The Witness

by Naomi Kryskle

  CHAPTER 28

  The newspapers the next morning were full of reports about the bomb scare at the Crown Court building and the sniper attack in Parliament Square. Colin had mentioned a shot being fired but hadn’t said that anyone had been hurt. Jenny looked closely at the picture of the woman being loaded into the ambulance. Her face was turned away from the camera, but Jenny could see the collar of her blouse, a light-colored blouse—possibly white?—and her medium-length dark hair. The caption read, “Camden woman, 28, sole victim of sniper fire.”

  “Sergeant Casey—does she look like me?”

  His eyes ran over the snap. “Hard to say.”

  “But look at her hair, her clothes—”

  “There’s a superficial resemblance,” he said cautiously.

  She frowned. “Okay, Sergeant Secretive, it’s time for the truth. You thought this would happen to me, didn’t you?”

  “Diversions are a military tactic. I thought the bomb threat was a diversion, yes.”

  “Tell me the monster’s not behind this!”

  “I can’t do that, love. We won’t know who’s behind it until we catch him.”

  Later she thought about how angry the monster had been when he was in the little room with her. He’d had months in jail for that anger to fester and flame. He was in prison now somewhere. Would he ever stop being angry at her? After several days, the newspapers went on to other stories, but her mind could not get past the fact that once again Sergeant Casey had saved her life.

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  Colin continued to stop by the flat, during the morning on the weekend—she needled him for not coming in time to interfere with her exercises—and after dinner on the other days. Bates was convicted, and when Colin arrived in mid-afternoon the next week—with lager for the men!—she knew it was a harbinger of other good news.

  “Your responsibility is over, Jen. Moraga—the motorcycle attacker—isn’t going to trial. An informal arrangement has been worked out between his solicitor and the CPS.” He set the beer on the dining room table. “It’s a wise decision. He had no defence, what with Davies’ slugs in his thigh and a score of police witnesses.”

  Hunt wasted no time in opening a bottle.

  “Tomorrow’s your last day. Casey—” He nodded at the others. “Report for reassignment Monday. You’ll have some leave coming. Well done, all of you.”

  “Colin, I didn’t think I’d have so little notice. Will I be able to get a flight out tomorrow?”

  “Andrews is checking availability, Jen. It may be a day or two before we can get a reservation for you. I’ll know more in the morning.” Actually, he had instructed Andrews not to schedule anything before Monday.

  She pulled out a dining chair and sat down. “What if there’s no flight? Will I have to stay here by myself? I don’t have enough money for a hotel.”

  “We’ll provide for you, Jen. Don’t worry over it.” He smiled. “I’m due back at the Yard. I’ll ring you tonight.”

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  There was still a lot of food in the fridge, so Brian declared dinner a hotchpotch meal, and they’d finish whatever remained at lunch the next day. “You can look out your window now, JJ,” he told her.

  “And turn off your radio,” Casey added.

  “And you can all sleep tonight—nobody on watch,” she said.

  Instead of calling, Colin came by the flat to have a private word with her. “You’re scheduled to fly out on British Air Monday morning.”

  “Tomorrow’s Friday.”

  “I’d like you to consider staying the weekend with me, Jen.”

  She felt a warm flush on her cheeks. She shook her head. “It’s just not right.”

  “Trusting me is right,” he insisted. “You have every right to be suspicious of a man’s motives, but you’re safe with me, I assure you.”

  “Colin, I don’t know what your expectations are.”

  He took her hand and drew her to her feet. “Look at your flag, Jen. Its arms are open ended. Our relationship is the same—you can step forward or back. What would you like to do?”

  She was flattered by his attention. He was respectful, even solicitous. She should start a new list: Pairs of Similar Words with Dissimilar Meanings. Solicitous and solicitor would be the first two.

  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  Jenny was so quiet during the rest of the evening that Hunt remarked on it. “Hunt, there’s a Texas expression you need to learn: ‘Never miss a chance to shut up.’” She was smiling when she said it, but Hunt wouldn’t have taken offense either way.

  She said goodnight early. She turned off her radio, but when she climbed into bed, her room seemed unnaturally quiet. She turned it back on.

  It was a strange feeling, knowing that all the men were asleep. She didn’t really need anyone to protect her anymore, but it felt lonely, not having someone awake nearby. She was going home; she was finally going to have a life, so why did she feel so sad? She thought about Danny and how glad she was that he was doing well. She would not have to go home with anyone’s death on her conscience, thank God. She thought about Hunt, how jarring he had seemed at first and how harmless now. She thought about Brian and all the times he’d helped her in his quiet way, seen a need and responded, carried her and comforted her. She’d miss them. Her departure from the flat seemed as sudden as her arrival.

  She thought about Sergeant Casey and got a lump in her throat. He’d been everything to her—saved her life, nursed her wounds, always put her needs first, as Colin had said he would. She forgot it was the middle of the night. For months in this flat, someone had been up no matter what time it was. She slipped out of bed and walked through the empty sitting room and knocked softly on Casey’s door. It was slightly ajar. “Sergeant?” she whispered. “Could I talk to you?”

  He didn’t sound sleepy when he answered. “Are you okay, love?”

  “No.”

  “Steady on then. I’ll grab a shirt, and we’ll chat in the sitting room.”

  She didn’t even wait for him to ask. “I should feel safe, and I don’t. I should feel glad that I won’t have to be here anymore, but I’m not. I should feel excited that I’m going home, but it hasn’t sunk in.”

  “Are you going home tomorrow?”

  “No, I’m going to Colin’s. My flight isn’t until Monday.”

  “Are you okay with that?”

  “It’s just for the weekend. And he didn’t ask for anything.”

  “He will, Jenny. He’s got an agenda, and you don’t have to be a detective to figure out what it is.” He watched her brow tighten and took the edge out of his voice. “Are you afraid of this?”

  “No, I’ll be okay. He’s courteous.” She smiled. “Besides, he’s big on consent.”

  He moved on. “There are some things you need to know about homecomings,” he said. “Don’t expect too much. Your family will mean well, but it’s odds on they’ll not know what’s right for you. You’ve changed. Make your own choices. If you don’t, you’ll trade one prison for another.”

  “It doesn’t feel like a prison now, this flat. But Texas—I don’t know what I want to do there or even what I can do.”

  He leant forward. “Listen to me, love. Testifying—it was your mission, not your family’s. They’ll not understand. I’ve completed military ops without injury and found it hard to adjust to less intensity, less focus. I fulfilled a mission with an injury, and that’s even more difficult. Bodies heal faster than minds do.”

  “Will you have to adjust after this one is over?”

  “Yes, but I’ve learnt to let go. We’ve got a saying: ‘You can’t land on the same beach twice.’ Militarily, you can’t, because the enemy would be ready for you. For the rest, it’s because you’re different. The beach is different. If we were to return to this flat six months from now, nothing would be the same.”

  “I’ll
miss you. Will I ever see you again?”

  “If you come back to England, you will. I’ll give you my mobile number, and you can ring me.”

  “You’ll have another life.”

  “I’ll have another assignment, but you can phone me, can’t you?”

  “What if you’re working?”

  “Then I’ll tell you that I am, and I’ll be with you as soon as I can,” he answered.

  “What if you’re with a girl?”

  He chuckled softly. “Then I’ll tell you that I am, and I’ll be with you as soon as I can. But our relationship will be different, so perhaps it’s time you called me by my name—Simon.”

  She felt giddy. No wonder she’d always done what he had told her to do. “Simon Says.” The child’s game in an adult edition. “Simon Casey,” she whispered. “I love that name: Simon. I know I’m leaving, but I don’t want to tell you good-bye.”

  He could see her pulse beating in the little dip above her collarbone. “Listen to me, love. Looking after you has been a privilege. You could have been a tart, or a whinger, or worse. Instead you were a good soldier. You saw it through.” What would his life be like without her, this Yank he hadn’t wanted to know? There would be a letdown all right.

  “Sergeant—Simon—I would have died without you. I’ll never be able to thank you for all the things you’ve done for me, and you’ve never asked for anything in return.”

  “How about a midnight run?”

  “With everybody?”

  “No, just the two of us. Get your jog pants on, and I’ll grab my trainers.”

  She laughed aloud, excited at the prospect. It felt so—clandestine, exiting the flat, seeing the keys in Casey’s—Simon’s—hand. They ran slowly through the dark streets. Several times he ran to the top of the intersection, looked both ways, and waited for her to catch up. When she became too tired to run any farther, he took her hand and walked with her. Her muscles were relaxed, and she felt no need of words. She could hear sirens in the distance occasionally, but their section of the city was quiet. They walked and walked. Finally he said, “We’re back.”

  She was still holding his hand. “I’m sorry I woke you, but I feel better. And I’m not going to say good-bye. I’ll tell the others good-bye, but not you.”

  “I’m not sorry you woke me,” he said.

  “Promise?”

  He put his arms around her, and she hugged him back tightly. Simon—her rock.

  It took every ounce of discipline he had, not to turn his face and accept her show of affection on his lips.

  They went in.

  PART FOUR

  To everything there is a season,

  and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

  a time to be born, and a time to die;

  a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted…

  —Ecclesiastes 3:1-2

  CHAPTER 1

  The day Jenny had been anticipating for months—freedom from the confinement of the flat—arrived. She packed her suitcases, then laid her remaining clothes on the bed.

  Colin was all smiles when he arrived after lunch. He removed her flag from the wall. She carried the blanket he had given her and the bobby bear from Bridges. The men hung her clothes in Colin’s extra bedroom and set her suitcases in the corner. The walls were the color of peaches, and the rosewood chest and nightstand seemed to reflect the warm glow. She put her bear on top of the chest of drawers, next to the vase of fresh flowers.

  Opdec, Casey thought. “We’ll collect our gear from upstairs and be off. Sir.”

  They all moved toward the door. She wasn’t sure she could get any words out but knew she had to try. “Hunt—are you going to talk about me?”

  “Too right,” he said bluntly. “I’m going to tell everyone you’re ten feet tall.”

  That made her smile. “Thanks for being lively,” she said. “For standing up for me. For adapting so quickly.”

  “No hug? You’ll ruin my rep.”

  She laughed and obliged and then turned to Brian. “I was so afraid of you at first,” she admitted. “Now I can’t imagine why I ever felt that way. Thank you for all the little kindnesses.”

  “No problem, JJ,” he said, holding out his arms. “Glad to do it.”

  She embraced him and stepped back. She couldn’t look at Simon. He put his hand under her chin and lifted her face. “That’s a switch,” he commented. “You used to cry when you saw me coming.” His voice softened. “Ring me if you need me. Have a safe landing.”

  Sinclair shook hands with each man. Hunt opened the door, and they were gone. “Think where man’s glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends,” she said. “Yeats.”

  Colin put his arm around her. “Cup of tea?” he asked.

  In spite of everything, she smiled. “Tea cures everything! It’s better than penicillin.”

  He set the water to boil and took two cups from the cabinet. “I’m glad you have your trainers on,” he said. “When we finish our tea, I’ll change clothes, and we’ll go for a walk on the Heath.”

  “What’s a heath?”

  “A natural park. This one’s almost 800 acres.”

  “Texas size!” she exclaimed.

  “Yes,” he smiled, “but in Hampstead—north London.”

  They walked down the stairs and left the block. They passed little shops on their way to the park and a bicycle with a small dog in its basket waiting for its owner to make his purchases and return. He took her past the ponds—“People swim in those?” she asked—and up the path to Parliament Hill. They sat on the grass, and he pointed out the spire of St. Paul’s Cathedral. She leaned against him, listening to his voice and feeling the wind on her hair. Most of the poets she had studied had written of the winter wind, likening it to the cold hearts of men and the bleak power we have to hurt each other. This wind felt as warm as Colin’s hand on her arm, and it was sufficient to lift the Frisbees off course, causing the intended recipients to laugh and run after them. She wanted it to sweep her spirit clear of the cobwebs that had accumulated during her three seasons in the flat.

  They took a different path out of the Heath, stopped in at a French bakery, and selected a variety of chocolate confections for dessert later. Then they entered Café Rouge, which she remembered from central London. She was glad to see that only his entrée was accompanied by French fries, miniature and very tasty but a potato product all the same. They enjoyed decaf coffee when their bottle of wine had been emptied. He did not hurry her back to the flat, stopping with her whenever she wanted to linger. They climbed the quaint streets slowly, hand in hand.

  Inside the flat she felt the nervousness of a fourteen-year-old, not the calm and poise she thought she should have at age twenty-four. He sat beside her on the sofa and ran his fingers across her cheek, along her jaw line, and down her neck. When he kissed her, his pace was slow, and then he stopped altogether. “I think I’ve fallen in love with you, Jen,” he whispered, “but I’m not asking for a commitment now. I just want you to listen. I expect you’re a bit uneasy about men, but Jen—I believe we can wipe away whatever fear you have, one kiss at a time.”

  “I wish I had your faith. I love being with you, but I just don’t know—”

  He put a finger across her lips. “Sshh. I know it’s an adjustment, but I’m convinced that love can develop from trust. I know you trust me. I want you to trust yourself.” He leant toward her again. There was an assurance to everything he did which she wished she felt. Gradually her universe shrank to the sensations from his fingers on her lips, from his breath in her ear, and from his mouth on her mouth.

  He stopped again to serve the dessert. Chocolate had never tasted so sweet, nor wine so smooth. She could see the twinkle in his blue eyes. She laughed aloud and curled her legs beneath her, responding in kind to his light conversation.

  Finally he said, “I want you to feel safe with me. I’ll not pressure you in any way.” He gave her a quick kis
s and took their dishes into the kitchen.

  She showered and climbed into bed. A different bed. Different sheets. Everything about her life was going to be different now. No ghosts from the past. But it was too quiet. She missed the radio. It had been a security device, but over time it had signaled someone’s presence, as if the team were telling her that she was not alone. Was Colin asleep already? She slipped out of bed and tiptoed through the sitting room to his door. “Colin?”

  She heard a rustle. “Yes?”

  “Could I turn on the radio? Would it keep you awake?”

  “Not at all. I’ll find a station with soft music. Just give me a moment.” He pulled on some trousers and came into the sitting room. She looked irresistible in her pyjamas and bare feet, but he would gain nothing in the long run if he pushed her now. One more goodnight kiss would have to do.

  When she walked back into her room, she realized that it wasn’t completely dark. There was a nightlight plugged in by the bed. Thank you, Brian. She could hear the faint strains of the radio, and she pulled the flowered duvet over her and remembered Colin coming into the sitting room bare chested. After a long while, she slept.

  CHAPTER 2

  When Jenny woke, she was unsure for a moment where she was. Then her eyes fell on the chrysanthemums, the beautiful soft pink chrysanthemums Colin had left on her chest of drawers. She almost laughed aloud, wondering if he recognized the irony—mums when she no longer had to keep silent to be safe, mums when she could shout from the rooftops that she was free and going home. She pulled on jeans and a t-shirt and went to find him. He’d either been out while she was sleeping or had planned ahead: There was a chocolate croissant waiting for her. “You’ll need sustenance,” he told her. “We’re going to do some travelling today—on foot.” He poured her tea.