The Witness: A Novel

by Naomi Kryske

  “I used to believe in Him, but since the attack, I’ve questioned everything. I was always taught that God was faithful, but I haven’t seen that.”

  “I beg to differ, Jenny. You didn’t doubt His existence when you were angry with Him. Sometimes our anger—or grief or fear—keeps us from hearing Him. You’ve had your foundations shaken, but you’re still standing. You may not be certain about your belief in God, but don’t give up on Him. I think He believes in you.”

  She was stunned and a little embarrassed by the compliment. Instead of replying, she took his hand.

  Colin was also silent for a few minutes. He was glad they were holding hands. It made the intimate nature of the conversation more comfortable. “My father was in a lot of pain before he died. My mother and sister were leaning on me. I needed something stronger than myself. God was it. I sat by my father’s hospital bed and asked God to give him one more day. Many times He did.”

  “Are you still grieving for your father?”

  He was surprised by the question and even more surprised that he didn’t mind answering. He hadn’t spoken much about his father to anyone outside his family. “My father had postings abroad, so there were long periods when I didn’t see him. The times we did have together were important to me. I was with him on a more consistent basis when he was ill than I had been since childhood. It made his death all the more difficult when it came. I’d say I’m still grieving for him, yes. The longer I live, the more things I’d like to discuss with him.” He remembered telling her long ago something about trust being a two-way street. It had been a copper’s line, calculated to inspire confidence, but it just might be true. Her trust had certainly engendered his.

  “It’s hard to believe we’re talking about all this.”

  He smiled. “We met under unusual circumstances. You had to tell me personal details from the beginning. It’s not so one-sided now.”

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  In the morning when Danny brought her tea, she asked if he believed in God.

  “I’m Catholic, Sis. Of course I do.”

  “Do you think He loves us?”

  He was smiling. “He laid down the law, didn’t He? My parents always said it was love when they laid down the law.”

  “And now you enforce the law. That’s not love exactly, but it is in people’s best interest. Do you pray?”

  This time he laughed. “No, I just feel guilty for not doing it.”

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  She tackled Brian next, early one evening when she’d felt afraid and had gone into the living room to sit with him. There was a rhythm of nature he’d seen on the farm, in the seasons and the reproductive cycles of the animals and the crops, that made him feel that Someone was in charge. It wasn’t an accident that things happened the way they did. As far as good and bad were concerned, he’d seen too much of the bad during his years with the police to believe that human beings were the source of love—another Being, far greater and wiser, had to be. He confessed that he didn’t pray. “I just hope for things,” he said. “I hope you’ll be okay. I hope we’re helping.”

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  Later that night she asked Sergeant Casey if they could talk for a little while.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “Sergeant, I feel like I’m learning to walk again. Remember when we first came here? I couldn’t do it by myself. I had to lean on you.” Her voice faltered. “I don’t know who I am or what I believe any more. You seem so sure of yourself. You always know what to do.”

  “Get onto it, Jenny.”

  “I’ve been wondering about—God. Do you think He’s real?”

  She’s searching. Not surprising after what’s happened to her. “I’ve seen some things that would make me doubt it.”

  “Have you seen anything that would make you believe it?”

  “Some things, yes.”

  “Like what?”

  “Missions when the odds were against us, and we seemed to have supernatural luck. Men who were injured so badly that I couldn’t save them but who lived anyway.”

  “I don’t know how I made it.”

  “Some things you can’t explain, but they’re no less real. I’ve spent a lot of time outdoors, often at night. The night skies fascinate me. They’re vast, and the orbits of the planets aren’t random. The more I’ve learned about astronomy, the more I’ve wondered myself. About God, that is.”

  “Do you pray?”

  “Men in combat face danger and uncertainty. Many use meditation and deep breathing to relax and focus. Those who believe in God, pray. Everyone needs to believe in something.”

  She smiled. “Sergeant Casey, you are the most unlikely evangelist I ever knew.”

  CHAPTER 45

  As Christmas drew closer, the longing Jenny felt for her family became a continual ache. At home she would have been helping her mother bake Christmas cookies to give to the neighbors. They would have delivered the fresh treats on foot, then headed home for bowls of steaming hot soup and homemade bread. Her father and brothers would have taken the Christmas decorations from the attic so her mother could transform the house into a visual feast. Nothing at the flat dissipated the hurt, not the store-bought cookies or canned soup they consumed, and the tree which had given her enjoyment at first now looked lonely in the corner, its decorations not sufficient to lift her spirits. A number of her friends had sent Christmas cards, with notes shorter than their usual correspondence. They knew her letters were censored—perhaps they were afraid their mail would be read, too.

  She wanted very badly to go shopping, to select her family’s gifts herself, but no amount of wheedling would convince Colin to let her, either in his company or with one of the men. He arranged for her to send her mother a British cookbook, her father a book on the American Civil War by Winston Churchill, and sport shirts to her brothers, a Manchester United football jersey for Matt and a Henley Royal Regatta jersey for BJ.

  Brian and Danny had taken some candid snaps of her. The one she selected for her parents showed her laughing, with the left side of her face—the unmarked side—toward the camera. It had been taken just after Colin had brought the Christmas tree into the flat. He hadn’t been certain decorating a tree would be a good idea, fearing it might cause her to miss her family more, but she had been glowing with anticipation, and Brian’s photo had captured it.

  Sergeant Casey worked out a complicated duty roster which granted all three of them leave while ensuring that at least one of the original protective team members was still at the flat. Colin went home to Kent, and she tried to look past her homesick feelings. The men kept her busy, Brian waking her early on Christmas Eve to help him prepare the turkey, roasted vegetables, gravy, and special sauces, and Danny quizzing her about Texas traditions. Everything was ready by early afternoon, and they popped the Christmas crackers Danny had put at each place and savoured the dishes their combined efforts had produced. All except the Christmas pudding. Jenny took a very small bite and chewed slowly. It was a long time before she swallowed. Her brother, Matt, would have called it revolting, but she knew she couldn’t say that. “Is it an acquired taste?” she finally asked. “Like fruitcake?”

  After the meal, Jenny gathered them in the living room. Her parents had sent a Texas-sized belt and buckle for a Texas-sized man, Brian. Danny received a buckskin leather wallet and a book about Chick Bowdrie, a fictional Texas Ranger. Jenny’s father had selected a number of his favorite fishing lures for Sergeant Casey as well as a nonfiction account of the Texas Rangers. Jenny’s parents had another box for the team, with a card that read, With heartfelt thanks for taking such good care of our daughter. It was filled with Texas pralines, UNO cards, Labyrinth, and a large jigsaw puzzle with Texas scenes. “Texas generosity,” Jenny explained.

  Then Danny spoke up. “It’s your turn, Sis.” He put a small box wrapped in gold paper
in her lap.

  “You didn’t have to get me anything,” she said.

  “It’s from all of us. Just open it!”

  She did. A pearl cross lay on dark blue velvet. Rob had been the only person who had given her any pearl jewelry, and a lump rose in her throat. She closed the box quickly.

  “Sis? You like it, don’t you?” Danny’s normally buoyant voice was quavering slightly.

  She opened the box again. In her previous life her skin had been as smooth and pure as these precious stones. The pearls were creamy white, round as teardrops, and suspended on a gold chain. A single diamond marked the place where the two arms of the cross met.

  “Did we do the right thing, Sis? You’re happy with it, aren’t you?”

  His voice brought her back to the present. She smiled through her tears at the three worried faces. “Yes. Oh, yes. It’s beautiful.”

  “Tea?” Brian asked.

  “No. Hugs.” She stood and put her arms around him. Then he undid the clasp and gently fastened it around her neck.

  Casey watched her embrace Sullivan, remembering that he had been the one to suggest giving her jewellery. Brian had insisted on a necklace. Then she turned to him, and he realised that it was the first time she had reached out to any of them with affection, not desperation or fear. Excellent. Should he tell her he had decided on pearls? He had liked the idea that a speck, an intruder, had caused something lovely to grow inside a shell. No, the result was what mattered. “Happy Christmas,” he said.

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  When Colin arrived on Christmas afternoon, Jenny was in her room listening to her new Kenny G album. She didn’t know why her brothers had sent it—he wasn’t that popular with her age group—but Danny was packing and the silent sergeant was on watch, so she needed a way to pass the time. The music touched her more than she expected, and she didn’t hear Colin’s first knock. She reached up to take his hand as he asked whether her tears were happy or sad ones. “Both,” she said. “Happy because the music is so beautiful, and sad because I’ll never have the love his music is about.”

  The saxophone was exquisite and the tune haunting. A lovely young woman was holding his hand. Certainly good manners dictated that he ask her to dance. He held her loosely at first, but as the music progressed, he pressed gently on her back, and she moved closer. They danced to “Forever in Love,” “Sentimental,” and then “The Moment.” Casey heard the music and looked in. What he saw suggested to him that the boss fancied her. He wondered if she fancied him.

  Several of the pieces didn’t lend themselves to dancing, so she showed him the gift the men had given her and described the ones from her family. “It’s so important to belong somewhere,” she said. “I’m fortunate to have a wonderful family, even if I can’t be with them.” The strains of “Dying Young” began, and she lifted her arms to him again, feeling the ache in her chest ease.

  “What’s this one called?” The music was enticingly slow, and he held her near, so they’d stay in step, of course.

  “Innocence,” she whispered, and Colin felt how appropriate it was. The saxophone had a pure tone, and the melody was tender. She looked like a precious lily, with the collar of her white silk blouse high on her neck and the ruffles like petals at her wrists. The music ended all too soon.

  “That was wonderful, Colin.” She was eager to see his reaction to his present, so she led him into the sitting room and watched while he opened the two nicely-bound volumes of American poetry.

  “I’ll be able to identify your quotes now,” he smiled. Then he took a small rectangular box from his pocket. When she opened it, she saw a gold wristwatch with an amethyst band, each gem carved into the shape of a heart. “Purple hearts,” she breathed.

  “The medal given to American soldiers injured in combat. You’ve earned it, Jenny.”

  “Not yet, but I will.” She stood to hug him, and if it seemed that he held her a little longer than was necessary, it must have been her imagination.

  While Colin and Casey tucked into Christmas leftovers, she called her family to thank them for her gifts. It was still morning in Texas, but they had opened theirs already, knowing they would hear from her. Her parents were very touched that the English police, as they called them, had been so thoughtful.

  “I’m in very good hands,” Jenny said. “These men are special. I wish you could meet them.”

  The Queen’s Christmas message—which Jenny watched alone—also focused on families and the wisdom and trust that they could provide for each other. Jenny ran her fingers over the pearl cross. The gift from the men had already strengthened her, something else that families did. But the watch from Colin—was it a vote of confidence or a sign that he expected her to do her duty when the time came?

  CHAPTER 46

  Sergeant Andrews came by the flat on the 26th and explained Boxing Day to Jenny while they played cards. He was armed, which seemed unusual to her. “I’m an AFO,” he said. “Like Sullivan.”

  “AFO?”

  Andrews laughed. “Sorry! Alphabet soup, isn’t it? Stands for authorised firearms officer. I completed a basic firearms course, but I don’t carry in my usual duties. Regular training is still required, however.”

  Jenny examined her cards and couldn’t see the beginnings of a good hand. She drew a card, then took a wild guess when she discarded one.

  Andrews wasn’t interested in her seven of clubs. He drew from the pack, at the same time sharing background information on the members of the protective team. “Sullivan’s here because he saved your life in hospital,” he said. “Showed judgement and initiative. He might not have made the cut otherwise.”

  “Is Brian an AFO?”

  “No, he’s an SFO, a specialist firearms officer. He patrols in an ARV—armed response vehicle. They’re the first armed officers on a scene, so one of their jobs is control and containment. They also chase and apprehend stolen vehicles, conduct armed searches, deal with armed robberies, that sort of thing.”

  She had lost sight of her strategy in the card game and couldn’t think which card would be least useful. “What about Sergeant Casey? Colin said he was in the special forces. He’s probably pretty good with guns, too.”

  “That’s an understatement! He’s a member of an armed team and a marksman on all weapons. Specialist missions may be undertaken on short notice, but they’re more likely to be planned. They give support to the ARVs, handle hostage rescues, terrorist threats, heavily-armed criminals. With his background and experience, he’ll be a team leader one day.” Andrews smiled and discarded.

  “Having been a Royal Marine helped him, I guess.”

  Andrews chuckled. “Is that what he told you? He only started out in the Marines. From there he joined the toughest, most elite group of fighting men in the world. Have you ever heard of the Special Boat Service?”

  She hadn’t.

  “Just trying to qualify can kill you, the process of selection is that difficult.”

  “He never talks about it.” Deuce of diamonds. She didn’t think she needed that card.

  “They keep a low profile, but they’re the ones who teach everyone else what it’s about. Give them the worst odds and the most appalling physical conditions, and they’ll still get the job done.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t know that when he was giving me baths,” she said, a little awed.

  “They have a killer sense of humour also. Gin!” He laid his cards down.

  “Oh, you are devious,” she laughed, “distracting me before the final blow! You win.” She decided that it was a good thing Danny and Sergeant Andrews weren’t at the flat at the same time: They would be like two magpies.

  PC Arthur Hobbes had accompanied Andrews, but she was unable to convince him to join them in the next hand. Food usually broke the ice, particularly with someone who obviously enjoyed it, so she offered him a sandwich. “Turkey or ham? I’m making one for Sergeant Andrews.”

  “Turkey,
if it’s not too much trouble, Miss.” He didn’t know how to look at her, not wanting to stare at her scar and not sure where he should look if he didn’t look at her face.

  She went into the kitchen to make the sandwiches. It was time to take the bull by the horns. “Constable Hobbes, have you read my file?” She handed him his plate and glass and set Andrews’ down in front of him.

  Hobbes ran his hand over his moustache and looked down at his lunch.

  She tried again. “What happened to me isn’t a closed subject here. And I’m much better now.” Andrews was watching her with interest. Hobbes still had not replied. His discomfort was making her self-conscious. “I’m not a victim. I survived.”

  Hobbes’ blush was easy to see with his buzz haircut. He choked on his sandwich, thinking about what she survived. “Yes, Miss,” he said after he’d cleared his throat.

  She sighed. He must be good for something. “Christmas pudding?” she asked with her sweetest smile.

  He nodded eagerly. “Thank you, Miss.”

  She brought him a large portion. They were going to get along after all.

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  Hobbes came for only two days, but that was long enough to finish the dessert Jenny didn’t like. When he left, Danny returned, along with PC Linda Hewes and the sinister Sergeant Howard. With Brian gone, their meals were less lavish, to say the least. Linda helped Jenny prepare some lighter fare, mostly sandwiches from the Boxing Day ham and soup from the leftover turkey. Sergeant Howard never set foot in the kitchen.

  Fortunately Howard’s tour of duty was short. He was replaced by PC Derek Nicholson, a tall man with large eyes and slanted brows which gave him a look of perpetual sadness. His smile failed to dispel the grief-stricken countenance he wore and caused her to wonder whether everyone could see past her smiles. Nicholson had a deep bass voice and a gentle manner, and in spite of his downcast features, she found that she liked him.

  Andrews spent another day with her, and Colin came by periodically, but she missed the regular team. Sergeant Casey returned late in the day on the 31st, his eyes bloodshot. His brother had been ashore, and the two of them had hit the clubs regularly, he confessed. When Colin uncorked the champagne, she noticed that Casey contributed to the toasts for a better year but never drained his glass. Of course, he’d probably had more than his share of alcohol on leave, but she still found it sad that his vigilance couldn’t take a holiday. It was his night on watch, and she made a point of telling him how much his continued care meant to her. “I missed you this week. You’re my rock. It felt like someone had chipped away part of my foundation.”