Lone Witness

by Shirlee McCoy

  More likely, once he had what he wanted, he’d kill her.

  She didn’t dare say what she was thinking.

  Jessica sidled forward again, and the guy pressed the knife a little deeper. The blade nicked the skin beneath Tessa’s jaw, and a bead of blood slid down her neck.

  She didn’t breathe.

  She didn’t swallow.

  She was afraid to blink.

  If she was killed, everything she’d worked for would be wasted.

  “Lady, I told you to back off!” the man shouted, and Jessica shrugged.

  “Fine. I’ll stay here. You go outside. My partner is waiting for you there.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Try me and see.” She tucked her firearm in the holster and folded her arms across her chest.

  “Where’s the other exit? I know there is one!” the man snarled, giving Tessa a little shake, the blade of the knife skipping across her throat.

  It might have sliced the skin, but she didn’t feel it.

  She couldn’t feel anything but the wild pounding of her heart.

  “Behind the pulpit,” she said, the words rattling like dry bones.

  “Let’s go.” He dragged her sideways, his focus on Jessica.

  “Patrick is just using you,” Tessa said, her mouth cottony with fear, her mind racing.

  Jessica hadn’t made another move toward them, and that had to mean something. She was a trained law-enforcement officer. The FBI had rigorous physical requirements. If she’d wanted to, she could have made a move or taken a shot.

  So, why wasn’t she?

  “I don’t care who uses me so long as they’re paying me well for the privilege.”

  “How much is he giving you?” Jessica asked. “A thousand? Two? What’s a life worth on today’s market?”

  “I already told you, I’m not here to hurt anybody. I’m here to get what this lady stole from her friend.” He dragged Tessa down the aisle near the windows. They were closing in on the pulpit. A few more feet and they’d be there, moving through the doorway in the back wall and heading for the exit.

  She needed to free herself before then.

  She glanced around, hoping that somewhere in the darkness of the sanctuary, she could find a weapon.

  A shadow moved near the pulpit. At first, she thought she was seeing things. Then it moved again, sliding between choir chairs, slowly and soundlessly moving toward them.

  “Did you kill Patrick’s partner—Ryan? Was that your first job?” Jessica asked, and Tessa realized she was creating a distraction, attempting to keep the man’s focus on something other than the front of the room and the shadow that was creeping closer.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man said, an edge to his voice that made Tessa doubt him.

  Was he Ryan’s killer?

  The thought sent cold rage shooting through her blood.

  “Sure you do. You got paid to go into an antiques shop and murder an innocent man. You took a few things to make it look like a robbery and gave them to Patrick in exchange for the rest of your payment. I guess you didn’t realize that the stuff you grabbed was worth way more than what he was paying.”

  “Shut up!” the man shouted.

  “I don’t think I have to,” Jessica replied with a taunting lilt in her voice.

  “I. Said. Shut. Up,” the man screamed, so focused on Jessica he didn’t see the person rising up from the floor behind him.

  Tessa couldn’t see a face or hair color, but she knew it was Henry. She could tell by the way he moved, quickly and silently, as he rushed toward an armed man without a thought for himself.

  Terrified that he’d be hurt, she jerked sideways, grabbing a hymnal from the end of a pew and smashing it into the man’s head. He cursed, tossing her backward. She slammed into the wall, her head banging into limestone, stars dancing at the edges of her vision.

  She tried to move, but her body was uncoordinated, her movements clumsy. She had a quick glimpse of the knife slicing toward her through the darkness, and then Henry tackled the man from behind, and they both crashed to the floor.

  * * *

  The guy was big, and he was strong, but Henry was well-trained and angry. He managed to flip the perp onto his stomach and hike up the arm holding the knife behind his back.

  The man yelped and the knife dropped from his fingers.

  “You’re going to break my arm, man!” he yelled.

  “Stop struggling, and you won’t have to worry about that,” Jessica suggested, pulling handcuffs from beneath her jacket.

  “This is all a misunderstanding. A prank gone wrong,” the guy replied, still trying to free himself.

  Henry yanked up his hand a little higher. “Pranks that involve knives and threats aren’t funny.”

  “You can ask her ex. He’ll tell you. He hired me to scare her a little. Teach her a lesson for leaving him like she did.”

  “And you were going to retrieve a few things for him while you were at it?” Henry accepted the cuffs from Jessica and snapped them on, then pulled the guy to his feet.

  “I was doing what he asked me to.”

  “What he paid you to do?” Jessica suggested.

  “What’s it matter?”

  “Police!” a man called from the vestibule.

  The doors opened, light flooding the room as two uninformed officers stepped across the threshold. Guns drawn, bodies stiff with tension, they gestured for Henry to step away from the cuffed man.

  “Everyone on the ground. Hands where we can see them.”

  “I’m cuffed. These jokers cuffed me,” the perp yelled, but he dropped to his knees and then his stomach.

  He knew the drill.

  Henry did, too.

  His ID was in his pocket, and within minutes he was free to stand up and move around.

  Tessa was sitting a few feet away, her face pale, a smudge of blood on her neck. Dwarfed in Henry’s coat, she looked small and very much alone.

  He pulled her to her feet, tugged her into his arms.

  She rested her forehead against his chest, her body stiff. “I am so sorry, Henry,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “Bringing this here.”

  “You didn’t. Patrick did.”

  “That’s an easy out, and I’m not going to take it. I should have gone to the police before I left Napa Valley. I should have pressed charges. I should have—”

  “Don’t,” he said, because he’d heard the same kind of comments dozens of times from dozens of victims who’d believed that they could have somehow changed the course of things.

  “What?” She stepped back. “Tell the truth?”

  “You are not to blame for what happened to you.”

  “I’m not concerned about what happened to me. I’m concerned about everyone else whose lives have been turned upside down because of choices I’ve made.” She glanced at the handcuffed man. “I really need to get some air.”

  She stepped past Henry, ignoring an officer who told her to wait.

  Henry followed, walking through the vestibule and into the icy rain. Chief Simpson was striding across the lot, and Tessa pivoted in the other direction.

  “Everything okay?” the chief asked, his rain gear slick with moisture.

  “That depends on who you ask.”

  “I’d ask Tessa, but she doesn’t look like she’s in the mood for talking.”

  “The guy we just apprehended claims her ex sent him here.”

  “I’ve made some calls. Patrick Hamilton has been out of the country on a buying trip for the past month. He traveled to China, and now he’s in Thailand.”

  “Who’d you hear that from?” Henry asked, his attention still on Tessa. She’d reached the edge of the lot and was stepping into the icy fie
ld that led to the cemetery.

  “His wife. She faxed me copies of the tickets and his visa. I checked with the airport. He was on the plane four weeks ago.”

  “Long-distance calls are pretty cheap nowadays. He could have arranged all of this without stepping foot back in the country.”

  “He could have, and maybe he did, but that’s something we have to prove. Right now, all I have are a few fingerprints we pulled from Tessa’s place. We already ran them through the system and got a hit. Justin Carter. Felony arrest in California two years ago for robbery. No weapon involved, and the judge let him off with probation. I’ve asked the California state police to see if they can track him down.”

  “I have a feeling they’re not going to need to,” Henry said. “We’ve probably got him cuffed in the church.”

  “That would sure make my life easier.” Chief Simpson shifted his attention to Tessa. She was still picking her way across the field. “We’ll need to get her testimony eventually, but we’ve processed her house. Maybe you should bring her back home. Let her get some rest. She’s been through a lot these past few weeks. Your associate is inside, right? She witnessed what went down in the church?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll get her statement and then give her a lift back to your in-laws’ place. I wanted to stop by there and check on the Banning kid anyway.”

  “Has his father decided to talk?”

  “He still has his lips sealed tighter than the doors of Fort Knox. We tried to trace the number the photos were texted to, but the phone was prepaid. Interesting thing, though—money was transferred into his bank account last night. Eight-hundred dollars.”

  “From?”

  “An offshore account. No way to trace it. Like the phone, it’s a dead-end.”

  “That’s not much of a price for spending the rest of your life in jail.” But, maybe for Tom, it was enough.

  “No, but it would pay for a couple months of medication for Mrs. Banning,” the chief responded. “Unfortunately, she doesn’t have access to the account. It’s in Tom’s name. There’s another account that she’s co-listed on. Three dollars and fifty-two cents in that one.”

  “Great guy,” Henry muttered.

  “My thoughts exactly. The church is gathering a special offering to help offset some of her medical costs. And, some of the local businesses are offering food and services to the Bannings for free. The world isn’t as dark a place as people like Tom make it appear to be. You’d better catch Tessa before she walks herself right into the Atlantic Ocean.”

  Henry followed Tessa’s path across the parking lot and into the field. She’d made it into the oldest section of the cemetery and was walking on a narrow dirt path, her hands shoved in the pockets of his coat, her ponytail crooked, tendrils of hair clinging to her nape and her shoulders.

  “Tessa!” he called, not wanting to startle her.

  She stopped but didn’t turn to look at him.

  “It’s not the best night for a leisurely stroll,” he said as he reached her side.

  “I’ve always liked snow,” she replied.

  “It’s more ice than snow tonight.”

  “I’m still going to enjoy it.” She raised her face to the sky, and he could see that she was crying.

  “He’s not worth your tears, Tessa.”

  “I’m not crying about him.” She didn’t wipe away the tears, and she didn’t lower her face. She let snow, ice and tears slide down her cheeks and drip down into the hollow of her throat.

  “Then what are the tears for?” They reached a small gazebo that had been erected decades ago, its white cupola a shelter for weary wanderers. Tiny fairy lights had been strung from the eaves, and they flickered as the wind blew through.

  “I love this place,” Tessa said, ignoring the question as she walked into the gazebo and sat on a bench. “During the day, you can see the bay from here.”

  “And at night, when the sky is clear, you can see a million stars dancing over the ocean. Or that’s what Aria tells me. The girls and I have spent a lot of time here. Sometimes, in the summer, we stay and watch the fireflies.”

  “Is Diane buried in the cemetery?”

  “Yes. Provincetown was her favorite place. It seemed like what she’d want.”

  “I’m sorry, Henry. I know you were looking forward to sharing a lifetime with her,” she said.

  “We shared her lifetime. It’s taken me a lot of years, but I’ve realized that is enough.”

  “Enough for what?” she asked, scuffing the toe of her foot against the floorboards. If she was still crying, he couldn’t tell. Melted snow and ice were dripping from her hair and sliding down her face.

  “Enough to be happy with.” He brushed moisture from her cheeks, her skin cold against his warm palms. “Tell me why you were crying.”

  “I spent nine years living in a graveyard of dead dreams, pretending it was Cinderella’s castle. If that’s not sad enough to cry over, I don’t know what is.”

  “You were young—”

  “I don’t want platitudes, Henry. I want to plant flowers in the wreckage of my old life, and then I want to watch them bloom.”

  “So, plant them,” he said, his hands slipping from her cheeks to her shoulders.

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “It’s as easy as you allow it to be,” he responded, studying her face and seeing the fearful girl she’d been and the determined woman she’d become.

  He touched the scar near her temple, his fingers drifting over the narrow white line. “You’re stronger than you think you are, Tessa.”

  “I know I’m strong, but I’m also really tired.” She bit her lower lip, her gaze shifting away, and he wondered if she was thinking about sleepless nights filled with terror and long days spent trying to avoid the inevitable abuse. Or, if she was thinking about more recent events and wondering if her life would ever really be her own.

  “Tomorrow will be a better day,” he said.

  “Another platitude?” She stood, and he did the same, touching her waist when she would have walked away.

  “Would you rather have a truth?”

  “Always.”

  “Maybe it won’t be better, but you’re going to face it down just like you did this one and the one before it. And, if all you can do is keep facing your troubles head-on one day at a time, that’s what you’ll do. Until, one day, you look back and you can’t believe how far you’ve come.”

  “One day seems like a long way away,” she said, but there was a smile at the corners of her mouth and the hint of one in her eyes.

  “Just finish today before you worry about that.” He touched the thin scar near her temple, tracing it to her ear. He should have stopped there. It would have been the wise thing to do.

  But he traced a line from her ear to her mouth, touching the tiny curve at the corner of it. He bent his head and kissed the spot, tasting the smile on her lips.

  It didn’t seem like enough.

  He pulled her closer, his fingers splayed across her back as he kissed her again.

  The world stood still, the rain and snow hung suspended in the sky and everything Henry thought he knew about himself shifted.

  Because he’d never expected to fall in love again.

  Diane had been his first love, and he’d planned for her to be his last.

  But he was falling for Tessa, losing himself to her courage, her strength, her determination. His heart had known that long before he’d kissed her.

  He pulled back, looked into her face. “Tessa—”

  “What was that for?” she asked, her fingers pressed to her lips as if she could feel the heat of his kiss there.

  “You. Me. Us.”

  “There is no us.”

  “There could be.”

  “For how long? A few weeks? A mon
th? Will we last until spring arrives and someone better comes along?” Her voice was shaking, her hands fisted, and he realized he’d made a mistake. He’d moved too fast, given her the impression that her beauty was all he was interested in.

  “If you think any of those things, you don’t know me very well,” he said calmly, stepping back to give her some space. Fairy lights were shimmering in her hair, and moisture was sliding down her cheeks. This time, he knew it was from her tears.

  “What else is there, Henry, besides a few months of fun? A guy like you doesn’t spend forever with a woman like me,” she replied. Despite the tears, her eyes were cold, her expression hard.

  “Exactly what kind of guy am I? And what kind of woman are you?” he asked.

  “You’re a professional. You make good money. You have a nice future ahead of you and two beautiful little girls who need to have good influences in their lives. Not bad ones.”

  “If you’re implying that you’re a bad influence and shouldn’t be around the girls, then I think we need to spend some time talking about what being a bad influence actually means.”

  “I’m not implying anything. I’m stating that you and I come from different worlds.”

  “And?”

  “It’s probably best if we stay in them.”

  “If that’s the best excuse you can come up with for keeping your distance, it’s not a very good one.” He sounded cold. He felt cold. He was a lot of things, but he wasn’t judgmental.

  “It’s not an excuse for anything.”

  “Right,” he muttered “And I’m not the father of two girls.”

  “You don’t understand, Henry.”

  “Then explain it so I do.”

  “I’m trying to make this easy on both of us,” she said.

  “Make what easy? Because, from where I’m standing, our relationship was plenty easy. Until you decided to complicate it.”

  “See? That’s what I mean. You’re talking about a relationship. I don’t want one.”

  “There are all kinds of relationships, Tessa,” he said, biting out each word. “Which kinds do you not want?”

  She pressed her lips together, and he knew what she’d almost said—that she didn’t want any relationships. That she’d been happy and content to be on her own, living a solitary existence in her little college.”