Witchcraft and nasty little murders

Chapter Five A stranger from the past

A single name echoed in Ophelia's head, but for a long time: Alpha. She had to close her eyes, but it made her nauseous.

"I'm Dr. Chris Davis," the lawyer sat down next to Esteban, then looked around at the people sitting opposite him, seemingly stunned when his gaze slid to Ophelia. He swallowed hard, as if to hide his surprise, and listened to Harper's introduction:

"I'm Detective Darren Harper and this is Ophelia Goodwin, consultant."

Ophelia just stared at the tall, thin but visibly muscular lawyer in a suit. The man had blond hair, a trimmed beard and handsome features. He wore glasses hiding his blue eyes. But his was not the blue of the detective's cold eyes, but a warm blue, like the summer ocean in which one would like to bathe.

"My client was arrested for assaulting a police officer, yet he is being asked questions about a murder case."

"That's right," nodded the detective, leaning forward in his chair as if he would fight whatever came next.

"You are obliged to release him on bail, so that he can be at large to defend himself in court if you really want to prosecute him," the lawyer added casually.

"Besides, you insulted me, jerk!" snorted Mr. Reyes, his hateful gaze boring into Detective Harper's face. The lawyer silenced his client with a single gesture.

"Even so," said the detective coldly, "the court will enjoy hearing that a notorious white-collar criminal punched a cop, and they'll put him in jail for just such a little thing. You slip on a banana skin."

"I suppose we're here to accept a deal," the lawyer got to the point. "My defendant is willing to answer your questions only and exclusively about the murder case if you promise to release him afterwards and not charge him with the beating."

"I think it's a reasonable deal," the detective nodded, as Reyes stared at the handsome lawyer, first puzzled, then relieved. "Tell me, how were you related to Hannah Swanson? How long had she worked for you?"

"Hannah was recommended to me about a year ago by a friend who also works in the music industry. We were looking for a DJ, and we were tired of self-proclaimed talents who were throwing a party that people would rather run away from," Reyes shrugged, rising to offer his hand to a policeman standing in a doorway, who had been asked by the lawyer to release him. Rubbing his wrists, he sat back in his chair.

"So you saw talent in her and offered her a different kind of job," the disheveled, bearded man leaned back in his chair.

"What do you think of me, Detective?" Esteban grinned. "He was the one who offered me a job..."

"Sorry, I have to go out," Ophelia stood up, gripping her chest as she felt her lungs tightening and the world spinning around her. All the men's puzzled gazes were on her, but she ignored them, heading straight for the bathroom.

***

Ophelia's chest tightened as she leaned on the counter holding the sinks, and water jets from the taps started to flow. She hated the feeling, because she thought she was over it, but nothing had changed in the seven years since she had started to feel it.

"What the fuck are you doing? He's just started to confess and you interrupted the interrogation," she heard the detective's voice, as if speaking through some kind of veil or soundproof glass. The man stepped closer to her, but his voice was no longer threatening, but more concerned. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Ophelia moaned, forcing herself to straighten up and turn off the tap in front of her. The others stopped spewing jets of water of themselves. "This is the women's washroom."