Page 120 of Near Miss

Rogers nodded at one of the waiting officers, who opened the door, and pulled the lurker out.

“Please, this is some kind of mistake,” the kid said. “I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“Then why did you hide under the car when the police arrived?” Ed asked.

The kid blinked, confused by Ed’s American accent or the fact that he wasn’t wearing a uniform or both. “I—I didn’t know it was the police. I just heard them coming toward me.”

“And your first instinct was to hide. Why?”

The kid looked away, clearly not wanting to answer.

“What’s your name?” Ed asked.

“Christopher. Christopher Bedford.”

“Christopher, the more you cooperate, the easier things will go for you.”

Ed’s words obviously had the opposite effect from what he intended as the blood drained from the kid’s face. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“If that’s the case, then just tell us what—”

“Christopher?” a female voice called from across the street.

A young woman about the same age as Christopher ran to the police car. “What happened?” She turned to Rogers. “Why are you holding him?”

“You know this lad?” Rogers asked.

“Yes. He’s my... my friend.”

Ed instantly understood what was going on here. But before he could say anything, a man stepped out of a house across the street, took in the scene, then called, “Caroline, what’s going on? Why are the police here?”

The girl took a step away from the car. “It’s nothing.” She shotEd and Rogers a quick look, pleading for them not to say anything, then she turned and jogged across the street.

To Christopher, Ed said, “I take it her parents don’t know about the two of you.”

Christopher shook his head.

“I’ll let you handle this,” Ed said to Rogers and then returned to the house.

He was glad it was a false alarm, but for some reason that made him feel more concerned rather than less.

“How about a drink?” Sarah said.

“How about more than one?”

A man on a rooftop, three blocks down from the house where Ed Rawls was staying, lowered his binoculars and called the preprogrammed number on his phone.

“I’ve scouted the location,” he reported.

“Your assessment?” the Sarge asked.

“It’s not worth the trouble.”

“Explain.”

“I don’t know who this guy is, but he must have friends in high places. He’s got at least twenty Metropolitan Police officers protecting this place. Maybe you could get to him, but I wouldn’t bet on your chances of getting away after.”

“You’re sure?”

---