Sanctuary Lost WITSEC Town Series Book 1

by Lisa Phillips

  Chapter 18

  John stood in the clearing looking at what was left of Andra’s cabin. Smoke laced the air, the deep tang of fire left to smolder for hours. The front half of her home was a blackened mess of charred wood, the front porch had collapsed into the living room/dining area and the rest of what she owned was likely hot and steaming.

  He’d be surprised if she’d be able to get the smoke smell out of anything. It looked like a giant with tar on his shoes had stepped on the front of the cabin and crushed it.

  The three guys who made up Sanctuary’s fire department milled around. They’d trudged up the hill to “the assassin’s lair” as they’d called it, an hour after he notified them. Two of the guys had only agreed to come after John explained about the danger of a wildfire taking out the whole town. Reluctant didn’t quite cover how they felt about coming to the aid of Andra’s worldly belongings.

  Tom trudged with a limp over to where John stood. Maria’s husband was the de-facto fire chief. He’d turned out to be a decent guy. And the only one who didn’t balk when John mentioned it was Andra’s cabin. Apparently not everyone had written her off as a killer.

  “Fire’s out.”

  John nodded.

  The other two guys were out of earshot. Older men with stubble-covered jaws and bellies that might have come from too many beers if this wasn’t a dry town. One poked at what used to be the porch with Andra’s shovel, while the other cleared charred wood and wet pine needles from around the house. The guy clearing wandered over to the other and they chatted like they were on a golf course, before they made their way to where John and Tom stood.

  “So are we done?”

  John tore his eyes from the charred grass. “I guess.”

  Tom sighed. “I doubt Ms. Caleri’s going to be able to salvage much of anything. Not considering how long the place was smoldering before we got here.”

  “Yeah,” the brush guy said. “The damage to her cabin was considerable. Shame.”

  Right. His face said he couldn’t care any less about the work Andra would have to do now. John figured Andra’s stubbornness had a lot to do with that. Why else would she just walk into town and implicate Bolton? She didn’t seem so concerned about the fact she could have died, just that someone had set fire to her cabin. Nor was she apparently concerned about the word MURDERER he could see in charred spots across her lawn. She hadn’t cared enough to even mention it.

  What made a person accept the complete destruction of the life they’d been building for the past ten years? She’d said God was in control and she was at peace with that. John couldn’t fathom what made a person trust someone to that extent. She’d given God control of her whole life. Who just surrendered like that?

  Tom said, “I’m gonna take the guys and head back down now, since the danger has passed.”

  “I’ll walk with you.” John trailed behind them with Tom.

  The first guy muttered, “I figure she deserved it, considering who she was.”

  The other guy nodded. “I heard about that. An assassin? Not hard to believe, the way she keeps to herself.”

  John gritted his teeth. Tom glanced at him but John didn’t look at Nadia’s husband. He didn’t need sympathy. Nor did he need to know if the man was checking to see how John would react. He wanted to defend Andra, but not to these guys. Maybe her tactic of lying down and taking it had some merit. He wouldn’t lose his job, not because of them.

  “You guys have any idea who might have done this?” John didn’t believe it was Bolton who set fire to the cabin.

  He got a “duh” look from the first guy. “She probably did it herself. You think of that?”

  “Not my first thought, no.”

  The guy smirked at his friend, his face smeared with soot like he’d rubbed his cheek. “I heard about that, too. You and Ms. Caleri, all tight and stuff.” His diatribe dropped off into a mumbled interpretation of what John and Andra had supposedly been up to.

  “You realize I only arrived in town on Friday. Most of what you just said is impossible given the time frame.” John stopped. They were only halfway down the trail and his insides were a mess. He was hungry, but if he ate anything it wasn’t going to end well. “Andra Caleri and I are not having an affair.”

  “Not yet.” The two guys smirked at each other.

  John wasn’t going to argue. Part of him still hoped to find the murderer and convince everyone she wasn’t guilty. Then he’d finally be able to ask her out—which seemed so lame given all they’d shared of their lives. And what they’d been through in such a short space of time. He wanted a future with her; that was the gist of it. The outcome of the murder investigation was down to him. He was the one who was going to clear her name and make it so she could have that future.

  What if he couldn’t do it? Andra would go to jail—or worse. Sanctuary would be the first assignment that he’d failed at. She might be a phenomenal actress who killed Betty and then feigned innocence. But that would mean he’d made a colossal mess-up of reading her in the first place. Sort of like his ex-wife.

  What kind of mercy took away everything Andra wanted after she had finally found it? He couldn’t muster up a whole lot of respect for a God, a Heavenly Father, who gave a gift only to take it away again. Andra seemed to think it was fine. Was it really?

  John trotted to catch up with the three men. Tom gave him a commiserating smile.

  “You guys can’t think of anyone in this town who would retaliate like that? Burn MURDERER on the lawn of someone they’re convinced killed Betty Collins?”

  Given Andra’s past, he couldn’t see how the rest of them were so squeaky clean as to have the right to be this judgmental.

  Tom said, “I guess a lot of people could have done it.”

  “And given that the accelerant was diesel?”

  Surprise widened his eyes. “There’s no way Bolton did that.”

  John couldn’t figure out the rancher. His brother’s first choice for sheriff was another mystery this town held. “Why not. It could’ve been any of us, right? Or one of Bolton’s guys. Heck, it could even have been me.” He shrugged. “Think about it. What better way to take attention from Andra’s possible guilt than to make it look like a war started up against her? Make her look like the victim in all this.”

  “So you are sticking up for the assassin.” More smirks from the two guys. “I heard she was fifteen the first time she killed a guy.”

  They’d had her file and still misinformation got out? John blew out a breath. “Anyways, I appreciate y’all coming up to help. Wouldn’t be good if a full blown fire broke out now, would it?”

  Tom cleared his throat. “That would pose a problem, not that it’s happened before. Since you’re the only point of contact with the military, you’d have to be the one to get ahold of them and request a water dump.”

  “Like with wildfires?”

  Tom nodded. “That’s basically the only way to put out a fully engulfed fire. The irrigation system in town is very…basic. It’s geo-thermal, off the hot spring. It’s difficult to get the volume of water to combat a sizable blaze.”

  “You’ve been a firefighter long?”

  “Four years, FDNY. I was working my way out of the rookie spot when I landed in the middle of a buddy of mine, another firefighter, making a deal with some guys for a night with an underage girl.” He blew out a breath. “Not exactly the hot dog and ball game I’d been expecting. Voila. Here I am.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, you ain’t wrong.”

  John shared a sympathetic smile with him, glanced at the two guys in front and saw their attention was on Tom. What was that about?

  **

  Andra sat on the cot in the jail cell, simmering. John really thought keeping her here was the best idea? Of course he was going to be gone long enough her steaming frustration had boiled its way down to low and she had to sit here being glared at by Palmer.

  There was no way locking her up was going to
solve this. But no, she hadn’t been arrested. The difference—just a technicality—apparently meant something to him, while to her it felt exactly the same as every other time she’d been detained.

  Palmer got up from his chair and strode in front of the cell. It was barely big enough for a bed and a toilet hidden behind a half-wall—like she was actually going to go in there. Yeah, right. Heaven forbid there were two people in town who committed a crime on the same day. Wherever would John put them both?

  “You know—”

  Andra didn’t even want to know. She wasn’t even slightly curious. “Don’t start, Palmer.”

  His eyebrows rose. So she’d surprised him. Big deal.

  “I’m sure between the two of us we can manage to be civil. Jo—Sheriff Mason will be here soon and then you won’t have to deal with me at all.”

  “You think I can’t take care of this on my own?”

  Andra bit the inside of her lip.

  “You think I’m not sheriff enough to be the sheriff? High-and-mighty Director Mason has to bring in his brother to police us, like we don’t know that’s why Johnny-boy got the job.”

  The question Andra wanted to know was how Palmer had managed to keep his job all these years. He cared more about his agenda with the ladies he’d befriended across town than about his duties as a deputy sheriff. Andra couldn’t even imagine what they saw in him, though there was reportedly more than three.

  Especially considering that incident two years ago, where Palmer had skated out from under responsibility for Elma Sanders’ death. Sheriff Chandler had let way too many things slide over the years.

  “For all we know, Mr. Sheriff killed Betty Collins because he and his brother have something going on we don’t even know about.”

  Andra feigned interest with a lift of her chin. “Oh yeah?”

  She needed him to think she might believe him, while not looking too interested. Then he’d just think she wanted to frame anyone who made sense and get herself out from under suspicion of Betty’s death.

  “If that’s true, maybe he didn’t send John here for just that one murder. Maybe he’s going to try and kill someone else, too.”

  Palmer’s gaze settled on her. The black ice in his eyes chilled her to her core, but she didn’t react to it. He would notice. “Maybe he’s going to kill you next. Did you think about that?”

  Andra didn’t move.

  “Maybe it’s why he wants you here, so he can fake an accident and blame you for the first murder.”

  The door swung open and Pat strolled in. “The internet’s off. No school today.”

  Andra grinned at him, though she suspected she didn’t look exactly happy. “That’s awesome.”

  “Yeah.” He dumped his backpack by his dad’s desk. Then he skirted around Palmer, who moved to sit at his. “I mean, it sucks for Susan and Beth and all. But…” His eyes flashed and he grinned. “Having them here is good for me.”

  Andra couldn’t help smiling. The kid’s enthusiasm was infectious, breaking the spell of Palmer’s assertions about John. Thank God she didn’t have to sit here and listen to him anymore. John didn’t need a suspected murderer to defend him.

  Pat was still talking, something about exploring and cupcakes with sprinkles.

  She smiled. “Big plans for the day, huh?”

  “Yeah, but I have to check in with my dad first.” He jerked, like he’d realized something. “Hey, you wanna play Go Fish?”

  Palmer looked up, mouth open and ready to object. Andra ignored him. “So long as you teach me how to play it.”

  His jaw dropped. “You don’t know how to play Go Fish?”

  Andra grinned. “I bet you’re a good teacher.”

  “I’ll go get my cards.”

  **

  The clock on the dash said 9:04 a.m. He’d been up practically a whole shift already and the day had barely started. Before going up to Andra’s cabin, he’d settled the First Lady and her daughter into an available house and given charge of them to Olympia, who rushed over with Pat and graciously welcomed them to town. They were in good hands.

  Main Street was dotted with people. John threaded the Jeep—which now smelled like smoke—at a crawl until someone waved him to stop. He pulled forward until he was outside the sheriff’s office and walked back to speak with the drab looking woman—the school teacher.

  “Mrs. Pepper.” He was pretty sure that was her name. When she didn’t correct him, he said, “Did you need something?”

  She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. He couldn’t help thinking maybe this was the extent of what she was capable of showing when she was overly agitated.

  “The children cannot do their work without a connection to the internet. It’s been shut off and we’ll be disconnected for an indeterminate period of time.” Like John didn’t know that. “We cannot complete the required assignments without it. Neither can I contact their assigned teacher to explain the problem in order to make other arrangements.”

  “I’m sorry for that, Mrs. Pepper. The decision was not mine. Our new guests require the extra level of security.”

  “The First Family is really here? It’s true?”

  John nodded and kept doing it, as though he fully understood the problem it posed for her and was genuinely working through a viable solution in his head. In reality, he got to tell Pat that today was the Sanctuary equivalent of a snow day and it would continue until the teacher figured something out.

  John swallowed to hide the grin that wanted out. “As soon as it’s turned back on, you’ll be the first to know.”

  Mrs. Pepper lifted the papers she held to clutch them against her chest. “I should think so.”

  John wasn’t even going to touch on that comment. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

  “This?” She lowered it. “Oh, it’s the Sanctuary newspaper. More like a newsletter really. Wilson used to be a big-time Dallas editor. So he thinks his paper still ranks with the nationals.” She smirked. “Hardly worth reading. But there’s something to be said for the first murder ever to occur in this town, it does make for good entertainment.”

  John snatched the paper from her and strode inside, shutting the door on her sputtering.

  He opened his mouth, the words dissipated and he couldn’t remember what he’d been about to say. Andra was sitting on the floor on one side of the cell bars with Pat on the other side. They appeared to be playing a particularly vigorous game of Go Fish.

  “I win!”

  Andra smirked, her eyes full of humor like when Pat did something cute and John’s mom saw it. Her eyes moved to him. The affection dissolved as she pressed her lips together and set her cards down. “You saw the paper.”

  Pat twisted around. “I get the day off school!”

  Palmer shifted in his chair and huffed, apparently not looking forward to Pat being underfoot all day.

  Andra’s attention was still on him, so he said, “I didn’t read it yet.”

  Betty Collins had mentioned something about a newspaper in her welcome speech. Where had this Dallas former editor been hiding the past four days? Sure, John hadn’t met every single town resident. But shouldn’t a reporter be more interested in a new arrival? Especially when it was their new sheriff.

  “Care to give me the highlights?” He crossed the room and poured himself some coffee.

  “Depends.” Andra stood. “Can I get some of that?”

  He glanced at Palmer who was concentrating exceptionally well on his computer screen. “Did you eat, Andra?”

  She stared, apparently not wanting to stir something up. “Coffee is fine.”

  He nodded. “Pat, you want to run upstairs and get Andra a granola bar, or some cereal?”

  Pat jumped up, holding all the cards in a bundle. “Do you like Fruit Loops?”

  “Just a granola bar is good. Or a banana. Something like that?”

  He nodded and ran on his little kid feet upstairs. John took a second just to soak up the sou
nd of it, his eyes on the door where Pat had gone. Then he looked back at Andra…in time to see the same look she’d been giving his son was now directed at him. What was that about? She blinked and turned to sit on the cot. John poured her coffee and not just because it meant she had to take it from him.

  When she grasped the cup, he waited a second before letting go and lowered his voice, “Everything okay?”

  Something flickered in her eyes but she said, “Mm-hmm.”

  That was supposed to convince him everything was fine? John slumped into his chair and downed half his coffee. The newspaper really did look more like a newsletter. Regular printer paper. Heaven only knew how much ink the man went through producing enough copies for the whole town.

  The headline read, Assassin Kills Again.

  John wanted to bang his head on the desk, but he kept reading. There was enough to bring the man up on charges of libel. He turned and saw Andra’s attention was on him as she ate the apple Pat had given her. She shrugged, like, “What are you gonna do?”

  John wanted to yell. She should be angry, more furious than she’d been about the fire even. The woman was just going to sit there and let people say this trash about her?

  She swallowed a bite of apple. “The mayor called a town meeting.”

  Sure enough it was listed on the front page. Noon that day at the Meeting House, all residents expected to attend. He lifted his eyebrows to her. “Are you planning to go?” They were going to eat her alive.

  “It seems my schedule is open.”

  “Andra—”

  “I don’t know how my print could have gotten on the knife when I didn’t touch it. I didn’t kill Betty.” She shot a glance at Palmer and then back at him. “They deserve an explanation.”

  “The print was inconclusive. It could easily not be yours, just as it could easily prove to be a match. But what exactly are you going to say to them?”

  “Whatever I need to.”

  “To convince them you didn’t do this?” He blew out a breath. “What, you’re going to produce the real killer out of nowhere? Do you know who did it?”

  Andra sank onto the cot. “Reasonable doubt, isn’t that what I need?”