Page 38 of Shadow of Death
“Yes—” Dr. Barton began, breaking off and frowning as she heard her name over the hospital’s PA system. “Yes, yes, of course, and thank you. I’ve been told an officer will be arriving soon to keep watch. I have an emergency downstairs—”
“Go, go! I’ll be here until I know Magda is safe,” Amy assured her. She watched the doctor rush down the hallway and then Amy turned to the single-bed room near the nurse’s station where Magda had been brought after triage in the ER.
Magda was leaning back, fingers working the bedsheets, eyes fixed on the ceiling above. She saw Amy and sat up, still a little unsteady but quickly realizing she could push a button on the bed control and raise the bed to a sitting position.
“Special Agent Larson! You’re here. Thank you,” she said.
“No, thank you,” Amy told her. “You need to be resting. According to Dr. Barton, you’re going to be just fine, but you need to get your system cleaned out—”
“I amsocareful!” Magda said, shaking her head. “I mean, I know what happens in bars. In any bar—and no matter how good our security is or how great our bartenders can be—bad things can still happen. And we all have drinks during the night! Honestly—mostly water in bottles we bring ourselves. But it’s okay to be friendly. Honestly, management never makes us have sex. Even lap dances are strictly monitored. But Lydia—the owner—warns us all the time we’re adults, and we have to be responsible. But when people are beingnormal,we want to be friendly and talkative. Believe it or not, what many people need is someone who talks. We do sit with them, have a drink, and laugh and—mainly—listen. I was fine. Everything was fine. It was just a usual night.”
“But the doctor believes you were drugged. And it would have had to have been near to the time when you were leaving your job,” Amy said.
Magda winced, closed her eyes, and shook her head. “I was at the bar, I had a soda. But Vinnie was the bartender...he’s a great guy. He would never do something like drug a girl and he wouldn’t stand for it from anyone else.”
“If he saw it done,” Amy said. “Did you go anywhere after you got your drink?”
“I—no. I don’t think so. Oh...”
“Oh?”
“I walked away from the stage to call Allison. She was going to try to get off early, and if she did, we were going to share a ride home. But she decided she was working another couple of hours because another girl called in sick, so... I finished my soda, thanked Vinnie, and left,” Magda said, wincing again as she saw in her own mind where her innocent mistake had been made. “But Vinnie watches out for us!” she said.
“I’m sure he does, but he isn’t infallible, none of us are,” Amy told her. “But there are cameras in the club, right?”
“Everywhere!” Magda assured her. “Oh, my God, I still can’t believe what they intended to do, what they would have done... They were going to cut my heart out! I’m a stripper given drugs—and they didn’t even want sex. They wanted to kill me and drink my blood. Oh, my God, it’s the most horrible thing imaginable. Why? Who would be so sick?” She leaned her head back, talking again with barely a breath. “The same people... I’ve seen it on the news. The monsters who wanted people to starve to death and die in the mud in pits, and what has happened to this world? So, so sick! They kept saying they were saving me—saving me! By cutting my heart out! How could anyone believe such a thing?”
“I don’t know,” Amy told her softly. “But I’ve heard if you’re told a lie often enough, that lie becomes notthetruth, but a truth you can come to believe. However, it doesn’t matter, Amy. What was done to you was horrible, what was done to others was horrible, and we will get to the truth. That’s why I need you to tell me everything, everything you remember. Small details can mean something, Magda. We will get the security tapes from the club, but do you remember anyone paying particular attention to you? Can you go through the time from when you finished work until you were snatched up and tell me everything, every little thing you remember?”
“I... Yeah. Sure, yes, of course, I will do anything I can to help you.”
“Okay. Was there anyone there that night paying you special attention?”
Magda managed a soft laugh. “Special Agent Larson, I get lots of special attention when I’m on a pole.”
“There would be a difference in this—someone who wasn’t trying to hit on you, per se, but rather watching you—when you weren’t on a pole.”
Magda frowned, leaning back, thinking. She shook her head. “Not that I noticed.”
“Okay, so then you dressed in the dressing room. Was anyone—”
“Only the dancers are allowed in the dressing rooms so, no.”
“Okay, then you went to the bar and Vinnie poured you a soda.”
“I had a few sips and I played a game on my cell phone. Then I stepped away to call Allison, but she had been calling me at the same time. Anyway...there was a game on the television over the bar.” Magda shrugged with a wry grimace. “Guys were shouting at the television screen. I wanted to make sure I could hear her.”
“Were any of the men at the bar trying to make conversation with you? Were they near you?”
“They were near me. Men gave me compliments, said hello, offered to buy me drinks, but honestly, they all seemed far more interested in the football game than anything else. After I talked to Allison, I went back to the bar for my drink, then I headed out to the street right away. I was suddenly so tired I could barely stand it. I was afraid I was getting something because I had no energy at all. I just wanted to get to my car—and get home. I was just a block down—heading to the cheaper garage where I keep my car—when there was suddenly someone behind me and... I couldn’t fight. I couldn’t even scream. He picked me up and threw me in the back of a van. I don’t remember anything after that...anything until I heard people talking. And I thought I was dreaming because I couldn’t open my eyes but they were talking about my sins, saving my soul, some whacked out stuff about a black horse and scales of justice, and how they would consume my heart, my blood, my flesh—and my sins.”
“Magda, think hard. Was the man who plucked you off the street ever in the club?” Amy asked her.
Magda shook her head and almost smiled. “I didn’t see much of his face. Every criminal out there must know you have to have a mask and a hoodie. I don’t know. I don’t remember what I saw of him. I don’t remember anything at all.”
“Not true. Was he white, black, Asian, Native American, Hispanic? Did he speak at all? Did he have an accent? Or maybe a scent?”
Magda frowned. “Okay. I just saw his eyes. He had green eyes. Strange green eyes.”
