Sanctuary Lost WITSEC Town Series Book 1 by Lisa Phillips

she feels
Gracie needs a father figure in her life. Like I’m chopped liver or
something. Anyway, I’ll expect to see you at dinner soon.”
    “Yes, sir.” What else did you say when it was
a Supreme Court Justice asking? “Soon as the case is wrapped up
I’ll be sure to take you up on the offer. I’m not much of a
cook.”
    The old man’s eyes narrowed. “My Cassie makes
a delicious meatloaf.”
    “I’m sure she does, sir. I’ll look forward to
it.” John opened the door for him.
    “Thank you for calling for me.” The old man
grinned. “This is the most excitement I’ve had in months.”
    “Happy to oblige.”
    He disappeared, the monkey screech laugh
echoing in his wake.
    Palmer stuck his head in the back door. “Is
he gone?” He glanced around, strode in and blew out a breath.
“Phew, I though the old man would never leave.”
    “Is there a problem between you and Justice
Simmons?”
    Palmer shook his head. “He’s hardly anything
special anymore. Just an old man wishing for the good old
days.”
    Yeah, that was exactly what John had gotten
from him. He nearly rolled his eyes. “Where have you been
anyway?”
    Palmer took his coat off. “What are you, my
mother?”
    No, but I am your boss. John sat at
his desk and gathered his papers. “Did you find the murder
weapon?”
    “No, and now I smell like trash since I had
to search through every single bag.”
    “You know, in some places that job would be a
rite of passage for a cop.” John grinned, not the slightest bit
remorseful. “You can take a shower later. Right now we have work to
do.”
    “It won’t keep until tomorrow?”
    “Welcome to real police work. It doesn’t
respect the boundaries of the nine-to-five existence you’ve been
living.” John sighed. “Look, it’s late. I’m tired, you’re tired.
Why not just write up what needs writing up and then head home.
I’ll work figuring out what needs doing with the evidence.”
    “What evidence?”
    John counted to ten. It’s not his fault
he’s never done this before. “I’m waiting for her clothes. That
will be huge, if we can get DNA from the killer. A drop of blood or
a hair sample isn’t all that likely but it could give us his or her
identity. We have her shoes. Once we find the murder weapon, we can
check that for prints. We also need to find the location the murder
took place. Since there was no blood on the wall and little blood
had pooled around her, it’s reasonable to surmise that wasn’t where
she was killed. In a town this size, we should be able to do that
by process of elimination assuming she wasn’t killed in someone’s
home. We can’t just go barging in.”
    “Actually, we can. It’s a stipulation of our
positions and the fact residents are in the witness protection
program, even the people born here. In the event of extenuating
circumstances we can force entry.”
    “Did Sheriff Chandler ever have to do
that?”
    “Just once. That was when the Fuller kid
committed suicide. I was in junior high but I heard all about
it.”
    “What was he like? I mean, what kind of a
sheriff was Chandler?”
    Deputy Palmer leaned back in his chair. “He
wasn’t bad. Gruff sometimes, but his leg bothered him in the
winter. He’d been here since the town opened, like I said. I don’t
know how he got the assignment or if he was in WITSEC too. He never
told me. Anyway, Chandler made me learn all the rules and put me
through all these tests and stuff he said I had to do, so I could
become a deputy, you know? It wasn’t all that fun, but I wanted
this job so I did it.”
    “You should be proud. You’ve held the fort
down since he got sick, right?”
    The guy nodded. John wasn’t convinced Palmer
was even a halfway decent cop, except in a town like this where
nothing much happened. But he’d still worn the uniform through the
previous sheriff getting a terminal diagnosis. He might not be the
biggest proponent for something like Battle Night, which John had
actually