Calvin and I were buzzing with a new sense of purpose after Bobby agreed to testify. We made plans to meet him the following morning at the DA’s office to take his official statement. The next day, I arrived early, my heart thrumming with nervous excitement.
But Bobby never showed.
Calvin tried calling the tenement building. No answer. We drove back to his street, the hope in my chest slowly turning to dread.
His landlady, Mrs. Henderson, a woman with tired eyes and hair tied in a neat bun, answered our knock.
“Bobby? Oh, he left,” she said, her voice flat. “Packed up his bags yesterday afternoon. Said he got a real good job offer out of state. Left in a hurry.”
My stomach dropped. “A job offer? Where?”
Mrs. Henderson shrugged. “Didn’t say. Just said it was too good to pass up. Took a train, I reckon.”
Calvin ran a hand through his hair, his face grim. “He wouldn’t just leave without telling us. Not after he agreed to testify.”
“Mr. Price, are you saying…” I started, my voice barely a whisper.
“I’m saying Croft got to him,” Calvin finished, his jaw clenched. “He either paid him off handsomely or threatened him, or both. Sent him far away.”
We stood there, helpless. Without Bobby, our eyewitness was gone. Our concrete proof, vanished into thin air, leaving behind only the unsettling scent of Croft’s pervasive influence. The silence of the empty stoop screamed of another small victory for the powerful.
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