Don't Say a Word. Rita Herron

      She nodded as a tear escaped and shimmied down her cheek to dampen her bandage. “What if…”

      “Shh, go back to sleep now.” He stroked her hand with his thumb, gentle, comforting. “I will care for you and watch over you no matter how you look.”

      Blessed words to hear. Yet she didn’t want to have to remain in the shadows. Or frighten the children who needed her.

      That voice that had called her back from the nightmare echoed in her head. The sense that there was someone out there who loved her, who wanted her to fight for her survival, a reason why her sanity had kept her alive all these months. She wouldn’t give up that hope now.

      She closed her eyes, and tried to doze back to sleep. Tomorrow her face would be unveiled.

      She prayed she would recognize the image in the mirror, that it wouldn’t resemble the creature she’d seen in her dreams.

      

      DAMON STEERED THE federal-issued sedan down the drive to his parents’ house and parked. Both he and Jean-Paul took a long breath, then climbed out. Damon felt as if he were facing the firing squad, and he imagined Jean-Paul felt the same way.

      A blustery wind rattled the leaves on the trees, making the spidery Spanish moss shiver, creating snakelike shadows along the ground. Dry grass crunched beneath his feet, the sound like brittle shells breaking in the quiet. The scent of the swamp grew bolder, more pungent, mingling with the hint of impending rain.

      He pushed open the front door and paused as the ominous feeling of doom pervading his family home settled over him. It was almost as if someone had died.

      As Damon expected, his entire family, except for his niece, was waiting up, all collected in the den, holding hands, comforting one another, praying and telling themselves that the evening had been a nightmare that would soon fade.

      Jean-Paul assured them that Antwaun was all right, although his father insisted they be brutally honest and share the details of the charges and the investigation.

      Damon relayed the facts that he knew so far. His mother’s face paled, and she turned to stare at the family photos on the hearth as if the mere act could draw their family back together.

      Stephanie stood beside her, rubbing slow circles on their mother’s back to soothe her, while their father paced to the window and looked out into the dark sky. Storm clouds hung heavy and low with the certainty of bad weather. Thunder rumbled and shook the trees outside. More dry leaves scattered across the edges of the swamp. The woods beyond looked murky and ominous, filled with night crawlers and secrets of the bayou. Maybe another swamp devil lurked nearby.

      The family drew together for a prayer, then parted, each hugging and promising to call soon.

      After everyone left, Damon joined his parents in the kitchen and sipped a cup of coffee, waiting to see if they fell apart, but they insisted he leave and get some rest.

      He promised them he’d be there for Antwaun’s bail hearing and let himself out.

      As he climbed inside the sedan, he automatically reached for his cell phone to call his partner from the bureau, but he’d left it inside the house. Going back he found it on the sofa, but his parents’ voices echoed from the kitchen and caught his attention.

      “Maybe we should tell them,” Daniella screeched.

      “Shh, no,” his father said. “We promised each other a long time ago that we’d keep things to ourselves, and we have to stick to that vow.”

      “But, Pierre, what if we failed?” his mother cried. “What if Antwaun really did hurt that woman? We know his history…”

      “Shh, don’t say that,” his father said quietly. “Our Antwaun is not a killer. We raised him the same as we did the other boys. Jean-Paul and Damon will prove his innocence. We have to trust them, and pray.”

      “I hope you’re right,” his mother murmured. “Because if our secret comes out, it will only make Antwaun look guilty.”

      Damon’s chest tightened. As he barged into the kitchen, he wondered what his parents could possibly know about Antwaun that would damn him to his fellow officers….

      

      MORNING SUNLIGHT SHOT THROUGH the dark clouds and streamed through the blinds, sending slivers of light across the hospital room. Crystal blinked, searching the corners for Lex, eyes still sensitive and adjusting to bright lights.

      But Lex was gone, the room empty.

      She was alone again. She understood his need to stay in the darkness. She’d been hiding for months as well.

      Would she be able to show her face after today?

      Footsteps sounded in the hallway outside, and the door squeaked open. She braced herself for the doctor, forcing a smile past her stiff lips although she had no idea if he could see it with the bandages covering her face.

      “Good morning, Crystal,” Dr. Pace said.

      She greeted him, but her voice quivered, giving away her nervous energy.

      The nurse behind him offered her a warm but sympathetic smile, then took her vitals. “It’s always scary when the bandages come off,” she said softly. “But don’t worry. Dr. Pace is the best.”

      Dr. Pace assembled supplies on the tray beside her, then motioned for her to lean back. “Just relax, Crystal. This part is painless.”

      She sucked in a sharp breath as he snipped at the bandages, then began to slowly peel them away. The nurse bustled out the door, leaving her alone with the doctor.

      Another layer fell away, and she inhaled sharply. Cool air brushed bare skin, the whisper of hope causing goose bumps to cascade up her arms.

      His lab coat glided against her elbow as he bent over her. She opened her eyes and stared into his. The gray orbs probed her face as his fingers gently assessed each area, from her eyelids to her nose and her cheeks to her chin.

      Her throat clogged with emotions. “Well?”

      “It looks good so far. There aren’t any signs that you’re rejecting the new skin. Of course, you still need to continue the antirejection meds.”

      She nodded. “Can I see now?”

      He gave her a grave expression, one she remembered too well from the unsuccessful skin grafts.

      “What’s wrong?”

      He released a long sigh. “You’re going to look beautiful,” he said in a husky voice. “Right now you still have a lot of redness, some slight swelling and bruising. I want you to get the full picture when you finally look in the mirror.”

      She didn’t believe him. Had to touch her face herself, feel the scars, see if the skin was smooth. She lifted a hand to check, but Dr. Pace caught her.

      “It would be better if you don’t touch your face yet. Any germs could cause an infection.”

      Tears of fear choked her throat as she knotted her hands in her lap. “What aren’t you telling me?”

      He folded his arms. “We might need to make a few adjustments. But, like I said, things are progressing.” He patted her arm. “Trust me, Crystal. When you see yourself, I want you to love your new face. Just be patient. I’ll tell you when the time is right.”

      Unwanted tears filled her eyes, but she nodded. Compassion underscored his tone as he sat on the edge of the bed, pulled her into his arms and hugged her.

      “Shh, don’t cry. I promised you that I would make you beautiful again and that’s what I’m doing. Just trust me, hold on a little longer.”

      She nodded against him, although inside she died a little, and the hope she’d felt dissipated. Something was wrong. Something he wasn’t telling her.

      She needed more surgeries.