Lone Witness. Shirlee McCoyЧитать онлайн книгу.
thought about it.
She tried not to think about it.
Just like she tried not to think about Patrick. Skimming online articles from Napa Valley gave her quick glimpses into the high-society life she had once lived and reassured her that Patrick was busy living a life that didn’t include her. She didn’t miss him or the life she’d had with him. She wasn’t mourning what she’d lost. She certainly wasn’t jealous of Patrick’s marriage.
She was worried.
Always. Every day. She lived with the fear that Patrick would find her and use the theft of his belongings as a bargaining tool to force her back into a life she hated.
If she’d been thinking clearly at the time, she would have realized taking anything out of the safe would be a mistake. Even the beautiful and expensive jewelry Patrick had gifted her during their relationship should have been left behind.
She’d been desperate to secure her future, and she had been in a rush to grab all the pricey pieces he’d given her. She’d been terrified Patrick would return home, so she hadn’t taken time to look at each item. She’d taken everything and tossed it into an oversize purse before closing the safe and fleeing.
Her reason didn’t make her feel better.
What she’d done was wrong.
She knew that now.
Then, all she’d known was how afraid she was.
She glanced at her watch and frowned.
Time was ticking away while she worried about a past that she had left far behind. She had a diner to open, and if she was late doing it, her boss would not be happy. Ernie wouldn’t fire her, but he’d be disappointed, and he’d let her know it. He’d taken a chance when he’d promoted her to day-shift manager, and she’d worked hard to ensure that he didn’t regret it.
She grabbed her purse from a hook near the door and stepped outside, locking the door and checking it twice. Just like she always did.
Even with the wind whispering through dry grass and dead leaves, the morning seemed quiet. The distant sound of waves lapping against the shore was the only reminder that Provincetown was a thriving tourist destination. In the spring and summer, the beaches teemed with people, but in the winter, the sandy windswept dunes were nearly devoid of life. That was when Tessa loved it most.
She hurried down the path that led to the road, scanning the area for signs that she wasn’t alone. She didn’t expect to see anyone. In the years that she’d been walking to Ernie’s Diner, she’d only ever run into people during the summer months, when the sun rose early and excited vacationers rose with it. During the coldest months, she enjoyed her solitude, making the walk through the icy darkness as the sun made its way above the horizon.
The dead-end street she lived on was lined with rental cottages, all of them empty in the fall and winter. The one she occupied belonged to Ernie and his wife, Betty. They’d offered it for a good price, and she had been happy to accept.
She had been renting the place for nearly as long as she had been in the Cape Cod town. Some days it felt like home. Other days, it felt like a place to stay for a while. She’d have her nursing degree at the end of the school year. She’d take her RN exam in the summer. If she passed—when she passed—she’d have good job prospects and options for where she wanted to live.
Life was working out the way she’d planned.
Maybe that was why she’d felt so anxious lately. She didn’t expect good things to happen. Even when she was living right, doing right and following the rules, she expected the gavel to fall and her life to be thrown into chaos again.
Betty often told her that God had good things in store, and Tessa wanted to believe it. She certainly believed that He’d brought her to Provincetown and given her the chance she needed to begin again.
As for the rest, she wasn’t sure.
She only knew she had to keep moving forward and hoping for the best.
She turned left at the end of the road, bypassing several empty houses as she walked toward the more populated residential area. Ernie’s Diner was in the heart of Provincetown’s business district. Sandwiched between an art gallery and a small motel, it came alive in the late spring and summer and quieted down as cold weather moved in. A skeleton crew worked through winter, and it was the manager’s job to prep for the morning rush. Tessa didn’t mind. She enjoyed being alone in the diner, setting the tables and sweeping the floor, checking the restrooms and the previous evening’s receipts.
Even in the winter, the diner had a busy breakfast and dinner rush. She enjoyed that, too. There was something cathartic about the routine of small-town life. As much as she thought it might be best to go to a big city once she’d attained her nursing license, she couldn’t help thinking about how much she’d miss Provincetown.
She sighed, the cold wind stinging her cheeks and seeping through her black slacks. She shoved her hands into her pockets, her purse thumping her as she half jogged down a narrow side street.
She could see the Pilgrim’s Monument glowing in the distance, the tower standing tall against the dark morning sky. This area of town was well-lit, lights gleaming from front porches and shining down from streetlights that dotted the road. Just a few more blocks, and she’d turn onto Commercial Street. Ernie’s Diner was ten blocks down. A mile and a half walk from her place but an easy one.
Even in this busier area of town, she wasn’t expecting to see anyone outside before dawn. Not in the winter with the wind chill hovering just above freezing. Most people who commuted to Boston for work were already at the small regional airport, waiting to board the commuter flight. Those that worked in town were still in bed. The shadow that emerged from between two houses was so startling, she jumped back, putting an old elm between herself and the dark figure. Broad-shouldered and moving quickly, it appeared to be a man. That was enough to make her step back again. She was three houses away, frozen in fear, watching as he stepped into the street, a pile of blankets in his arms.
No. Not blankets. A child with long dark hair. One arm flopping out from beneath the covers. She told herself they were father and daughter, off on a long-weekend adventure together. But something about the child’s stillness bothered her. She wasn’t a mother. She had no real experience with kids, but she’d seen plenty of them in the diner—fidgeting, moving, talking... always busy. Even asleep, children seemed to be in a perpetual state of awareness. One little nudge, and they were awake and on the move.
This little girl was still, only one arm swaying with the man’s loping movements. He was heading across the road—a streetlight was shining on his baseball cap, and Tessa could make out pale skin and sunglasses.
And that wasn’t right, either. The sunglasses. Not before dawn.
Tessa told herself that it wasn’t her business. She reminded herself that she had a lot to lose if she called attention to herself or caused any trouble in the quiet neighborhood. She tried to turn her back and pretend she hadn’t seen anything, but she couldn’t live with the consequences of inaction. If the next biggest news story was about a little girl stolen from her home, then what? Would Tessa step forward and give an account of what she’d seen? Too late to stop it? Too late to help?
“Good morning,” she called, stepping out from behind the tree, her heart hammering against her ribs.
A tiny hesitation in his stride was the only evidence the man gave that he’d heard her.
“It’s awfully cold this morning, isn’t it?” she asked, following him up the street toward a Jeep that sat near the corner of the road.
“Too cold for a conversation,” the man finally replied, nearly jogging now.
“Is that your daughter?”
“Mind your business, lady,” he growled, the Jeep just a few yards away.
“So, she’s not.”
He