Sanctuary Lost WITSEC Town Series Book 1

by Lisa Phillips

  Palmer snorted.

  John shot him a glare and turned back to Andra. “Maybe you do need a lawyer.”

  “Do me a favor, don’t call Nadia Marie. She’d make a crappy lawyer.” The ghost of a smile crossed her lips as she stretched out and closed her eyes. “This is all I’ve got, John. I have to face it.”

  John lifted his hands and let them fall, slapping the legs of his pants. She wanted to do this? Fine. The town was going to crucify her because of what she’d done in the past and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

  John pulled up the file on his computer. If she was going to stand up to them, he was going to have to scour every inch of this case for a possible suspect that wasn’t Andra Caleri. Because she might be fine accepting whatever fate was dished out, but that wasn’t the way he did things. No matter what Grant asked of him, an innocent woman wasn’t going to go to jail.

  Not if he could help it.

  Chapter 19

  Coffee was being handed out to all. Someone had rustled up a table of sandwiches, chips and cake. Nearly everyone in the already crowded room had a loaded paper plate, standing around staring at their eats to avoid awkward conversation. John walked across the Meeting House, escorting Andra. The hum in the room stopped as everyone turned to look.

  “I’m calling this meeting to order!” Justice Simmons banged a hardback book bigger than his head on the podium until everyone settled.

  Chairs had been set out in rows enough to fill the room. Still, maybe only half the town had turned out. The other half evidently either didn’t read the newsletter, or they didn’t care all that much about Betty Collins’ death. Or Andra’s life.

  Simmons surveyed the crowd with his tiny eyes. “This is not a court of law. Whatever decision is made here has no legal standing. All we are attempting to do is find the truth of the murder of Betty Collins.”

  John strode to the front and leaned down so only Simmons could hear him. “This isn’t for you to do. The investigation is still underway, evidence is being tested and you’re going to have to wait for my findings. This meeting isn’t only absolutely not legal, it’s also not right.”

  He pushed the podium microphone to the side, just in case. “You’re one of the few people here who actually understand how this works. I would trust your judgment, but this is not what you’re supposed to use it for. This is not about you reliving the glory days of your career. You want to issue an arrest warrant, fine. But that’s the only assistance I require from you.”

  Muttering filled the room. The disgruntled sound rose in volume until John pulled the mic back over and spoke into it. “Enough.”

  Mouths shut.

  “This isn’t happening.” John straightened and faced the crowd. “A member of this community was murdered and I’m not going to allow anyone to turn it into a source of entertainment. Not any more than it already has been. Whoever stole Andra’s file was way out of line.”

  He might never figure out who it was took the file. But that didn’t mean John wasn’t going to let them know exactly how bad it was it’d been stolen.

  Halfway back in the seats, Terrence shot to his feet. “Andra Caleri needs to answer for what she did. I, for one, am done waiting for you to decide what we all already know to be true.”

  A rumble of agreement swirled around the room.

  Terrence jabbed his index finger in Andra’s direction. “She needs to be arrested. But if you’re not willing to do what is necessary, maybe someone else should.”

  John unlocked his tablet screen and swiped through to the copies he’d made of Betty Collins’ files. It was a long shot, but he prayed to whoever was listening that it would work.

  He scanned Terrence’s page and shook his head. “Yes, I can see how you would be concerned about finding Betty’s killer. The question remains, though. Do you simply seek justice, or do you want to make sure whoever killed her doesn’t spread around what they learned Betty knew…about you.”

  The notation not only confirmed Betty’s knowledge of Terrence having an illicit relationship but that it was with Harriet Fenton, the doctor’s wife, of all people. John couldn’t even picture that, nor did he want to.

  Terrence shifted, standing his ground. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Do you know Betty Collins kept files on everyone in town? She added a note to her file on you four months ago. Apparently she witnessed a disagreement between you and a woman she names. You threatened to kill the woman if she ended the affair between the two of you. Now, you tell me, who is more likely to kill Betty Collins? Someone with a secret they might be willing to murder to protect and threatened murder only months ago. Or a woman who has by all accounts changed her life and lived a peaceable existence for the past decade?”

  “Once a killer always a killer.”

  John didn’t look at Andra. “That’s not going to cut it, Terrence. Your personal opinion is not evidence and Justice Simmons knows it. Which is why, even with the revelation of Ms. Caleri’s file, he still has not issued an arrest warrant.”

  “He’s right.” Justice Simmons bounced on the balls of his feet. The old man was enjoying this? “Even better than strong physical evidence is a witness.”

  John ground his jaw. Did Simmons think a bunch of people enrolled in the witness protection program didn’t already know that?

  Many of them had testified, securing the case for the U.S. attorney. They ought to know the difference a witness statement made when the witness could identify the perpetrator without a flicker of doubt.

  Which begged the question, if someone was trying to frame Andra why hadn’t they contrived to seal her fate with witness testimony? Either they figured that was too obvious, or couldn’t get one for some reason. It could have been they didn’t have time or enough planning in place.

  The door burst open. “We’re here!” The two guys who’d discovered Betty’s body—Sam and Bill—strode in. Bill’s smile dissipated. “You guys started without us?”

  Justice Simmons elbowed John aside from the mic. “Boys, we’re going to need a statement from the two of you—”

  John said, “Let’s go over to the sheriff’s office.”

  They both blanched. “What?”

  Bill said, “Why?”

  Simmons breathed into the mic. “Are you able to confirm the identity of the woman you saw the night of Betty Collins’ murder?”

  John pulled the mic over and said, “Don’t answer that. Not here. Come back to the sheriff’s office.” He turned to Simmons. “That’s not how this is done and you know it.”

  “I’m just getting the answers you need. I’ll issue you a warrant and you can arrest the suspect. Case closed.”

  “It was her!” Sam jabbed his finger in the air. “Everyone knows she did it!”

  Andra folded her arms, her eyes on him. Her lips were pressed into a thin line like she was biting them to keep from saying anything.

  Simmons said, “You can confirm this was the woman you saw that night?”

  John whipped his head around to pin the older man with a stare. “Justice—”

  “Answer the question, boys.”

  “Sure.”

  “Yes,” the other one said.

  John shook his head. “Your testimony is no good. Not like this.”

  The crowd surged into a new round of shouting, calling Andra every name John had ever heard. He wanted to whisk her out and shield her from the force of their accusations. But while she didn’t look especially happy, she also didn’t look like she needed help.

  Simmons pounded the book on the podium. “I’m granting a warrant for the arrest of Andra Caleri.”

  The crowd cheered.

  John shook his head. “This is out of control and you know it. There isn’t sufficient evidence. Plenty of people in this town had motive, given what Betty knew about them.”

  Simmons shrugged. “Got you a result, didn’t it?”

  “Not one I’ll accept.”


  Simmons pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it. Arrest Warrant. “How about now?”

  John shook his head. He’d prepared it before the meeting?

  The old man flashed his teeth. “I’ll have Deputy Palmer arrest her. And I’m going to be contacting your brother to let him know you weren’t willing to do what was required. Murder is nothing to mess around with.”

  “Then why create this farce?”

  Simmons didn’t back down. He just peered at John above the rim of his spectacles. “I spent my whole life trying to shake up the establishment. Now I finally got a result for all the effort I’ve put in. And if that means a murderer was captured, then good. Because it’s plain to see Ms. Caleri is guilty. Why else would she just stand there through this whole thing and say nothing?”

  The man was right, she hadn’t said anything. “You don’t have the authority to decide her guilt or innocence.”

  Simmons sneered. “Perhaps you’re not fit for this job, Mason. Someone else might be better. Someone more decisive.”

  Ire rose in him. “This isn’t right.”

  Palmer had his handcuffs out. He yanked Andra’s arms behind her back, but she didn’t react. “Nothing to say?”

  This incident would be added to her file and Andra would never get out from under the cloud of doubt over being arrested for murder—whether or not she committed it. She would likely get kicked out of the witness protection program. It wasn’t worth it to Grant to take the risk she might have actually done it. Not when the security of an entire town was at stake.

  “What is going on?” Olympia stood at the door, her eyes were wide and rimming with moisture as she bounded over to John. “She didn’t do this.”

  “At this point the evidence neither confirms it, nor puts it in doubt.” John gritted his teeth. “My hands are tied.”

  “You’re going to let her be arrested while you just stand there?”

  “What else can I do?” He took her elbow and led her away from listening ears. “I can’t show favoritism. Even if I think she’d never have done this, I can’t prove it.”

  Tears spilled onto Olympia’s cheeks and she swiped them away with a sausage finger. “But she didn’t do it.”

  “That isn’t enough. I need to figure out who did. Only then will Andra be truly in the clear.” He swiped a hand at the crowd in the room. “All of this isn’t helping. I’m not going to be swayed by the force of their opinion.”

  “Because you believe yours is the one that’s right.”

  John nodded. “I do.”

  Olympia got close to his face. “So prove it.”

  “What if I can’t?” John didn’t realize the depth of his fear until he voiced the question. “What if I do everything I can and it’s not enough?”

  “Then you have to call on something deeper than yourself.”

  “You mean like God?”

  Olympia shrugged. “That’s up to you.”

  And here he’d thought she would give him something useful. “I have to go. Palmer’s going to be all over this thing. I think he’s been itching to book her into custody since the murder.”

  “Yes, well. A man’s wounded pride will do that.”

  John stilled. “She turned him down or something?”

  Olympia lifted her chin. “Or something.”

  **

  Pat could see Deputy Palmer and Andra through the crack in the bathroom door. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, except for a few words. And none of them were nice. Had Andra really killed someone? Maybe the kids at school were right about her. Maybe she did bury people in her backyard.

  No, that was gross. And weird.

  “—finally.” Palmer slammed the jail cell door. “…serve you right.”

  “Because I said no, or because I gave you a black eye?”

  Palmer’s body went all stiff.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have broken into my house in the middle of the night.”

  The deputy was the one who’d burned her house down? Pat listened.

  “What else did you think was going to happen?”

  Palmer stepped forward, where Pat couldn’t see him anymore. He said something low that sounded almost dark.

  Andra laughed, but not like she was having a good time. “That was never going to happen.”

  “You ungrateful—”

  Pat ducked out the bathroom and ran for the rear door. He turned the handle and looked back in time to see Palmer peer around the corner.

  “Hey!”

  Pat ran outside, tore across his dad’s parking space and went left down the street. Where was he going to go? Palmer was going to tell his dad he’d been listening and then Pat would get into trouble. Never mind that Palmer was being mean. His dad wasn’t going to do anything about an adult’s behavior. His mom always said Pat was her only responsibility, not what anyone else did.

  Pat ran so far it burned when he tried to breathe. He stopped and leaned forward, trying to suck in air. Palmer hadn’t followed. He was probably busy doing all the stuff sheriffs had to do when they arrested someone for murder.

  “Pat?”

  He flipped up straight. “Mrs. Pepper.”

  “Is everything okay, dear?”

  “Uh…” Should he tell her about Palmer being mean? “I guess.”

  She squinted like she didn’t believe him. “Are you sure?”

  Pat didn’t want Palmer to have said those mean things to Andra. But what if she did kill all those people like everyone said? And what if she killed the welcome lady? Andra was nice to him, but what if she’d only been playing Go Fish with him so she could look like someone who was nice to kids? Maybe she’d spent the whole game trying to decide how to kill him.

  Mrs. Pepper smiled. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

  Pat toed the ground with his sneaker. “Did Andra really kill that lady?”

  “I’m afraid so, dear.” She made a noise like she had bad news. “Some people are simply evil creatures. They may look nice and act nice, but inside they’re rotten. A bad seed. Those are the people you have to watch out for because they can seem good when they really aren’t.”

  Pat didn’t want to believe that about Andra. But what did he know? No one ever gave kids the whole story.

  “Will you be careful around her, Pat? I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

  Pat nodded. Andra was in jail, so what was she going to do to him anyway? Still, Mrs. Pepper’s words gave him a chill enough that he excused himself and started walking.

  It was bright and sunny, but Pat wasn’t warm. He liked Andra. Why did everyone think she’d done so many bad things? Was Mrs. Pepper right, did he need to be careful in case she did something to him?

  Before long, he got to the park. Aaron was on one of the swings, moving back and forth. But not like he was trying to swing. “Hi, Aaron.”

  Pat sat on the swing next to him. Aaron’s eyes were weird. Maybe he was one of those people too, pretending to be nice when they were…what did Mrs. Pepper call it? A bad seed?

  “Registration number…” his voice disappeared into mumbling Pat couldn’t understand.

  “You okay?”

  Aaron flinched, shifting the swing to move more. “Too much blood.”

  Pat froze. “Where?”

  “On the bricks. On her shirt.”

  Pat had seen the stain on the wall where Betty Collins’ body had been found. He didn’t need anyone to explain what it was. “You saw Betty?”

  “Checks and balances.”

  “All Aaron.”

  “Knives and blood. Clothes and bricks.”

  “Betty Collins.”

  “Leave it alone, Aaron. It’s nothing to do with you.” Aaron’s voice was different, higher sounding, like a lady. “Don’t touch. Don’t tell.”

  Pat’s stomach twisted. “Did you see something, Aaron?”

  Aaron’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. Then he said, “Checks and balances. All Aaron.�
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  Did he even want to know? Maybe he should run and tell his dad Aaron might have seen something. He would, if he thought Aaron would tell his dad what he knew.

  “Aaron.” Pat tugged at the hem of his t-shirt. “Did you see Betty?”

  His voice was a whisper. “Don’t touch. Don’t tell.”

  **

  With Palmer gone, John saw a difference in Andra. She’d relaxed but she still wasn’t talking. “What happened between you two?”

  Andra lay on the cot, staring at the ceiling.

  “Fine, don’t tell me. Don’t give me anything at all that might help you, since you’re so all-fired to take the wrap for a murder you didn’t commit.” He slumped into his chair.

  “How do you know I didn’t do it?”

  John opened his mouth to say, “Because I know you.” But realized he didn’t, not really. He didn’t know any of these people.

  “What do I care if you go to jail for the rest of your life?” The words made him sick. “I’ll still be here, living in Sanctuary. Raising Pat and doing this job. You’re the one who is going to be carted off to spend the rest of your life in a cell.”

  And why did it feel like he would be the one in prison? It should be enough being here living his life. It should be enough having Pat. He looked at her and saw her eyes were on him. She would be gone. John and Pat would have to survive in this town of people who had taken one look at Andra’s file and deemed her little more than an animal.

  “Why did you have to be an assassin?” He shook his head. “You could have been anything. Why this?”

  She didn’t say a word. John stood watching her. It took a minute, then she finally sighed. “Whining isn’t going to make your life easier. Things are what they are. I can’t change them any more than you can.”

  John was a grown man and grown men did not pout. “I’m not allowed to ask?”

  “They’re not always like this.”

  “They’re ready to crucify you and you’re defending them?”

  Andra looked at the ceiling. John didn’t care who she was beseeching, not if it might work for her.

  “Olympia told me I should look to God to help me fix this colossal mess-up.”

  Andra’s eyes settled on him, her gaze cautious; guarded but full of something that looked an awful lot like hope. It was a good look on her. “Maybe she’s right.”