Shirlee McCoy - Lone Witness

“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 arrived 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.”