Read Online Eyewitness (Thriller/Legal Thriller - #5 The Witness Series) (The Witness Series #5) by Rebecca Forster - Free Book Online
Authors: Rebecca Forster
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seemed to want. “What are you thinking? Some connection with the kid in the ocean?”
“I’m not thinking anything. I want to start with why Mr. Oi was on the wrong side of Hermosa. Our surviving victim was young, but she is not a child. Her name is Rosa Zuni, and I don’t think Oi was doing charity work in that house.”
“He was slumming. Being naughty where he thought no one could see. Everyone does it.” Wendy handed him the third page, her suggestiveness more a matter of habit than real flirtation. “More than likely Oi’s wife didn't like him prancing around like a Flamenco dancer and for a fee this little lady didn't mind. Our survivor works at Undies, by the way. You know, the strip joint near the airport?"
"I'm liking this," Mike muttered as he made more notes.
“I spoke to the manager. He said he was sorry to hear about what happened. He thought Rosa was a nice girl, but he doesn't know much about her. The club only gets involved if someone’s coming on to the girls on the premises. All of them are independent contractors. No insurance, no workman’s comp. Smart business."
"Yeah, but he still had to have a social security number for her."
“He did,” Wendy said. “It’s bogus. As of right now, this woman doesn’t exist.”
CHAPTER 7
1996
Teuta pulled her six-year-old daughter along as they searched the hospital for Yilli. Room after room it was the same: dirty beds, attendants who seemed to be more wardens than nurses, relatives feeding patients food they had brought from their homes since the hospital provided none. Blood had stained the sheets and had dried where it fell on the floor. Old and young alike languished. They did not look so much sick as starving, lonely, and surprised to find themselves in such a predicament.
On the second floor, Teuta came upon a dark room filled with more beds. Instinct told her to take her children and run. She kept going because it was her father she had to find. A man missing an arm reached his stump toward her. A woman with a burned face watched with one eye, but Teuta didn’t think she could really see. There was a boy curled into himself, and he was nothing more than a little ball of bones. Teuta was now glad they had no hospital in her own village. This was a place to die if ever she saw one. She turned away from the little boy and that was when she saw her mother sitting beside a metal-framed bed. She rushed toward her.
“Nënë.” Teuta kissed her mother, first one cheek and then the other. “How is he?”
“He will die” The mother shrugged as Teuta took off her shawl. The baby woke and cried. The mother patted the older girl’s head and then reached for the baby. Teuta let her go. The mother said:
“This is a good baby.” She put her old hand on the older girl’s back and then kissed her brow. “This is a good girl.”
“Yes. I am fortunate,” Teuta answered.
Gingerly, she sat next to her father and tried not to disturb the thin mattress laid over broken springs. He did not open his eyes. He did not know she was there. She took his hand. It was cold; his skin was thin. He was drying up. Soon he would blow away, dead and gone. It would be a blessing for he was a tortured soul. She kept her eyes on his gaunt face to keep from looking at the plastic sheet and the things that came out of a dying body.
“I brought money for medicine.” Teuta whispered this as much in deference to her ill father as to secrecy. She did not want anyone in this place to know she had money. Teuta’s mother nodded, her head going up and down as was the custom to indicate she did not want the money. Teuta understood. Even she could see that it would be a waste to bribe anyone to give her father medicine. Still, she knew her mother was grateful for the offer.
Then Teuta’s attention was caught by a sound. She turned her head to see that it came from her mother. She was crying. Teuta had never seen her mother cry nor had she realized that she loved her
“I’m not thinking anything. I want to start with why Mr. Oi was on the wrong side of Hermosa. Our surviving victim was young, but she is not a child. Her name is Rosa Zuni, and I don’t think Oi was doing charity work in that house.”
“He was slumming. Being naughty where he thought no one could see. Everyone does it.” Wendy handed him the third page, her suggestiveness more a matter of habit than real flirtation. “More than likely Oi’s wife didn't like him prancing around like a Flamenco dancer and for a fee this little lady didn't mind. Our survivor works at Undies, by the way. You know, the strip joint near the airport?"
"I'm liking this," Mike muttered as he made more notes.
“I spoke to the manager. He said he was sorry to hear about what happened. He thought Rosa was a nice girl, but he doesn't know much about her. The club only gets involved if someone’s coming on to the girls on the premises. All of them are independent contractors. No insurance, no workman’s comp. Smart business."
"Yeah, but he still had to have a social security number for her."
“He did,” Wendy said. “It’s bogus. As of right now, this woman doesn’t exist.”
CHAPTER 7
1996
Teuta pulled her six-year-old daughter along as they searched the hospital for Yilli. Room after room it was the same: dirty beds, attendants who seemed to be more wardens than nurses, relatives feeding patients food they had brought from their homes since the hospital provided none. Blood had stained the sheets and had dried where it fell on the floor. Old and young alike languished. They did not look so much sick as starving, lonely, and surprised to find themselves in such a predicament.
On the second floor, Teuta came upon a dark room filled with more beds. Instinct told her to take her children and run. She kept going because it was her father she had to find. A man missing an arm reached his stump toward her. A woman with a burned face watched with one eye, but Teuta didn’t think she could really see. There was a boy curled into himself, and he was nothing more than a little ball of bones. Teuta was now glad they had no hospital in her own village. This was a place to die if ever she saw one. She turned away from the little boy and that was when she saw her mother sitting beside a metal-framed bed. She rushed toward her.
“Nënë.” Teuta kissed her mother, first one cheek and then the other. “How is he?”
“He will die” The mother shrugged as Teuta took off her shawl. The baby woke and cried. The mother patted the older girl’s head and then reached for the baby. Teuta let her go. The mother said:
“This is a good baby.” She put her old hand on the older girl’s back and then kissed her brow. “This is a good girl.”
“Yes. I am fortunate,” Teuta answered.
Gingerly, she sat next to her father and tried not to disturb the thin mattress laid over broken springs. He did not open his eyes. He did not know she was there. She took his hand. It was cold; his skin was thin. He was drying up. Soon he would blow away, dead and gone. It would be a blessing for he was a tortured soul. She kept her eyes on his gaunt face to keep from looking at the plastic sheet and the things that came out of a dying body.
“I brought money for medicine.” Teuta whispered this as much in deference to her ill father as to secrecy. She did not want anyone in this place to know she had money. Teuta’s mother nodded, her head going up and down as was the custom to indicate she did not want the money. Teuta understood. Even she could see that it would be a waste to bribe anyone to give her father medicine. Still, she knew her mother was grateful for the offer.
Then Teuta’s attention was caught by a sound. She turned her head to see that it came from her mother. She was crying. Teuta had never seen her mother cry nor had she realized that she loved her
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