Shirlee McCoy - Lone Witness

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.