Читать книгу Lone Witness - Shirlee McCoy - Страница 13

A bullet pinged off the brick building, the casing dropping to the ground and rolling under trash that littered the alley. Another slammed into the ground just beyond the Dumpster they were hiding behind.

Sirens screamed in the distance, but help was too far away. The next bullet could pierce the metal and slam into Tessa, the little girl she carried or the man who’d shoved them behind the Dumpster.

“We need to get out of here!” Tessa yelled as a third bullet hit the building just above them. Bits of brick and mortar rained down, clattering onto the ground and skipping across the concrete.

“It’s okay,” the man said, pressing her into the old brick wall. She knew the alley, the buildings on either side—a barber shop and an art shop—the streets that crossed in front and behind it. She knew where she was, but she doubted the police did, and she doubted that staying where they were was going to make anything okay.

“It is not okay,” she whispered, shoving against his solid weight, the little girl still in her arms.

“It will be,” he replied.

“How do you know?”

“He’s not going to come around the Dumpster. He has no idea if I’m armed.”

“He is armed. That’s what’s going to matter to him.”

“What is going to matter to him is escaping. He might want to get rid of a witness, but he won’t risk losing his freedom to do it.”

It made sense, but that didn’t make her feel any less like a sitting duck.

She shivered, her body smashed between the wall and the man.

She hated the feeling of helplessness that brought, the memories that clawed at the back of her mind. Other dark mornings and late nights when fear had made her cower and beg. When she’d fled Patrick, she’d promised herself that she would never do those things again. That she would fight or go down trying to.

She tried to move, but the man was a solid mass of muscle and sinew, all of it focused on keeping her where she was.

“Let me go,” she demanded, her voice shaking.

She hated that as much as she hated feeling helpless.

He stepped back, just enough to let her breathe. She inhaled cold air and baby shampoo. She’d done what she’d set out to do. She’d kept a child from being kidnapped. Now, she wanted to go to the diner and get back to the familiar routine of prepping for opening. That felt safe to her, and it felt more right than staying in the cold alley waiting for the police to arrive.

“I need to get to my job,” she murmured.

“Your boss will understand if you don’t show up,” the man said gently, reaching for the little girl and taking her from Tessa’s arms.

“You don’t know my boss.”

“No. I don’t,” he said, his attention on the child.

“He’s counting on me to open the diner.”

“The police will want to speak to you first.”

“They can find me at Ernie’s.” She knew it was unreasonable. She knew that she needed to stay where she was. The police would want to speak to her. She’d have to give a statement. There’d be dozens of questions about what had happened and what she’d seen.

But, all she wanted to do was walk away.

Just like she’d done three years ago.

She knew that wouldn’t solve anything. Running from problems never did. Her grandmother used to tell her that. The one person in her childhood who had actually cared, Hester had done her best to give Tessa a firm foundation on which she could build a better future.

It had taken way too many years for Tessa to do that.

“The police will know where that is,” she continued.

“You’re in shock. You’re not thinking clearly. If you were, you’d realize that the best thing for you and my daughter is to wait here until police and medics arrive,” the man said in the calm and patient tone she would have used with a screaming toddler tossing biscuits on the floor of the diner.

“Is she really your daughter?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry this happened to her.”

“Me, too,” he responded, frowning as he looked at the little girl. “She’s never this soundly asleep. Everly?” He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.

“Her pulse is good. I checked in the Jeep.”

“Thank you for doing that, and for saving her.” He shrugged out of his jacket and spread it on the ground, stepping far enough away that Tessa could have left if she’d really wanted to. He laid Everly on the coat, checking her pulse and then running his hands down her arms and legs.

“No breaks,” he murmured, reaching into his back pocket and tossing a phone in Tessa’s direction. “Can you call nine-one-one? Give the police our location and ask for an ambulance. Make sure they know this is related to the report of a kidnapping.”

She made the call, her hands shaking, her voice trembling. When the operator asked for her name, she hesitated before giving it. She’d worked hard to create a life she could be proud of, one she thought that God would approve of and that her grandmother, who’d died when she was fourteen, would have applauded. She was risking that by allowing herself to be drawn into someone else’s drama. The fact was, in the past, she’d done things she wasn’t proud of. None of the people in her new life knew that. None of them really knew her. Not the real her. She wanted to keep it that way.

But, she also wanted to help.

She wanted to make certain that the person who’d tried to kidnap Everly didn’t try to kidnap another child. She wanted to do the right thing, because it was right. Even if it cost her everything she’d worked for.

She crouched next to the man and his daughter, watching as he checked the little girl’s bruised shins and bare feet. He pushed up the sleeves of her nightgown, turned her arms so the exterior building lights fell on them. There was a smudge of blood on one arm, and he paused, studying it for a moment.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Puncture wound. She was drugged.” He took off his flannel shirt and tucked it around Everly, his face hard, his expression unreadable. He had a five-o’clock shadow on his chin and dark circles beneath his eyes. Short hair. Muscular build. Even if he hadn’t told her he was with the FBI, she’d have guessed he was law enforcement or military.

“Your wife must be worried sick,” she said, imagining the girl’s mother waiting at home, praying that her daughter would be returned. “Maybe you should call her and let her know you found Everly?”

She handed him the phone, and he tucked it into his pocket. “Her mother died the day she and her twin were born.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said.

“Thank you. It was difficult. Some days, it still is. Diane was a wonderful person. She would have been a great mother. I wish she would have at least had the chance to meet her daughters.”

“I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to grieve her loss while trying to take care of two newborns.”

“They were in the NICU for a while, and my in-laws were a huge help. By the time I brought the girls home, I had people lined up to step in and help out. I’m very fortunate in my friends, and I’m very fortunate tonight ended as well as it did.” He touched Everly’s cheek, tucked the shirt around her a little more tightly.

Police lights flashed on the pavement and a radio crackled. Help had arrived. Soon half the population of Provincetown would be aware of the attempted kidnapping. People would be congregating on the street, trying to get a look at the girl and her rescuers. There would be local reporters jockeying for position, trying to get the best photo and the best answers to the most insightful questions.

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 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.”

“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.