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Before I could plead, he accelerated and pulled away. I thought I heard voices and footsteps behind me and ran harder. I ran until it felt like knives in my side and I had to slow down. I had reached a busy street and saw a police patrol car on the corner. I was afraid they would pull away before I reached them. Somehow, I managed to find more energy and strength and broke into a run. When I reached the police car I practically fell against the door on the driver's side. The policeman, a dark-haired white man, and his partner, a shorter but more burly black man, looked up with surprise. They had a pizza on the seat between them.

"My sister!" I gasped.

"What?"

"My sister...is trapped back in a warehouse."

They looked at each other and then the driver put down the piece of pizza he was eating and stepped out of the car.

"Take it easy, miss," he said. "What are you saying?"

I blurted as much of it out as I could as fast as I could. Finally, they decided to go to the warehouse. They put me in the rear of the car and called their station, asking for backup. I directed them to the old mattress building. When we arrived, I saw that the cars that had been parked in front were gone and there was no one in sight. My heart had been pounding so hard, my chest ached.

"This is the place?" the black patrolman asked.

"Yes. I'll show you."

"No, you just stay here," he said. "We'll check it out." Another patrol car arrived and parked behind us. The four policemen gathered and then went to the door of the warehouse. I waited, my face pressed to the window.

To me it seemed like at least an hour went by. I couldn't get out of the car, however. There was no handle on the inside. Another patrol car arrived and parked in front of the one I was in. The two officers, one of them a woman, got out quickly and hurried to the warehouse. I tried to get their attention, but they didn't hear my screams or didn't want to.

Finally, the po

liceman who had driven the vehicle I was in emerged. He walked slowly toward the car and opened the door for me.

"Is she all right?" I asked as soon as I got out.

"What does she look like?" he asked and took out a small notepad.

I began to describe Beni and I described what she was wearing as well. Another patrolman emerged and then another.

"Give me your name and telephone number. Your mother or father home?"

"Yes, they're both home," I said. I gave him our phone number. I wanted to answer all his questions quickly so I could get some answers, too. "What about Beni? Was she in there? Did they take her somewhere else? Tell me!" I screamed.

He looked at his partner and then at me. I saw by the expressions on their faces that it wasn't good.

"Beni!" I cried and lunged toward the door. The policewoman stopped me and held me back.

"You don't want to go in there, honey," she said. "Why? What happened to my sister? Is she all right? Tell me."

"The girl in there is dead," she said. "She was stabbed, cut real bad. I'm sorry."

I looked at her, but I never really saw her face. I can't recall anything about it to this day. I felt her arms around me and then I felt my legs disappear as the darkness that filled the warehouse poured out and enveloped me, washed over me like a flood.

I sank and went under and when I came back up, I was back in the rear of the patrol car again. A paramedic was hovering over me.

"Take it easy," he said as soon as my eyes opened. The smelling salts made me gag.

It took me a moment to remember where I was and what had happened.

I started to sob uncontrollably, my whole body shaking. "Hey," he said. "Take it easy."

I shook my head.

"It's my fault," I said with my voice cracking. "I ran and left her. It's my fault."

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