Sanctuary Lost WITSEC Town Series Book 1

by Lisa Phillips

  John grabbed his satellite phone, ready to dial Grant’s number. Instead he looked at the unit for a moment. If this really was a conspiracy, he needed proof. Whoever “borrowed” his phone before might need to use it again.

  After their late dinner, John tucked his son into bed. They really did need two bedrooms, especially if John was going to get rid of the twinge in his back from being kicked in the middle of the night.

  He sat on the side of the bed and smoothed down the blanket. “I’m going to be downstairs doing some work. But I’ll leave the door open, okay?” Pat nodded. He wasn’t going to pull John down for a hug, like normal? “Everything okay?” Maybe he was just tired.

  “I’m fine, Dad.” He burrowed down into the blanket, his eyelids drooping.

  “Goodnight, Pat.”

  His son’s eyes drifted shut. “Night, Dad. Love you.”

  John smiled even though Pat said it out of habit. So they had a ways to go. That was fine, especially with everything that’d happened between them and the stress of the last week.

  Downstairs, John grabbed his tablet but left the satellite phone on his desk like last time. He flipped Dotty’s light on and then sat sideways on the steps up to the second floor apartment. Having his back to the wall wasn’t the most comfortable, but he was going to have to deal with being old. He’d been on worse stake-outs than this. An inch-wide vertical strip of dim light was his only view into the sheriff’s office.

  For more than three hours John studied the case notes. The autopsy had confirmed the cause of death was multiple stab wounds. The only other thing of note that the medical examiner Grant had found to do the procedure had recorded, was a high level of anti-depressants in Betty Collins’ blood. Tomorrow John was going to have to talk to the doctor about that.

  John hit stand-by on his tablet and set it on the stair above him. Muted steps in the sheriff’s office passed the crack in the door, casting John into full darkness for a second as the person walked by.

  Palmer.

  He stopped by John’s desk, presumably going straight for the phone. But John couldn’t see anything except the deputy’s back. He swiped his tablet back on and found the app to record sound, praying Palmer wouldn’t turn and see the screen light of the tablet on the apartment steps. Even with the brightness turned down, the deputy would still see the glow.

  “It’s me.”

  This was it. Proof Palmer had sold out Sanctuary’s security for whatever he was being paid. What good was it? Palmer couldn’t leave to spend it, and he couldn’t live large here in the middle of nowhere. What deal had he made?

  “It’s all coming together.” Palmer chuckled. “The mayor even had his cronies pull her out of jail to beat the tar out of her. I caught the end of it and it was a statement, let me tell you. He’s convinced she did it.”

  There was a break of silence and then he said, “The sheriff should have her on the chopper Monday and I’ll make sure I’m escorting her to the marshals at the other end.” He paused. “The sheriff has to stay and protect the town. I’m the only other option.”

  John gritted his teeth. It figured Palmer hadn’t worked out Bolton was more than just a rancher. He would pick the former DEA agent in a heartbeat over Palmer, if it wasn’t a risk to Bolton’s identity.

  “Got it. I’ll make sure we’re there.”

  Palmer wanted out of Sanctuary bad enough to manufacture a murder investigation. Was he the killer? Was his need to escape the town he’d grown up in enough for him to kill Betty Collins, or had he gotten someone else to do it? It could have been coercion or a partnership, since witnesses claimed the killer was a woman.

  “You’ll get what you want and I’ll get the rest of my payment, right?” Palmer’s head bobbed. “Good. Because you don’t get the woman until I get my money. I can hand her into marshal custody easily enough and I’ll never have to explain anything. I can still disappear.”

  John wanted to jump out and arrest the man right then. But he would never get the partner or the murderer that way. The number Palmer had called was likely the same burner phone, which would be switched off again by the time the trace was run. Whoever was the money behind this would be in the wind, leaving Palmer to swing for conspiracy and a murder he may or may not have committed.

  “Be that as it may, I’m the one who holds all the cards here and don’t you forget it.” Palmer’s voice betrayed him and the threat didn’t hold the weight it could have. “I’ll see you Monday.” He set down the phone and left.

  John ended the recording. The internet was off, so he’d have to call Grant and get it reconnected long enough to send the recording of Palmer’s end of the conversation to his brother. This evidence didn’t absolve Andra of the murder charges. It was, however, further proof something more was going on than a simple stabbing.

  John let a couple of minutes pass and then grabbed his phone. Grant answered on the second ring, his voice thick with sleep. “This better be good.”

  “My deputy sold out Andra Caleri to someone who wants her out of town and I think its Congressman Thane.”

  “Okay, wait a second.” Muffled movement was the only thing he heard, then a whispered, “I’ll only be a minute. It’s John.”

  A door shut.

  “Okay, tell me what you’ve got.”

  John laughed. He couldn’t help it. “So…how’s Genevieve?”

  “She’s fine, thanks for asking.”

  Apparently. John swallowed the chuckle and got down to business, catching Grant up on what had just happened.

  “So you’re going to do, what? Stop the plane?”

  John went back upstairs and slumped onto the couch. “Actually I want him to think he got away with it. Can we trace his bank accounts, see if he has the first half of a payment stashed somewhere?”

  “I’ll get someone to go back over his email, too. See if they can find any communications with an account which might be Thane.”

  “Good.” John squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Andra’s in recovery but she should be able to walk by Monday. That will help things along. Palmer will be the one to transport her.”

  It goaded him though, since the deputy wasn’t going to aid her. If it came down to it, her injuries would make defending herself very difficult.

  “I’ll assemble a team to follow him when he arrives, see who he meets to hand her off to. Or have the marshals take her into custody and sit on her. Assuming someone’s going to try and abduct or kill her after she’s delivered.”

  “That’s all good.”

  “But—”

  John squeezed his free hand into a fist. “I want to be there. I need Palmer to think he got away with it, and then I’m going to follow them.”

  “I can’t get another chopper to town. The military is never going to go for two in and out of Sanctuary in one day. Not unless it’s a serious medical emergency.”

  “So get a private chopper.”

  “From where? I’m not made of money, you know.”

  John rolled his eyes, but then it came to him. “You and I might not be. But we know someone who is, and he’s currently in a period of downtime.”

  Grant sighed. “Mom’s going to hit the roof.”

  Chapter 25

  Hal set the backpack on the end of Andra’s bed. “You’re really gonna do this?”

  She looked up at his bearded face but didn’t say anything. He had the look of an aging biker, a veteran. A man who somehow managed to freeze time within his world, keeping everything the way he liked—the way he was comfortable with it being. Andra had tried her best to do the same thing with her cabin and keep her life the way she wanted it, but a town full of people hadn’t let her do that.

  He pressed his lips together, making his long beard rise and fall. “You really are going to do this.” He sighed. “You’re like the soldier in this book I was reading. He got an edict from his king to stand down.”

  In a way, he was exactly right. This was the next part of her story, and
the place God was leading her to. Maybe He had something for her to do in prison.

  “Why do you look happy?”

  Andra smiled. “Just the idea of you reading a book.”

  “You’re not foolin’ anyone, girlie.”

  She sobered. “I’m going to miss you.”

  “Now why would you go and say a fool thing like that?” Sure enough, his eyes got wet. Andra reached for his hand. Hal had to move his closer so she could squeeze his fingers. “Fine, I’m going to miss you too.”

  “Miss helping me out?”

  “I’ll miss my nights off from the radio, that’s for sure.”

  “Nadia Marie can take over from me.” Andra let go of his hand. “She’s looking for something new.”

  “Won’t be the same.”

  “I know that—” Andra shifted and then cleared her throat when pain ripped through her middle.

  “All right, calm down.”

  She fought to settle, but it was the cool touch of Hal’s palm on her forehead which calmed her. It was something he’d done when Andra was sick at his house. Something about the sensation let her take her first full breath in days.

  “You’re really not going to fight this?” His voice was gruff.

  “I can’t.”

  “Because you think prison is what you deserve?”

  Maybe a little. But that wasn’t the whole of it. “It’s not for me to fight this.”

  “I’ve never understood that about being a Christian. I’ve followed orders before, even when I didn’t want to. But how do you even know for sure it’s what you’re being told to do? You can’t even see God, or hear Him.”

  “What if I could?”

  Hal closed his mouth. He was silent for a moment, while his gaze flickered over her face. “What does it even sound like?”

  “Spanish.” She felt the smile curl her lips up. “But then so is my Bible and that’s my frame of reference. So…”

  Hal gave her a half-smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever understood you.”

  “I’m not sure you’re supposed to.”

  “Ain’t that the truth?”

  Andra chuckled, but low and soft since it hurt. “I meant it when I said I’d miss you.”

  “I know, darlin’.” He leaned down and laid a scratchy kiss on her forehead. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  Hal left and Bolton glanced in the door, looked around the room. He pulled it to behind him, but didn’t shut it. Hal’s visit was the only break from the monotony of lying in bed she’d had all night and all day.

  Only one more day and she’d be able to get on with whatever this was because she wasn’t entirely certain it was going to be a life sentence.

  At least, not one that meant years in prison.

  **

  “First time out of Sanctuary, isn’t it?” John looked over at Palmer in the passenger seat.

  The deputy nodded, downplaying what John knew was excitement. Palmer had packed a bag, given he was supposed to be gone a few days. Only John knew the man wasn’t planning on coming back at all. Who knew what he’d told his family.

  John drove up to the house where Olympia had settled the First Lady and her daughter. Pat climbed out of the backseat and John walked with him. Susan opened the door even before they got to it.

  “Good morning.”

  John set his hand on Pat’s shoulder. “I really appreciate you doing this.”

  Pat shuffled his feet. They’d already had the conversation about not burdening Olympia or Matthias more than they had. John felt a lot more comfortable leaving Pat with the first family, especially after the president had explained to his wife what was going on.

  He turned to Pat. “Dotty is going to bring your bag after Palmer leaves, in case I’m gone overnight.”

  Pat nodded. John knew most of his reluctance was not being able to help Aaron with the mail. Aaron couldn’t leave the medical center yet, so Matthias was going to do the hauling and sorting and Aaron would enter the information in his ledger from his bed at the medical center. Pat badly wanted to help.

  “Have a good day.”

  Susan smiled. “I’m sure we will. I heard Sweet Times has some great cupcakes, but I’m going to need help choosing which one to have. We might have to sample a few of them.”

  Pat perked up, and John caught Susan’s smile. The first lady was a smart woman.

  “I should head out.”

  Pat wrapped his arms around John’s hips. “Bye, Dad.”

  Susan shot John a smile, which he returned before he walked back to the Jeep.

  Palmer didn’t say anything on the drive to the medical center, and John didn’t feel the need to chat just for the sake of keeping up the farce. Andra was in bed, on top of the covers, fully dressed with her shoes on. Her bag was the same brand as Palmer’s, making John wonder if the government ordered from one company, or if they were standard issue for witness protection.

  “Ready?”

  She sat up and grabbed the bag, her handcuffs clinking.

  Doctor Fenton sighed, clutching his tablet to his chest.

  John shot him a look. “Doc?”

  “I don’t like this at all.”

  That was fair enough, but they had to go today or the whole plan would be screwed up. Still, Palmer didn’t need to know. “She’s not okay to travel?”

  “I’d say barely. She can’t walk far. She shouldn’t be carrying anything and no sudden movements. It’s just not worth making her injuries worse. Ms. Caleri has refused strong painkillers, which means she’ll be in considerable pain if the ride is bumpy.”

  John figured Palmer intended on making the ride as bumpy as possible. He wanted Andra to know he was sorry, but couldn’t do that with the doctor and Palmer looking on.

  “We could wait until next week.” John saw his deputy tense in the edge of his vision.

  The doctor scratched his chin. Palmer strode over and took hold of Andra’s elbow. “She’ll be fine. Where Andra’s going there’ll be plenty of medical attention when she needs it.”

  The deputy had his gun on his hip. He was wearing a vest only because John told him he needed it. The man knew next to nothing about prisoner transfer, at least not until John explained that to him too. John guessed he was supposed to chalk most of what was about to happen up to Palmer’s inexperience. Did Palmer really think he was stupid?

  John grabbed her bag and they walked her to the Jeep. Just as they pulled up at the ranch, the helicopter landed. Palmer hauled Andra out of the car, but John stopped their forward progress while he grabbed two things from the trunk. John shut the rear door so Palmer couldn’t see what else was in there.

  He put a vest and a helmet on her, while she stared up at him with those dark eyes.

  “Is that necessary?”

  John didn’t look at Palmer, he wanted this moment of Andra’s focus on him to communicate, without words, he intended to do everything to make sure she got through this in one piece.

  Her dark eyes were wary. John tightened the chin strap. “We wouldn’t want anything to happen to Ms. Caleri, would we Palmer?”

  “But she’s guilty of murder.” Palmer’s voice betrayed him, like he didn’t quite believe his own lie.

  “It’s still our responsibility to safeguard her until she goes to trial.”

  He tightened the chin strap. Andra’s brown eyes looked more gold in the morning light. It was almost eleven, but the sun was starting to peak over the eastern mountains. Why hadn’t he noticed their color before?

  “Once you’re on the chopper she’ll be your responsibility, Palmer.” He glanced at the man. “Got all the paperwork?”

  “Yup.” He swung his backpack over his shoulder.

  Having one hand holding the strap wasn’t going to help him much. In a fight, Palmer would be dead before he dropped the bag and had the chance to draw his weapon.

  John stepped back. “Looks like you’re all set.”

  Over at the aircraft, Matthias was helping u
nload the mail. John waited while Palmer assisted Andra into the chopper and the door was shut. Within minutes, they were in the air and over the mountains.

  Seconds after they disappeared, a small plane glinted white in the sunlight as it peaked the mountains. John watched as it banked an arc in the sky above Sanctuary and the Cessna landed on the road.

  While it taxied around to face the other way, John opened the trunk of his Jeep. He took off his uniform shirt and pulled a vest over his white undershirt, then topped that with his blue shell jacket with US MARSHALS stenciled on the back.

  After glancing around to check no one was in viewing range, he sat on the edge of the trunk, shucked his shoes and pulled off the awful uniform pants, changing them for blue jeans before he put his boots back on. He buckled his belt and transferred his weapon to the holster at his waist. He pulled out his shotgun, too, just for good measure. And topped it all with the ball cap Grant had given him for Christmas two years ago, which he’d only just broken in.

  The airplane steps popped open and lowered to the ground. Two men climbed out, one with a considerable limp.

  John shook his head. “You guys cannot be here. This is a massive breach of security.”

  Nate grinned his touchdown smile. “You wanted a plane.” He waved at the Cessna behind him. “Voila, Nate to the rescue.”

  “And him?” John waved in the direction of his brother, Ben.

  Nate said, “I needed a pilot.”

  Ben, who tended to be as quiet as their other brother was effusive, frowned at Nate. “I can speak for myself.”

  “You were supposed to send anonymous personnel. Retired military, or someone else Grant could approve. Pat is going to be ticked off you guys were here and he didn’t see you.” John sighed. “They just left. We have to get going.”

  Nate raised one hand, palm out. “I vote to stay here and hang with Pat.”

  “You can’t. This town is the federal government’s best kept secret.”

  “I swear, I won’t say a thing.”