by M. Leighton
“Here, start filling this out,” he said, handing me the board.
When I took the clipboard, the first thing my eyes were drawn to was the big oval wet spot in the shape of Disher’s thumb that decorated the top of the first paper. My stomach swished and swayed for a second and I purposely looked down at some of the questions instead.
As I suspected, they wanted lots of details. The form started out with specifics about the victim. Hair color, eye color, skin tone, build, length and style of hair, and kind of voice, which were questions I felt comfortable in answering. But then it started to get a little hairy. Scars, approximate height, approximate weight, specific personal features, medical conditions, medications needed, detailed description of person’s last known whereabouts. Those questions? Eh, not so much. And that’s to say nothing for how I was going to explain the rest of what I had to say.
I flipped the pen against my finger as I studied the questions, debating my best course of action. If I filled out the form only partially, they might not take my claim seriously. On the other hand, if I made up answers to the questions I didn’t know, they might not be able to help me (and therefore Lisa) at all.
“Excuse me, sir,” I croaked. I cleared my throat again and took a deep breath before continuing. “What if I don’t know—”
“Just fill in as much as you can and be as specific as you can,” he interrupted, answering me without even looking up.
I nodded and bent over the paper to fill in what I knew.
Less than five minutes later, I pushed the pen back under the jaw of the clipboard and laid it on the desk in front of the lieutenant.
I rose and turned toward the door to leave, but he stopped me. “Hold on,” he said, scanning the form. “Is this all you know?”
“Yes, but it’s complicated. I—”
“Sit down,” he growled, cutting me off again.
Quickly, I slid back into the chair I’d just vacated and looked expectantly at Lieutenant Disher. “Sir?”
“Are you wasting my time, young lady?”
“No, sir. I—”
“Then let’s cut to the chase. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Lieutenant Disher, I need your help. I honestly believe that something will happen to this girl if you don’t—”
“Will? You didn’t even see anything?”
“Well, I saw her with, uh- I saw a person, um—” All the things I’d considered saying, all the explanations I’d rehearsed had fled my mind all at once, leaving behind a complete blank. When left to wing it, I always went with the path of least resistance. In this case, that was the truth. “I saw someone choke Lisa Bauer to death in the grass just off campus at University East.”
If I hadn’t been so nervous, the look of surprise on his face would’ve been comical. “You what? I thought you said a possible murder.”
“Uh, I, um- yesterday, I, uh—” My head began to throb. This was getting worse by the second.
“Why don’t you start at the beginning,” he offered, more gentle than he’d been up to this point.
“Well, I saw it when I was on my way to school yesterday morning. I cut through the woods and was walking toward the quad when I saw her. She was on her back in the grass and a person with long red hair was strangling her.” I tried to be as brief as possible, hoping he wouldn’t ask me too many questions.
“Did you see her attacker?”
“Not the face, no.”
“Did you actually see this girl die? Or you just saw someone choking her?”
“Yes, sir, I saw her die.”
“Did you try to help her?”
“Well…no.”
Disher started shaking his head sympathetically. “That’s alright,” he soothed. “Most people freeze when they witness something like that. Don’t beat yourself up. You could’ve ended up getting hurt if you’d intervened,” he said. “I’m assuming you didn’t call the police.”
“No, sir.”
“Did you tell anyone else?”
“No, sir.”
“Did the attacker see you?”
“No, sir.”
“Did the attacker move the body?”
“I don’t know.”
Disher looked back down at the form I’d completed. My pulse picked up again when I saw his thick eyebrows draw together over the bridge of his nose. “Is this description of what she was wearing accurate?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So she was dressed like a man.”
I nodded.
“And she had a fake goatee on.”
I nodded.
“And this happened yesterday morning in broad daylight.”
Uh-oh, I thought, hesitating before I answered. “Uh, I’m not sure.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, I didn’t actually see the—”
“You said you saw it.”
“Well, I did, but it was more of a vision than—”
Crumbling the paper in his hand and hissing an explicative, Disher pushed away from the desk. “Are you one of those fruitcakes that invent crimes so you can get attention? You’re not gonna claim to be a psychic, are you?”
“No, I’m not a psychic, but I did see—”
The lieutenant rolled his eyes, standing up so quickly his chair flew back and slammed against the wall behind the desk. “Come with me,” he snarled, stomping angrily around his desk and out the door. I could hear him muttering. Come in here and waste my time like I’ve got nothing better to do. Then he mumbled something about crazy people, followed by a few more things I couldn’t quite make out.
I followed him back through the marked door. He pointed to the bench I’d been seated on earlier and growled over his shoulder. “Sit.”
I desperately wanted to take exception to his command as well as his attitude. I was neither a dog nor a criminal that he could treat just any old way. But I figured at this point that would be like poking an angry bear so I kept my mouth shut.
He jerked open the glass door that led to the policeman’s common office area, looked around for a minute, then stalked over to the trio by the coffee pot. They hadn’t moved since I’d left.
I saw Disher’s belly shake and jiggle as he ranted. He gestured wildly and hiked his thumb over his shoulder in my direction several times. I saw the trio look up at me twice, but they said nothing, merely listened intently to what Disher was saying.
A devious smile broke out on the face of the tallest of the group. He leaned in toward Disher. I couldn’t make out what he might’ve been saying, but whatever it was must’ve been pretty funny. All four men laughed.
The tall cop clapped Disher on the shoulder and Disher turned and walked back toward me. He was still smiling when he pushed through the glass door again, but it faded as soon as his eyes met mine.
“Somebody’ll send for you,” he said and then he walked right past me, opened the restricted door and disappeared behind it.
I turned my attention back to the three cops in the glass room. They were still enjoying some kind of joke between them. They huddled their heads together for a minute before I heard the tall one shout Hey, Grayson. Got a live one for ya, Rookie.
The other two cops snickered as they headed toward what I assumed was a desk that sat deep in the corner closest to me. It was completely hidden from my view.
I could see the three men looking down at someone, talking and gesturing—again toward me. I was immediately uncomfortable. I wondered if I should just leave. After all, I hadn’t given Disher my name. They’d have no way to know where to find me.
That option was sounding really good and I was actually rising to my feet to bolt when I remembered that I’d had to put my name on the top of the report.
I was still considering escape when I saw the trio of men back away from the desk that I couldn’t see and a fourth head pop up in front of the glass.
A man with short cut, shiny black hair walked out from behind the desk and turned toward the doo
r. I watched him head my way. In a panic, I froze like a deer in headlights.
Though he was dressed in plain clothes like the other three men, his outfit was much nicer. He wore a forest green shirt with black pants and a matching tie that had an abstract print on it. He looked much younger than any of the others, too. And he was very handsome in a dangerous-cop kind of way.
He stopped in front of the door to rub tiredly at his nape. It made me feel a little sorry for him. I feared I was not going to make his day any better or easier.
Finally, he pushed the door open and looked right at me. “Holloway?”
“Yes?”
“Come on back,” he said, sweeping his hand in front of him.
I stood and walked to the door, turning sideways to squeeze past him. He smelled like cinnamon and coffee mixed with soap. Not a bad smell, just an unusual combination. I avoided his eyes as I passed in front of him then I stepped to the side to let him lead the way.
“I’m Detective Grayson,” he said over his shoulder as he made his way across the room. He headed for a desk that was indeed crammed into the corner as I’d suspected and then he stopped in front of it.
It was piled high with folders and papers. A stack of empty coffee cups sat on one corner and a glass jar of Fireballs sat on the other. There was a small space cleared out right in front of the computer where the desk surface was visible. It was brown and worn and looked a hundred years old.
He plopped down into the chair behind the desk so I sat in the ratty gray one to the side. I watched him quietly as he rifled through the folders scattered about, searching for something. He said Ah-hah when he came up with a pen.
He grabbed a wrinkled paper from the top of one of the stacks of files and then turned toward me with my report in his hand.
“So, Ms. Holloway, you witnessed a murder. Is that correct?”
“Yes.” He nodded slowly as he read over what I’d written. When he’d finished, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, pinning me with warm hazel eyes.
“I understand that you saw it through some kind of psychic vision. Is that correct?”
“Look, I never said I was a psychic. I just told Lieutenant Disher that I saw it through a vision. Not in real life.”
“So what you’re saying is that you’re a psychic,” he said. I looked for scorn, amusement, disgust, sarcasm, but there was no trace of any emotion on his face.
“No, I’m not. It’s not like- it’s hard to explain.”
“Well, why don’t you try.”
Knowing I’d come too far to turn back now, I told Detective Grayson everything I’d seen yesterday morning, not sparing even the smallest of details. I figured at this point I needed to lay it on thick. They’d likely think I was either making it up or imaging it anyway. But if her body did turn up, maybe something I’d seen would be able to help them catch her killer.
When I was finished, he just watched me. It made me nervous and I wanted to look away, but I forced myself maintain eye contact. During his silence, as we stared at each other, I wondered how many hundreds of jet black eyelashes lined his eyes and if the hazel color was always as green as it was today.
Detective Grayson rubbed his hand over his jaw, his already visible dark stubble making a sandpaper sound against his palm. When he finally leaned forward, there was neither judgment nor belief on his face. It was carefully blank. And though I’d have preferred belief, I’d settle for anything other than mockery.
“Alright. If we get any reports of a missing person fitting this description, I’ll give you a call. Or if a body turns up, I might need to talk to you again. What’s a good number to reach you at?”
I gave him my cell phone number and he jotted it down on the report.
He stood to his feet, pulled a business card from the little holder on his desk and held it out to me. I stood, too, and took the card from his fingers. “My number’s on there. Call if you think of anything else.”
He just stood there, as did I. I wasn’t certain what to do or what just happened. Had he just blown me off in the most nondescript way ever or was this pretty much standard? Finally he said, “Have a nice day.”
“Thank you,” I muttered as I turned to leave. I was a little confused.
Once I got back to the Jeep, I realized that it was close to dinner time. The whole ordeal had taken much longer than I’d expected. Being inside the police station was like being in a time warp. What felt like only thirty or forty minutes in there had been nearly three hours out in the real world. It was so surreal, I felt like I’d been dosed with something.
On the way home, I didn’t feel nearly as relieved as I thought I would have after reporting Lisa’s murder to the authorities. I just assumed I’d feel deeply satisfied with my bravery and good Samaritan-ship, but it turns out that I’d had more gratifying experiences at the library, and that wasn’t saying much.
********
By the time Wednesday morning rolled around, I was feeling a little bit better. I’d done the right thing, painful and humiliating though it had been, and now I could leave Lisa’s safety and welfare in the capable hands of the police.
When I got to class, I took the same seat I’d claimed on Monday and waited for the rest of the students and the teacher to arrive. Three blonde, sorority-type girls came in and sat two rows in front of me. I hadn’t seen them on Monday, but that could’ve been the result of being blind-sided by seeing Lisa.
I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop; they were just close enough so that I could easily hear what they were saying. I started actively listening when I heard one of them mention Jake. I was instantly riveted to the conversation.
“That’s the thing, though. No one’s seen her since Monday night. She was there one minute and gone the next. Nobody saw her after that, not even Jake,” one girl said.
I felt the air leave the room when I heard that. I quickly thought back to Monday. I hadn’t seen Lisa talking to them. Wouldn’t she have spoken to them if they were friends? But then again, I reminded myself, I hadn’t noticed them at all.
Maybe they weren’t even talking about Jake Wheeler, in which case they probably weren’t talking about Lisa Bauer either. I hoped that they weren’t. Dear God, I hoped they weren’t.
“Maybe she’s sleeping it off at some random guy’s house.”
“Are you insane? There are no other guys at this school that can compete with Jake. She’d never cheat on him. You know that,” another said.
“I don’t know. She’s been acting kinda freaky the last couple of weeks.”
“She seemed fine to me at the party. And her costume was one of the best. It was genius! I mean, whoever would think of coming dressed as a man?”
CHAPTER FOUR
My heart stopped beating for an instant and then restarted again at an alarming rate, hammering violently against my ribs. I felt a cold sweat break out on my brow. Visions of Lisa’s fake goatee and man’s shirt with loose tie flashed through my head like a strobe of condemnation. She was probably lying dead somewhere. The police hadn’t been able to prevent it because I had waited too long.
It turns out I was incredibly wrong. Lisa could very much be murdered on Monday.
Saliva poured into my mouth and my jaws burned like I was going to throw up. I put my head down on my desk and concentrated on taking deep breaths, in through my nose and out through my mouth.
A little defensive voice inside my head reminded me that there was really very little anyone except Lisa herself could’ve done to prevent it anyway. Even if I had gone right after I’d had the vision Monday morning, there simply wasn’t enough information for the authorities to be able to prevent the murder. Was there?
Though I’d seen it happen, I still didn’t have much in the way of truly useful details, not the kind the cops would need anyway. I mean, Lisa’s name, the actual spot of grass on which she was going to die and the fact that her attacker would have long red hair doesn’t really make a very compelling case.<
br />
Regret washed through me, making my eyes sting with unshed tears. I should’ve just gone to Lisa and warned her. Even if she’d thought I was crazy, she probably would’ve thought twice about getting near anyone she saw with long red hair. But if not, surely she would’ve at least avoided the woods on that side of campus. It might not have made any difference, but at least I would have tried to do something to help her and something was infinitely better than not telling her at all.
Scooting my book off the desk into my bag, I got up and left class. I went to the restroom and splashed cold water on my face. When I looked at my reflection in the mirror, all I saw was the face of a coward staring back at me.