Free Forgotten Witness by Rebecca Forster

drove by on the street below. Somewhere someone screamed in anger. Josie only heard the sound of Ian Francis’ breathing. He cupped the back of her head with one palm. A second passed and then two. When the third ticked away he stepped back, took Josie’s face in both his hands, and looked at her as if he could look at her for eternity.
    Reverently, Ian Francis kissed Josie Bates.
    “My sweet girl,” he whispered against her lips.
    Letting her go in the next moment, he went to the french doors. He opened first one side and then the other. Ian Francis took one step and rested his hips against the railing of the false balcony. He breathed in the cold air, smiled, and crossed his arms over his heart. Then Ian Francis leaned forward and fell on to the street below.
     
    ***
     
    “Holy crap,” Morgan barked into his phone.
    “What? What?” Eugene screamed.
    “He took a dive. He took a dive. Holy shit, Genie. Gotta go.”
    “Is he dead?” Eugene screamed some more, but Morgan broke the connection.
    How in the hell was he supposed to know if the guy was dead? He was dialing for emergency services and ordering an ambulance in case he wasn’t. People were looking out windows – not that there had been any noise – people in this neighborhood knew when stuff like this went down. Morgan kept his eyes sharp on everything as he talked especially on the kid rushing down the street. Then he saw the person hanging out the window where Ian Francis had stood not two seconds ago.
    Holy hell, what a mess.
     
    ***
     
    Josie realized what was happening too late. There was nothing she could have done to stop him and nothing she could do to save him. She reached the open doors seconds after his head broke open on the sidewalk. She was horrified. Stupefied. A man had taken his life and the way he had taken it defied reason. He had not cried out in despair. He had not made demands. He had not threatened to kill himself. He had just done it. He had given no reason for the kiss, no reason to hold her, no reason to leave her. He had not raised his arms as if he thought he could fly but crossed them as if he were simply finished.
    But he hadn’t accomplished a damn thing. Josie still didn’t know where Hannah was; she still didn’t understand the things he had given her or the things she had found. He could have waited just a minute more, an hour, a day. She would have sat with him, walked with him, coaxed and cajoled the answers out of him. Was it her fault he couldn’t wait? Had she intimidated him? Violated him? Disappointed him?
    Had she ?
    Josie grabbed the railing. Her knees wobbled. She sank to the floor, her face thrust against the ironwork as she gulped in the cold air. Still, her stomach heaved and hurt. It didn’t matter why any of this had happened; it mattered that it had. It didn’t matter what information this man possessed; it was gone. Josie heard a car door slam and the sound of hard shoes running from down the street. A man was coming from the left but someone else was coming from the right. Bundled in a car coat, wearing jeans, and gloves and a hat, was a slight girl. She got to the body first and threw herself over it. Stunned, Josie pulled herself up and peered through the dark, hardly believing what she was seeing.
    “Hey!” she called. “Hey!”
    Down below the person clutching Ian Francis looked up and Josie saw the face of a young girl, a young woman. Her features were obscured by the dark and her pain; Josie’s vision was obscured by shock and wishful thinking.
    “Hannah?” Josie murmured, and then she screamed: “Hannah!”
    The girl’s head snapped toward the fat man running toward her as if she thought he had called her out. She swooped down and put her face next to the dead man’s and in the next instant she was running away, gone into the dark, taking with her the one thing Josie wanted: information. That girl knew what Ian Francis knew.
    Josie turned to run for the door. She didn’t make it