The Witness: A Novel (29 page)

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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W
hen 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?

S
ergeant 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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H
obbes 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 31
^st
, 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.”

He looked at her. She was wearing a black velvet trouser suit with silver beads and sequins around the neckline. Beaded earrings dangled from her ears. “What are you playing at?” he snapped.

“Why are you mad at me?” she asked.

Too late, he realised that he’d misread her, and he was angry with himself. He played hard when he wasn’t on a mission. The women in the clubs had come on to him, and he’d welcomed them. This one hadn’t done. “Sorry, love. Don’t take offence.” He wanted to tell her to be careful. If she said something like that to a bloke on the outside, he’d shove his tongue down her throat and scare the bloody hell out of her.

She slept late on New Year’s morning. When she woke, she missed her mother’s cinnamon rolls, which had long been a family tradition at home.

Later that day Colin called by. As she told him how much in his debt she felt, she took his hand. “From the very beginning, you’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty. You’ve kept in close touch with my parents. I know it hasn’t been easy, giving them bad news, but I’m sure they appreciate your attentiveness, and I do, too.”

Colin didn’t answer right away but the silence between them held no tension. “In the beginning I wanted to make certain the protective team behaved appropriately. I made a promise to your parents, and I still feel bound by it. More important, I made a promise to you. Having you upstairs made it easier for me to evaluate how things were going.” She was still holding his hand, and he had to make a conscious effort to keep his tone light. “I’ve come to enjoy being here. There’s food in the fridge, and something’s always on.”

“If you think this flat is interesting, you must really have a dull life,” she teased.

He smiled. “Nonetheless, when you’ve made all your court appearances, I hope you’ll consider staying on for a bit. You’ll be free to go, of course, but I’d like to take you on some tours without postcards.”