Face Behind the Mask

by Leo King

  Now she was sitting in the open area of a police station across from the same officer she had copped an attitude toward the night before, holding a cup of long-cooled coffee. Nearby, Patty was curled up on a row of seats, fast asleep.

  Clearing his throat, Officer Penfold asked, “So you’re sure that you saw this instead of, say, nothing? I mean, I did clearly instruct you to bring your friend home, but if you had decided to detour for, you know, a bit of toking—”

  “We weren’t doing drugs, Officer,” Alexia interrupted. “I know what I saw. If you just go to the men’s restroom on the, um, the ninth hole, you’ll see that I’m not joking. There should be blood positively everywhere. I’m sure that any moment, they’ll call about it!”

  He grunted and rubbed his scalp again, muttering to himself before heading over to the water cooler. He took his time getting a cold drink from a paper cup. When he finished, he tossed his cup into the trash, went back over to his desk, and sat on the edge. Thumbs hooked on his belt, he leaned down and gazed into her eyes.

  Is he sizing me up?

  “You haven’t touched your coffee,” he said. His breath stank of it.

  “I hate coffee,” she replied, recoiling from his smell.

  With a shrug, he said, “All right. Let’s go check out this bloody shitter you saw. You can let your friend sleep there on the chairs. Someone’ll bring her home.”

  Sighing, she rubbed Patty’s shoulder and then followed him outside.

  Once she got outside, she felt someone staring at her. Looking across the street, she saw the same derelict blond woman as before, sitting on the curb and holding a Styrofoam cup in her hands. Alexia locked eyes with her just before Officer Penfold helped her into the car.

  Huh… who is that woman?

  “I just want you to know,” he said as they drove, “that it’s a bad idea to lie to an officer. Just remember that.”

  She scowled. “I try never to lie.”

  “Humph.”

  When they arrived at the golf course, there were already three other police cars. Immediately, Alexia felt vindicated. They must have found the blood. Now they would know she wasn’t lying.

  The inside of the clubhouse boasted of its class with shiny, wooden floors; soft, plush rugs; and sparkling chandeliers. The scent of wood polish wafted through the air. There were three policemen already inside, talking to an older gentleman in a tailored suit. He had an air of importance. Near him was a woman with shoulder-length, auburn hair, wearing a trench coat. She was writing in a small notebook at a desk. Alexia looked from the man to the woman and back again, certain she had seen both of them before but unable to place where.

  “Mr. Candler.” Officer Penfold cleared his throat and placed his hand firmly on Alexia’s shoulder. His grip tightened. “This is Miss Alexia LeBlanc. She reported an attack on two Emory students in the men’s restroom at the ninth hole last night. She claims there was blood everywhere.”

  The auburn-haired woman quickly glanced at Alexia, her eyes widening. Then, as if masking her reaction, she quickly looked away.

  Um, that was strange.

  “Is that so, Officer?” Mr. Candler asked. Approaching Alexia, he regarded her with what could only be curiosity. Then he smiled in a grandfatherly fashion. “I’m Asa Griggs Candler the Fifth. Why don’t you tell me what happened last night, Miss LeBlanc?”

  Alexia, who was still scrutinizing the woman, balked at the man’s introduction. “I recognize you! You’re the descendant of Asa Griggs Candler, the founder of Coca-Cola. Wow.” He was quite possibly the wealthiest and most influential man in Atlanta.

  “Now there’s a bright girl, one who knows her history,” he said, removing Officer Penfold’s hand from Alexia’s shoulder and patting her upper arm. “Yes, Miss LeBlanc, you are correct. However, right now, I’m less of a businessman and more of a concerned citizen.”

  He turned toward the auburn-haired woman. “That should be enough for your report, Miss Carter. Have a nice day.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Candler,” the woman said. She slid her notebook into a coat pocket. “Please call me if there are any new developments. Have a good day.”

  As the woman passed her, Alexia noticed that her left arm never moved and that the fingers were motionless inside a leather glove. She figured it had to be a prosthetic.

  Who is that woman? It was maddening that she couldn’t place her.

  Once the woman was gone, Mr. Candler leaned inward. “Now, please tell me what happened last night.”

  Taking a deep breath, Alexia recounted what had happened the night before, finishing with, “So, then, Patty, Mark, and I ran back to the university. When I went to the campus police, they sent me here.” She folded her arms under her chest.

  Mr. Candler’s expression had turned serious. “Officer, I think you need to bring Miss LeBlanc with us.”

  “Yes, Mr. Candler,” Officer Penfold said. Again, he grabbed her shoulder.

  Unsure of what was happening, Alexia fidgeted as she was walked outside. “Hey, am I being detained? Don’t I have any rights here?”

  “Shut up if you know what’s good for you,” Officer Penfold said.

  “That attitude won’t be necessary at this time, Officer,” Mr. Candler said.

  They got into a golf cart and rode along the course.

  “And as for your rights,” Mr. Candler continued, “you only need worry if I press charges. Right now, we’re just going for a friendly drive to the ninth hole. You like drives, don’t you, Miss LeBlanc?”

  Why are the police treating this guy like he owns them? Alexia was starting to get nervous. This scenario was well outside how she felt the world should work. She didn’t like it one bit.

  When they reached the ninth hole, she saw police tape over the entrance to the men’s room. There was no blood trail from where Marcie was dragged inside. Ducking under the tape, all three of them entered. When Alexia saw the inside, her mouth dropped open.

  Nothing. Not a speck of blood. The faint scent of pine cleaner was the only thing she could smell. Otherwise, the bathroom was completely clean, except for one thing—every single mirror was broken.

  Mr. Candler motioned around the room. “So, as you can see, Miss LeBlanc, there is no blood. Just some vandalized mirrors and broken glass. Wouldn’t you say that’s odd?”

  “You think I did this?” she asked, feeling sicker every moment.

  He tousled her hair as if she were a child. “Well, I think that if you didn’t do it, you saw it happen. Our security cameras caught you and your two friends running out the back gate. You all seemed positively terrified. Maybe there were dangerous people here and you concocted that ridiculous story because you were frightened.”

  Then he leaned down. He sounded like a wolf cornering its prey. “Is that what happened, Miss LeBlanc? Were you frightened?”

  Fear indeed ran through her—fear of getting arrested, fear of getting expelled, and fear of being sent home in shame. Tears started welling up in her eyes. She didn’t know what was going on, if this was some sort of conspiracy or if she had just imagined the whole thing. Her normally iron-clad will was fractured from trauma and lack of sleep. All wanted was to go to bed.

  Lord, I’m sorry I’m not strong enough to endure this. Forgive me for lying.

  “I couldn’t really make them out. One of them kept turning the lights on and off. But there were two or three of them. Big guys. Didn’t look like Emory students.” She had never hated herself so much. Pressing her hands to her face, she started sobbing.

  I wish Michael was here.

  Mr. Candler ruffled her hair. “Awww, now, don’t cry. You’re being more helpful than you realize. Officer, I think we’re done. You can take Miss LeBlanc back to the station. She’s been through enough today.”

  Officer Penfold nudged her. “All right. Come on. Let’s get you back to your friend.”

  Alexia nodded and wiped her eyes. As she started leaving, a flash caught her eye and what looked lik
e a small, white orb flitted past her. No one else seemed to notice. Blinking away the tears, she saw it float toward the middle of the room. It circled around the drain and then vanished. A moment later, she realized that the area immediately around the drain was stained red.

  Oh, God. It did happen. I didn’t imagine it.

  As she continued staring at the stain, a raspy voice bubbled out, “Lullwater.”

  She jerked to a stop. “Did you hear that?”

  But Mr. Candler pushed her hard and said, “Let’s go, young lady. Time to leave.”

  They took her back outside. As she stumbled into the golf cart, she searched her repository of knowledge for anything about Lullwater. But it was no use. Her thoughts were too muddled, too murky. She was just too worn out.

  As soon as Officer Penfold brought her back to the police station, Alexia woke Patty up. She was still preoccupied with what the voice had said. Lullwater. What is Lullwater?

  After she awoke, Patty hugged Alexia and whispered, “I wanna go home.”

  Alexia hugged her back. “Anything else, Officer?”

  He shook his head. “Nah, you two are free to go.”

  As they started leaving, he said, “Oh, Miss LeBlanc.”

  “Yeah?”

  “If I were you, I’d watch myself for a few weeks. You’re lucky as hell you’re not in jail.”

  She sighed, tired of being bullied. “Sure thing, Officer.”

  Once outside, standing amongst the hot stink of streets in the mid-morning, Alexia tried to flag down a cab. As she waved her arms to no avail, someone grabbed her shoulder. She turned, ready to kick whoever it was. Then she stopped. It was the blond derelict woman. The left side of her face was covered in burn scars.

  “Are you Alexia LeBlanc?” she asked.

  Staring at her, Alexia blinked, unsure of how to respond.

  The woman positively reeked of booze and garbage. “Are you Alexia LeBlanc?”

  “Alexia, who is this?” Patty said from behind her.

  Alexia tried to pull away, but the woman held on tight, her strength like a vise.

  ”What the heck?” Alexia asked. “Lady, who are you?”

  Gnawing on her bottom lip, the woman looked past Alexia and then back at her. She mumbled to herself for a few moments, rubbing her filthy face.

  Oh, crap! It’s one of those crazies.

  “Lady, I’ve had a shit day. Let me go or I’ll scream. I swear it!”

  “What?” the woman said. “No. You’re in serious danger. It’s marked you. It senses your will. It wants to consume you. It—”

  Then the woman looked past her again. This time, her face paled. “No, I can’t stay here,” she said to no one in particular. “That wasn’t the deal. I’m only dealing with Alexia, not anyone else. I won’t do it!”

  Before Alexia knew what was happening, the woman was running away.

  Patty shivered. “Who the hell was that? What’s going on?”

  Alexia opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say. All she could do was watch the blond woman vanish into the morning crowd of people as if she were a ghost.

  My poor, tired brain can’t handle this anymore.

  Before she could reflect on it any further, another voice called out. “Excuse me, are you Alexia LeBlanc, the sister of Michael LeBlanc?”

  She jerked her head toward the voice, unsure what to expect. It was the woman Mr. Candler had called “Miss Carter.” She was driving a black Porsche convertible.

  “How does she know your brother?” Patty asked.

  Through the exhausted haze of her muddled mind, Alexia somehow put two and two together. “You. You’re Dixie, right?” No wonder she had seemed familiar earlier.

  “Yes. And since you’ve figured out who I am, I assume you got my postcard?”

  “Yeah, I did.” Was the blond woman afraid of Dixie seeing her?

  Dixie smiled broadly. “Well, hop in, you two. I’ll give you a ride back to campus.”

  Taking the back road to Emory, passing through Fernbank Forest, Dixie went slowly enough to talk to Alexia and Patty, who was sitting in the back. The first thing Dixie did was have Alexia recount what had happened the previous night.

  When the story was over, Dixie said, “So that’s what happened. No wonder Mr. Candler is keeping a gag order on the police and the media.”

  “He can do that?” Alexia asked. Such a thing seemed like fantasy.

  “He is one of the most powerful men in Atlanta, if not Georgia,” Dixie said. “Trust me. I know a lot about the power men can wield with money. You’d be surprised.”

  “I guess. So, you posed as a reporter for the New York Times to speak to Mr. Candler about last night?”

  “Yes. I may live in New York, but I still maintain contact with people in New Orleans. One of them in particular, a Dr. Lazarus, is good friends with the president of Emory. So a group of us are investigating what’s been going on around here.”

  “A group of you?”

  “Well, the others have been here for a while. They called me down here when the students started vanishing. The whole case is rather complicated, actually.”

  “So what’s going on?” Patty asked.

  “That’s just it,” Dixie said. “We’re not completely sure. This is the first time we’ve had an eyewitness account.”

  “What about Mark?” Alexia asked. “He was there. Have you spoken to him yet?”

  Dixie spared her a quick glance. “Mark is one of us. He’s how I knew about the attack last night. He told us after dropping you off at the dorms.”

  Alexia felt her mind hit a brick wall.

  “Oh, my God, are you serious?” Patty started laughing. She sounded a little unhinged by all that had happened. “You’re kidding. Mister Super-Straight Always-Serious Mark is investigating crazy, bloody boo-doo murders?”

  Dixie brought the car to a stop. They were just outside of Fernbank Forest. She half-turned in her seat. “Mark. His uncle Serge. Even Leona. All three of them are investigating Druid Hills.”

  As Alexia wrapped her arms around herself, unsure how to feel, Patty shook her head. “Man, this is crazy. This can’t be happening. Why are you even telling us this?”

  “The two of you, whether you like it or not, have gotten drawn into this. And I believe you deserve to know the truth.”

  But Alexia could only focus on what she had learned about Mark. Was that why he was acting so weird before the attack? Her head had started pounding. She needed to sleep. She needed to think. And she wasn’t being afforded either luxury.

  “Anyway,” Dixie said, starting the car moving again, “I spoke with the others. We want you both to lay low. Go about your normal lives and make sure to stay on campus. You’re safest there.”

  “Sure thing,” Patty said.

  Alexia kept quiet, still processing everything. The rest of the ride back to the dorm was in total silence.

  When Dixie stopped in front of the undergraduate residences, she rested her hand on Alexia’s shoulder. “Listen. I did come here on business, but I also wanted to meet you. I never intended for you to get caught up in this. I’m sorry.”

  Feeling what little patience she had for the world slipping, Alexia managed a small nod. She needed to sleep soon or she was going to start kicking faces.

  “So when we get a chance,” Dixie said, “I want to talk with you. Alone. About Michael.”

  That got her attention. “OK. Lemme sleep first. Brain shutting down.”

  Dixie patted her hand. “I understand. Go rest, hun. I’ll contact you later.”

  Students were already heading out to enjoy their Saturday. As Patty and Alexia went inside, Patty asked, “So why do you think she wants to talk to you about your brother?”

  Alexia’s head was really starting to throb. “I don’t know. I hope it’s good. I’m tired of bad news.”

  Holding her dorm room phone to her ear, Alexia fought back rising tears.

&
nbsp; “Hello, Mark? Are you there? Please pick up.” There was no answer, just as there hadn’t been the last three times. Alexia hung up the phone and dried her eyes.

  “Give it up and get some rest,” Patty said. She was in her nightgown and hugging a pillow to her chest. “He’s probably busy with whatever this secret group is doing.”

  “He’s not supposed to keep secrets from me.” Alexia sniffled loudly. At that moment, she utterly hated herself. Gone was the self-control and ironclad will. Gone was the keen intellect she had spent years honing. And gone were the walls around her heart she had erected since her brother had died. The stress and emotion of the night before was ebbing it all away. Now she only wanted someone to protect her, like Michael used to.

  Patty moved behind her, hugging her gently. “Hey, you’re gonna be OK, right? Awesome Alexia is always OK, right?”

  Shaking, Alexia turned around and pulled Patty into her arms. Her carefully constructed paradigm of how life should be was falling apart. It was no longer about going to class, excelling in fencing and savate, and dating a cute guy. It was about a murder that seemed right out of a horror movie and a secret group investigating it.

  Real life was not supposed to be this way.

  She began to sob silently.

  Patty led her to her bed, sat her down, and rubbed her shoulders. “Man, this is weird. Every other time, it’s been you comforting me.”

  “I’m sorry I’m so weak,” Alexia said between sobs. “I’m supposed to be the strong one.”

  “Strong one? Weak one? You’ve got to let that go.” Patty softly chuckled. “We’re none of that. We’re friends. That’s all there is.”

  “Yeah?” Alexia dried her eyes.

  “Yeah,” Patty said. “I don’t know why you get hung up on labels of weak and strong. Actually, I think I do. I’m a screw-up, and you want to protect me. Heck, maybe by saving me, you can somehow make up for Michael dying.”

  With a hiccup, Alexia giggled uneasily. “I didn’t know you were a psychologist.” The assessment was perfectly accurate.