Page 41 of Witness 8

I paused, said, ‘I never thought I’d say this, but I think the best thing to do is call the police.’

‘Ready?’ I asked.

‘All set,’ said Harry.

He was standing at my window, a pair of Bloch’s tactical field binoculars in his hands. Raising them, Harry focused on the patrol car. Particularly, the small part of the interior visible through the windshield from our elevated position.

‘Make the call,’ I said. Lake dialed 911 on his cell, and together with Bloch moved out of my office, down the stairs to the front door.

‘What do you see?’ I asked Harry.

‘Nothing yet. Wait, there it is. The driver just switched off the radio.’

Lake had called 911, said his girlfriend had just been assaulted and her bag snatched one block over from my office. The two cops in the patrol car outside the bubble-tea shop were easily the closest police unit. They didn’t flash their lights. Didn’t turn on the sirens. Didn’t even start their car. They just turned off the radio so they could pretend there was a malfunction, andthey didn’t hear the call. I guessed they had already turned off their bodycams and their personal radios. The dispatcher would have their vehicle location on GPS, and no doubt they’d given the call sign to say they were dealing with a problem before going dark. But really they were waiting for me to come out of my office, then they would drive off and let the bikers in the red pick-up gun me down.

‘Okay, Harry. Are you sure their radio is off?’ I asked.

‘I watched the driver turn it off. What do think – I’m blind?’

‘Alright,’ I said, getting up out of my chair. ‘Let’s go. You want to make the call or shall I?’

‘Oh, leave this one to me,’ he said, placing the binoculars on my desk and reaching for his phone.

Harry dialed 911 as I made my way downstairs.

I stood facing the closed front door. My heartbeat quickened. Harry finished the call, and I heard his footsteps descending the stairs behind me. I licked my lips. My mouth felt dry and I was suddenly aware that my hands were shaking.

‘Call is in,’ said Harry. ‘Just answer me one thing. What happens if they turn their radio back on?’

‘Then we walk out this door and I get shot. Maybe you get shot too?’

‘Who would want to shoot me?’

‘How many ex-wives do you have?’

Harry stood beside me, facing the door.

I felt his presence, solid, real. Since my old man died, Harry had been like a father to me. A cranky, eccentric, alcoholic father – but a good one.

I felt my friend at my side and my hands weren’t shaking any more.

‘Thank you,’ I said.

‘For what?’

‘For putting your life on the line for me. I’m glad I’m walking out this door with you.’

Harry didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

I checked my watch.

Ninety seconds since Harry made the call. I’d estimated two, maybe two and a half minutes would be enough.

I checked my phone. No calls.

The little hallway that led directly to the street was just wide enough for Harry and I to stand shoulder to shoulder. Concrete painted walls and a faded charcoal carpet that we’d been meaning to replace for weeks.

I stared at the door. Looked at my phone. Breathed.