Page 15 of The Witness

“That’s Hailey.” I smiled, but unshed tears made my voice catch. “My daughter.”

“We need to know where she is so we can protect her.” There was a note of accusation in his tone. He didn’t understand and was questioning if he could trust me. I hated seeing the suspicion in his eyes. He was my rock in this hurricane. My shoulder to cry on, literally.

“She’s gone. A brain tumor. The same week as my fortieth birthday. She was sixteen. That photo was our last farmer’s market.” I rubbed the shallot tattooed on my arm. I’d gotten ita few days after Hailey’s funeral. The same day I put down the deposit on my food truck.

“Sabrina, I’m so sorry. I saw the photo and then her room. I worried—”

“Why did this photo catch your attention?” I cut him off to keep him from apologizing.

“The shallot. Symbols are powerful, none more so than those you choose to have permanently etched on your skin.” He looked at my forearm and then back to the photo.

“You’re right, it is a symbol. It represents a promise I made Hailey that I’d pick myself up after she died and chase the dream. I never would have been willing to chase it while she was alive. A restaurant of my own. Single moms don’t risk every penny they have on a dream. But a forty-year-old with no responsibilities.” I shrugged. “What did I have to lose? So, I gave myself five years to pull it off.”

“I thought you said two years ago?”

“I did. Winning that TV show contest accelerated my timeline a lot. And now all this Sandoval shit may cost me everything. Life is unpredictable.” I wasn’t thinking about my good luck with the TV show or what happened on that boat. I was thinking of my beautiful daughter losing a short and ugly battle with a fast-growing tumor. With my fingertip, I traced her face in the photo.

“Man, or in this case woman, plans and God laughs.”

“Yeah, something like that.” I reached for the cell and considered who to call first. “Can I call a friend too? She won’t need protection, I don’t think. But if she sees me on the news, she will freak out.”

“Who is she?”

“Katie Bartholomew, a friend that is going to come to work at Viande.”

“Sure. Don’t tell her much. Keep it short. We can’t have her doing anything that would put her in Sandoval’s crosshairs. Tellher to stay the hell away from the restaurant and your house.” His warning gave me pause.

Did I risk calling Katie? She was my best friend and would soon be head pastry chef at Viande. If I ever got out of this mess. Even if she didn’t see me on the news, she would be worried. I wasn’t going to lie, but I didn’t want her in danger either.

As I dialed, Michael stood and started wiping down the kitchen counter to give me the illusion of privacy. It was a thoughtful gesture, both the cleaning and extra space.

“Hello?” Katie sounded suspicious.

“It’s me, Sabrina.”

“Hey sweetie, what’s with the blocked number?”

“Long, long story. I can’t really explain, but trust me when I say shit is going to be weird for a little while. I need you to stay out of it. Understand?”

I’d been such an idiot when I arrived at the Oceanfront Diner not having told Katie or Mom anything. No way witness protection would have let me make this kind of call. But then again, my picture wouldn’t have been on the local news if witness protection had… worked. The very idea of it having worked made me wince. Whisked off into Neverland for an unknown length of time. I’ve watched way too many episodes of Law and Order. Olivia and Elliot had me believing crimes were solved in an hour or less.

“Out of what?”

“Anything. Everything. This is more important than when I wouldn’t tell you I won Food Truck Fabulous for three months. Stay away from my house and Viande.”

“Okay.” She sounded thrilled.

“I’m going to be missing in action, but as soon as I can I’ll explain everything.” I didn’t want to mislead Katie, but her jumping to good conclusions was better than bad. It still felt like lying.

“Damn, you landed Viande on some super-secret reality TV show, didn’t you? Never mind.” She squealed with delight. “You are incredible. I won’t tell a soul.”

I crossed my fingers, hoping she’d never see the local news report with my photo.

“Perfect. And, ah, thank you for everything, Katie.” I swallowed past the lemon-sized lump in my tight throat.

“You are so welcome. Have fun filming the pilot. I won’t come within a thousand feet of the shoot.”

We hung up after a quick goodbye that I had to force past the sour lump in my throat.

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