Page 1 of Shadowed Witness (The Secrets of Kincaid #2)

Lights? Check.

Camera? Check.

Three bags and a purse? Check.

Allye Jessup looped all four sets of straps over her left shoulder and stepped out of her small second-story photography studio into a warm autumn evening.

The sun had just set, but it was still light enough that the dusk-to-dawn light above the landing hadn’t kicked on yet.

That wouldn’t last long, especially with the fog already beginning to move in.

Tightly gripping the rail, she started down the metal stairs. She didn’t need another fall, and the way her equilibrium had been off lately, she wasn’t taking any chances. When she was nearly at the bottom, a dull thud sounded from behind the building. Someone stifled a cry. Another thud.

What in the world?

Allye hurried down the last few stairs and toward the noise. She slowed before she reached the corner. Fished in her pocket for her phone. She groaned silently. Not there. No telling which bag she’d stuffed it into. Or if she’d left it in her studio. Wouldn’t be the first time.

As she edged toward the back of the building, she heard a louder ka-thump as if something heavy had fallen. The sounds changed to a muted, almost rhythmic thumping. She reached the corner and peered around.

Two men. One standing back in the shadows, watching.

The second man delivered another savage kick to something—no, someone—unmoving on the ground. The blow left the fallen man’s head tilted at an unnatural angle. Allye sucked in a breath.

The attacker swung around, chest heaving. Looked her straight in the eyes.

No.

Allye pushed off the building and ran, bags flopping against her back and side. Pursuing footfalls pounded the gravel behind her. She didn’t dare look back. She had to get out into the open. Had to—

A heavy weight plowed into her back. She screamed. Tried to catch herself as she went down in a tangle of bags. Pain shot through her knees and wrists, but she pushed herself up. Turned to fight.

Her attacker shoved her against the side of the building. The back of her head bounced against the wall.

She screamed again.

A rough hand closed around her throat, cutting off her cry and pinning her against the rough brick. Her hands flew to his, but his grip was like steel. Too tight for another scream. Just loose enough to allow her the slightest bit of oxygen.

“What do we have here?” He studied her, ignoring her struggles. He touched her hair, letting a curl wind around his finger, then slide off. His lips curved in a predatory grin. “Pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

A new wave of fear skittered up her spine. She kicked, and the tip of her shoe connected solidly with his shin. He slapped her, then shifted his hold on her throat, lifting so her toes barely touched the ground. Rage glittered in his eyes.

And he started to squeeze.

She clawed at his fingers, his arm. He snatched both her hands in his free one with a grip that threatened to snap her wrists. Her vision darkened, punctuated by pinpricks of light. She tried to kick again, but he was too close and her strength was fading.

Someone shouted—the words garbled by the rushing in her ears. Hope flared.

Her attacker looked to the side, but the force of his grip didn’t diminish.

Lungs feeling ready to burst, she jerked one last time against his hold. He didn’t budge. The glimmer of hope faded.

Allye succumbed to the darkness.

“ALLYE. ALLYE!” A voice penetrated the smothering black hole of unconsciousness. Someone gripped her shoulders and gently shook her. “Are you okay?”

Allye groaned, and her throat rebelled against the sound. Pain. The attack. Panic flooded in.

She clawed her way to the light, ready to fight for her life. But rather than cooperating with her brain, her eyelids fluttered, and her body declined to move at all.

“Allye?” The voice came again, and this time she recognized it. Mayor Jennings. Not the attacker.

The edge of her panic eased. She concentrated her efforts on opening her eyes, and this time, they obeyed. Mayor Jennings leaned over her, his face a picture of concern.

“Oh, thank God, you’re awake! Are you in pain?”

“Where ... is he?” She forced the words out, her throat protesting every word.

Confusion etched new lines onto the mayor’s forehead. “Who?”

“That man.” Allye planted her elbows in the gravel and gathered her strength to rise.

Her first attempt was pitiful, and she let her head fall back against the ground.

Ouch. She waited a moment and tried again.

She was partially successful, and Mayor Jennings assisted her into a full sitting position.

She bit back another groan and straightened her glasses as she focused on regulating her breathing.

Everything hurt. Especially her throat. She raised a shaky hand to her neck.

“The man ... choking me.” She could hear the hoarseness in her voice, and every syllable scraped painfully across her damaged windpipe.

Mayor Jennings sat back on his heels. “There wasn’t anyone else out here.”

“A man came after me. Choked me because I saw—” The man on the ground. Could he still be alive?

She pushed to her feet. Dizziness washed over her, and her purse swung against her body. She clutched at the staircase railing. Instantly, she felt the mayor’s strong hand cupping her elbow.

“Easy, Allye. You had a hard fall.”

She shook her head, making the dizziness worse. She squeezed her eyes shut for a count of ten. “I didn’t fall.”

“You didn’t?”

His gaze dropped to her knees, and she glanced down. Despite the harsh shadows cast by the light above the landing, she could make out the shredded mess of her leggings. She blinked and thought back.

“Well, I did fall when he was chasing me,” she corrected.

“When who was chasing you?”

“The man.” And she needed to see if the other person being beaten had survived—though she wasn’t sure how he could have. She shook off the mayor’s hold and stumbled toward the back of the building. He followed, hovering as if he expected her to collapse at any second.

“There was a man—men—back here,” she explained.

“One of them was beating another, and the one on the ground wasn’t moving.

I’m not sure he was even still alive.” She rounded the corner and stopped short, nearly losing her balance.

Mayor Jennings again reached out to steady her.

No one was here now. No attacker. No victim.

She spun in a slow circle, even that motion increasing her dizziness.

Had she confused the buildings? She crossed the space between structures and peered into the dimly lit area behind the newspaper office.

Only an industrial-size dumpster and empty parking spaces met her gaze.

That didn’t match. Again she turned. What she’d seen had definitely been behind her building.

“I need to call 911. Maybe they’ll be able to find trace evidence.”

“Allye, you need to go home and rest.” The mayor’s voice was gentle, fatherly. “Or get a doctor to check you out. You fell down the steps.”

“I don’t need a doctor, and I didn’t fall—”

“I heard your scream from my office.” He took her arm and led her back the way they’d come. “I came outside immediately and found you at the bottom of the stairs. No one else was around.”

“But—” They passed by the stairs, and her other bags lay as if she’d dropped them there. She slowed. “I need to get those.”

“Let me get you to my car, then I’ll collect them for you.”

“My car’s parked out front. I can drive.”

“No.” His tone brooked no debate. “You hit your head and passed out. I am not letting you on the road. It wouldn’t be safe. Besides”—he winked at her—“your mother would never forgive me if something happened to you.”

She tried to muster a smile, but the attempt fell flat.

Mayor Jennings and her mom had been dating for the past three months, and Allye still hadn’t quite gotten used to it.

She had nothing against the man, who’d been Kincaid’s mayor for well over a decade and a member of their church for much longer, or against her mom for exploring the possibility of finding love again. It was just new territory.

When they’d lost Allye’s dad during what would have been his last active-duty tour in Afghanistan eighteen years ago, Julie Jessup had stepped into life as a single mom.

In all these years, she’d shown little interest in dating—even after she abruptly entered the empty-nest stage when Allye’s younger brother, Derryck, was killed in a car accident at fifteen.

No, she’d just thrown herself more fully into her thriving realty career and spent her free time in volunteer work.

Or hovering over her remaining two children as much as they let her.

As they reached the sidewalk, the mayor decisively steered them toward the parking lot on the other side of city hall—and away from her Jetta.

Allye glanced over her shoulder. She didn’t want to leave her car here and be stranded at home, but .

.. the mayor was probably right about her driving.

Regardless of how it came about, she had lost consciousness, and her brain still felt fuzzy.

And truth be told, she didn’t have the energy to argue any further.

She bit back a sigh and allowed him to lead her to his shiny black Mercedes. He insisted on helping her inside before heading back for her bags.

After hitting the locks, she slumped in the leather passenger seat and watched until he disappeared around the corner of the newspaper office.

Could he be right? She replayed the moments before everything went dark.

Though her memories weren’t as crisp as normal—or what had been normal until the last couple of months—they were solid. Real.

She frowned. No matter what the mayor thought, she hadn’t fallen down the steps. She’d seen someone getting attacked, and the attacker had chased her—choked her.

So where had everyone gone? And why was she still alive?

None of it made any sense.