Lone Witness Read online

  She’s keeping secrets. He must keep her safe.

  An FBI: Special Crimes Unit page-turner

  Were it not for Tessa Carlson, Special Agent Henry Miller’s daughter would have been abducted. But rescuing the little girl has thrust Tessa—a woman in hiding—into the media’s spotlight...and into a criminal’s crosshairs. Now her survival depends on putting her faith in widowed single father Henry if she wants to live to see another day.

  “What happened?”

  “It was a prank phone call,” Tessa said hurriedly. “I got spooked.”

  “What did the caller say?” Henry asked.

  “Nothing that made any sense.”

  “Can you be a little more specific?”

  “He said he knew what I had done,” she replied.

  “There’s someone you were thinking of? Someone who might want to scare you?”

  “The kidnapper pops to mind,” Kayla offered before Tessa could respond.

  Too bad. Henry would have liked to hear Tessa’s answer.

  He had a feeling the kidnapper hadn’t been the first person to pop into her mind. She’d told him very little about her past. But that seemed to be Tessa’s MO: very little information and very few details.

  He wanted to protect her.

  She wasn’t making it easy.

  He was about to tell her that when something crashed through the window a few feet away, smashing the pane of glass and shattering it into millions of tiny shards.

  “Get down!” he shouted, diving toward Tessa and tackling her to the ground as light flashed and a ball of fire shot across the room.

  Aside from her faith and her family, there’s not much Shirlee McCoy enjoys more than a good book! When she’s not hanging out with the people she loves most, she can be found plotting her next Love Inspired Suspense story or trekking through the wilderness, training with a local Search and Rescue team. Shirlee loves to hear from readers. If you have time, drop her a line at [email protected].

  Books by Shirlee McCoy

  Love Inspired Suspense

  FBI: Special Crimes Unit

  Night Stalker

  Gone

  Dangerous Sanctuary

  Lone Witness

  Mission: Rescue

  Protective Instincts

  Her Christmas Guardian

  Exit Strategy

  Deadly Christmas Secrets

  Mystery Child

  The Christmas Target

  Mistaken Identity

  Christmas on the Run

  Military K-9 Unit

  Valiant Defender

  Classified K-9 Unit

  Bodyguard

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  Lone Witness

  Shirlee McCoy

  Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.

  —Joshua 1:9

  To my children. Who know me well and love me anyway.

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  DEAR READER

  EXCERPT FROM GUARDING THE AMISH MIDWIFE BY DANA R. LYNN

  ONE

  Wind buffeted the windows of Tessa Carlson’s tiny cottage, rattling the glass as she rinsed her coffee mug and set it in the sink. Outside, thick shrubs brushed against the siding, scraping against the old wood shingles, the sound eerie and unnerving. Usually, she didn’t feel unsettled by the solitude of winter in Provincetown, Massachusetts. This morning, she felt a little anxious and a little off, as if all the hard work she’d done healing from the past had been wasted.

  Three years, four months, twelve hours.

  That’s how long it had been since she’d disappeared from Napa Valley. There’d been no missing person report. No emotional plea for her return. She doubted Patrick had cared that she was gone. Although, he’d cared a lot about his reputation. To have his girlfriend walk away had to have been a blow to his ego.

  Or, maybe not.

  He’d moved on quickly after she’d gone, stepping into a new relationship within months of Tessa’s exit from his life.

  She knew, because she’d kept tabs on him. She had been afraid not to.

  The man who had once been her Prince Charming, her path out of abject poverty, had become her worst nightmare. The abuse had been subtle at first. A quick insult. A veiled threat. Eventually, veiled threats had become overt. Words had become shoves and slaps. She had spent eight years believing things would get better and another planning her escape. She had known leaving was the only way to survive, but it had still been the most difficult thing she’d ever done.

  She’d grown up tough. She’d had no idea who her father was, and very little idea of what a mother should be. Hers had always been hopped up on drugs or coming down from a high. There’d been nothing stable about the life she’d lived in the Los Angeles projects, but she’d been working to get herself out when she’d met Patrick.

  He’d been the antithesis of everything she had hated about her life. Polished and refined, well-mannered and quick to offer compliments, he’d taken advantage of an eighteen-year-old’s desperation. She could see that now. At nearly thirty, she understood that she had been groomed to be his plaything, his prize. He had never loved her. He had loved the control he had over her.

  Still, nine years was a long time to be with someone. It was a long time to love someone who didn’t love you.

  If that’s what her feelings for Patrick had been.

  Even now, three years of contemplation later, she wasn’t sure. She had thought that she’d loved him. She knew that. By the time she’d left, all she had been able to feel was terror. She had planned to run as far as she could and create a new life that he would never be able to take from her. She had done that.

  If he found her, he’d be bent on destroying what she had built for herself. Out of spite. Out of a need for revenge.

  And, she had unwittingly given him the perfect means to do it, because she’d grabbed everything from the wall safe in his walk-in closet the day she’d left rather than just the items that had belonged to her.

  Money. Antique jewelry meant for his Napa Valley antiques store. The valuables were a drop of rain in the ocean of his wealth, but Patrick never forgot an insult. He never forgave a perceived wrong.

  She shuddered, stepping away from the sink and the darkness beyond the window.

  “He’s married now,” she reminded herself as she grabbed her coat and slid into it.

  She wanted to find comfort in that, but she couldn’t. Patrick had become engaged to the widow of his business partner, Ryan Wilder, less than a year after Tessa had left. Ryan had been murdered several months before Tessa fled. She had attended his funeral with Patrick and seen how deeply his widow, Sheila, had grieved. The fact that she and Patrick had married a few months ago surprised Tessa every time she thought about it.

  She tried not to thin
k 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 whirled around, the cap flying from his head. He had dark hair and those sunglasses. “I said, mind your business.”

  The venom in his voice made the hair on her arms stand o
n end. She knew the tone. She knew the threat it implied. “It is my business, if she’s not your daughter.”

  “She’s my daughter,” he growled, swinging back around and striding away.

  She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and dialed 911, because she didn’t dare take a chance that he was lying.

  Maybe he sensed what she was doing.

  Maybe he just glanced back to make certain she was no longer following. One way or another, he looked back and saw her with the phone pressed to her ear.

  “Hang up,” he said coldly.

  “Put the girl down,” she countered, the operator’s voice ringing in her ear.

  The man lunged, the child held in one arm, his free arm grabbing for the phone. He slapped it from Tessa’s hand, then shoved her so hard she fell backward. She scrambled after the phone, desperate to give her location. He kicked it across the pavement, then sprinted to the Jeep.

  Tessa screamed for help as she followed. He reached the Jeep seconds ahead of her, yanking open the back door and tossing the girl inside. He would have slammed the door closed, but Tessa grabbed his arm and pulled him away as she tried to get to the child.

  She was tugging the little girl out of the Jeep when his arm snaked around her throat. She tried to scream again, but his grip was too tight and no sound would come. She had no choice but to release the girl, to claw at his arm and shove backward into his thin frame. They tumbled to the ground, his curses ringing in her ears.

  She saw the barrel of the gun seconds before it was jabbed into her temple. “Get up,” he ordered.

  She did as she was told. Not because she was afraid to die, but because she was afraid of what would happen to the girl if he drove off alone with her.

  “Get in the Jeep,” he demanded.

  She hesitated, desperate to find a way out of the situation. One that would save her and the little girl.

  “I said, get in,” he nearly screamed, slamming the barrel of the gun into the side of her head.

  She saw stars, tasted blood, felt herself falling.

 
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