Lone Witness

“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 forever. 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.

And he would be caught.

Henry had been able to provide a description of the Jeep. No plate number, but he was hopeful exterior security cameras at local businesses might offer more identifying features.

And then there was the witness.

Tessa Carlson. When she had disappeared from the scene, Henry had been afraid she might not be found. Fortunately, she worked at a Provincetown diner and everyone on the local police force seemed to know her. She had been easy to track down. He was hopeful she had been able to provide a description of the perpetrator.

“It doesn’t take a mind reader to know what you’re thinking,” Wren said. “According to the message you left, Everly was possibly drugged with midazolam. I’m sure you’re making the same connections I am.”

“What other connections are there?”

“It’s possible another drug was used. If that is the case, this may be the job of a copycat.”

“Copying what? Information about the kidnappings hasn’t been released to the public.”

“The public may not realize a serial kidnapper is on the loose, but the stories haven’t been kept quiet.”

“The information about the girls being drugged has,” he argued, because he knew in his gut that the man who’d attempted to take Everly was the same one who had kidnapped the other girls.

“I know, and I’m not saying you’re wrong in making these connections. I’m just saying we need confirmation before we can say anything with any certainty.”

“Agreed.” Because, that was the way investigations were run. Gather the facts rather than make assumptions based on hunches.

“Have you had a chance to speak with the witness?” Wren asked.

“Not yet. She has a head injury and is being treated. She did leave the scene after the police arrived. They had to track her to her place of employment.”

“That’s interesting.”

“If by interesting you mean suspicious, I agree.”

“You don’t think she was involved in the attempted kidnapping, do you?” Wren asked, the sudden sharpness in her voice letting him know that she was very interested in his answer.

He thought about the way Tessa had looked when she’d jumped out of the Jeep, with Everly held to her chest as she’d skidded across the pavement on her knees. She could have left his daughter behind. She had had no idea that he was following. “No, I don’t. But I think she’s hiding something.”

“If it’s not illegal, it’s none of our business.”

“Right now, my only business is making sure the guy who tried to kidnap my daughter is found and tossed in jail.”

“I understand. The team and I are standing behind you. We’ll do whatever it takes to make certain your girls stay safe and that the kidnapper is brought to justice. Jessica and I are on our way to Provincetown. We should be there in a couple of hours. See what you can get out of the witness before we arrive, okay? I’m curious to match her description with Jessica’s profile of the kidnapper.”

“Will do. I’ll give you the information I gather when you arrive,” he assured her.

“Great. See you soon, Henry.” She disconnected, and he slid the phone into his pocket, his gaze shifting to the end of the hall and the elevator doors that were opening.

His in-laws stepped out, Aria between them, mittened hands clutching theirs, her cheeks pink from the cold. She was a quieter version of her sister. Introspective and introverted, she tended to allow Everly to lead the way into new adventures. She would have been lost without her sister.

“Daddy!” she cried, breaking free and running toward him.

“Hey, munchkin!” he responded, lifting her and giving her a hug that might have been just a little too tight.

“I’m not a munchkin. I’m a young lady,” Aria corrected him, her expression somber and serious.

“Of course, you aren’t a munchkin. That’s just a figure of speech.”

“I know, but I wanted to remind you. Where’s Everly?” she asked. “Nana said she was at the hospital, but I didn’t believe her. Sister never gets sick.”

“You’re right. She doesn’t, but Nana never tells tales, either. Your sister really is here.” He set Aria on her feet and kissed her forehead.

“Why?” she asked, holding onto his hand and looking up into his face.

The girls were identical, their eyes the same shade of blue, their hair the same raven-black, but Aria was shorter and seemingly frailer, her scrawny frame currently hidden beneath layers of fabric and a heavy winter coat.

“She was sleeping a little too hard, and I got worried, so I brought her here,” he replied, trying to give her a response that would make sense to a not-quite six-year-old.

“That’s silly, Daddy,” she replied. “You always sleep too hard, and we don’t take you to the hospital.”

“Yes, but I’m not your sister. You know she barely ever sleeps, and when she does, she’s always easy to wake.”

“That’s true. Maybe, I should check on her. She’s probably scared,” she said with a frown.

“She’s still asleep, but you can see her.” He met his mother-in-law’s eyes. “I’m sure Nana and Pop-pop won’t mind bringing you in the room. I have a few things I need to take care of.”

“Of course we wouldn’t,” Rachelle said, her voice trembling. She stepped into the hospital room, urging Aria to follow. She was as shaken as Henry and trying not to show it. A long-time ER nurse, she usually had a calm approach to emergencies. Right now, she seemed on the edge of falling apart.

He started to follow, worried about her as much as he was about the girls.

Brett touched his shoulder. “She’s okay,” he said.

“She looks shaken.”

“She is, but she’d rather not know that we know it.” Brett ran a hand through his thick gray hair. “I feel terrible about this, Henry.”

“Nothing that happened is your fault. You and Rachelle have nothing to feel bad about.”

“I should have put new windows in. Better locks. A security system.”

“Provincetown is a safe community. You had no way of knowing something like this would happen.”

“Maybe not, but I still feel terrible. How is Everly?”

“The doctor said she would be fine.”

“And the other victim? I heard she had a head injury.”

It took a moment for the words to make sense.

Henry had been thinking of Tessa as a witness.

Brett was right, though. She was also a victim.

“I haven’t heard much except that she’s been admitted.”

“I wonder if there is anything I can to do help. We owe her a lot. If she hadn’t intervened, our Everly might not be with us.” A semiretired neurosurgeon, Brett had earned a reputation as being one of the best in his field. He still taught classes and gave lectures, and if it was warranted, assisted in cutting-edge neurosurgeries in Boston.

“I spoke to her before the ambulance transported Everly. She seemed lucid, but I’m going to check on her. I’ll let you know if things are worse than I suspect.”

“Rachelle and I will stay close to the girls until you’re back,” Brett said, his dark eyes so much like Diane’s that Henry had to look away.

“Thanks. I’ll hurry.”

“Take your time. We’ll work out a plan of action when you return.” Brett stepped into the room and closed the door.

Henry hesitated for just long enough to convince himself that a police officer, a nurse and his in-laws were plenty of protection for the girls. Then he walked to the nurses’ station and asked for Tessa’s room number.

The nurse gave it after she checked a master list of people who were allowed information about and access to Tessa and Everly. It was a short list. One Henry had helped create.

Hospital staff were on high alert, watching for unusual activity and turning away the press, who was already gathering outside the hospital.

A little girl had nearly been kidnapped.

A stranger had saved her.

There would be no hiding that from the local press, and Henry was confident national syndicates would pick up the story. For now, the hospital and police were keeping the victim’s identity and the identity of the hero who’d intervened secret.

That was normal protocol, but this wasn’t a normal case.

Not to Henry.

The perpetrator preyed on innocent children.

The victim was his daughter.

And he owed Tessa Carlson more than he could ever repay.

He would keep that debt in the forefront of his mind when he questioned her. He would also remember Brett’s comment—Tessa was a victim, too. But he wanted answers, and he wanted them quickly. He wanted to know why she’d walked away when the police arrived. He wanted to know what she’d seen, and what she was hiding.

He wanted to take whatever information she had and use it to track down the monster who had gone after Everly and who wouldn’t stop preying on the innocent until he was caught.

That was Henry’s goal and his mission, and he wouldn’t allow Tessa’s obvious reluctance keep him from achieving it.

THREE

Tessa’s experience with law enforcement had never been good. As a child living in the projects in Los Angeles, she’d been pulled out of bed dozens of times, taken outside by stone-faced officers who were more interested in checking her room for drugs than in making certain she wasn’t traumatized. She’d learned to wear street clothes to bed, so that she didn’t have to face the embarrassment of being outside in her threadbare nightclothes or too-small shorts and tank top. There had been many times when she’d watched as her mother was handcuffed and carted away. She had sat in the back of police cruisers waiting for her grandmother to walk the half mile that separated their rentals, inhaling the scent of vomit and urine while she tried not to cry.

Life in the projects had not been easy.

Being her mother’s daughter had not been easy.

Both had taught her the importance of staying on the right side of the law, steering clear of trouble and avoiding the police at all costs.

She tried not to show any of that as she perched on the edge of the hospital bed and answered Chief Carmichael Simpson’s questions. Dressed in street clothes, his short-cropped hair sprinkled with gray, he paced her room, a pad of paper in one hand, a pen in the other. Two uniformed officers stood near the door. Darrell Mitchel and Kayla Delphina were regulars at the diner, and Kayla attended Faith Community Church. Other than that, Tessa knew nothing about her and nothing about Darrell. Right now, she wouldn’t have minded a connection, a smiling face, someone aside from the taciturn police chief to focus on.

“So, what you’re saying is that you were walking to work before dawn in thirty-five-degree weather when the forecasters were calling for freezing rain?” Chief Simpson said, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

At least, that was what she thought she was hearing.

It was possible her perception was tainted by past bad experiences. Patrick had questioned and criticized everything, and she’d learned to always be on guard.

She swallowed a terse reply and plastered on the smile she wore when she had to deal with frustrating customers at the diner. “My car is on its last legs, Chief Simpson. I try to put as little mileage on it as possible.”

“It’s about two miles from your place to the diner.” He glanced at his notepad as if it contained the information. She knew it didn’t. Like everyone else in town, he knew where she lived. Like everyone else, he knew she walked most days in most kinds of weather.

“That’s right, and as I’m sure you know, I almost always choose to walk,” she responded, the smile still plastered to her face.

“Even in the winter?” he asked.

“It’s winter now, and I was walking outside,” she pointed out.

“That’s not an answer,” he murmured.

“Walking to work is not a crime, Chief,” Kayla commented, crossing her arms over her chest. “I walk around after dark all the time. Provincetown has a low crime rate.”

“Point noted, officer,” the chief said, his focus still on the notebook. “But I believe I directed the question at Ms. Carlson.”

“As Officer Delphina pointed out, it’s a safe town. I walk to work all the time. You can ask my boss, Ernie Baylor. He owns the diner,” Tessa said.

“We all know who Ernie is, Ms. Carlson. We all know the diner,” the chief replied, finally meeting her eyes. “If I’m giving you the impression that you’ve done something wrong, I apologize. You saved a little girl’s life, and you deserve all the praise that’s coming to you. But I don’t like when these sorts of things happen in my town. The kidnapping of a child is something I take very seriously, and I want to get to the bottom of it as quickly as—”

Someone knocked on the door and it opened, a tall, sandy-haired man stepping into the room. He looked familiar, his hard face and lean muscular form reminding her of someone.

“Tessa,” he said, striding toward her and offering a hand. “I’m Henry Miller. Everly’s father.”

Of course!

“Special Agent Miller,” the chief said, before she could respond. “How is your daughter?”

“Call me Henry, and she’s still unconscious, but the doctor says she will make a full recovery.”

“I’m relieved to hear that, and I want to assure you that we plan to work in full cooperation with your team once it arrives.”

“My supervisor will appreciate that,” Henry replied, his gaze never leaving Tessa. He had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, and his lashes were dark brown and tipped with gold.

“How are you feeling, Tessa?” he asked, and she knew it was only the first of many questions he planned to ask.

“Aside from a headache, fine,” she replied, wishing she had the courage to tell all of them to leave the room. She needed some time to think things through, to make decisions about how much of her past she wanted to reveal.

Any of it felt like too much, but she was afraid they would dig for answers if she avoided questions.

Then again, maybe they wouldn’t ask about anything except that night and the kidnapping.

“I’m glad. You risked a lot to help my daughter, and I want you to know how much I appreciate that.” He was studying her face, his gaze stopping for a moment too long on the narrow white line that cut from her ear to her temple.

She tensed, waiting for him to ask how she’d gotten it.

Instead, he met her eyes again. “I owe you a lot.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” she said, and she meant it.

“We’ll have to agree to disagree.” He grabbed a chair that was sitting against the wall and placed it in front of her.