Princess Leia stood in the doorway. Just without the circles of braided hair. John sighed. “And you are?”
She narrowed her brown eyes at him. “Nadia Marie.”
The alibi. Right.
Andra didn’t seem surprised at the intrusion. “Cariña, you are not my lawyer.”
“Well, you need one.” She planted her hand on one hip and her short jacket flared. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to let you get thrown to the wolves.”
Palmer strode in with a mish-mash pile of papers. He dumped it all on John’s desk. “I’m out. Need anything?”
“Nothing I can think of.” His stomach rumbled.
Palmer smirked. “I’ll grab two specials for you and Pat and bring them back over.”
“Thanks. That would be great.”
John checked his watch. How much longer was Pat going to be out riding his bike?
John waited until Palmer left and then glanced at the two women. Why the look? It seemed something unsaid was being passed between them. Because of Palmer?
“Something you ladies want to share?”
Nadia Marie’s spine snapped straight and her face flashed with guilt.
It was Andra who said, “No.”
If they didn’t want to share he could hardly pry it out of them. John pulled out his notepad and looked at Nadia. “Where were you at around nine-thirty, Saturday night?”
If she’d been with Andra close enough to the time of the murder, John could calculate how far from the body she was and how much time it would take to get from one place to the other. It could potentially prove Andra couldn’t have had time to do it.
Nadia Marie reacted immediately. “Busy.”
John waited but she didn’t elaborate. “Maybe I should get your fingerprints also, since we’re all here.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. I was talking with someone.”
“And this person can verify your whereabouts?”
Nadia Marie pouted. “I was with Bolton Farrera, taking their team flag. You’ll have to ask him.”
“You’re team C as well?”
She nodded.
“Where did you go after you spoke with him?”
“To meet up with Andra. She was already at Hal’s radio station when I got there around nine-fifty.”
John sighed. That meant Andra had been close enough to town to have time to kill Betty between when he saw her in Dan’s barn and when she met up with Nadia. It also meant she could be the woman the two young guys who found Betty had seen running away. In the right direction to make it not look good for Andra at all, if she’d been heading to Hal’s in time to meet Nadia.
John stood, motioning to Dotty’s chair. He pulled out a fingerprint kit and worked through both of them, getting full sets of prints. He’d have to load them onto his computer and compare the images with the latent partial he’d taken from the knife handle in order to try and confirm or disprove their involvement.
He sat back down, locking his gaze on Andra. “I take it Nadia knows about your past?”
She nodded.
“Actually, it’s Nadia-Marie. As in, Nadia-Marie Carleigh.”
“Okay then, Ms. Carleigh.”
She smirked. “To answer your question, yes. I know about Andra’s career. Not the gory details, just the highlights.”
He turned back to Andra. “How do you get into that? What makes a young woman become an assassin?” She didn’t speak, so John added, “If you don’t mind me asking.”
Only her mouth moved. She didn’t react in any other way. “Maybe I do mind.”
“This is a murder investigation. And right now you’re the chief suspect.”
“She didn’t do it,” Nadia Marie said. “She’s innocent.”
That was debatable. Andra must have seen it on his face because she turned to her friend. “He doesn’t believe that. He believes what everyone else does, that I’m a stone cold killer.”
Nadia Marie looked like she was about to cry. “That’s not true.”
“I know, Cariña,” Andra said. “And the fact you believe that counts for everything.”
The other woman shot up. “I have to go.” She dashed from the sheriff’s office, almost colliding with Palmer coming back.
The deputy set a cardboard take-out container on John’s desk and smirked at Andra. “Killers don’t get meals.”
“They actually do, Palmer.”
The deputy’s lip curled. He sat in the waiting area and took out a burger from his own box. “Did she confess yet?” He took a huge bite. Grilled onion and mushrooms spilled out, landing in the box he was holding under his chin like a bib.
Andra sat completely still, like she was made of marble. Did nothing faze her? The only time he’d seen a reaction was with Nadia Marie. They must be close. He’d guess Nadia had simply worn down Andra’s defenses. Was that the key to getting through to her? John decided to file it away for later use—if he could figure out this mess.
“Well, did she?”
“No, Palmer. We’re still talking.” He glanced at her and she gave him a slight nod. “Andra was about to tell me how she got into that career.”
“Who cares? Once a killer, always a killer.”
“It’s necessary to form a complete picture, Deputy Palmer. Ms. Caleri was likely not born an assassin. So I’d like to know how she became one.”
If he was going to have to convince half the town she didn’t kill Betty, he might as well start with his deputy.
Andra shifted in her chair and cleared her throat. “It was my eighteenth birthday and a group of us snuck off school grounds to go clubbing in Barcelona. I met this guy. Refined. Older. After dancing and a few drinks he convinced me to go outside with him.” She swallowed. “We were in the back alley when he…tried it on with me. I couldn’t fight him, so I grabbed the only thing in reach and slammed him in the head with it. One second he was on me, the next he was bleeding everywhere. He just…died.
“This woman strode round the corner almost like she knew we were there. She was wearing a skirt suit and gold jewelry, and she looked like a model but older. She hauled me to my feet and told me to grab his arms. I was shaking so hard I could barely get a grip on him but we threw his body in this huge trash container. She asked me if I wanted to go to jail for the rest of my life, or if I wanted to go with her. She said the Policia would catch up to me eventually and my life would be over, so my only option was to run.
“We got in her car, a brand new Mercedes, and we drove to another club. She walked me inside to this back room where two men in suits were talking. She pulled out a gun and shot both of them. I remember one of them dropped his glass and I got a cut on my leg. That’s how the CIA started tracking me—because my blood was at the scene.
“Sheila, that’s what her name was, killed two more people that night. The last guy, she held him and gave me a knife. Told me to stab him. I was in shock. He said he was going to find both of us and kill us. She grabbed my hand and pushed the knife in. It cut my finger.”
Andra’s head was bowed but her face had gone pale. John wanted to go to her and do…something. He was in shock just listening to it. He could barely comprehend what she was saying.
“We took a boat to France, rented a car and drove through to Frankfurt. It was a few weeks before she got another assignment. It came in the mail, to a P.O. Box. By that time she had me convinced this was the only life for me. She’d been injured so she couldn’t have kids of her own. I was going to be her “legacy”. That’s what she called me.”
Andra took a breath. “In two years she killed fourteen people and I killed seven until one day this CIA agent approached me at the market. I didn’t know who he was at first, he just chatted. Flirted with me. I was clueless. I’d never had an actual relationship with a man before. Drew and I met for coffee a few times and he eventually told me the U.S. government knew who I was. Sheila had been on a spree, taking jobs for some guy who wanted CIA assets in Europe killed. They wanted to hire me to do their work for a specified period of time before they would give me a new life somewhere else. I’m pretty sure he mentioned Kansas.” Her lips flexed into a pseudo-smile for a second.
“My first job was to kill her.”
John studied her as she talked. The darkness in her eyes and the way her voice had dropped in pitch, she was someone he barely recognized as the woman he’d eaten lunch with in her cabin.
“I slipped something in her espresso and walked away.” Her eyes lifted, pinning him to his chair. “Sometimes I swear I can still hear her choking.”
Palmer snorted. “You expect us to believe this crap? Some kind of crazy Stockholm syndrome conveniently manufactured so it’s not your fault?”
“I never said that.” She turned her head toward Palmer and her jaw flexed. “I killed those people. I worked for the CIA long enough to figure out that the guy was stringing me along. There was no Kansas. But by then Drew and I had married. I bought a new identity, ready to leave. But he came home while I was packing.” She pulled up her sleeve to reveal a long, jagged scar that snaked up her forearm. “I hopped a plane to Virginia and turned myself in to the FBI.”
“You killed a CIA agent?”
“It was tough, proving he was acting alone and without authorization. Drew was highly connected in Washington. I had to come up with more than I’d brought with me in order to convince them everything I was saying was true. But I did it.”
John studied her. “Witness protection?”
“Drew’s Washington connections hired a guy who knew my face to come and kill me. He almost got to me twice. Once in the hospital after I had the baby and once after the adoptive parents took her home to Spain. I was deemed a flight risk and sent here to live out my life with no contact with the outside world except that I can receive mail from Helena’s parents. I’m restricted from any internet usage and from sending anything out in the mail.”
“Helena?”
“My daughter.”
John’s head was reeling just taking in the wealth of information she’d shared. He’d have to read her file and corroborate it all. But no one with a history like hers needed to manufacture anything. He had no doubt it was probably all true.
“I knew there was something about you.” Palmer tossed his to-go container in the trash. “Something I didn’t like at all.”
“Palmer.” What was with this guy? It was like he had something personal against her that made him hostile to everything Andra said or did. “Is there something I should know?”
The deputy shrugged. “Like what?”
Andra didn’t say anything.
John turned back to the other man. “I’ll take it from here. You can go home, but we’re going to have a conversation in the morning. If you’d like to continue being a deputy then you need to be here at eight-thirty sharp.”
Palmer’s cheeks pinked. He didn’t look at Andra. “Is she spending tonight in the jail?”
“That depends on Ms. Caleri. She was deemed a flight risk and earlier inferred it was possible for her to disappear in order to avoid being arrested.” John didn’t need Palmer thinking he was deferring to her. “I need time to compare her fingerprints with what I took from the knife.” He studied Andra. “Do I need to worry that you’ll take off?”
She opened her mouth but frowned and then said, “I’m not going to disappear.”
What did she want him to say? Of course he had to question her intentions. He needed to know she would stick this out with him until the verdict came in, or the killer was found. She had to trust he was going to do his job regardless of what everyone in town thought. Their opinion wasn’t going to sway him, no matter the pressure.
She looked concerned, but John couldn’t see any worry on her face or guilt. Just a wary observation of the two law men in the room, particularly John. Was he supposed to be angry at her story?
He felt nothing but deeply sad for the child she’d been, sucked into a world she knew nothing about. The Sheila woman she’d mentioned had been little more than an abuser, twisting Andra’s mind. Not only had she survived that, but she’d even fought for her future. And giving up a baby? No wonder she’d wanted solitude when she came here.
Palmer scratched the back of his red hair and stuck his hat back on his head. “I can escort Ms. Caleri back to her house.”
Andra didn’t react. John figured that meant she was okay with it. “Very well, Palmer.” He looked at her. “I’ll be by tomorrow to let you know my assessment of the fingerprints.”
She stood.
“I shouldn’t need to tell you to lay low.” John paused a second but she didn’t look at him. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Palmer held the door and she strode out; chin high, not even sparing him a glance. “Uh boss?”
John frowned at him.
“She doesn’t have a phone at her place. And no radio either. She’s off the grid. Couldn’t call for help if she wanted to.”
The door shut.
John didn’t like it. He didn’t like any of this.
He pulled up the fingerprint from the knife on the computer screen and loaded Andra’s prints, starting with the index finger. He put them side by side and zoomed in, then rotated Andra’s print until the lines matched. The print on the knife was the side of the finger pad.
John blew out a breath, sat back and stared at both pictures. He moved his gaze between them like a grid search. Whatever he found would have to be confirmed by a lab, but Justice Simmons would likely grant him an arrest warrant on the grounds of a good match—even by the naked eye.
His satellite phone rang.
“Sheriff Mason.”
“Nice ring to it; sounds more natural now. I take it you’re settling in?”
“Yeah, Grant. Thanks.” He sighed. “But I’m guessing that’s not why you’re calling.”
“Then you guessed right, since the congressional panel requested Andra Caleri’s file and they’ve been calling every half hour all day asking for updates.”
John sat up straight. “How do they know she’s a suspect?”
The back door swung open and Pat bounded in. John handed him the take out box Palmer had brought for them and motioned him to the waiting area chairs. Pat grinned at the contents and dug in to the burger.
“They won’t say how they know but someone told them. What is going on there?”
John sighed. “Andra’s WITSEC file was plastered all over the walls of the Meeting House. Now everyone in town knows she was an—” Pat was in the room. “They know what her job used to be.”
“So you know?”
“She shared her story with me and Deputy Palmer.”
“Is she in a cell?”
“The fingerprint on the knife is very possibly a match to hers. But it’s a partial so I can only say inconclusive at this point. She’s home for the night. I’ll rouse her first thing. She needs to come back and answer more questions at least.”
“Who took the file?”
John gritted his teeth. “I also need to figure that out.”
“Do it fast.”
“Seriously? It’s been three days since Betty Collins was murdered. I’m not a miracle worker.”
“Those sound like excuses to me.” Grant paused. “This doesn’t have anything to do with the fact she’s hot, does it?”
“Excuse me?”
“No, I don’t think I will. I’m asking you straight out, John. Is this woman’s…physical appearance affecting your ability to be impartial? I want an honest answer and not because Congressman Thane—”
John groaned at the mention of the pompous windbag from the hearing.
“—is breathing down my neck. The man wanted a video conference so you could lay out the details of the case.”
“They want me to explain myself?”
“They called it a briefing. But basically, yeah. They want you to prove you’re doing a good enough job. They’re pushing for an arrest. They want Andra Caleri detained and Congressman Thane wants her out of town because he thinks she’s a danger to the residents.”
“I’m not arresting her just because I need to provide them with results. I want the truth. And what Andra looks like—” Or how John might feel about her. “—has nothing to do with this.”
“I sincerely hope not, brother.”
John glanced up. Pat’s ears were at attention. Great. Now he was going to have to figure out how to explain this in a way an eight-year-old would understand the gravity, would know to have a care around town and would also not be completely traumatized. “I need the fingerprint analysis, ASAP.”
“Done. Anything else?”
John worked his jaw back and forth. “I need to know who I can trust, who I can call on for help.”
Palmer’s allegiance was up for debate as were his abilities as a deputy when he was required to do something other than provide a presence around town for the sheriff’s department.
Grant didn’t take any time to think about it. “You need anything, call Bolton Farrera.”
“He’s solid?”
“He’s ex-DEA. Undercover until things got seriously hot and he blew the lid off internal corruption that was spread wide.”
That explained how he got to bring his truck. Testimony like that would have given Bolton a great deal of pull with the U.S. Attorney’s office.
“I offered him the sheriff’s position first. He turned it down in favor of his cows. Can you believe that?”
John pressed his lips together.
“Not that I didn’t want you. You were the clear choice.”
“After Bolton.”
“I didn’t expect him to accept, anyway. It was more of a courtesy thing.”
“And me being the second choice?”
Grant sighed. “Untwist your panties for a second. You were made for this job. Who else can uphold the law and be a peacemaker at the same time?” He laughed. “Do you remember that time you told Dad that Ben and I got black eyes because we both fell, when we were really fighting over who got to put the frog in Sally Fisher’s lunchbox? Then you did it yourself and blamed it on that redheaded kid—I forget his name—and no one thought it was us at all. I can still remember you telling dad it was such a horrible thing, and how could he even think we were capable of something like that. Dude, you should have been a mediator or something.”
John smiled. “Yeah, but then I’d have to listen to people argue all day.”
“Which is different from this job how, exactly?”
Shoot. “So we’re done here?”
“Actually, there was a reason I kept you on the line a while longer. I was waiting for word and I just got it.”
“What’s going on?”
Grant blew out a breath. “Did you read the newspaper about what happened at the White House?”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Well, it was an assassination attempt. Just not on the President. The First Lady was nearly killed in a coordinated attack on Camp David three days ago. Their daughter was with her at the time. The whole thing was unreal. The attack on the White House was the second attempt.”
“Are you serious?”
“It gets worse. The whole thing was masterminded by a Secret Service agent who it’s looking like has ties to an eco-terrorist group. They’re mad at the First Lady for supporting oil drilling. It’s a colossal mess in Washington right now but they’ve kept a pretty tight lid on it so far. Everyone is scrambling and people are starting to figure out something huge is happening.
“The President has to stay and keep at his post. But they want the First Lady out of there. Somewhere no one will know, only the Secret Service. They have no idea who else might have been compromised. The only people who will know where they’ll be are me, the President and the FBI pilot I hired. And now you.”
Of course.
“Oh and she’s bringing her daughter.”
“Elizabeth Sheraton is in her thirties, right? It’s not like she’s a dependent. And isn’t she married?”
Grant sighed. “She was there and Elizabeth is directly named in the death threats. There’s just one snag.”
“All this and you see only one snag?”
“You’re right. Elizabeth Sheraton is apparently now Mrs. Elizabeth Myerson.”
John blew out a breath. “Is the husband coming too?”
“We can’t reach him. He left a week ago. He’s a lieutenant with the Navy SEALs currently OUTCONUS on a mission. He could be unreachable for weeks.”
John figured Outside of the Continental U.S. was a bad acronym for being in the line of fire, but there it was. “And you’re sending them to—” John caught himself before he said the town name. “—here?”
“Special delivery. All goes well they should be there in about eight hours.” Grant paused. “Oh and one more thing.”
John winced. What now?
“I’m shutting off your internet. For the time being all communication in or out of town is restricted to your satellite phone. No other outside contact. By order of the President.”