Nick UnCaged: Sanctuary, Book Four

by Abbie Zanders

If she’d stayed longer, things might not have ended as well. The novelty of living in the woods, away from everyone and everything she enjoyed, would wear quickly. And if that didn’t push her away, learning about his family surely would. As much as he could hope that she’d be able to look past that and see that they had a lot in common, it was a big ask.

  Still, as he made his way down the path they’d walked together only a short time ago, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if she could come to accept those things as he had. As Sam and Sandy and Kate had.

  If she could accept him.

  He shook those thoughts away. There was no use in wishing for things to be different than they were. He was committed to Sanctuary for the foreseeable future, and Bree had her own life to get back to.

  But she’s not leaving until tomorrow night, whispered a voice in the back of his mind. There’s still time.

  Time for what? Another dinner? Another night together?

  Cage pulled his phone from his pocket and then hesitated. If she wanted to see him again, she’d let him know. He made sure the volume was all the way up then shoved it back into his pocket and kept going.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Bree

  The entire community park had been transformed. Along the walking path that wound in between tall oaks and stately pines, a string of ten-by-ten food booths had been erected. Each one offered local favorites—funnel cakes, potato pancakes, corn dogs, slabs of local dairy ice cream on freshly made waffles. A traveling carnival had been set up as well with rides and lights and music. Scores of senior citizens tapped their feet beneath picnic tables in the large, open-air bingo tent while listening to the band playing lively polka music nearby.

  Humans weren’t the only attendees. At the far end—and thankfully, downwind—were guests of the furry and four-legged variety. Local farmers had cleaned up some of their ribbon-winning livestock and brought them along to show off, setting up a small petting zoo for little ones as well.

  As Bree worked her way around the park, she snapped lots of pictures. Couples holding hands. Gap-toothed kids hugging fluffy lambs. A candid shot of a teenage girl smiling shyly at the boy trying to impress her by throwing baseballs at milk jugs. It was small-town Americana at its best. While she’d always considered herself more of a big-city type of girl, she could see the appeal.

  Just as she now had a new appreciation for clear, moonlit nights in the mountains.

  Even as she was working, jotting down notes and potential captions to go along with the photos, her mind kept going back to her time with Nick. Horseback riding. Cooking over an open fire. Watching Nick skinny-dip in a spring-fed lake and then watching the stars as he worked his magic.

  Will there be more meteor showers tonight? she wondered.

  While they had been impressive, they were nothing compared to the shooting stars behind her eyelids when she’d shattered into pieces.

  The urge to drive back to Sanctuary and spend another night with Nick was strong. Or even better, to spend some time under the stars and then continue the evening in a comfortable bed with indoor plumbing only a few steps away. There was even a twenty-four-hour mini-mart in town, where she could pick up a box of condoms on the way.

  It was tempting even if it wasn’t the best idea. She was in town on an assignment, not to sleep with one of the men she’d been charged with interviewing. Besides, who was to say that Nick would welcome her a second time? They’d had their fun and said their good-byes. She should just leave it at that.

  Bree forced herself back to the tasks at hand. Soak up the local flavor, get some good shots for the article, and hear what Lenny had to say—assuming he actually showed. She’d been walking around for an hour, and while she’d seen familiar faces, Lenny’s hadn’t been among them. Had something come up? Or had he changed his mind?

  When the loudspeakers announced the next pig race, Bree joined the crowd, heading over to the “track.” The collapsible bleachers were already packed, and there was a long line at the stand selling pig-themed novelties. The racers were separated into divisions, ranging from tiny teacup pigs to MINI Cooper–sized hogs, many of which were cleverly named after celebrities: The Notorious P.I.G., Albert Einswine, Jason Hammoa. And her personal favorites: Hammibal Lecter and Spamela Hamderson.

  Bystanders were encouraged to support their favorites by waving plastic pennants. She accepted a bright yellow spirit flag from one of the volunteers, then moved up toward the front when a spot opened up, and waited for the first race to begin.

  “It’s something, isn’t it?” Lenny’s voice sounded behind her.

  She turned around to find him freshly showered and dressed in jeans and a polo shirt. The scent of a popular men’s body spray assaulted her nostrils. It didn’t smell half as good as Nick’s soap.

  “Sure is. I’ve never seen people get so excited over pigs before. What’s the appeal?”

  He grinned. “Just watch.”

  With a buildup worthy of a grand prix event, the final “race” began. Bree couldn’t help laughing as the pigs, draped with colorful cloaks, ambled around the track, snuffling up the trail of treats to the witty banter of the MC.

  “Cute,” she agreed as the winner was declared and someone used a T-shirt cannon to shoot pig shirts into the crowd.

  Lenny shrugged. “It’s clean, wholesome fun. Are you hungry? The pork barbecue stand is just on the other side.”

  She gaped at him. “Pork barbecue?”

  “Well, what do you think happens to the losers?”

  Bree was horrified. In fact, it might be several months before she could even look at a piece of bacon again. “You’re not serious!”

  He laughed. “No, I’m not. Come on. Let’s grab something to eat and find a quiet place to talk.”

  With cups of fresh-squeezed lemonade and boats of fries swimming in malt vinegar in hand, Lenny led Bree into the trees, away from the lights and crowds and sounds.

  She waved her hand toward the shiny badge he wore on his hip. She’d interviewed enough men and women in blue to know that cops typically kept their badges out of sight when not on duty. “I thought your shift ended.”

  “It did,” he agreed, puffing out his chest slightly. “But my job never stops, not really.”

  As if to prove his point, Lenny raised his voice and called out a warning into the semi-darkness, “If anyone were out here, doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing, now would be a good time to skedaddle.”

  The sounds of hushed whispers and hurried feet had Bree chuckling. “I wish we’d had policemen like you when I was a teenager.”

  He shrugged but smiled. “They’re just doing what kids do. Besides, I wanted to ensure we had some privacy.”

  “You mean, you asked me out here for something other than pig races and lemonade, Officer Petraski?”

  Lenny sat down atop a picnic table, his feet on the bench seat. “How’s your research coming?”

  It seemed like an abrupt change of subject, but there was little doubt in Bree’s mind that they’d finally come to the real reason behind Lenny’s invitation.

  She sat down beside him, giving her eyes a few moments to adjust to the darkness. Through the trees, she could see the lights and hear the music and crowds, but it was quiet where they were.

  “It’s coming along well. I think I have everything I need. Unless, of course, there’s something you’d like to add.”

  “Was Sanctuary what you expected?”

  “Yes, and no,” she answered honestly, wondering where this was going. “I’d seen the pictures on the website, so I had known it was once a mountain resort at one time, but I’d expected it to be more ... I don’t know ... institutional, I suppose.”

  Seconds ticked by in silence. Lenny’s pause felt deliberate. Calculated.

  “And the people?”

  “Also not what I’d pictured,” she admitted.

  “Appearances can be deceiving, you know.”

  Bree was grow
ing frustrated with his continued cloaked aspersions. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? It’s clear to me that some locals have issues either with Sanctuary or with the men who run it. What’s not clear is why they feel that way. I’ve heard rumors, but no one, including you, has been willing to give me anything specific. All I have are these vague insinuations without substance. For all I know, your dislike might be based in nothing more than an old grudge that goes back generations.”

  “It’s more than that,” he assured her grimly.

  “Great. Prove it. Give me something to work with here. Something solid I can investigate and corroborate.”

  She pulled her leather journal out, opened to a blank page, and waited expectantly.

  * * *

  Two hours later, Bree was back at the B & B. Her fingers flew over the laptop keyboard, translating her notes and typing in as much as she could remember while it was fresh in her mind. Lenny’s revelations had been stunning.

  First, there had been the fires. As it turned out, the tragedy at the Winston resort wasn’t the only one to rock the area; there had been others as well. A mom-and-pop bakery had gone up in flames not too long after the resort, leveling the business and killing the elderly couple who lived above it. More recently, a popular coffee shop on Main Street had been destroyed in a suspicious blaze, followed by an apartment fire that had, thankfully, been caught in time to avoid widespread damage.

  What was most shocking, however, was that all of those fires had one common person of interest: Samantha Applehoff, the woman Bree had spoken with in the Sanctuary parking lot while waiting for Nick. Sam had mentioned the coffee shop and the fact that it was no longer around, but she’d failed to mention that the place had gone up in flames less than a day after the owner refused to sign the place over to her.

  Nor had Sam mentioned that the bakery that had burned down before that had belonged to her grandparents, and the fire had conveniently occurred while Sam was away at college. Coincidentally, it was the same bakery that had supplied bread and baked goods to the Winston resort—goods routinely delivered by a teenage Sam.

  And the apartment that had caught fire? Sam’s.

  Bree had a hard time reconciling Lenny’s reveals with the quiet, down-to-earth woman she’d spoken with. When she’d asked what possible motives Sam could have had, Lenny had described Sam as a loner, someone on the fringes who didn’t have friends. According to rumors, Sam had had a crush on Matt Winston and was devastated when he joined the service. It was shortly after he left that the fires had started.

  “She tried to blame everything on a stalker,” Lenny told Bree, “but there was just too much that didn’t add up. We never found the guy, of course. Then, when the Sanctuary guys came to town, she managed to convince them she was a victim, even took up with one of them.”

  Lenny didn’t stop there. He cited multiple reports of unusual activity at Sanctuary by the county and state-licensed inspectors who’d gone to the site during the initial rebuilding phase. “Despite what it looks like on the outside, the place is more of a military compound than a civilian facility,” Lenny told her. “They don’t take kindly to outsiders. Surveillance equipment everywhere, trip wires, perimeter alarms—not to mention, bunkers and God knows what else.”

  Lenny continued, conveying a conversation he’d had with one shaken county inspector who’d wandered inside and discovered an entire room set up like a command center of operations—with monitors and maps of the area. He also spoke of one unfortunate local soul who’d wandered onto Sanctuary property the previous year and ended up in the hospital for six months because of it.

  Images of the many Private Property and No Trespassing signs on the trail popped into her mind. So did the box of video cameras she’d seen in Nick’s trailer along with phrases he’d used, like “perimeter checks” and not wanting “anyone getting shot inadvertently.” When Nick had explained those things, it had been in the context of precautionary and safety measures, not malicious intent.

  When she said as much to Lenny, he came back with, “But you weren’t allowed to wander around, were you? Someone was with you the whole time, controlling where you went, what you saw, who you talked to.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. Matt Winston had told her up front that they respected and protected the privacy of those at Sanctuary. For the rest of it, Nick had been with her, the only exception the brief time she’d been alone in his trailer. Nick’s cautionary warnings suddenly took on a more ominous tone.

  Still, it didn’t mean they were up to no good.

  “That’s all very interesting,” she said, “but you haven’t given me anything I can prove.”

  “You’re right, and that’s part of the problem. There is no proof because they make sure of it,” Lenny said, contempt lacing his tone. “They’ve got friends in high places. After having a couple of beers in town one night, one of them stole a police vehicle and assaulted two officers. Shortly after the warrant was issued, the chief received a call from the governor. All charges were dropped, and we were told to back off.”

  Given the vehemence with which he spoke and the fact that Sumneyville had a minimal police force, Bree guessed that Lenny was one of those officers assaulted. It wasn’t a far jump to assume that it had been a humiliating experience as well. A local cop was no match for a highly trained Navy SEAL.

  “That’s why people don’t trust them,” Lenny said. “At least the ones capable of seeing through the self-sacrificing hero bullshit anyway. Like you said yourself, it’s not a matter of patriotism. we’re proud of our military and the men and women who’ve served, but these guys place themselves above the law. Don’t take my word for it. Use your resources. Look into their backgrounds. I’d bet my badge that if you dig deep enough, you’ll find evidence of misconduct that’s been swept under the rug. These guys are dangerous, Bree. They’re psychologically unbalanced. They hide it well, citing sympathy-inducing claims of PTSD and whatnot, but the truth is, they’re masters of manipulation. What’s worse, they’ve taken to seducing local women away from their families and friends to join up with them.”

  Bree remembered the conversation that day at the fire hall and some of the comments the Ladies Auxiliary had made. “You mean, like Kate?”

  “Yes,” he confirmed, his expression grim. “Kate’s a perfect example. She was very active in the community. Liked by everyone. Delivered meals, raised money for charity, worked in her dad’s store. Then, one of them set his sights on her, and in less than two months, she walked away from her family, her home, her job, her fiancé—everything. And for what? To live in controlled isolation, away from everyone who cares about her?”

  The passion with which Lenny spoke suggested a more personal connection. Another prior discussion came to mind—the one at the salon when someone had mentioned a friend of Lenny’s getting involved with one of the guys at Sanctuary.

  “Have there been others besides Kate?”

  He nodded, confirming her theory. “A good friend of mine. We grew up together. She got this great job in the city, something she’d been dreaming of her entire life, and then just gave it all up to be with one of them. If I sound bitter, it’s because I am. I tried talking to her, tried to get her to see reason, but she wouldn’t listen. It was like she wasn’t even the same person anymore.”

  “You make it sound like she was brainwashed or something.”

  “Maybe she was. Sanctuary isn’t that much different than a cult if you think about it. Isolating themselves in the mountains, secretive, tightly controlling every aspect of the people who live there.”

  Bree frowned, remembering the wide-open spaces and the friendly, relaxed atmosphere. “It didn’t seem like that at all.”

  “That’s because you saw only what they wanted you to see, Bree,” he said, frustration lacing his voice. “Don’t think for a minute that every moment you spent up there wasn’t orchestrated to suit their own agenda.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Bree


  Bree’s head was swimming. Lenny had been so earnest. He didn’t seem like the type to fabricate tales outright even if she did get the impression that his contempt was rooted in personal dislike.

  The bottom line was, what he’d told her provided some semi-rational explanation for the anti-Sanctuary vibes she’d picked up from him and others, but without proof or corroborating evidence, it was still just hearsay.

  Or maybe you just don’t want to believe any of it. She certainly didn’t want to believe that her time with Nick had been part of a plan to promote a false image. Could she trust that her judgment hadn’t been clouded by her less than professional attraction to Nick?

  The answer was, she wasn’t sure. She wanted to believe her instincts were on point, but the truth was, Lenny’s claims of manipulation and seduction had hit a nerve. Had Nick’s focused attention been nothing more than a carefully orchestrated distraction? The thought was disturbing.

  She picked up her phone and called Toni the moment she finished typing up the last of her notes. She needed to talk things through and get an objective opinion, and Toni was a great sounding board. The other woman picked up after several rings, slightly out of breath.

  “Hey, where’ve you been?” Toni chastised. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for hours.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. It’s been a busy day. Hey, do you still have the name of that private arson investigator Hunter used on that insurance fraud ring he busted last year?”

  “Yeah, hang on. It’s in here somewhere.”

  Bree heard the telltale whir and flap-flap-flap of Toni’s Rolodex. It had been her father’s—the only physical link Toni had to him.

  “Here it is.” Toni recited the info. “Is this about the Winston fire? Do you think you found a firebug?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not really sure what I’m looking for. I just know something’s not adding up.”

  “The nose always knows,” Toni said. “I swear, you’re like a bloodhound when it comes to sniffing out the good stuff. Speaking of, how’d your field trip with Green Eyes go? Everything okay? Are you okay?”