About Face

by V. K. Powell

  “I’ll summarize. Stop me if anything sounds off. Fair enough?”

  Leigh slid back in her chair and scratched the side of her right index finger with her thumbnail, a nervous habit from childhood. She controlled it most of the time, but when her nerves were really on edge or emotions high, she regressed.

  “Relax.” Howard opened the file and pulled out two sheets of paper. “Lily Miller, eleven years old. Mother died of an overdose a month ago, father unknown. Mother’s boyfriend, also a known drug abuser, lived in the home. Children and Family Services caseworker was Pam Wilkinson. Lily asked Wilkinson not to return her to the boyfriend after her mother’s funeral because of alleged abuse. The child wanted to live with her grandmother in Detroit.” Howard looked up at Leigh. “Right so far?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “The boyfriend wanted Lily back, presumably for the benefits, but CFS wanted to investigate the abuse charges and check on the grandmother’s status. Here’s where the stories vary. You and Wilkinson stated you took Lily to her mother’s funeral and dropped her off at home later. The boyfriend insists you never brought her back and he hasn’t seen her since.”

  Leigh’s muscles tightened as she remembered the story Lily had told her and Pam about the boyfriend’s abuse. “He’s a doper, and he never had any standing with Lily. He wasn’t a relative, and he couldn’t collect benefits after the mother died. We told him that.”

  Howard gave Leigh one of the calm-down looks she’d gotten in her early days as a rookie. “Wilkinson contacted Lily’s grandmother, but she couldn’t get to Greensboro for three days. The question was, and still is, what happened to Lily? Where was she those days between her mother’s funeral and her grandmother’s arrival? She ended up in Detroit, safe and sound on the fourth day.” Anita Howard could read Leigh’s nonverbal cues better than most, so she blanked her face and met Howard’s gaze.

  “We dropped her off at her home.” She didn’t want Howard to think she was a screw-up who flaunted procedures for no reason, but she couldn’t, no, she wouldn’t, tell this woman a lie, nor would she betray a friend or a child—ever. It was best not to elaborate. The more she talked the greater chance she’d inadvertently reveal something.

  “Did either of you walk her to the door, turn her over to a responsible adult?” When Leigh didn’t answer, Howard continued. “Fortunately for you, the SBI couldn’t find any evidence to contradict your statement. Neighbors remembered seeing the girl get out of a city vehicle in front of her home, so there will be no criminal charges.”

  Some of the tension drained from Leigh’s shoulders, and she stopped worrying the side of her finger. “That’s a relief.”

  “You’re an excellent detective with good instincts and a big heart. That’s why you’re in this unit. But you can also be creative about skirting the law or procedure on behalf of a child. This time it turned out all right. Unfortunately, I can’t run my division on outcomes alone and totally disregard policy. Adherence to the rules is essential in any organization. How does CFS or the department explain that we misplaced a child for three days? I have to suspend you.”

  “Suspend me? Really?” Leigh’s eyes burned as she imagined not having the job she loved and the support group she depended on, especially now without Gayle.

  “Unless you’re willing to tell me where Lily was for three days, I have no choice. Contrition would go a long way.”

  “And what about Wilkinson? What’s going to happen to her?” If necessary, she’d take the blame for everything. It had all been her hair-brained idea anyway.

  “Her supervisors in CFS are handling that.” Howard waited, her gaze fixed on Leigh. “Well, do you have anything to say?”

  “How long is the suspension?” It really didn’t matter. The discipline would be a permanent blot on her professional record. Every time she applied for a transfer or promotion, the unanswered questions would resurface. She’d feel the effects of this decision for the rest of her career. For a split second she considered telling the whole truth, explaining exactly what had happened that day. But she had no guarantee she could protect the others with the truth, and it might possibly harm them. She remained silent.

  “One month.” Captain Howard slid a piece of paper toward her. “Here’s your official notification. Sign this copy for the file.”

  “Do I get time off for good behavior? I’ve already been riding a desk for a month waiting for the investigators to finish.”

  “You know it doesn’t work like that, Leigh. Starts tomorrow. I expect you to check in at least once a week. Give Nathan your cases. He’s familiar with them.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Leigh stood and offered her hand to Captain Howard. She was annoyed that she hadn’t handled the initial situation better. “I’m really sorry if I’ve disappointed you.”

  Howard cupped her hand and held it until Leigh was forced to meet her gaze. “You’ve never disappointed me, and I doubt you ever will. You’re holding something back, and I’m sure you have a good reason. Maybe one day you’ll share it with me. Take care of yourself.”

  As Leigh walked back to the office, she wondered if Captain Howard knew more about what had really happened to Lily Miller than she let on. How could she? Aside from herself, only Lily, Pam, and one other person knew all the facts. It would have to stay that way. If a month off was the price for protecting two people who’d helped a child, she’d gladly pay it. Doing the right thing should be rewarded, not punished, but sometimes the two became indistinguishably intertwined.

  “Well?” Nate stood with his hands perched on his hips like a mother waiting for a curfew-breaking child.

  “Month off, weekly check-ins.”

  “A freaking month? Doesn’t she understand the real world anymore? Sometimes we have to improvise.” Nate didn’t know for sure that she’d skirted the rules, but he knew her work style.

  “I could use some time off to find a place to live and prioritize my life. Besides it’s never a failure, always a lesson.”

  “Great, more self-help bullshit. You know that crap is annoying, right? I’ve got a better one for you. The beatings will continue until morale improves. Doesn’t she understand you were just doing your job?”

  It’s all right, Nate. She’s just doing hers.” She packed her briefcase and slid her stack of open cases to his desk. “Happy new caseload.”

  “Half of those should’ve been mine to start with. By the way, you got a call while you were with the boss.”

  He handed her a Post-it and she read the name, Susan Bryce, and the number she’d memorized. She crumpled the note and threw it in the trash on her way to the door. When would Susan get the message and stop harassing her?

  “You ever going to call that woman? She rings about twice a month. What did you do, sleep with her and then dump her?”

  “Hardly.” Leigh wasn’t about to tell that story if she could help it.

  “Want to go for a drink on the way home? Talk or something?”

  “Not really in the mood, but thanks, Nate.”

  “What will I do without my wingman? Keep in touch…okay?”

  She picked up her briefcase and choked out, “Will do, partner.” The comfortable routine of daily life with Nate and Pam was a stark contrast to what lay ahead. She liked to process aloud, talk through things until they made sense. She’d need to do that now more than ever, but Nate was her idea bouncer and Pam her sounding board. She’d be like a muzzled dog in a barking contest.

  On her walk home, ignoring the pitying glances from passersby, she released the feelings she’d battled since her meeting with Captain Howard. Tears slid down her face as she absorbed another disappointment. She’d made the right decision a month ago and stuck by it today, but the consequences still hurt.

  When Leigh entered the condo she’d shared with Gayle, the emptiness enveloped her. She didn’t hear even the annoying tick of a clock marking time. The air smelled stale and held a chill reminiscent of her last nine months alone. The contempo
rary furnishings—sleek, sophisticated, and eye-catching—reminded her of Gayle. Like their relationship, their decorating tastes were worlds apart. She preferred the warmth and timelessness of traditional styles. The only evidence of her presence in the condo was her solid-oak bedroom suite in the guest room. She should’ve paid closer attention when Gayle dodged her requests to integrate more of her belongings into their living space.

  But Gayle always supported her position with numerous justifications: she was too busy working between the US and Canada to redecorate; it was too expensive; they needed to pool their money and buy together; they might decide to live in Canada. The list went on, and Leigh literally couldn’t negotiate with her. Gayle talked circles around her while she was still thinking of a response to her first statement. But just because she could argue better didn’t mean she was right. Like so many gifted attorneys, Gayle never gave a straightforward answer, especially about their relationship. Another clue she’d missed.

  Why had she ever thought a long-distance relationship could work for her? The answer was simple—she’d loved Gayle enough to try anything. The old adage about long-distance love being hard to make and easy to kill was certainly true in their case. Sadness bubbled up again, but she refused to cry for someone who didn’t care for her. Just because she’d imagined Gayle was the one didn’t make it a two-way street. She dropped her briefcase beside the door and flipped on a torchiere.

  Boxes half full of her belongings littered the floors like an obstacle course. She’d memorized the paths weeks ago and weaved her way into the kitchen. It was the only room that didn’t torment her with soft things she and Gayle had lounged and loved on. Gayle had said she could stay in the condo rent free as long as she wanted, and initially it had been easier than moving. But recently she was suffocating in a place that didn’t fit her style and memories that didn’t offer any hope.

  Digging into the freezer, she pulled out a tin of margarita mix, emptied it into the blender, and added ice and an overabundance of tequila. She wasn’t a big drinker, but today called for something—not a celebration, but perhaps a new beginning. Maybe the suspension would force her to find a place of her own and reclaim her life. When the whirring stopped, she shoved a straw into the pitcher, grabbed a bag of cheddar jalapeño Cheetos, and retired to the guest bedroom she’d occupied since ending her relationship with Gayle.

  Chapter Two

  Please stop. Leigh burrowed deeper under the pillows to block the annoying vibrations of her cell phone. When it didn’t quit, she rolled onto her side, careful not to shake her gargantuan-sized head. She glimpsed the empty blender pitcher beside the bed just before she toppled onto the floor. “Hell.” Her head throbbed, her mouth felt like she’d eaten insulation, and the taste of sour tequila and Cheetos rose in her throat. Pulling her knees up against her chest, she lowered her head between them and prayed she wouldn’t puke. The phone buzzed and shimmied off the nightstand, and the doorbell chimed like Big Ben. “Double hell.”

  When the nausea passed, she grabbed the side of the bed and crawled upright. She made her way to the front door, kicking the boxes that had menacingly moved into her path overnight. Peering through the peephole, she saw her best friend, Pam Wilkinson, dressed in jogging clothes and waving two cups of coffee like toys from their childhood play dates. She opened the door and shielded her eyes from the sun. “Get in here and don’t even mention the j-word.” She didn’t need a reminder of how loose and uncoordinated her body felt after months of bingeing and vegging following the breakup with Gayle. Her ass felt like a minibus following her around.

  “Happy to see me?” Pam’s gaze slid over Leigh and she shook her head. “Shouldn’t drink tequila and eat Cheetos. It leads to hangovers and orange clothes…not to mention foul breath.”

  Leigh covered her mouth with her hand. “Sorry.” She was still wearing her work clothes from yesterday and grimaced at the thought of adding them to the pile of dirty laundry already smothering the washing machine.

  Pam offered her a cup of coffee and the newspaper. “Which do you want first?”

  “Got a feeling the coffee might make me feel better, but not sure about the paper.”

  “Fukum.” Pam’s personal blend of fuck and them rolled off her tongue as easily as her own name. She scrubbed the top of her head with her knuckles, but her short hair remained pristine—she didn’t have enough to be mussed by anything except a razor. “We did the right thing, and I don’t care what they say.”

  Leigh waved her toward the kitchen as she went ahead kicking boxes out of the way again. “What did they do to you?”

  “Same, month off.”

  “Who told you?” Leigh was too hungover to think clearly or she wouldn’t have asked.

  Pam gave her a really look and said, “Nate.”

  She brushed stacks of dishtowels off two chairs and motioned for Pam to sit. “How’s he taking all this?”

  “He’s worried about you, like I am. Why else would I be here at seven in the morning with coffee? I’ve got a hot woman at home in my bed.” Pam immediately looked out the window, probably berating herself for pointing out the obvious. “When’s the last time you went jogging?”

  Leigh held up her hand to stop the onslaught of helpful suggestions Pam was about to unleash in very colorful terms. “Don’t start.”

  “I’m just jealous I don’t have a stick figure and a tight little booty like you…without even trying, I might add.” Coming from anyone else the comment might’ve sounded like a come-on, but Pam was offering a backhanded compliment to offset her awkward girlfriend faux pas.

  “I know I’ve let a lot of things slide lately, but I’m getting my shit together.”

  “Oh, really? Let’s recap. You helped Nate with his kitchen renovation this week, trimmed my hedges while I seeded the lawn, and worked overtime on cases that weren’t even yours. When have you had time for your shit? These boxes haven’t been moved in months, except the ones you stumbled over on the way to the door this morning. Am I right?”

  She sipped the warm, perfectly doctored latte instead of answering Pam’s question. Helping friends kept her from moping, but it was obvious she hadn’t made any forward progress. Her belongings were still unpacked, stacks of real-estate magazines littered the countertops, and she hadn’t been on a date since the breakup.

  “Start today,” Pam said. “You got nothing better to do. When you’re ready, I’ll help you pack, and then you have to leave. We can look through the classifieds and see if anything pops.”

  The idea was both appealing and depressing. She’d grieved and reasoned and convinced herself that moving on was for the best. But in the wee hours when loneliness cut deepest, she ached for a lover at her side.

  “What’re you thinking? Spill. You’re like me. Introspection doesn’t work.”

  “Maybe I should give her a call…try one more time.” Pam set her coffee cup on the table with way too much control. Leigh could almost hear her counting to ten. “That’s just the margarita effect, isn’t it?”

  “Exactly. Too much tequila kills brain cells, erases memories, and gives false hope. And God only knows what mind-altering crap is in that orange stuff on Cheetos. Besides, all you ever had was a vacationship. When you were there or she was here, you had a semi-relationship, otherwise nothing. When was the last time you heard from her?”

  “She’s busy with work.” The excuse was so lame Leigh couldn’t believe she’d parroted the very words Gayle had used the last time she’d called, three weeks ago.

  “Yeah, like Canadian immigration attorneys work night and day. When are you going to get it? You were never the problem, Leigh. When one won’t, two can’t.”

  “Hey, that sounds like a neat bumper sticker.” She offered a weak smile as the mental reality filtered down to her heart and soul, this time with a heavy thud. Pam was right. It was time. Love couldn’t be bought, forced, or coerced. She’d waited nine months for Gayle to indicate she cared and wanted their relationship t
o continue. All she’d gotten were more platitudes and vague references to a future Gayle wouldn’t commit to. “Let’s get started.”

  Pam slid the paper across the table. “Brace yourself.”

  She opened to the front page and stared at the bold headline until the words registered and then distorted in a teary blur. Detective and CFS Worker Suspended in Child Disappearance. “Disappearance? What the hell?”

  “That reporter’s getting his information from the boyfriend and not checking the facts. At least the boyfriend’s not a known pedophile. You know how reporters are—anything to sell a few papers. Don’t let it bug you. We know what happened.”

  “But our friends and family don’t. The department won’t clarify the story. They’ll cite personnel policy and let everybody believe what they want.” She lowered the paper and looked at Pam, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m sorry I got you suspended. Can you ever forgive me?”

  “Nothing to forgive. I kept my mouth shut because I believed in what we did. And I’d do it again under the same circumstances. Wouldn’t you?”

  Leigh nodded.

  “Enough said.” She patted Leigh’s arm and reached for the sports section. “And don’t start crying on me. I get enough of that feeling stuff from my girlfriend du jour.”

  She gave Pam her best bullshit smile, remembering the kid who used to take home every stray animal she found. “Are you guys okay?” Pam had been dating a new woman for about six months, and it seemed to be going well.

  “Sure, why wouldn’t we be?”

  “Just asking.” Since the breakup, she worried about her coupled friends too much. She thought she’d found the one, and she’d been wrong. How could others be so certain?

  “You worry about people too much. Nate is fine. I’m fine. Everybody’s fine except you. But we’re going to take care of that, aren’t we?”

  Leigh turned to the classified section and traced down to the real-estate column. “Nate said there was an apartment for rent at Belews Lake.”