Chapter 16
MAGGIE
I haven’t seen Luka Ortiz since that night in the woods four months ago, when bullets from my gun took him down in the shoulder and leg.
My palms still sweat thinking about it. Sure, I’ve spent hours in the shooting range.
Earned my certificates. Even won a few medals in our cop fraternity competitions.
But that night I had to save a life – Bea Garcia, hanging from a tree, her blood dripping into a silver bowl – by putting out of action the boy who’d done it to her, without endangering his life.
A few inches either way and I could have gotten Ortiz’s carotid artery in his neck, or nicked the femoral artery in his thigh, and we’d be in a whole different world where I was the one in the dock.
But my aim was true, and today it’s him in the pen.
He’s been under house arrest at his mom’s main residence in a swanky Harrisburg suburb since bail was granted, tagged and forbidden to leave the grounds.
He finished up his second semester at Cawden remotely.
Today is the first day of his pretrial hearing and as the arresting officer, I’m required to be present in case the lawyers have any questions for me.
Ortiz was a good-looking kid. Still is, though he looks a little less preppy than in the beforetimes.
There are shadows beneath his eyes, and his hair has grown out longer.
His looks have already earned him quite a fan club on social media, thanks to those early snatched pictures when he was in hospital recovering from my bullets.
The fact it’s another witchcraft case only adds glamour.
Luka is watching the judge earnestly while his lawyers and the prosecution debate the technicalities of scheduling and jury selection.
Even now, I don’t know if he’s victim or perpetrator, and that makes me itchy under my skin.
I’m certain it was his hand that cut Bea Garcia and hoisted her high.
And I know DI Theo has been building the forensic evidence linking Luka to the previous two Bittershore crimes.
But what of the case his mom’s advancing that he was under some kind of magical control?
Can witchcraft do that – manipulate people like puppets?
I think of Naomi Yamakawa and her creepy little doll.
The one she simply rubbed and made my back-ache go away.
That was benign. But the idea that witches can simply …
work on you like that, without any physical contact, without words or visible spells or sigils.
Yeah, it’s unnerving. Is that what happened to Luka?
Someone fucked with his magic – used him – to damage his mom?
Which is when I realise Sandra Ortiz isn’t here. That’s strange. Sure, she’s been busy lately with her heartless legislation. But to not be here for her son? Is she that concerned about her own image?
‘Has your client anything he’d like to add before we conclude?’ the judge asks Luka’s attorney.
And even as she replies, ‘No’, Ortiz is rising with an, ‘If I may, Your Honour?’
His lawyer frowns, but everyone else in the courtroom perks up. There’s been little so far for the journalists packing the press box to report on.
‘I would like to say …’ His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows nervously, and Luka’s cuffed hands must move together to sweep his floppy hair from his face, but the young man holds his chin high.
‘I am no longer ashamed to be magical. I am innocent of the crimes of which I’m accused, because another witch used me.
I’m no more guilty than a gun in a perpetrator’s hand.
But if there wasn’t such fear and resentment of witches, whipped up by those who persecute them, I could have explored my magical heritage without shame and not fallen victim like this. ’
The judge looks as startled as I feel. And the press box? The press box goes nuts.
Because we all know who’s doing the most whipping up of fear and resentment of witches.
Luka’s mom – Sandra Ortiz.