EYE OF THE WITCH (Detective Marcella Witch's Series)

Author:Donovan, Dana [Donovan, Dana]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-03-28T16:00:00+00:00

Eight

Leona Diaz lived in a tiny efficiency on the other side of town. I had visited her only once, shortly after her release from the hospital just days after her rescue. I believed she came through her ordeal remarkably well, considering the horrors surrounding those circumstances and that through bilocation she remained aware, indeed, bared witness to crimes of unspeakable savageries. I never pressed her hard for details, though. The paranormal nature in which she witnessed those crimes would have rendered her testimony inadmissible in a court of law, anyway. My primary concern was then, and remains, her mental and physical well-being.

I walked up to Leona’s apartment and rang the bell. She seemed confused the first few moments after answering the door, but as soon as she recognized me, she threw her arms around my neck and damn near squeezed the life right out of me.

“Detective Marcella, Oh, mi Dios! I do not believe it! Please….” She pulled me in by the hand. “Come in. You must not stand out in the cold.”

“It’s not cold,” I started to say, but by then she had hauled me into her apartment and sat me down on an overstuffed armchair. She took a seat across from me on the sofa, so close that our knees almost met.

“It is so good to see you again, Detective. I am in static!”

I laughed a little. “Leona, you’re English is getting better, but I think you mean, ecstatic.”

She cupped her hands to her mouth and giggled. “Did I say something much silly?”

I shook my head and dismissed it with a wave. “No, sólo un poquito. Está bién.”

“Gracias, Detective. You are too kind.” We smiled at each other, she like a child, excited, her feet tapping on the floor wildly, and me like a proud father, disbelieving that this young flower had grown more beautiful than ever. Nineteen-years-old and she maintained the remarkably delicate features of a child, baby smooth skin like caramel mocha, a smile bright and innocent and long dark hair with eyes like big brown moons.

“You look well,” I told her. “Are you doing fine? You working?”

“Sí. I am the optometrist’s assistant at Optic-wise Visions Center.”

“Are you? How good for you. And you’ve learned to pronounce optometrist so well.”

She drew her hands to her mouth and giggled again. I watched her eyes peek through tiny slits, but never lose their twinkle. “I know, thank you,” she said. “I have practiced so hard.” She straightened her face and dissolved her smile. “The op·tom·e·trist will see you now, Detective Marcella. Do you like for the op·tom·e·trist to call you tomorrow? The op·tom·e·trist will return in one hour—”

I laughed, which broke her up. Then we both laughed until our cheeks turned red and sore. I would rather have gotten up and left then, remembering Leona that way forever. But the child’s eyes had seen adult atrocities before, and if ever I were to break open this case, I had to know if she had seen them yet again. I scooted my chair forward slightly until our knees touched.

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