her
kidneys. The little girl would become another hollow corpse with the bloody
water lapping over her pale flesh.
As
a young girl, Moni had run and hid in her bedroom closet when she heard her
mother screaming. She had cowered in the corner at the sound of her father’s
earth-shattering stomps and prayed she wouldn’t be next. Too often, she was.
Moni wouldn’t let Mariella’s turn come. Taming her nerves so her hand held
steady, she stroked her palm through Mariella’s silky hair. Like a turtle
slowly poking its head out from its shell, the girl unfolded her body and sat
straight in her chair.
“I
know you didn’t sign up for this,” Sneed said. “Why don’t I assign her to
protective custody? Harrison can guard her. That man could stop a bear.”
She
had seen Harrison take down violent drunks like bowling pins, so she didn’t
doubt it. He’d follow Sneed’s orders, but he didn’t care about Mariella. He’d
ask her uncomfortable questions about the murders and press her too hard, Moni
thought. The girl could only blossom in Moni’s care.
“No
thanks,” Moni told Sneed as she offered the child an assuring grin. “She’ll do
just fine with me.”
“Yeah,
I hope you’re right,” said Sneed. Biting her lower lip, Moni could feel that he
hoped she was wrong. Sneed was itching to break the girl down under the hot
lights of an interrogation chamber. “I’ll see you at the station after I clean
up here. Bring your tampons, cause it’s gonna be a long day.”
Ignoring
Sneed’s boorish advice, Moni packed an extra set of new clothes for Mariella
into her new backpack and tossed in an extra notebook. The girl followed her
warily to her car. Mariella took slow, gaping steps as if she were approaching
the ledge of a cliff. Taking her hand firmly, Moni led her along. Mariella
wouldn’t sit in the back seat, so Moni put her beside her in the front. Every
time she got in a car since the event Moni had been by her side.
“It’s
okay to do this, for now,” Moni told her as she slid into the driver’s seat and
started her Ford’s engine. “But I can’t be there every second, baby. You’ll see
that you’ll be okay even with…” Moni saw the beady black eyes in the rearview
mirror and screamed. Mariella didn’t join in. The girl ducked underneath the
dashboard. The officer turned around all the way and faced the raven pressed against
her rear window with its neck twisted at a wretched angle. Its wings were
flayed and torn. It looked like the bird had been steamrolled by a pickup truck
and tossed on her car.
Moni
stumbled out of the car and drew her gun. She didn’t see anyone besides the old
man next door. He gazed at her all bug-eyed because, after all, the old white
man saw a black woman with a gun. Moni lowered her firearm. After snapping a
few photos with her cell phone camera in case they needed it for the crime lab,
Moni reached for the tip of the raven’s wing. She pinched the fragile bone
between her fingers and started peeling the stiff bird off her windshield. Its
beak hit the glass. She figured its head had gone limp when it snapped its
neck. The beak tapped the glass again—harder. The raven whirled its head around
at her. It opened its mouth without making a sound and hacked up purple ooze
onto her trunk.
“What
the fuck?” Moni backed away and reached for her gun. The wings and talons that
had been stiff seconds ago sprang alive. The raven rose from her windshield.
She aimed the gun at its head, which still hung at an awkward angle. Before she
could squeeze off a shot, the raven bounded from her car and launched into
flight. It flew away crookedly—narrowly clearing the trees on the other side of
the street. She would have assumed it had a broken wing if she hadn’t seen it
up close. Only a few feathers remained atop Moni’s trunk and in her driveway.
Moni
fitted her gun back into the holster. If that thing had really meant her harm—like
pecking her eyeballs out—she
kidneys. The little girl would become another hollow corpse with the bloody
water lapping over her pale flesh.
As
a young girl, Moni had run and hid in her bedroom closet when she heard her
mother screaming. She had cowered in the corner at the sound of her father’s
earth-shattering stomps and prayed she wouldn’t be next. Too often, she was.
Moni wouldn’t let Mariella’s turn come. Taming her nerves so her hand held
steady, she stroked her palm through Mariella’s silky hair. Like a turtle
slowly poking its head out from its shell, the girl unfolded her body and sat
straight in her chair.
“I
know you didn’t sign up for this,” Sneed said. “Why don’t I assign her to
protective custody? Harrison can guard her. That man could stop a bear.”
She
had seen Harrison take down violent drunks like bowling pins, so she didn’t
doubt it. He’d follow Sneed’s orders, but he didn’t care about Mariella. He’d
ask her uncomfortable questions about the murders and press her too hard, Moni
thought. The girl could only blossom in Moni’s care.
“No
thanks,” Moni told Sneed as she offered the child an assuring grin. “She’ll do
just fine with me.”
“Yeah,
I hope you’re right,” said Sneed. Biting her lower lip, Moni could feel that he
hoped she was wrong. Sneed was itching to break the girl down under the hot
lights of an interrogation chamber. “I’ll see you at the station after I clean
up here. Bring your tampons, cause it’s gonna be a long day.”
Ignoring
Sneed’s boorish advice, Moni packed an extra set of new clothes for Mariella
into her new backpack and tossed in an extra notebook. The girl followed her
warily to her car. Mariella took slow, gaping steps as if she were approaching
the ledge of a cliff. Taking her hand firmly, Moni led her along. Mariella
wouldn’t sit in the back seat, so Moni put her beside her in the front. Every
time she got in a car since the event Moni had been by her side.
“It’s
okay to do this, for now,” Moni told her as she slid into the driver’s seat and
started her Ford’s engine. “But I can’t be there every second, baby. You’ll see
that you’ll be okay even with…” Moni saw the beady black eyes in the rearview
mirror and screamed. Mariella didn’t join in. The girl ducked underneath the
dashboard. The officer turned around all the way and faced the raven pressed against
her rear window with its neck twisted at a wretched angle. Its wings were
flayed and torn. It looked like the bird had been steamrolled by a pickup truck
and tossed on her car.
Moni
stumbled out of the car and drew her gun. She didn’t see anyone besides the old
man next door. He gazed at her all bug-eyed because, after all, the old white
man saw a black woman with a gun. Moni lowered her firearm. After snapping a
few photos with her cell phone camera in case they needed it for the crime lab,
Moni reached for the tip of the raven’s wing. She pinched the fragile bone
between her fingers and started peeling the stiff bird off her windshield. Its
beak hit the glass. She figured its head had gone limp when it snapped its
neck. The beak tapped the glass again—harder. The raven whirled its head around
at her. It opened its mouth without making a sound and hacked up purple ooze
onto her trunk.
“What
the fuck?” Moni backed away and reached for her gun. The wings and talons that
had been stiff seconds ago sprang alive. The raven rose from her windshield.
She aimed the gun at its head, which still hung at an awkward angle. Before she
could squeeze off a shot, the raven bounded from her car and launched into
flight. It flew away crookedly—narrowly clearing the trees on the other side of
the street. She would have assumed it had a broken wing if she hadn’t seen it
up close. Only a few feathers remained atop Moni’s trunk and in her driveway.
Moni
fitted her gun back into the holster. If that thing had really meant her harm—like
pecking her eyeballs out—she
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