For a second, I thought it was a gesture of surrender.‘Police. Put your weapon down immediately, sir.’ She was holding out her ID. Slowly, I dug my hand into my jacket pocket, found my hospital ID and brought it out. I held it up, confident that Jogging Pants would never be able to make out the details.Far from sure, he lowered his shotgun. ‘What’s going on?’‘Night patrol, sir,’ said Helen. ‘Now, I need you to put your weapon on the ground. Right now, sir. Aiming a weapon at a police officer is a very serious offence.’I had to bite my lip. Night patrol! He seemed to be buying it, though. His knees buckled under him and his shotgun slipped to the ground. With an effort, he straightened up.‘Will I just be phoning the local station?’ he muttered.‘Certainly, sir,’ said Helen. ‘They’ll need you to go in to sign a statement, so you may prefer to leave it till morning. And you should take in your shotgun licence. They’ll need to check the serial number.’I loved this woman.
