A story like this could make national news.
And Tessa couldn’t afford to be part of that.
She stepped away from the Dumpster, and the man, easing toward the back of the alley. It led to a side street that would take her to Ernie’s Diner if she followed it long enough. She’d already given her name to the 911 operator. The kidnapper was probably halfway to the mainland by now. If he was smart, he’d never return.
She’d go to work. She’d open the diner. She’d go on with her day and hope that her name would be overlooked or misplaced or forgotten.
It was a vain hope, of course.
They recorded 911 calls.
Eventually, the police would track her down and interview her. She’d be happy to provide whatever information she could. Right now, though, she was going to put distance between herself and the drama. She took another few steps away, shivering as cold wind whipped through the narrow alley and scattered bits of debris. The sun had begun its ascent, and the sky was gray with deferred light. She could see Everly clearly—the soft slope of her chin and cheek, the darkness of her lashes. Her father had pulled the edges of his coat around her tiny body, and his dark T-shirt clung to broad shoulders and a firm abdomen. He had to be cold, but he didn’t shiver. His focus was on his daughter, and that gave Tessa plenty of opportunity to leave.
God, please don’t let anything horrible be wrong with Everly, Tessa prayed silently as she shuffled backward.
A police officer stepped into view, his radio crackling as he hurried toward Everly.
Tessa turned and walked away.
She knew how it was done. She’d done it before, parking the Cadillac Escalade that Patrick had given her for her birthday in a mall parking lot and walking away as if she had every intention of returning. Head high, like she’d been doing nothing wrong, the backpack slung over her shoulder filled with everything she’d needed to escape.
Shoulders straight, chin up and a quick stride that didn’t seem rushed. She did the same now. Confident. Focused. Completely unremarkable.
The alley was short and she walked out of it without anyone trying to stop her. She turned onto a narrow through street that was really nothing more than a paved path. Maybe she wouldn’t go to the diner. Maybe she’d go back to the cottage, gather what she could and leave town. She’d done it before. She could do it again. Make her escape. Start fresh.
She thought she heard someone call her name, but she didn’t look back. There wasn’t a police officer in Provincetown who hadn’t eaten at the diner. They knew her, and they knew how to find her.
For now.
That might change, because she didn’t feel safe, like she had the day she’d driven into town and seen the ocean stretching out to one side and the bay to the other. It had been summer, the streets crowded, the beaches filled, but she’d felt solitude in the ocean breeze and peace in the warm sunlight streaming from the cloudless sky.
Cold wind blew through her cotton shirt. It had been crisp white and wrinkle-free when she’d left home. Now it was crinkled and smudged with dirt. She wiped at the spot, shivering as she checked for the key she always carried in the pocket of her slacks. It was still there. She’d dropped her purse. It was probably lying on the road, her identification and bank card easy pickings for anyone who might find them. She’d lost her phone. It had probably shattered when she’d dropped it.
“That is the least of your worries,” she muttered as she wound her way behind commercial properties and, finally, walked out onto Commercial Street. She could see the bay from here, silvery blue in the lightening gloom.
She glanced back, but no one was following.
The medical and emergency-response teams were busy helping Everly.
Headlights illuminated the grayish world and an SUV drove past. Provincetown was waking, and the people who made it their year-round home would soon be out and about. According to her watch, she was twenty minutes late for her shift. The diner was still dark, the garish neon sign Ernie had purchased when he’d opened the place hanging listlessly from the clapboard siding near the gabled roof. The building had been around for over a hundred years. Some people said it had been a tavern back in the days when Provincetown had been a haven for writers, actors and freethinkers. Now it was a haven for people who enjoyed quiet and anonymity, who craved peace the way others craved chocolate.
Tessa unlocked the front door and stepped into the dining area, her heart still racing, her body almost numb with cold and fear. She had prep work to do before the line cook arrived—setting the daily special, putting out silverware and making sure the closing crew had cleaned the place to Ernie’s standards. This time of year, staff was cut in half, days were slower and profits were slimmer. Ernie demanded a high work ethic from his employees and expected them to do whatever jobs were necessary to keep the place going.
Tessa had proven herself to him and to his wife. Unlike her husband, Betty had a soft edge and a warm nature. As far as Tessa knew, they’d never had children.
Of course, she hadn’t asked.
She’d come to Ernie’s for a job. Not for friendship or support.
She flicked on the lights, hung her coat on a hook near the door and hurried across the room, grabbing the cart of napkin-wrapped silverware from its place near the waitress station and rolling it into the dining room. There was seating for one hundred there. The patio out back seated another twenty, the view of the bay making it a prime location during the tourist season.
It was so much easier to think about that than to think about the attempted kidnapping. Everly. The man with the gun and the pale face. Her breath caught as she set silverware on place settings and tried not to hear the sirens that were still screeching in the distance. This type of crime didn’t happen in Provincetown. Kidnapping wasn’t a thing in the quaint artsy community.
Someone knocked on the diner’s glass front door and she screamed, whirling toward the sound, a set of silverware falling to the ground. She recognized Ernie immediately, his white hair gleaming in the exterior light as he unlocked the door and stepped in, Betty close behind him. A police officer followed, standing in the entryway, her hat in her hand, her gaze fixed on Tessa.
“Tessa! What in tarnation are you doing, girl! You were just involved in a kidnapping. The police scanners are going crazy!” Ernie charged toward her, his white beard making him look like an angry grizzled gnome. “And you’re here, setting silverware on the tables!”
“Ernie! Hush! Can’t you see she’s in shock?!” Betty said, taking off her coat and wrapping Tessa in scratchy wool and day-old perfume.
“And, look.” Betty touched a throbbing spot on Tessa’s temple. “What a goose egg! She probably has a concussion. You probably have a concussion,” she repeated, cupping Tessa’s cheeks and looking into her eyes.
“I’m okay,” Tessa protested.
“Of course, you’re not,” Betty replied. “You’ve been through a terrible trauma, you got knocked in the head. More than likely, you feared for your life. Right?”
“Yes,” she murmured, trying to avoid looking anywhere except Betty’s face. As a child, Tessa had often lain in bed, listening to her mother partying with her newest boyfriend and wondering what it would be like to have a mother who cared. In her imagination, that kind of mother had always looked like Betty—soft face, soft eyes, soft curves and easy smile.
“Exactly. You’re not thinking straight. That’s why you left the scene instead of sticking around to talk to the police.”
It wasn’t a question, but Tessa nodded.
“It seemed to the responding officer that you were fleeing the scene. I told him that probably wasn’t the case. Fleeing would make no sense, seeing as how we all know exactly where to find you,” the officer said, and Tessa finally met her eyes.
Holly Williams had joined the Provincetown Police Department a few months after Tessa arri
ved in town. Young and brash, she had a no-nonsense approach to life that was obvious when she ate at the diner and when she attended the church they both belonged to. She didn’t suffer fools gladly, and she certainly wouldn’t believe lies. Not that Tessa planned to tell any. She hadn’t told anyone in Provincetown about her old life, but she hadn’t lied about it either. She’d simply come to town with a new identity, found a job and made a home for herself. If people asked about the past, she sidestepped the questions or gave vague answers that excluded details.
“I wasn’t fleeing. I was scheduled to open today, and I didn’t want to let Ernie and Betty down.” It wasn’t an explanation. Not really.
Holly noticed.
She eyed Tessa for a moment. Then, she shrugged. “I’m certain you know better than to leave the scene of a crime, Tessa. But, it does look like you took quite a hit.”
“I guess I did.” She touched the sore spot, felt the swollen lump and winced.
“Head injuries do strange things to people. How about I have an ambulance transport you to the hospital? I’ll take your statement there.”
“I don’t need an ambulance,” Tessa said, but she did feel woozy and a little sick.
She dropped into a chair, the room spinning crazily.
“Tessa, you’re white as a sheet.” Ernie cupped her shoulder, his voice gentler than she’d ever heard it. “And your forehead is the color of a ripe eggplant. Go get checked out. Betty and I will handle things here. Once the morning crew shows up, we’ll come to the hospital. If you’re ready to be released, we’ll bring you home.”
“I have a ten-hour shift today. I agreed to work extra because I have that test next week, remember?” That was the truth. She did have a test. One of her last of the semester. She was so close to finishing her degree, she could almost taste it.
If she left town, she’d lose the progress she had made.
If she walked away, she’d have to leave all those hard-earned credits behind. She would have to leave the diner behind, and Ernie and Betty.
“You can still take time off for the test, but you’re not working today.” Ernie took her arm and helped her to her feet. He’d celebrated his seventieth birthday a few months ago, but he had the strength and energy of a man in his fifties. He had been more of a father to her than any man. He’d taught her how to run the diner, how to balance the books. He’d supported her efforts to get her degree, and he’d cheered her on, in his gruff way.
“Ernie, I can’t leave you in a lurch,” she protested.
“What lurch? It’s winter. We barely need more than ourselves to keep things going this time of year,” Betty responded.
“She’s right,” Ernie agreed. “Can you take her to the hospital, Holly? I want to make certain she goes straight there.”
“Ernie, really,” Tessa protested. “I have school bills to pay, and I need to—”
“Don’t say another word about it, honey,” Betty said. “We’ve got you covered. Everything will be fine.”
“I really don’t need to go to the hospital.” It was an hour away, and she didn’t want to spend any amount of time in a police cruiser with Holly. She wasn’t afraid to answer questions about the kidnapping. She was worried about saying too much about herself. Or, too little. Holly seemed like the kind of person who would pick up on the fact that Tessa never gave straight answers about where she’d come from or why she’d settled in Provincetown.
“I can take you to the police station instead,” Holly interjected, her tone firm and her gaze direct. “It’s up to you.”
There was a threat there. Tessa heard it. Leaving the scene had been a mistake. She should have realized how big of one before she’d done it.
Betty was right.
She hadn’t been thinking straight, but she needed to start. There would probably be a media blitz at the police station, and Tessa wanted no part of that.
“I suppose it wouldn’t be a bad thing to have a doctor look at my head,” she murmured, touching the sore spot.
“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Holly replied, taking her arm and urging outside.
Dawn had broken over the bay, bathing the town in a golden haze. The sky was deep pink, with dark clouds looming on the horizon. A winter storm was blowing in. She could feel moisture in the air, taste it in the salty wind that blew across the bay.
She hoped the weather would keep the gawkers away. She hoped it would prevent outsiders from arriving with cameras and questions.
She hoped, but she wasn’t counting on it.
She had the sinking feeling that everything she had worked for had been undone, and all she could do was pray she didn’t come undone with it.
She shuddered as she climbed into the front seat of Holly’s cruiser and closed the door.
* * *
Henry paced the corridor outside Everly’s hospital room, his cell phone in hand, his body humming with adrenaline. According to the physician who’d examined her, his daughter would be fine. She had been drugged but was otherwise unharmed. Blood tests had been taken and sent to the lab. They’d soon know what she’d been injected with.
Henry suspected they’d find midazolam in her system.
The thought filled him with dread.
In the past eighteen months, five young children had been taken from their homes. Each had been missing for several days and then been found dazed and alone at nearby public schools or medical clinics. The kidnappings had happened in small New England towns. All the victims had midazolam in their systems. All had multiple needle marks on their arms and legs. All had obvious signs of abuse but no memory of what had happened. Girls. Ranging in age from five to eight years. All of them pretty and dark-haired.
Just like Everly.
His hand clenched, his body tense with anger and frustration. The FBI special crimes unit had been working the case for several months, putting together a profile of the kidnapper and trying to find a pattern in either timing or location of the crimes.
Thus far, they had little to go on.
The perp was careful. He left no DNA evidence. No fingerprints. Nothing that would identify him. But he had an MO. One that was easily recognizable to anyone who’d read over the case files. He targeted older homes with poor security. He took children from quiet residential areas that had easy access to interstate roads. He struck in the early morning hours. Before dawn but after midnight. He cut through window screens and jimmied locks with silent precision.
Parents didn’t realize what had happened until they went to wake their daughters in the morning. Hours later. When it was too late to do anything but panic and call the police.
That would have been Everly’s story.
It would have been his.
If not for a stranger’s timely intervention, he would have walked into his daughters’ room and realized every parent’s worst nightmare had come true.
He pivoted, opening Everly’s door and peeking in. She was still out, tucked under layers of blankets—her dark hair had been braided by the nurse who sat by her side.
Briana or Brittany. He couldn’t remember which.
A police officer stood near a curtained window, his hand resting on the butt of his firearm. He didn’t speak. Just nodded in Henry’s direction.
The nurse smiled. “She’s still out, Mr. Miller. The doctor said it could be several hours.”
“I know,” he replied.
“She’ll be okay. She looks good. Vitals great. Heart rate, respiration, oxygen, all of it normal. You can have my seat, if you’d like to hold her hand. Sometimes, that makes parents feel better.”
He knew that.
He’d witnessed it firsthand with the parents of the girls who’d been kidnapped and returned. He’d stood in hospital rooms, asking questions as delicately as he could while they clutched the hands of the children they’d almost lost for
ever. Eventually, the perp might change his MO. Eventually, the girls might not be returned. He and his colleagues suspected the kidnappings were part of a child-pornography ring, and they were desperate to shut it down.
They would shut it down.
Not just because Everly had nearly been taken, but because every child deserved to have a safe and carefree childhood. He couldn’t change all the evils in the world, but he could change some of them. For as long as he could, for as many years as he was allowed, that was what he planned to do.
“Thanks. I’ll probably do that after I take the call I’m waiting on.” He smiled, because he knew his voice and tone were gruff. He felt raw and ripped open, his emotions exposed in a way he wasn’t used to.
“Sounds good.” She returned his smile and picked up a paperback, burying her nose in it as he closed the door.
The hospital was taking every precaution.
The local police were doing the same.
Henry appreciated that. He appreciated the fact that Everly was okay. She hadn’t been harmed. She’d have no memory of being kidnapped, no residual fear or trauma to recover from.
He still wished he’d been more careful. He’d known the security at his in-laws’ house was lacking. He had known the windows were old. He had also known that a serial kidnapper was on the loose targeting girls his daughters’ age.
But he had not thought it could happen to his family. He hadn’t wanted to believe that tragedy would strike twice in one lifetime. That God would allow him to suffer again. Not the way he had when Diane died.
He hadn’t prepared, and he hadn’t planned. He had almost paid the price for that. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
His phone rang, and he answered it, his voice terse. “Miller here.”
“This is not your fault,” his supervisor, Wren Santino, said, her tone brisk and business-like.
“When did you become a mind reader?” he replied, pacing a few feet from the room and then back again. His in-laws were on the way. He’d asked them to bring Aria. He wanted to keep both girls as close as possible until the perp was caught.
Lone Witness Page 3