her back against a ratty armchair.

  A shuffling noise outside brought her head around so fast she sucked in a breath. Ouch.

  The noise passed in front of her door, the sound of shoes on the front porch. Splashing, then the sharp tang of fuel permeated the air…diesel.

  Andra climbed to her feet and yanked on her hiking boots. She didn’t wait for the smoke or the flames. She pulled her shoe box of photos from the top of the refrigerator and stuffed it in her backpack.

  With a rush of heat and flames, the entire front side of Andra’s cabin was engulfed. She ran to the bedroom, tugging the backpack on her shoulders, and jimmied open the window. She hopped out onto the grass and made her way around to the front, giving the cabin a wide berth. She’d cleared a sizeable area of brush and kept it maintained in case exactly this happened. She didn’t want the whole mountain to go up; therefore it was necessary to have clearance between the house and the trees.

  The air was thick with smoke but she didn’t see anyone hanging around. Thank God for the wet September weather. The ground was virtually saturated. Had it been autumn after a long, dry summer they’d have all been toast. Literally. The mountains would trap the smoke in the basin unless a weather system passed over that was strong enough to clear it out.

  Andra didn’t need a town full of people with lung problems added to her account.

  The smoldering fire was so bright she had to squint but there it was. The flames had gone now, leaving only glowing embers. As though the fire had whipped up and burned out in minutes, all the accelerant consumed. The letters were clear on the grass.

  MURDERER.

  Andra lifted her elbow and coughed. Her throat burned. Circling out of range of the heat, she walked to the opposite side of the cabin where the outside spigot was. It was stiff but she got the water running, praying enough of it would cool the heat. The whole system ran off a hot spring, so it wasn’t always all that cold.

  Though there was a fire department—of sorts—they weren’t likely to come up here. Not for the sake of her cabin. It was down to her to make sure it was out. Her home was gone. No one else would care about added water damage besides her.

  “Hey!”

  Andra spun around, nearly spraying Hal with the water. He lifted both hands.

  “It’s just me.” He bent over, hands to his knees as he sucked in air.

  Andra went back to spraying the cabin. “Did you run all the way up here?”

  “Of course. I was walking home when I saw it.” He straightened. “Your house is on fire.”

  “Did you meet anyone coming down when you were running up the trail?”

  He stilled and then shook his head. “No, I didn’t.”

  Andra scanned the clearing in all directions.

  “You think they’re still up here?”

  “I wouldn’t rule it out.” She shut off the water. “We should get to town.”

  The porch roof collapsed.

  Hal flinched. “You have everything you need?”

  Andra nodded and hitched the backpack higher on her shoulders. Hal trotted along behind her so she slowed her pace while she kept her ears open. Whoever had done this was still around, unless they’d taken an alternate route back to town that went between the trees.

  “You’re not upset about this?” Hal panted.

  “Oh, I’m mad.”

  “You don’t look mad. You don’t look like someone who’s losing everything. You just look…ready to move.”

  “It’s just a cabin.”

  He huffed. “That place was never just a cabin to you.”

  Andra pressed her lips together but kept walking. He was right. Still, if life had taught her anything it was to hold loosely to the things she thought “belonged” to her. The most valuable things did not have a price-tag.

  Sure, part of her thought maybe all of this was recompense—the consequences of her actions coming due. Lives had been taken by her hand; families grieving for years now because of her. Even though her WITSEC agreement meant she hadn’t been prosecuted for her crimes, the legal ramifications still hung over her head. Her sin might have been washed away when she became a believer in Jesus. But that didn’t mean people hadn’t been destroyed.

  If someone in town wanted to blame her for Betty Collins’ death that was one thing. It was a lie. But how could she be mad at being called a murderer? That was true and she’d come to terms with it. At least as much as anyone could come to terms with the realization they were the thing people feared. The monster in the dark.

  Poison had been her preferred method. It meant she didn’t have to be present, or even have physical contact with her victims. But that didn’t make her any less of a killer.

  Andra kept walking, even though her lungs were burning. Even though her throat felt like knives every time she swallowed. She reached Main Street with Hal at her side and shot him a glance. The older man was frowning, his beard jumping up every time his lips pressed together. What exactly was he confused about?

  No faint glow on the mountain said the fire hadn’t re-ignited. Good.

  The nascent day’s sun was on the horizon. Andra had no clue what time it was. She pounded on the front door of the Sheriff’s office. When there was no answer, she kept banging with her fist. Whatever it took to wake the man from his beauty sleep.

  “I can go back to my place and call it in,” Hal said.

  Andra shook her head.

  The whomp of helicopter rotors crested the mountains. She watched as it flew overhead, toward the ranch. Not the normal transport of mail, or supplies, or the chopper that took the trash they couldn’t compost or re-use. Air pollution from burning waste would give them as much of a problem as a forest fire. This looked like someone was arriving. Before daybreak? Way to wake the town.

  Andra pounded on the door again.

  It opened but there was no one there…until she looked down. Pat Mason squinted and then focused on her face and smiled. “Oh, hey Andra.”

  She tried to swallow but couldn’t.

  Hal nudged her aside. “Your dad around, son?”

  “Uh, no. He had a thing this morning.” Pat hesitated, as though he didn’t know what to say. Or he’d been told not to share. “He’ll be back soon.”

  Andra backed up. “That’s okay—”

  Hal grabbed her elbow and dragged her inside, moving Pat back along with the door. “We’ll wait.”

  **

  John stood by his Jeep while the helicopter settled. Unlike his arrival, this time the pilot shut off the engine and got out. He opened the back and helped the first of two women down. Sure enough, it was the First Lady and her daughter—albeit slightly more rumpled than they appeared on television.

  Bolton and his guys were crowded on the porch, watching and drinking from travel mugs. John wouldn’t mind some coffee. He’d have to make it himself when he got the ladies back to the office.

  Sorry, there’s no welcome committee. She was murdered last weekend.

  John strode to meet them and the pilot shoved two roll-on suitcases into his hands. Guess that made him the bag boy. He set them down and tried to look welcoming
. “I’m Sheriff John Mason.”

  The First Lady looked like Jane Fonda, but with naturally aged beauty instead of making use of the merits of plastic surgery. Her back was straight, her posture perfect. She gave him a pleasant smile. “I’m Susan Sheraton.”

  He chuckled and shook her hand, making sure to be gentle. “Yes, ma’am, I’m aware.” Aware, too, she was a lot more than that. “And this is Elizabeth?”

  “Beth.” The younger woman shook his hand with her tiny one, the sleeve of her thin sweater pulled down over her long fingers. Her other arm was wrapped around her stomach and she looked distinctly off-color around the edges.

  “Welcome to Sanctuary.”

  The First Lady was still smiling. “You’re hoping we have a pleasant stay?”

  “That’s the plan.” If not, he’d probably get fired.

  John motioned to the Jeep, since Beth didn’t look like she was doing so well with standing. “Let’s get you both settled.”

  He stowed the bags while they climbed in and then used his radio to call Dotty. This was a rough situation. John didn’t do well with “delicate” and Dotty’s warmth would go a long way in soothing the recently displaced.

  He waved to Bolton, whose cowboy hat dipped. Beth was in the rear seat with her head back and her eyes closed. He glanced at Susan Sheraton, sat in the front passenger seat. “Is she doing okay?”

  Susan’s smile dimmed, but she remained the refined lady he’d been expecting. “The last few days have been…difficult. For both of us.”

  He nodded.

  “I have no idea how long we’ll be here. But I’m hoping we can settle in quickly and this will be the break both of us need.”

  He pulled up out front of the sheriff’s office.

  “So quaint.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Please, call me Susan.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She chuckled. John grabbed the bags and Mrs. Sheraton roused her daughter, who climbed out with a groan. Both of them looked more than a little shell-shocked.

  John’s attention landed on a plume of smoke in trees on the mountainside in the vicinity of Andra’s cabin.

  He dashed inside. Andra looked up from the waiting area. Hal was slumped next to her, his chin to his chest as he snored.

  Pat paused mid-bite, his feet up on John’s desk. “Hey, Dad. You want a sandwich?”

  He shook his head and looked at Andra. “There was a fire?”

  All she did was nod. Hal snorted and blinked. “Hey, oh. Right.”

  “Are you okay?”

  Hal frowned. “Guess that’s what’s important, even if her cabin has probably burned to a cinder by now.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  Andra sighed. “Pat seemed to think you were doing something important.”

  Movement behind him preceded the First Lady and her daughter making their way in.

  Hal stood up, chest out. Pat’s jaw dropped—his mouth full of peanut butter sandwich. Andra stood, though it appeared reluctant.

  John smiled, though he didn’t feel like it. Who was he supposed to deal with first? He made introductions. That was a start.

  Hal looked like he was about to burst out of his skin with excitement. “Welcome. Wonderful to meet you, Ma’am.”

  She smiled, but didn’t offer for him to call her Susan. Still, it looked like Hal might actually be blushing.

  Beth pressed her fist to her mouth. “Bathroom.”

  John pointed to the hall that led to the back door, where there was a single bathroom. “On the left.”

  Beth Sheraton—Myerson—rushed to the bathroom and seconds later, John winced. The sound of puking always churned his stomach. He couldn’t help it, he was a sympathy puker.

  He crossed to the fridge and drew out two waters, sipping from his until Beth emerged. Her color was better but she looked relieved when he offered her the other bottle.

  John blew out a breath. “Right. Hal, think you could put on some water and make these ladies tea while we figure out housing?”

  Hal nodded, so John turned to the First Lady. “If you’d like to take a seat, I’ll be with you shortly.” He turned back to where Pat was still eating. “Can you run and get Olympia, bud? She might know what houses are available.”

  “I’ll ride my bike over.” Pat hugged John around the hips and then tore upstairs.

  John turned again. “Andra, let’s talk outside.” He didn’t wait for her acknowledgement, just stepped out and held the door for her. When she joined him on the sidewalk he didn’t hang around for her to start. “What happened?”

  He needed the lowdown, even though technically he should be questioning her about why her fingerprints might be on the murder weapon.

  “Someone lit my cabin on fire.”

  He’d figured, what with the smoke. But still… “Did you see who it was?”

  “They used diesel.” Her eyes darkened. “There’s only one person in town I can think of who uses diesel for their vehicle.”

  John squeezed the bridge of his nose. Given what Grant had told him about Farrera’s history with the DEA, did that really make sense? “You think Bolton did this?”

  “Either he did, or one of his guys. I don’t figure anyone else would have the guts to steal his fuel.”

  “No, I don’t guess they would.” Unless someone was still trying to deflect attention and now Bolton had been pulled into their web.

  Andra glanced at the sheriff’s office for a second. “Was that really the First Lady?”

  “In the flesh.”

  “Wow.”

  “I know.” He smiled, suddenly nervous. “Why do I feel like the nerd in school and a cheerleader just deigned to say hi to me?”

  She smiled. “Sort of feels like that, doesn’t it.”

  John almost smiled. Then he remembered the partial fingerprint.

  Andra sighed. “That smile was nice. But now it doesn’t look so good. And my morning was going so well. You know, except my house burning down and all. What gives?”

  John held her gaze. Where was she going to stay? Hal or Nadia Marie would probably offer Andra a place to crash. Would she accept it? “You need to stay in the office a while.”

  “Why?”

  “I just want you close-by.”

  “Do you think they’ll try again, maybe try to kill me for real next time?”

  That wasn’t why he needed her where he could find her. “Look, there was a partial fingerprint on the murder weapon. The test I conducted was plausible. But it needs to be verified by a lab computer. That’s going to take some time. I want to talk with you some more about how that could be.”

  Andra’s face hardened. “I know I told you my story. I just thought maybe you would be different than almost every person in this town. I’ve killed people. Maybe you could even say I’ve killed a lot of people. But I didn’t do that to Betty.”

  She paused a second. “Not that you care about the truth, but it would violate my Memorandum of Understanding to murder someone. Why don’t you just arrest me now and get it over with? Why bother waiting for the test results when you and everyone else already think I’m guilty. Why not hold a trial in the Meeting House and you can all decide my fate here and now?”

  “Andra—”

  “No.”

  He reached for her but she backed away, her eyes full of pain. No one would think her a killer. It wasn’t a wonder she’d managed to get close enough to her victims. “You can’t leave.”

  “You’re going to do it aren’t you? You’re going to arrest me.”

  “Will you disappear so I have to search all over town for you? The other option is you stay here where I can find you. Just until I have a moment to think.” He sighed. “But if you’re not willing to work with me on this then we’re going to have a problem.”

  “Work with you?” She laughed but there was no humor in the sound.

  “You want to get arrested?”

  “No, I’ve just acce
pted the fact I might’ve had it good for a while, but the consequences finally caught up with me. Honestly, it’s a miracle it’s lasted this long. But I’ve been thankful every single day because I’ve been allowed to live quietly on my mountain and feel like maybe I could have a good life.”

  “And the clock ran out, is that it?”

  “It was bound to eventually.” She folded her arms. “It’s okay. I learned a long time ago not to expect people to react well, even though I feel like that’s not me anymore. That’s why I only told Nadia Marie. Hal knows some of it, but not all. He doesn’t know about Drew, but how do you tell people that? Oh, hey, let’s go out for pizza. And did you know, I killed my husband?”

  “Andra—”

  “Forget it.”

  “I’m not going to do that.” John wanted to kick the wall. “Whoever killed Betty may be framing you for it. They may’ve tried to kill you. Let’s face it, you make a good scapegoat. And if you’re dead then you’re not going to argue, are you?”

  Andra looked like she was going to be sick. “I can’t fight it. I have to let what will be, be. That’s the whole point of this.”

  “You’re just going to lie down and take it?”

  “What pull do I have? None. And I know it’s not your thing, but I believe God is doing something. This is just how it’s going to happen. It’s not the finale. So I have to wait it out and when we get to the end that will be what He has planned for me.”

  “You’d give up control like that?”

  She tipped her head to the side. “Look at what He’s given me. Friends, a life, a healthy and happy daughter. What more is there to ask for, when I don’t deserve even one iota of what I’ve already been given?”

  “Mercy.”

  She smiled bright and brilliant. “Exactly.”

  “Then you’ll need to wait this out inside.”

  “What?”

  John took hold of her arm. “I’m not arresting you. But if you’re in here then we can minimize the damage and maybe you can get through this unscathed.”

  Andra struggled. She saw the first lady and tried to make herself look dignified, choosing instead to growl under her breath.

  John walked her into the cell and shut the door.