Eve was instructed to take a seat in one of the chairs lined against the wall. It was over an hour before her name was called.
She looked around nervously and said, “I must speak with you in private.”
“Lady, what is this about?”
“What about her?”
“I’m a witness to what happened to her.”
The detective froze, his eyes squinting to scrutinize her. A white woman in his town saying something so daring? Could it be? He abruptly put his hand on Eve’s lower back to usher her to a private room.
For the next hour, two detectives, along with the police chief, took turns going in and out of the room where Eve was taken. There seemed to be anxiety in the air. But it was clearly a sacred secret at this point. Only the finest in the precinct had been chosen to partake in the screening of Eve’s statement.
Eve had become a precious commodity to them. This brave woman had put her life in jeopardy to do the right thing, now it was up to these men to keep her safe. She was their witness, and could possibly convince Sandy Phillips to join in on the good deed.
This was a very delicate situation. This woman was telling them a story that would inspire hate to erupt throughout Latino Town. The consequences could be deadly.
After more than two hours, the door opened with Eve in the lead. The detective motioned to a young officer to join them, and said to Eve, “This is Officer Marquites. He’ll take you home to your friends, but if the situation becomes dangerous, we’ll need to put you somewhere else until things blow over.” He smiled while nodding, “You’re a brave woman, Mrs. Hart.” Then to officer Marquites, “I want you to stay with her and let me know if you see anyone suspicious in her neighborhood.”
Eve was driven back to Ron and Christine’s. She rode in silence, wondering, reflecting, have I done the right thing? What Pandora’s Box have I just opened?
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