LOURDES
I stood in front of the busy police department, clutching my briefcase. I observed a few faces in the flurry of civilians who exited the jail. I felt invisible. Some of them looked unhappy, and others look relieved to be free. I had been in front of this building many times. So many times, I’m embarrassed to admit out loud for fear my mama might be listening up above. She told me if she ever died she would watch over me, to protect me and guide me down my path.
My mind went back to some of the nasty things I’d done in the dark, and my head dropped in shame. I guess she could see that stuff too. Maybe I shouldn’t be so worried what she thought about those dark times. After all, she was the one who taught me prostitution. I guess part of me believed she was in heaven now with a new outlook on my life. Maybe she didn’t approve of how I made a living now. But this day would be the first time in my life that I was doing something for someone besides me. I only hoped I would make her proud.
I was about to walk up the stairs when I heard a voice behind me. “Lourdes, what are you doing out here?”
When I turned around I was looking into Officer Billy Ross’ puffy black face. His skin was potted like an old statue, and the smile he gave me was just as fake…just as lifeless. He had arrested me for prostitution at least fifty times that I could remember, and my mama about double that amount. My stomach felt swirly and I was starting to think that maybe I had made a huge mistake. I was tempted to run but he grabbed the forearm of my injured hand like I was under arrest. I winced in pain.
“I asked you a question, girly.” he stepped closer. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I…uh…I was just coming to—” my words were lost into the ether. I couldn’t find them if I wanted to. Suddenly, I felt as if I were the one who had done a crime.
“Come on inside, and explain it to me there. And stop being so shaky. If you ain’t do nothing wrong, there won’t be a problem.” He smiled again. “You know that. It ain’t like me and you don’t go way back.” He released my arm but my feet didn’t move. “Come on now, time is money and money is time.”
Wanting to get this over with, I followed him cautiously. He marched ahead of me and I continued my trek as if I were a stray puppy. Once inside the building, the first thing I felt was extreme stuffiness. It was as if I had stepped into a sauna fully clothed. The familiar scent of fresh paper, fast food and coffee slapped me in the nose and I felt ill.
He walked me past a set of gray cubicles toward the back of the precinct. When we got to his cube, he stepped inside and slammed his husky body down behind his computer. I took the only seat available across from him. I felt out of place. He tapped his keyboard a few times and the computer awakened and chimed. His face was suddenly kissed with blue light from the glowing computer screen. He removed his wrinkled blue jacket and tossed it behind his seat, as I wondered one thing: what does he want with me?
“So, talk to me, Lourdes,” he eyed my breasts. “What brought you here?”
When I saw him trying to glance under my tiny mini skirt, I placed my briefcase in my lap and crossed my legs tightly, forcing my thighs together. He appeared disappointed by my action, because his forehead crinkled and his eyelids lowered.
“Hurry up and answer the question, Lourdes. I don’t have all day.” He stabbed at his keyboard again without looking at me this time.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and said, “I want to report a crime.”
His fingers levitated over the keys and he stopped typing. “Did you say you want to report a crime?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“The same bitch who I caught letting teenage baseball players look at her pussy for five bucks a pop?” His voice rose and I looked around, embarrassed that somebody might hear him and agree.
“I know it seems odd, but it’s the truth. I saw a horrible crime and I’m here to report it.”
“Oh I remember now,” he continued. “You’re the same bitch who had a whore for a mother, before somebody got the sense to blow her brains out and send her to her maker.”
He stared at me as if he was waiting on an answer but I didn’t have one.
“So all of a sudden you want to be a good citizen. Is this what you’re telling me?”
My heart pumped and I could see my breasts rise and fall when I looked down. “Maybe I should leave. You’re right; I don’t have a right to be here. I made a mistake.”
“You’re not going anywhere until you tell me about this crime you want to report, Lourdes.” He leaned back into his chair and it squeaked. “You’re not going to cheat me from this moment. I gotta hear this shit.”
I felt something crawling down my face. It wasn’t until I swiped it away that I realized it was a tear. I desperately tried to pull myself together to tell him the story. “I…there was a girl…I saw the whole thing. It happened in the field behind the school.” I swallowed again. “She stabbed a girl to death…on the ground while a group of teenagers watched.”
His eyes widened. “Which school?”
“Berry Mills,” I said with trembling lips. I placed my fingers over them to get them to stop moving. Why couldn’t I stop quivering?
“Are you sure about this?” He asked.
“I swear. I wouldn’t lie about something so horrible. The girl who did it, I mean, the girl who committed the crime I believe she has a problem. She may need help…mental help and that’s why I’m here.”
“Before getting into all of that, I have one question.”
“Sure, I’ll answer anything.”
“What were you doing behind the school?”
I wiped more of my tears away. “What? I don’t understand what you’re asking me. I just said a child hurt another child.”
“You understand exactly what I’m asking, bitch.” He paused. “What were you doing behind the school?” I remained silent. “Let me guess, you were behind the school servicing one of your customers.” He folded his arms over his chest, and gave me that look. That look he gave me when he knew he could rape me in his car after picking me up for prostitution last Christmas because I didn’t want to go to jail. He knew I wouldn’t tell anybody because nobody would believe me.
“Maybe I should leave,” I said standing up. “I’m sorry to waste your time.”
“Sit down.” When I kept walking he yelled, “I said sit the fuck down!”
I took my seat and tried to stop trembling in my chair. He pressed a few more buttons on the keyboard and I wondered what he was doing. I wanted to ask but I didn’t want to disturb him and make him angrier. Fifteen minutes later, he hopped up, snatched a stack of papers off of the printer and clutched my elbow.
“Where are we going?” I asked him. He doesn’t answer. “Where are you taking me?”
When my briefcase dropped to the floor I yanked away from him to pick it up. My world was inside of that case. My hopes and my dreams for a better life and I couldn’t give it away for anyone. When I had it in my grasp again I said, “Can you tell me what I did wrong? Why are you treating me like I’m a prisoner?”
He remained silent. Then, he snatched me by the arm again pulled me past all of the officers I saw before when I was here. They were giving me contemptuous glares, like they already knew what I had done. Once again she’s been caught selling her body. What a shame, they were probably thinking. But they were all wrong.
Before long, I was thrown into a waiting cell, with a shove to the back. When I turned around, the door slammed in my face. I tossed my briefcase on the bench and rushed up to the bars. With both of my hands wrapped around the iron rods, I squeezed my face between them. “Why are you doing this to me? I didn’t do anything wrong! I’m a witness to a crime.”
He stepped up to me. “You’re a prostitute, Lourdes. Of course you did something wrong,” he smirked.
He looked into my eyes and I could feel his disgust. He glanced behind him and then snaked his hand under my skirt and shoved his finger into my vagina. “Just like I thought,” he removed his finger and wiped it on his shirt, “once a whore, always a whore. You’re not even wearing panties.”
He stomped away, chuckling and shaking his head the entire time. Feeling defeated, I backed away from the bars, sat next to my briefcase and cried. What did I do to deserve this? All I wanted was to tell somebody what I saw so that Feather could possibly get some help and the little girl’s family could get closure. My mama always told me to be nice, fair and kind to people, but when are they going to be the same way with me?
When my throat throbbed from crying so much, I hopped up. I was tired of feeling sorry for myself. I gripped the bars and yelled, “I saw her get killed,” I yelled. “I saw Feather Holliday murder that girl! Please listen to me!”
When the other officers gave me accusatory stares, I backed up and sat on the bench again. It was obvious now. Nobody cared. Frustrated, I threw my face into my hands. “Mama, if you can hear me, I need your help right now. Please help me.”
“Did you say that you saw Feather Holliday kill the Bell girl?” a woman asked.
I lifted my head and stared into the face of the woman asking the question. She was a boyish looking woman, wearing a blue police uniform. Her long, brown hair was snatched into a ponytail that hung down her back. Despite her rough exterior, what I noticed the most were her eyes. They were kind, just like my mother’s.
I stood up and moved slowly toward the bars. “Yes,” I nodded. “I saw everything.”
She stepped closer to the cell. “Shhhh…” She placed a finger over her lips. “Listen to me and you hear me good.” She looked behind her and then faced me again. “Don’t tell another person in Houston what you’ve seen. Your life is in danger. Extreme danger. The Holliday family is notorious for covering their crimes. Now, if you want to live you’ll come with me tonight.”
“But where will I go?” I whispered. “I don’t have anybody.”
“I have some good friends in Baltimore. We’re going there.”