The Witness

Beep… 

“Geez!” Tires squelching to a sudden stop, my head smacks against the steering wheel before my seat belt has a chance to engage, and I’m thrown backwards. Hello whiplash. All the air expels from my lungs as I open my eyes. Knuckles white, clutching my steering wheel. I look at the blue sedan that just cut me off. 

“Asshole! What an idiot.” Quickly I accelerate; I want to see why this prick was in such a hurry. Cautiously I change lanes, gaining speed to come behind the culprit, who I now can thank for the huge red bump I’ll be sporting when I make it to the job interview. He almost smashed into me, and I’m pretty sure it would have sent me over the guardrail. 

The light turns red ahead, and slowly I pull to stop next to the jerk. I can’t wait to see what this asshole looks like. I’m of a good mind to flick him off, and tell him what an idiot driver he is. I look to my left. Only I don’t have a chance to give him a piece of my mind. He’s already in a heated argument with the passenger.

Pop! 

Crack! 

Gunshots fill the air like muted thunder, instinctively, I flinch and cover my ears. I realize that I’m screaming and staring into a killer’s eyes. He leans forward glaring pass his victim—pass the explosion of brain matter—and right into my car. 

Shit!

My eyes cut to the lifeless form that has sprayed the inside of his car. Bile rises as my hand covers my mouth just as I see him lifting his gun and aiming. 

Fuck no! 

Stomping the gas I scramble through the intersection left and right, dodging innocent drivers. Speeding haphazardly through the downtown traffic, fearing I will get struck by another car, stuck at a red light beside a killer, or worse, he will find me. I glance in my rear view mirror, and to my horror, the blue sedan is in high pursuit. 

“Oh, no!” I gasp, tears raining down my cheeks. I look down, noticing for the first time since I slammed on breaks my cell phone slipped from the console and is resting as useless as ever on the passenger floor. Just damn great! I knew I should have linked the damn thing to my car. 

Bile surges to the forefront again; panic overtakes my senses. Reality is setting in—I’ve got no way to get help. I have been on this island for a day, and I don’t even know where the police station resides. A roundabout appears, and I hang a sharp right, and lucky for me, there’s a Publix parking lot with some sort of police altercation. Trust me, mine outweighs any parking lot fender bender.

Horn blowing, lights flashing, I come to a squelching stop. The two officers instinctively grab their guns from their holsters, and it doesn’t even register how psycho I must look. “Help…help,” Kicking the door open, I jump out of my seat only to be pulled back down by the seat belt. My legs dangle momentarily as I clutch the belt and press the red release button.

“You’ve got to help me,” I scream. Their faces marred by confusion and concern, they begin questioning me as they carefully approach with their hands still holstering their weapons.

**

“Yes, I repeat for the umpteenth time.” Amazing! I witness a murder, and I’m the one locked in an interrogation room while the Blue Sedan Killer is free doing god knows what. Oh I know. “He’s probably erasing any evidence of a crime!” I groan, laying my forehead against the cold gray tabletop. “Ouch,” I touch the unsightly hematoma. This day has gone straight to pure shit. Only positive thing was the lady was happy to reschedule my interview until tomorrow. That is if these numbnut officers can get off the ‘I’m too sexy’ for real police work wagon! Yea, I thought those sexy detectives only existed in Hollywood’s crime series. 

I lean back as Chris Hemsworth Sexy Thor detective walks in with absolutely the most devilish delicious smile and bluest eyes I’ve ever seen in real life. Could be twins, they gotta be kin. 

“All right you’re free to leave Ms. Kenningston.” I cry on the inside he’s even Australian. Life is so unfair.

“Really?” I ask standing. 

“Yep, just don’t leave the island.” I look at him skeptically. “In case we have follow-up questions.” Gawking like an idiot, I don’t know what I was waiting on, but he smiled and chuckled as he opened the door and ushered me to leave. I flip over in my semi-cozy hotel bed replaying, those last few hours under the scrutiny of Detective Beach Thor.

**

Two weeks have passed, and I’m walking to my job. The rain plummets down on my umbrella, but I’m too afraid to drive my marked car. The sexy detectives have no leads, aka the killer is at large. Until he’s caught, no one is safe, especially some crazy redhead who thought she was going to be the tough one and point out his flaws. Guess he shot that one to hell, ha. Too soon for that pun.

I’ve found peace living out of a hotel room for the last two weeks. The Holiday Inn Beach House has everything I need. Clean bed to sleep, laundry on site and security. No way I’m getting offed in a hotel room without someone hearing a commotion. Trust me, if the Sedan Killer returns there’ll be a hell of a brouhaha.

Thunder cracks, making me jump as I speed up my steps. Water splashes over my shoes, but I don’t care; I’m in a full sprint. Thunder reminds me of that fateful day — that person lost their life and part of me was forever changed. I guess witnessing a murder will do that to a person.

I slip in the employee side entrance and shake my umbrella before hanging it to dry. Quickly I look at the blonde pixie I’ve been sporting for two weeks now. I grab a white apron from the employee closet and clock in for my shift.

“Kelsey you got one already waiting on you. Table 5.” Great I roll my eyes. The locals are quick to find their favorite waitress; I grab my pen and pad as I approach. Apprehension pulls me to a halt. What is he doing here? 

Plastering a fake smile, I sidle to the table. “Good morning, would you like some coffee?” The lights flicker, my breath hitches, and I jump at the sound of the thunder. Looking out the window, it’s as gray as ever, windy, and coming down in solid sheets!

I flinch as his warm, strong fingers grip my wrist. “It’s just a storm brewing, mate.” His thick Australian gold accent immediately distracts me, but only with another distraction. One that isn’t good. One that brews deep within and has absolutely no way to dissipate.

I try to snatch my wrist away, but he tightens his grip and his expression tells me all I need to know—he’s as arrogant as he is sexy. He grins rolling his eyes over my look, studying my new do. “Does your pulse always quicken and your skin flush when a bloke touches you?”

“What do you want?” I ask, snatching my wrist free. 

“I came to talk to you.” He gestures for me join him across the booth. 

I roll my eyes, “Excuse me if I’m not more thrilled for this most inconvenient morning interruption.” He chuckles, revealing even more of his sexiness and reminding me more of what will never be. I wait unamused tapping my finger nails on the resin wood table. 

His expression shifts to solemn. “We found a body.” My eyes dart to his. 

“A man?” I ask. He shakes his head. “Then why are you sharing this with me? The person I saw murdered was a man.” I whisper. I shake my head in disbelief. Rain pellets hit the window. “What—did I move to a town that has a serious crime rate?” It wasn’t a question, but it is. “This has nothing to do with me.” I say standing. “Now would you like to order anything or just ruin my day?”

“Sit down,” he hisses, “please.” Something shifted in his eyes. Something that made me want this inconvenience. He sits quietly staring out the window as the rain begins to subdue. “The wind is really whipping,” he comments. Again my expression is unamused. I cross my arms across my chest, waiting. “The body was a female. Approximately the same height and weight as you. Jesus when I saw her, I thought it was you. Same eye color, complexion,” he swallows hard, “same hair color … well before this disaster.” He flicks his hand towards my pixie. Self-consciously, I touch my blonde tips, processing it all. “You do realize she’s dead because he thought she was you?”

“No, she’s dead because you didn’t find him. Now another person is dead, and you’re not dropping the blame here.”

We stand simultaneously. “He’s been looking for you, and if he thinks or realizes he got the wrong woman, then you won’t be safe until he’s arrested.”

**

The rain subsided by the end of my shift. Unfortunately, it’s going to be short-lived. We are in a band of storms set to plummet the island with a boat load of rain and possible wind damage. Sixty to seventy miles per hour winds estimated. I grab my umbrella and clamp my hand over my hair—this wind will whip it to pieces. Quickly, I walk feeling the salty ocean breeze against my skin. Reminds me why I moved here to begin with. Minus the murder drama, this has been my dream. Horn and the blip blip of a siren causes me to stop.  

“Get in.” He leans over towards the passenger door. 

Shaking my head, I continue to stomp through the puddles. “Have you been waiting for my shift to end?”

“I wanted to make sure you made it home safely.” He stops the car when I stop walking. “Wherever that may be—I’m assuming close since you can walk to and from work.”

“Fine, but only because this wind is horrible.” Truth be told, my shoes have been soaked through all day, and a bigger part was terrified of who may be lurking after dark. 

**

“Home sweet home,” I say as we open my hotel door. His hitched eyebrow tells me he didn’t think I was seriously living out of a hotel room, and why would anyone live out of one?

“Cozy,” he remarks, closing the curtains immediately. He slips his jacket off, hanging it over the single desk chair. Donned with double shoulder holsters, I watch him make himself at home. Funny, I never offered him to stay. 

“Yea, well, as you can see, I wasn’t lying, so now you can leave.” Ripping the curtains back open, I proceed to kick my sopping shoes off and peel my pungent socks away. My toes are pasty white and wrinkled. Gross. Frustration edges on the tip of my tongue. Detective Sex Appeal is clueless. He’s got the looks, but he’s got the brains of a milk carton. That I am sure of. “Look, I appreciate the ride, but I need to shower, and well, frankly, you need to leave.”

  “I need more information from you. Can you tell me anything else about the man…the car?” He remains firmly planted on my little sofa. Obviously he’s deaf!

“Yea he killed a man. Bam! In plain sight—on a cloudy day. Which I made you all aware of, and yet you did nothing but hound me for hours while giving this perp plenty of time to, I don’t know, trash the sedan … Grab another victim. He’s probably not even in town at this point.” 

“Unlikely. Our vic hasn’t been dead more than forty-eight hours. Look, kid, I am trying to watch out for you. You are a target. You saw this man and can identify him. You’re the loose end.”

“Look, Crocodile Dundee… First, I’m not a kid. Haven’t been one in quite some time. Two, you already said he killed her thinking he got the loose end. So really I’m a moot point to him now.”

  “Don’t get your knickers twisted,” he said, closing the curtains again. “All we have is your testimony from that day and now this girl. Let’s hope you’re right and he’s comfortable with the loose end out of the way. If not—he’s still out here in our town.” 

Chewing my bottom lip, I stand with my hands on my hips. “Well, I don’t know what you expect from me. I’m just a waitress who moved to the beach. That’s it!” I grab his blazer and push it against his chest. “I need to shower, and you need to leave. There’s nothing more I can tell you than what I’ve not already explained.” Detective Sexy reluctantly drags his feet across the carpet as now I am the one who is ushering him out the door.

**

Thunder crashes through my dreams. I jerk awake. My pulse pounds against my chest. I roll over listening to the rain pelt against the glass window. Lightening streaks the sky, revealing the swaying of the palm trees. I walk to the window and look at the streets below—flooded! “That’s great!” That’s going to be wonderful to trek through in a few hours. 

  Somewhere out in this dark storm, there’s a murderer. Is he attacking his next victim? I can’t help but ponder these thoughts thanks to Detective Reed Prescott. I pick up his card he practically forced me to take as I shoved him out of my room. 

**

No sooner than my foot hit the pavement, did Detective Prescott’s car stop in front of me. “I’m pretty sure there are laws against stalking, detective.” I chastise.

He leans over, pushing his door open. “Get in.” Glaring at him, I look around. “Get in now. We have to talk.”

“We don’t have anything to discuss.” I say plopping down in the front seat, slamming the door shut. I quickly fasten my seat belt. “Are you going to be my personal chauffeur from now on?” He doesn’t respond; he rolls his eyes and spins tires in the opposite direction of my employment. “Um, you do realize you’re going the wrong direction.”

“We have a stop to make first.” What is he insane? 

“Great, so now we can add kidnapping to the list. Look, I can’t lose my job. You’ve got to take me to work.”

“Don’t worry, mate, I’ve called them and told them you would be late.”

“You what? Why you egotistical … You don’t have the right to do that.” 

“Look I need you to identify a vic. Think we found your man and the car last night. This rain has caused flooding. Especially in the lower marshy areas. This isn’t called the Lowcountry for nothing.”

Panic rises as I see a blue sedan pulled out from the marsh. It’s covered in mud and gunk. A sheet rests over a body in the passenger front seat. Officers are canvassing the area. It stinks like sulfur, and bile is pitting in my stomach. Detective Prescott leans over his seats—digging for something.

“Here.” I gape at his face, at the car, and the oversized boots he’s extending to me. “They’re going to be big, but it will be better than losing your shoes in the mud bog. It’s thick and sticky.” Numbly I nod, slipping my shoes off and sliding these massive sluggers on. The stench of sulfur and decaying odor intensifies as our boots slop and squish in the muck. The mud toots musty rotten eggs. Cattails and Spartina cordgrass peacefully sway in the gentle breeze, only solidifying the horrible odors around us. Yet nothing is serene and peaceful … The odor alone is horrid. I can’t tell if the decay odor is of natural organisms that make up the marsh ecosystem or the body that’s been pulled from the depths of the swampy hell, ripening! Either way, I graciously hold Detective Hunkalicious’ arm as he assist me with slugging forward. 

Pinching my nose. I nod to him that this looks to be the same car. Carefully he holds my arms as we walk around looking at the passenger side. “The body looks similar to the way he was slumped. I didn’t see his face.” I nasally digest what I am witnesses now and then. “I know the killer’s face perfectly, but this looks like the back of his profile.” I gesture towards the decaying corpse. The air is heavy with putrid and permeates by senses, including my stomach of steel.

“Aight.” His eyes are tender as he watches me access this scene. “Let’s get this wrapped up and take it back to the crime lab.” He barks at his team. I whisk my blonde hair from eyes, looking back towards the car, and notice a man walking towards us.

Fear freezes me in the muck. Detective Prescott notices the sudden halt. My knees want to buckle; my eyes try not to reveal my fear. I look over at Detective Prescott as he extends his hand out to greet a fellow detective. 

“Kelsey I’d like you to meet Special Agent Jim Davis. He’s with the FBI.” He smiles and extends his hand, holding mine with a special grip. Something’s different—not flirtatious—yet dangerous. His steel eyes linger a little too long into my green ones. His steel daggers strip me of my armor. The facade is up! Even with this wig, he can see the real me. And I know he knows. He’s here—I want to whisper, but can’t, shivering to my core. Detective Prescott signed my death certificate when he introduced me as the loose end!