Page 73 of Witness 8

It was frightening. The doc said it wasn’t my heart. I was way too young and all the tests came back okay.

It was psychological. A panic attack.

Usually followed by neck pain, then headache.

Not for the first time, I wished that I didn’t know Harry – that I’d never met Kate, or Bloch, or Lake – that I didn’t have a firm with a single employee.

I wished that I was completely alone. Then no one could get hurt because of me.

When my breathing returned to normal, I stood and stretched my neck. The headache was on its way and I popped three Advil dry. Before Clarence got off the bed, he turned and looked at Harry. Carefully, he picked his paws up, put them down around Harry’s body so as not to step on him, and made his way up the bed.

He licked Harry’s hand, whimpered.

‘Come on, pal,’ I said.

Reluctantly, Clarence leapt to the floor.

We stood there for a while, the two of us. Looking at our friend in his hospital bed. Thankful he was alive, but deathly worried that he would never wake up. And it seemed that both of us knew that with the passing of each day the likelihood of Harry opening his eyes was diminishing.

‘Mr. Flynn?’ said a voice.

I turned, saw one of the nurses who was looking after Harry.

I greeted her and she asked if I had a moment to talk.

‘I see you here all the time,’ she said, ‘and there has been a meeting of the clinical staff in Harry’s case and we decided to talk to his relatives and friends. Since you’re the main contact, we thought we should tell you first . . .’

My throat tightened, but I managed to find the words.

‘Tell me what?’

‘Harry is stable, we want to make that clear, but in these types of cases where coma has lasted this long, we often tell the family that it might be time to start thinking about letting go . . .’

‘Letting go?’

‘Most people who have been under this long don’t wake up. I think you and your friends should start preparing for that.’

She smiled, and gently touched my arm. Then turned and walked away.

Clarence whimpered.

We left the hospital, shared two hot dogs in the park, and then I dropped Clarence off at Denise’s place.

‘Any news? Any change in his condition?’ she asked.

I shook my head.

‘He’ll come around, Eddie,’ she said.

I didn’t tell her about the conversation I’d had with the nurse. I didn’t want to take away her hope.

I fumbled for a response, then asked, ‘How can you be so sure?’

‘Because Harry Ford is too damn stubborn to lie in bed for long.’

I made my way to the office, watching my back, taking long circuitous routes through the city, and waited by the phone for Bloch to call while I read over the Jackson files for what felt like the fiftieth time. I sat there for hours. Thinking. Reading. Sometime in the evening my eyes must’ve closed, because when I opened them the office was in darkness and my neck was in agony.

And I was no further forward in finding a defense for John Jackson. I needed to sleep. I had been staying in a different place every night. On my toes all the time.