Visions in Death (In Death 19)

“He can’t see you. You’re floating, and he can’t see you. You’re safe, and floating.”

“He can’t see me.”

“That’s right.”

“There’s nothing I can do.” She shifted restlessly in her chair. “Why do I have to see this? I can’t help her.”

“Yes, you can. If you look at him, if you tell me what you see, it will help her. Look at him, Celina.”

“He’s big. He’s very big. Strong. She can’t push him away, she can’t fight. She—”

“Look at him, Celina. Just him now.”

“He’s . . . Black, he’s wearing black. Like the shadows. His hands . . . his hands are pulling and tearing at her clothes. He calls her a whore. ‘See how you like it now, whore. It’s your turn now, bitch.’ ”

“His face, Dr. Mira,” Eve murmured. “Give me his face.”

“Look at his face, Celina.”

“I’m afraid.”

“He doesn’t see you. You don’t have to be afraid of him. Look at his face. What do you see?”

“Rage. Rage. Contorted. His eyes are black, black and blind. I can’t see his eyes. He’s wearing something over them. Shades, shades over his eyes, with a strap around his head. His head shines. His face shines. Horrible. He’s raping her. Grunting and slamming himself into her. I don’t want to see.”

“Just his face.”

“There’s something over it. A mask? It shines. Not a mask. Something shiny and slick. Not white. Not white under the shine. Brown. Tanned. I don’t know.”

Her breathing went rapid, thready as she turned her head side to side. “His face is wide, wide and square.”

“Eyebrows,” Eve prompted.

“Do you see his eyebrows, Celina?”

“Very dark and thick. He’s killing her now. Pulling the red ribbon tight, tighter. She can’t breathe. We can’t breathe.”

“I have to bring her out,” Mira said when Celina started to gasp for air. “Celina, turn away now. Turn away from them now and look at your star. Watch your star. Can you see it?”

“Yes, I . . .”

“It’s all you see. Only the star. It’s beautiful, it’s peaceful. It’s guiding you back now. Bringing you home. You’re floating down now, very slowly. You feel relaxed, refreshed. When I tell you to open your eyes, you’ll wake up, and you’ll remember everything you saw, everything we talked about. Do you understand?”

“Yes. I want to wake up.”

“You’re waking up now, coming up through the layers of sleep. Open your eyes, Celina.”

She blinked them open. “Dr. Mira.”

“Yes. Just stay still for a moment. I’m going to get you something to drink. You did very well.”

“I saw him.” She turned her head, looked at Eve. “I saw him, Dallas.” A smile trembled onto her lips, and she reached out a hand.

Eve rose, gave Celina’s hand a brief squeeze, since it seemed called for, then stepped back so Mira could give Celina a cup.

“Would you recognize him?” Eve asked.

“His face.” Celina shook her head and sipped. “It’s hard. The shades hid his eyes, and whatever was on his face—over it?—distorted it. I know the body type as I’d told you before. I know now he’s either mixed race, dark skinned or tanned. And the shape of his face. He’s bald. Smoothly, like a man who removes or has his hair removed. I don’t understand what he had on his face.”