The Silent Witness. Dani Sinclair

That lock was the only thing that stood between her and whoever was in the alley outside. Thankfully, the dead bolt was in place. The rear door was secure and there were no windows back here to worry about. She was safe.

      So was Ilona, as long as she didn’t unbolt the apartment door upstairs.

      Nicki peered through the peephole. All she could see in the darkness was the hood of the running car. Nicki hesitated, unwilling to telephone the police until she was sure of what she’d heard. She strained to listen over the sound of blood pounding through her veins. The car continued to idle harmlessly.

      Shots? Or backfires like she’d first thought? Ilona wouldn’t thank her for calling the police and drawing attention to the shop needlessly.

      Nicki practically jumped three feet in the air when the telephone sliced through the silence. She hurried to the office, shutting down lights as she went. She didn’t want to draw attention to the store from the outside. Everything was okay, she told herself. Ilona’s boyfriend could not have found her. Ilona was safe.

      But she had to be terrified.

      As Nicki reached for the receiver, she saw both phone lines were lit. The business line flashed with the incoming call. Ilona? Calling from the apartment phone? Nicki lifted the receiver. A click filled her ear. She frowned, her pulses racing.

      The house line was no longer lit. But why would Ilona hang up? She wouldn’t have.

      Unless she didn’t have a choice.

      Nicki snatched her purse from the bottom desk drawer. In her rush to get upstairs, she tripped over the edge of the large box she’d left sitting out. Stumbling sideways, she knocked into a cardboard display and nearly fell. With an oath, she shoved the box to one side.

      She wasn’t usually clumsy, but a sense of urgency practically overwhelmed her. Nicki couldn’t explain why, but she needed to get to Ilona. She had to be certain her friend was all right.

      Nicki fumbled for her keys, dropping them, then stepping on them in her frantic hurry. As she locked the shop door, a figure dashed out of the alley and raced across the street. For a second, her breath caught in her throat.

      Was it the same man who’d been watching her shop? Though she’d never had a clear view of his face, there was something hauntingly familiar about the form that sprinted out of sight.

      With an impatient shake of her head, she opened the communal door leading up to her apartment and the one across the landing.

      Her apartment door gaped open, showering the steep staircase with light. She scooped up her cat, who’d taken the opportunity to try to sneak outside, and rushed up the stairs.

      “Ilona!”

      Silence met her call.

      Nicki set Ginger down inside and closed the door. She didn’t have to search her small apartment to know Ilona was gone. The emptiness struck her immediately.

      She nearly tripped over the handset of her portable telephone that lay on the carpet. Had Ilona dropped it as she fled? But why had she run? Nicki picked it up, trying to stem the apprehension hammering in her throat. There were no signs of struggle.

      The telephone in her hand shattered the silence. Jolted by surprise, Nicki answered cautiously as if the instrument itself presented some danger.

      “Hello?”

      “Nicki!” Ilona’s usually sultry voice came over the line as if she was out of breath.

      “Ilona! Where are you?”

      “He found me!”

      Fear welded the handset to Nicki’s fingers.

      “I tried to go out the back but a man started shooting!”

      “Your boyfriend shot at you?” The bruises and threats made that a frightening possibility.

      “No! The other man.”

      “What other man?” Ilona’s rush of words weren’t making any sense. “Slow down, Ilona.”

      “Oh, God, Nicki, I just saw a man get killed. Right in front of me!”

      For a second, fear nearly made Nicki deaf. “What?”

      “A man walked up to the car and shot the driver. I saw the whole thing.”

      Gunshots. Not backfires.

      “Are you okay?”

      “Of course not! I’m terrified! Don’t you understand? A car pulled up and a man walked up to it and opened fire. I was standing right there! I’ve never been so scared.”

      “But you aren’t hurt?”

      Ilona didn’t seem to hear her. “I can’t believe it! It was so incredible! Then I did something really stupid, Nicki. I called the police!”

      “That’s not stupid. You—”

      “No! It is stupid! They’ll have a record of the call! They’ll know there was a witness!”

      Nicki tried to stay calm. “It’s okay.”

      “No! It’s not okay! I can’t be a witness!”

      “Take it easy, Ilona. Who was the man?”

      “Which man? Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I’ve never seen either of those men before.”

      “But you said your boyfriend found you.”

      “I’m rattled, Nicki. Will you just listen a minute?” Almost calmly, Ilona began to describe the man in the car. Nicki thought about the man she’d seen run across the street.

      “Nicki, I can’t tell the police what I saw!” Ilona concluded.

      “Of course you can. You have to. A man is dead. You have to tell them—”

      “No! You’ll have to tell them.”

      Nicki stared at the flowers on her coffee table. The cut crystal bowl rested precariously near the edge of the table. “Ilona, I didn’t see the murder, you did.”

      “I know that, but the police don’t. You have to pretend to be me. You can tell the police what I saw. I’ll describe everything to you.”

      Nicki sank down on the couch and shoved the flowers back into place. “You can’t be serious.”

      “You have to! Please, Nicki! They’re going to think the caller was you anyhow. I didn’t give them my name.”

      “But—”

      “Is that sirens in the background?”

      Only then did Nicki process the sound of the siren turning down the alley. The police were here already.

      “Promise me, Nicki! You have to promise me!”

      “Ilona, this is crazy. Just come back and tell them what you saw.”

      “I won’t. I can’t! If you don’t give them the description then the murderer will get away free. Is that what you want? Because I’m not coming back, Nicki.”

      Nicki gripped the telephone even more tightly. Ginger jumped up beside her on the couch, her feline eyes staring with unwinking intelligence. Nicki reached out to stroke the comforting fur.

      “Look, Ilona, I know you’re scared, but be reasonable. All you have to do is tell the police what you saw. They’ll protect you. I keep telling you they’ll protect you from the man who hurt you too.”

      Silence.

      Finally, in a stilted voice Ilona said, “The man who hurt me is a policeman, Nicki.”

      The words filled her ear like a tidal wave of destruction. No wonder Ilona had refused to discuss going to the police. No wonder she was so frightened. Who do you turn to when the protectors turn on you?

      “I