The Witness: A Novel (51 page)

“No,” she begged. “I’m scared! I don’t want to go in there without Sergeant Casey and Brian. If you’re searching buildings, then the shooter’s still out there somewhere. I want some guns on my side.”

“Jenny, it’s more likely he’s gone. The Westminster tube station is close by.”

“Colin, please!”

He looked at her pale face and rumpled clothing. “Casey, you and Hunt stand on the back wall. We’ll station Davies outside. If the judge objects, I’ll tell him it’s standard operating procedure following a bomb threat.”

When she returned to the courtroom, Judge Rye thanked the officers for their presence. “We’re all a bit more reassured, aren’t we?”

The young barrister for the prosecution completed his examination.

Then the counsel for the defence, Clive Tillotson, began. He also received gentle guidance from the judge, and she was glad that the barrister’s somewhat tentative style allowed her more time to respond. Sergeant Casey was wearing his fierce look, and even Hunt looked a little menacing, but she still felt unnerved. It was sobering to realize that lives were still affected and the decisions made in this court just as binding, regardless of the quality of legal representation and the events that had nearly derailed them.

When Tillotson finally bowed to the judge and sat down, the prosecutor stood. “Your Honour, may I request a short recess? I would like to reexamine this witness, but she is clearly still shaken by the events of the day.”

The judge agreed to a thirty-minute recess, and Colin led her to the corridor outside. She was surprised when her protection detail headed for the rear of the building. They were in the van and pulling away before Casey told her that the prosecutor had no intention of recalling her. Their departure had been rescheduled to take advantage of the heavy police presence in the area and to give them a head start on anyone who wished to follow them and do her harm. As further opdec, Sinclair had returned to his seat in the courtroom as if expecting her to reappear. A decoy had been previously arranged, but when Jenny and the team arrived at the witness protection flat without incident, Casey rang Sinclair to tell him it was not necessary.

T
he 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.

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

C
olin 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.”

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

T
here 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.

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

J
enny 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.

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

T
he 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.”