About Face

by Fern Michaels

  “There is a report. Somewhere. God knows where. Before we had computers, you know. It’s been so long, I’ll see if I can get Vera to look for it.” He punched a button on the intercom.

  A crackly voice replied, “Yes?”

  “Vera, see if you can find the Edwards report. It should be packed away with the files we stored in the attic a few years ago.” He released the button.

  “Good God, Roland, that’ll take days to find!” the voice squawked.

  “And you’re overloaded with work?” He smiled at Blake and Casey as he waited for Vera’s reply.

  Nothing.

  “She’ll find it. It just might take her a few days.”

  “I’ll check back. Roland, I have a few questions to ask. Do you have time?” Blake inquired.

  He’d put the noose around his neck for sure. After telling Vera she had nothing better to do in so many words, he hadn’t thought of his own escape route. He’d put the roadblocks up himself.

  He made a pretense of looking through a pile of papers. God! A crossword puzzle from three weeks ago. Important stuff here, Parker. He glanced at his cheap plastic watch. “I’ve got a few to spare.”

  “Tell me what you remember about that day, Roland,” Blake prompted.

  He leaned back in his chair and prayed the usual fart noise wouldn’t make itself known. It did. He felt his face turn red. Goddamn it! He’d have a new desk chair before day’s end. He looked at Casey. A hint of a smile, nothing more. Blake remained as rigid as possible.

  “There isn’t much to tell. Casey, uh . . . Ms. Edwards here went . . . God, Blake, I can’t say this in front of her!” He looked from Blake to Casey. How much humiliation could a man stand in one day?

  She spoke. “Sheriff Parker, I don’t remember what happened that day. Don’t worry that you’ll embarrass me. I just need the facts, nothing more.”

  And she’ll get nothing more, he thought.

  “I was on my way home when Vera dispatched the call. I’d been in office barely a year. I remember thinking finally some excitement on this island. I’d been bored that day. Not much crime in Sweetwater. The usual drunks, teenagers speeding. An occasional domestic call, that was about it.

  “When I arrived at your place I recalled my earlier thoughts and wished to God I could’ve withdrawn them.” He shook his head. Not even in his nightmares could he have called up an image so hideous, so unthinkable.

  “It must have been around eight or so. It was Halloween, and I tell you both, there isn’t an October that goes by that I don’t think of that day as I’m sure most of Sweetwater does. Your momma, now Mrs. Worthington, was waiting on the porch.

  “I’ve never seen a woman shake so bad. I thought she’d pass out on me, but she didn’t. She led me inside the house. The downstairs was dark as I recall. We went upstairs.” He looked at Casey to see how she was holding up. She stared straight ahead, almost as if she were looking through him.

  He continued. “I saw you, Ms. Edwards, huddled in the corner of the hallway. Your mother didn’t say anything. She just kept shaking.

  “At the end of the hall, a door was partially opened. There must have been a night-light or something, I don’t remember. Just that there was a light of some sort. I do remember the smell.”

  “Copper!” Casey shouted. “I remember!”

  Blake motioned for him to stop. “What else do you remember, Casey?” Blake asked her.

  Deep in thought, Roland waited for her to answer.

  She shook her head as if trying to clear her mind. She looked at him. “Sheriff Parker, tell me if I’m wrong. My God, I can’t believe this!” She felt dazed, as if she’d been knocked over the head with something. “Maybe I’m losing it again or my memory has crossed into another dimension, who knows. But I swear I remember seeing Robert Bentley that day.”

  “What?” Blake shouted.

  “Hold on, Blake,” Roland said as he got up and closed the door.

  Back at his desk, he watched the pair in front of him. Silent as night, both lost in their own thoughts, both unaware that he scrutinized their every move.

  “There must be some other explanation, Casey. Why would Bentley have been there? I don’t think he even knew your family then.”

  “Don’t be too hasty, Doc. Ms. Edwards’s memory isn’t as bad as you might think. At least not on that account. She’s right. Bentley was there that day.”

  Chapter 14

  Blake turned back to stare at the sheriff’s office, a frown building between his eyebrows. He opened the door for Casey before he walked around to the driver’s side and climbed in. “I’ve always suspected there was something more to that day,” he said as he maneuvered the Volkswagen along Sweetwater’s dusty back roads.

  “Why would he have been there?” If she could only remember. She was the only one with answers. Except for her mother. With things as they were now, she wasn’t about to question her.

  “If Dewitt is as good as Adam says he is, maybe by this time tomorrow we’ll have our answer.”

  “I hope so. Did you try Bentley’s office again?” she asked.

  “Yes, I got his answering machine. I tried Sanctuary, too. Becky said he hasn’t been in today.” He shifted into passing gear, and the little car climbed uphill effortlessly.

  She hadn’t been to this part of the island because developers had yet to cut through this area of lush tropical greenery. She dreaded seeing high-rise buildings and ricky-ticky fastfood joints with equally tacky neon signs. Nothing was forever, it seemed. She turned to Blake.

  “Where are we headed?”

  “Adam’s place.”

  “But I thought he lived in Atlanta.” She drew in a deep breath and sighed. “Why?”

  Blake tossed a glance in her direction. “He called me. Apparently his Jag died on him. Took it to Poorman’s. I’m giving him a ride to the hospital. I forgot to mention it. Sorry. And he does live in Atlanta, this is his home away from home.”

  “Poorman’s?”

  Blake gave a hearty laugh. “It’s the only auto repair shop on the island. Don’t ask about the name. Old Jaybird they call him, has been in business for years. That’s it ahead.” He pointed to a weather-beaten wooden structure that looked like it hadn’t seen a fresh coat of paint since the turn of the century.

  Blake pulled into the parking lot. Dozens of automobiles surrounded the place. An elderly man peered up from beneath the hood of a pickup truck as Blake turned off the engine.

  “You lookin’ for Mr. Adam, Doc?” The man had to be in his seventies, Casey thought as she looked out the window. He wore coveralls that might have been blue at one time. Now, they were covered in oil, grease, and multiple colors of what she thought must be paint.

  Blake hopped out of the car and walked over to the elderly man. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the sudden addition of a third voice caused her to pay closer attention.

  Adam, her stepbrother.

  Decked out in summer whites, he was the picture of a Southern gentleman. Casey thought all he needed was a straw hat to complete the picture, and he’d look like Gene Kelly in Singing in the Rain. Now where in the world had that come from? Had she been a movie buff? Just one more unanswered question.

  Blake and Adam both shook hands with Jaybird before they headed for the car.

  She opened the door and lifted the seat to crawl into the back.

  “That won’t be necessary, Casey.” Adam’s voice stopped her cold. “The backseat is fine. I just need to get to the hospital.” Adam’s tone was disapproving; the contempt could’ve been heard by a deaf man.

  Casey leaned out of the car, stood aside, and watched as her unfriendly stepbrother scrunched his six-foot-something self in the cramped backseat.

  She looked over the VW’s top at Blake. He lifted an eyebrow, shrugged before he slid into the driver’s seat.

  Having no other choice, she got in the car and yanked the door shut. Suddenly, she felt on edge, the way she’d felt when she fou
nd the picture in the closet. The picture of Ronnie.

  “I appreciate the ride. Darned luxury cars are anything but,” Adam said to Blake.

  “That’s why I kept this girl.” Blake lovingly patted the bug’s cracked dash and looked at her. “She never fails to do just what I want her to do.” He winked at Casey.

  She couldn’t help but pick up on Blake’s jovial attitude. She was glad for it; she didn’t like the direction her thoughts were headed. “Then why did you tell me earlier you had to drive her now and then to keep her charged up?”

  Adam smirked. “I thought as much.”

  Blake’s middle finger shot in the air.

  “And here I thought you two were the best of friends, or at least that’s what you both have Flora thinking.” Casey found herself enjoying the light sparring between the two, but didn’t understand Adam’s reserved attitude toward her.

  “Flora’s made one too many beds,” Blake said as he swerved into the hospital parking lot.

  A three-story stucco building, the hospital’s dazzling whiteness, trimmed in a calming blue, stood out against the dark green leaves of the many trees scattered on the property. Dozens of angel oaks created an archway over the stone walkway leading to the front entrance.

  Nothing modern here, Casey thought.

  She got out of the car and pulled the seat forward for Adam.

  Blake stepped out and looked from her to Adam. “Do you want to see John, Casey?”

  Though she hadn’t planned on it, she thought now was as good a time as any. “Of course. And Mother, is she here, too?” She’d barely seen her mother since her return.

  “She’s at Worthington headquarters in Brunswick,” Adam said, his words clipped.

  She looked to Blake. “I thought you said she was here with John?”

  He gave Adam a scorching glare. “I thought she was.”

  The three of them walked single file down the stone path leading to the hospital’s front entrance.

  Inside, the lobby was dim and dark. A wooden desk dominated the center of the room. Rose-colored carpet muffled their footsteps as they stood in front of the desk. A young woman sat behind the desk, her face hidden behind the pages of a romance novel. Casey smiled to herself. Fun job, she thought. They must not be dying today.

  The young girl placed the book on her lap. “May I help you?” she asked as she swept her gaze from Casey to Blake, finally resting on Adam.

  “Oh, sorry Doctors, I was uh . . . busy.” She scooted farther beneath the desk. Pale blue eyes looked from Blake to Adam.

  “We’re here as family”—Adam looked at the nameplate on the desk—“Karen. Could you tell me what room they have my father in? They’ve moved him to a special care unit.”

  The girl scanned her ledger. “One-fifty-four.”

  “Thanks,” Adam said. He turned to the right, and together they walked down the hall in silence. The atmosphere was hushed, as if death lurked around every corner. Lifesaving and life-taking machines rested outside doors of patients whose lives could be snuffed out or rejuvenated with the snap of a button. A sharp left, an immediate right, led them to John’s room. Adam turned to them before entering.

  “Give me a minute?” He placed his hand on the door, not waiting for their response. The constant blip of a monitor and the in-and-out whir of a ventilator were snuffed out as the door closed behind him.

  “I’m dying of thirst. You want anything? There are machines right around the corner,” Blake said.

  “A pop would be nice.”

  She watched Blake as he sauntered down the hall. Nurses stopped him, a patient waved, and Blake threw his head back in a gust of laughter. She smiled. She really liked the man. Apparently the staff at the hospital liked him, too. It would be hard not to, she thought.

  Raised voices caused her to turn away from Blake’s retreating back. Not wanting to appear nosy, she sat in the plastic chair outside the door and picked up a copy of Redbook. The pages were a blur as she thumbed through them. She couldn’t help but overhear the angry voice inside John’s room.

  “Dammit, Dad! I told you years ago to cut her out of your will. You don’t even know the woman, for Pete’s sake. And you want to leave this to her?” Adam bellowed.

  Casey heard the sound of something dropping on the floor followed by a muffled voice.

  “I don’t care what Evie says. You know what I think of her,” Adam’s angry voice continued.

  She didn’t want to hear more. She got up and paced the hall, looking for Blake. Ready to search the halls, she breathed a deep sigh of relief as she saw him turn the corner, bottles of Coke in hand. She almost rushed to meet him.

  “Hey!” he said as he handed her the soft drink. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You okay?” Blake questioned.

  She didn’t want to tell him what she had overheard. “Yes, I’m not feeling well. I don’t think I should stay.” She needed time to think. Alone. After her recollection in Sheriff Parker’s office, she needed to sort things out. By herself. Coming here had been a mistake.

  Blake didn’t question her sudden change of heart. “Let me tell Adam.”

  Casey nodded and walked away from the door. While part of her couldn’t wait to meet her stepfather, the other part of her was glad for the postponement.

  Who had Adam wanted out of John’s will? My mother? Why?

  “He’ll get a ride. I think I’d best get you back home. You don’t look so hot.”

  “Gee, and I thought you liked the way I looked,” she said lightly.

  “I do. I just don’t like those worry lines creasing that beautiful forehead of yours.” He gave her arm a quick squeeze.

  “Thanks for your concern. I think I’m just overtired,” she said, as they neared the hospital’s exit.

  “You need to relax.” Blake unlocked the car and opened the jerky door for her. “I’m still hoping to talk to Dr. Macklin and find out where Bentley’s hiding.”

  Casey eased into the seat, leaning her head against the neck rest. “What makes you think he’s hiding?”

  “I don’t know, but I plan to find out. You still want to go to Savannah tomorrow?”

  “Of course. I want this nightmare to end. I hope Dr. Dewitt can help me.” She didn’t want to tell Blake the thoughts she’d been having lately. She, too, was starting to think something evil had happened on that fateful Halloween day ten years ago. She’d experienced a brief flashback in Sheriff Parker’soffice. Right now, she wasn’t sure what to make of it. But tomorrow was another day. She would find out everything she needed to know sooner or later.

  Chapter 15

  “Couldn’t you have picked a better meeting place? You know I hate this fucking ferry!” He grabbed on to the railing, firmly planting his feet in place, not daring to move. He hoped his fresh fruit salad didn’t make a return visit.

  At least the ID fans were in working order, Robert thought as he viewed the Georgia coastline. After a trip through the scrubbers, clean white smoke billowed out from the paper mill’s smokestacks, leaving behind a smell he’d never gotten used to. He held his breath for a moment, then exhaled.

  “And you have a better idea? From what I’ve seen the last few days, I think you need to rethink any ideas that pop out of that feeble mind of yours,” she chastised him.

  Right now, Robert hated this woman, hated the hold she had on him. Soon, he told himself. Soon, he’d have this bitch over a barrel, maybe literally—he’d always wanted to rough her up a bit.

  He gave what passed for a rueful laugh. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” He smiled at his companion as he edged her closer to the ferry’s railing.

  Standing in front of her, blocking the passengers’ view, he snaked his hand down her cream silk blouse. He found her nipple and pinched. Not hard, just enough to elicit a twinge of pain.

  He watched her intake of breath, saw the veins in her neck pulse, and felt the flutter of her quickened heartbeat against his own.


  “You’re sick, you know that?” Her words were laced with disgust.

  He laughed and thrust his hard penis against her. Tossing a glance behind him to make sure he didn’t attract anyone’s attention, he reached for his zipper and jabbed up against her stomach.

  He saw the glazed look in her eyes and knew no matter how prim and proper this bitch acted, she liked this public, indecent foreplay as much as he did.

  Inching his hand up her skirt, he slipped her lacy panties to the side. With his fingers he proceeded to massage her, sliding his fingers to her center, finding her wetness. Yes, he thought, she won’t refuse this. Ever.

  He continued to stimulate her. She took him in her hand and slowly trailed her fingers down his swollen length. His nostrils flared as she began to pump him fast and hard.

  He shoved her hand away. “Not yet.”

  His fingers were extensions of his penis as he shoved three, four, then all five inside her. He saw her wince, and experience told him it wasn’t from pain, but pleasure.

  Warm wetness closed over his hand like a glove. He felt her throbbing as he removed all but one finger from her moist insides. Her juices drenched his hand as he rubbed her sensitive center. Her body shook as her orgasm racked her body.

  He removed his hand, and whispered in her ear, “Now it’s my turn.”

  Again, she took him in her hand. He came on the front of her pink blouse and watched with wicked delight the look of horror on her face.

  “Here,” he said, handing her his handkerchief.

  She dabbed at his semen and looked around, apparently trying to make sure no one witnessed their actions.

  “Now, Robert, we must talk. Hank told me he listened in on Lilah’s conversation at the library the other day. He said Casey was asking questions. I’m sure you’re aware of this since your little drive-by failed to produce results. And that excuse for a spy you’ve got in the clerk’s office, well, let’s just say you need to do something about her.” She gave an evil smile. “Fuck her if you have to, Robert. That dick of yours has always been your most redeeming quality. You might get better results if you used it more often.”