Page 5 of Her Passionate Hero

There was an orderly waiting with a wheelchair. “Your chariot awaits,” Jerry said.

“Now you’ve got it,” Mary laughed.

“Thank you, both,” Aliana said.

“It’s our job,” Jerry said. “Good luck.”

The big orderly whisked her in through the double doors.

***

“Officer Robinson, it was dark. I can’t describe them.”

Aliana willed herself to treat this like she was in control, that she was having a conversation with the principal at her school. She could do this. She refused to give up her power again tonight. When she felt her hands begin to clench, she forced them to spread out and rest on her thighs.

“Can you walk me through it again? I still don’t understand how you got away from them.” She looked into his intelligent face. It was obvious he didn’t believe her, and who could blame him. Her story sounded as flimsy as a piece of paper. From dealing with so many students, the one thing she knew is the kids who stayed closest to the truth, they were the ones who tended to get away with their crimes.

“I told you, one of the teenagers said he heard a siren.”

“If you can’t describe them, how do you know they are teenagers?”

That was a great question. How could she? “I deal with teenagers all the time at my school, there was just something about them that seemed like my students. I can’t exactly explain it, but it was a sense I got it.”

“Fifteen? Sixteen? Nineteen? What age did you sense them to be?” She looked down at the bed she was sitting on. At least she wasn’t hurting, it was a good thing she hadn’t allowed them to give her anything stronger than the local anesthesia, otherwise she wouldn’t be sharp enough to navigate this interview.

“I’m not sure.”

“Surely if you work with teenagers day in and day out, you can take a pretty accurate guess,” he insisted.

Aliana tried to think of an excuse. “It was dark, and I was scared for my life, I’m sorry I wasn’t paying better attention.”

“Usually victims remember something,” he said mildly.

She had to stick to her story. Her mother’s life depended on it. They stared at one another. She knew his game. She played it often enough herself. She waited. And waited. And waited.

He blew out a breath. “If you can’t tell me their ages. Can you tell me what they sounded like? Did you have an idea if they were African American? Hispanic? White?”

“Hispanic. They spoke Spanish. They drove away in a late model, hyped-up car.”

“Well, at least that’s something. Would you recognize the car if I showed you some pictures?”

She nodded. That shouldn’t be giving too much away. The bandage scratched. When would she remember to stop doing that? How was she going to explain her injury when she got to school? A nasty kitchen accident wouldn’t be believed, she thought wryly. Good, at least she found a little bit of humor. She was coping.

“Is something funny?” Officer Robinson asked sharply.

“I was thinking of excuses to explain my injury to the people at school,” Aliana admitted. “Some of the stories were somewhat unbelievable.”

“Imagine that.” He sounded amused.

“Are we done?” she asked.

“I’m going to ask that you come to our station to look at pictures of cars. Can you make it tomorrow?”

“Yes.” She needed to get to her mother. She looked down at the slim watch on her wrist and was thankful to see it was still only seven o’clock. Visiting hours lasted until nine o’clock, so she could still make it to Glendale if she could get a lift to her car.

“Yes?” The officer prompted.

“Can you take me to my car?”