The policeman was sympathetic and concerned. He said, "We'd better get over to the office."
But we never left the spot because an explosion some blocks distant shattered the air. Julia's hand grasped my arm. Hard.
"Jets," the redcap said, eying the sky.
"I don't know," the policeman said. "Didn't sound much like a jet to me."
We stood there. I could visualize the wreckage of an old gray coupe in the middle of a street, but I couldn't visualize the driver. That was all right. I didn't want to see him. I didn't know what Julia was thinking.
She said, "About those bags," and looked at me.
The officer said, "Yes, miss?"
"I—I don't care about mine. I didn't have much of anything in it."
"I feel the same way," I said. "Would it be all right if we didn't bother to report it?"
"Well," the policeman said, "I can't make you report it."