Eye Wit Read Free

worked together, usually only when her Dan Riley, Zoran’s regular partner, was off duty.
    Zoran could sometimes be a pain to work with, but Yoko admired his uncanny ability to resolve cases that baffled others. She had a special fondness for Zoran, for good reason: some eleven months earlier, Zoran had answered the phone when Yoko telephoned the precinct after escaping from the killer who’d had her abducted. Thanks to Zoran’s unorthodox management of the police response, the killer had been caught in minutes and the nightmare that had begun with the woman murdered in front of Yoko was finally over.
    Then, true to finicky form, once she was safe, Zoran lectured Yoko about the risk she’d taken escaping from an armed and dangerous man. Later, knowing that Yoko’s expertise in optometry had helped solve the case, he’d recommended to Chief Sanders that Yoko be hired as a civilian consultant. She wouldn’t be the first optometrist to work with the police––Gus Forkiotis had led the way at the Connecticut State Police Academy decades earlier––but Yoko was NYPD’s first female civilian consultant and their first optometrist.
    Reluctant at first to be involved in more mayhem, Yoko finally accepted the post of civilian consultant. It turned out that much of her optometric training meshed with the police requirements, often going further. Her studies of anatomy, psychology, pathology and pharmacology were terrific preparation for police work. Not only that, her accreditation as an optometrist licensed by the state to prescribe pharmaceuticals for the eyes impressed the chief, particularly her knowledge of the effects of drugs—including narcotics. By now, everyone at the station from the chief on down knew that Yoko was a specialist in behavioral optometry.
    “It’s a valuable health care that expands on traditional optometry,” Yoko explained to the group the chief had gathered to hear more about what their attractive civilian consultant did. “The results are remarkable for youngsters and adults who have learning or behavior problems.”
    “You mean the criminals would quit, go straight if they had vision therapy?” someone called out from the back of the room.
    “Say it isn’t so––we’d be out of work.” The wry comment got a laugh from everyone, even Yoko.
    “No need to worry, I doubt that’ll happen,” she said. “What I didn’t get the chance to say yet is that if there’s an imbalance in someone’s vision system that often triggers a learning or behavior problem.”
    “Is this a new fad?” Sergeant Greer asked. “Motivational tapes, soft music and all that.”
    “Hardly,” Yoko said. “Behavioral optometry has been around for decades and has the scientific evidence to support it. It’s taught in twenty colleges of optometry here in the U.S. and colleges around the word and is available in forty countries.”
    That silenced the doubters.
    After Yoko graduated from the series of police courses she dubbed, “Detecting 101,” Chief Sanders told her, "You're more than ready to join us for certain cases, Yoko, and I want you to know you'll always be with the best on the force. I promise you’ll never have to face a maniac alone, the way you did last year.
    “I’m pleased Zoran suggested you for special duty, those times when he needs another pair of eyes. You know Zoran has the best record in the country for solving cases, he’s an important and valuable member of the team. But…how can I put this? He needs partners who are…let’s say, supportive of his sometimes…distinctive methods. Good investigators themselves, willing to think outside the box, not worried when someone pushes the envelope.” The chief looked at her seriously, clearly sending an important message.
    “Dan fits the bill admirably, and I think you will too, but with a different sensibility. Maybe because you're Japanese American. Zoran was born here, soon after his parents arrived.”
    “I’ve been witness