Read Online False Witness (John Steel series Book 3) by P. S Syron-Jones - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: P. S Syron-Jones
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notebook at the story he was about to put together, something he had been working on for a while, and now he was almost ready to type it up for his editor. He was a reporter for the New York Herald and had been for around six years.
He looked up as a black guy in old army greens got up and started singing. Edward had to admit that the man was good, and so had no reservations about putting some loose change into an old food tin the singer was passing round.
The song didn’t take long and the people applauded after he was done and he moved on to the next car. Edward smiled as he watched the man start a performance for his next audience.
As the train’s brakes began to screech again he looked up and recognised the familiar sight of his station, and a warm feeling came over him—he was nearly home.
The night air had a bitter sting to it, as if small razors hung on every gust. The nights were starting to draw in and everywhere there was the feeling that winter would soon be here.
His walk to the apartment block didn’t take him long as the cold wind hurried him along. His building had black-painted fire escapes on the front that almost acted as small balconies for the residences. Entering the main hallway, the warmth of the building hit him with a pleasant shock, making him shudder slightly.
He was home.
As he entered his apartment, he left the door open so that the light from the hallway illuminated the room enough for him to find the light switch.
The only lights he had to brighten the small apartment were a couple of standard lamps and one that sat on a dresser to the rear of the sofa. The seating area was combined with a kitchen area, next to which was a long corridor that contained a bathroom and two bedrooms, one of which lay right at the end and was now used as his office.
Edward closed the door and put on the chain and the two safety bolts before taking off his denim jacket and tossing it onto the back of the couch. The room was dimly lit, but he found it to be more homely that way.
The silence was suddenly broken by the sound of music, as his ring tone blared through his jacket—the loud tones of Pink alerting him to his editor’s call. Reaching into the front flap pocket he drew out the phone and pressed the accept button.
“What’s up, boss?” he asked jokily, as he listened to his boss’s rants about deadlines.
“I am nearly there,” he protested. “I just got some more people to speak to and then I should be done. Look I need to get the facts right here because if I am wrong he walks and gets away with it, they all do.” He listened for a moment as he headed towards his ‘office’ down the darkened corridor.
He reached for the handle, but then suddenly he stopped because of something his editor had said.
“What, what do you mean he escaped?” Edward asked. “No that can’t be. If he got out... Look, Chief, I have got a lead.” Edward turned and headed back towards the sitting room, the loud rants of his boss coming from the cell’s speaker.
“Yes, I have proof. What? No it’s safe, sure it is, it’s—”
An electric blue flash filled the hallway and Edward fell silent.
The only noise was from Edward’s phone:
“Ed, are you there? Ed? Ed?”
TWELVE
A patrol vehicle pulled up outside Edward Gibbs’s building. The officers inside were responding to a 911 call that dispatch had called through.
They didn’t have many details, only the information that some newspaper reporter may be in distress. The sergeant got out and put on his hat, pulling down the peak so it nestled comfortably on his head.
The other man came round and stood beside him. The pair were a training officer and his rookie.
“Come on, kid, let’s find out what this is all about, shall we?” the older man said.
They entered through the main doors and looked at the row of post boxes on the wall to find the right apartment.
“There it is: 4b,” announced the sergeant.
He looked up as a black guy in old army greens got up and started singing. Edward had to admit that the man was good, and so had no reservations about putting some loose change into an old food tin the singer was passing round.
The song didn’t take long and the people applauded after he was done and he moved on to the next car. Edward smiled as he watched the man start a performance for his next audience.
As the train’s brakes began to screech again he looked up and recognised the familiar sight of his station, and a warm feeling came over him—he was nearly home.
The night air had a bitter sting to it, as if small razors hung on every gust. The nights were starting to draw in and everywhere there was the feeling that winter would soon be here.
His walk to the apartment block didn’t take him long as the cold wind hurried him along. His building had black-painted fire escapes on the front that almost acted as small balconies for the residences. Entering the main hallway, the warmth of the building hit him with a pleasant shock, making him shudder slightly.
He was home.
As he entered his apartment, he left the door open so that the light from the hallway illuminated the room enough for him to find the light switch.
The only lights he had to brighten the small apartment were a couple of standard lamps and one that sat on a dresser to the rear of the sofa. The seating area was combined with a kitchen area, next to which was a long corridor that contained a bathroom and two bedrooms, one of which lay right at the end and was now used as his office.
Edward closed the door and put on the chain and the two safety bolts before taking off his denim jacket and tossing it onto the back of the couch. The room was dimly lit, but he found it to be more homely that way.
The silence was suddenly broken by the sound of music, as his ring tone blared through his jacket—the loud tones of Pink alerting him to his editor’s call. Reaching into the front flap pocket he drew out the phone and pressed the accept button.
“What’s up, boss?” he asked jokily, as he listened to his boss’s rants about deadlines.
“I am nearly there,” he protested. “I just got some more people to speak to and then I should be done. Look I need to get the facts right here because if I am wrong he walks and gets away with it, they all do.” He listened for a moment as he headed towards his ‘office’ down the darkened corridor.
He reached for the handle, but then suddenly he stopped because of something his editor had said.
“What, what do you mean he escaped?” Edward asked. “No that can’t be. If he got out... Look, Chief, I have got a lead.” Edward turned and headed back towards the sitting room, the loud rants of his boss coming from the cell’s speaker.
“Yes, I have proof. What? No it’s safe, sure it is, it’s—”
An electric blue flash filled the hallway and Edward fell silent.
The only noise was from Edward’s phone:
“Ed, are you there? Ed? Ed?”
TWELVE
A patrol vehicle pulled up outside Edward Gibbs’s building. The officers inside were responding to a 911 call that dispatch had called through.
They didn’t have many details, only the information that some newspaper reporter may be in distress. The sergeant got out and put on his hat, pulling down the peak so it nestled comfortably on his head.
The other man came round and stood beside him. The pair were a training officer and his rookie.
“Come on, kid, let’s find out what this is all about, shall we?” the older man said.
They entered through the main doors and looked at the row of post boxes on the wall to find the right apartment.
“There it is: 4b,” announced the sergeant.
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