The witness - Fiction- Short story- chapter 2

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Peter was out of breath when he finally got home. He locked the door, and rested his head against the locked door for a minute. He threw the bag on his couch and poured himself a stiff drink. He was still shaking a bit and quickly downed the drink before pouring another.  

He had never been in such a situation ever, and he felt helpless and alone. His phone rang and he was startled. It was Jessie. She wanted to know if he got home safely and if she could drop off his jacket.  He told her that it was not necessary and that he would get it when she picked him up in the morning. 

She wanted to chat more, but he told her that he had food on the stove and he would call her back later. He took a deep breath and took a seat on the couch right next to the duffel bag.  He knew he was supposed to have waited for the police, but it was too late now.  

He was already in trouble, and he had to find a way out. He had no idea whose gun it was or even how to find out to whom it belonged, but that was not his biggest concern now.  What if the police had caught him on the scene...how would he have explained his innocence?

Peter took a deep breath and zipped open the bag. There were some clothes inside the bag and obviously the gun, but what he saw underneath the clothes blew his mind away. Neatly tucked away, and wrapped in newspaper and cling wrap were four stacks of brand new hundred dollar notes.  He didn't know if he should laugh or cry but this was definitely the weirdest day of his life. 

He was an innocent fugitive, a witness to a murder but he literally had nothing to do with this whole scene.  He might even be called a thief now, and that was not his intention.  

He switched on the television to see if he could find anything about the incident on the news, but there was nothing.  He grabbed the heaps of money and hid it behind his jackets in his bedroom closet.  He wrapped the gun in a towel and hid it at the back of his closet and then washed his hands about five times to get rid of all evidence.  

He ordered some Chinese, and took out his laptop to start searching for methods to clean guns, because as luck would have it he had never even owned a gun before, or even touched one. 

He got lost in his search and shrieked when the doorbell rang.  What if it was the police? 

"You are one paranoid bastard Peter!" he said to himself before opening the door for the food delivery. 

"You cut yourself?" The delivery guy asked and pointed to his face.  

Peter shook his head, paid the guy and closed the door. He went straight to the bathroom and saw that there were some blood on his face.  He must have touched his face without realizing and now even the Chinese guy looked suspicious. 

He immediately jumped in the shower and he felt much better after he got out.  He wrapped the towel around him and fetched the food from the kitchen.  He continued to search the internet while eating and nearly dropped the fork when he saw a news bulletin about a famous gang that robbed the local bank the previous day.  He was sure that the money he had in his closet was from that bank.  He was in the middle of everything and he could kick himself for being so stupid.  

He needed to contact the police. He didn't know what he was going to tell them, but he knew that it was the right thing to do.  

The next morning he was up bright and early after a most stressful and sleepless night.  He looked terrible, but as soon as he heard the newspaper being delivered he went to fetch it.  

He sat on the floor in the living room scanning the paper for the incident the previous night, but there was absolutely nothing. He was still in the clear, and perhaps he could stay that way... he only had to clean the gun, and get rid of the duffel bag. His mind was working overtime and he was still sitting there when he heard the car in the driveway.  

Dammit! He was late for work. He quickly finished dressing and locked his bedroom door behind him as if that was going to make any difference. 

He sighed when he got into the car with Jessie, and it looked like he carried the world upon his shoulders. 

"Geez what happened to you...you look terrible?" she said before turning into the side road to work. 

"I just didn't sleep well..."

- To be continued-

 

 

                           

                          

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