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Wednesday, 26 September 2018

FACELESS EP 7



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“They found Cooper’s lab coat,” Lisa Bot said as she stuck her head into Joe’s office. “The ID tag was still intact, but it was a little hard to read. Someone had crushed a cigarette into it, spoilt the picture pretty good. She entered his office and placed pieces of type written paper on his desk. “Here’s the report. Everything’s down in Evidence if you want to take a look at it.”
“Don’t suppose there were any fingerprints on the tag?” Joe asked without much hope. Whoever was behind this Fiona mess was too smart to be caught – no mistakes.
“Just Cooper’s.” She sat on a chair
“And the lab coat?”
“Nope.”
“Yeah. Fiona George called and claimed that her memory is coming back. Not all of it, mind you, just bits and pieces, she says she was going somewhere in her car but seems not to be able to remember where she was going, but she says that she saw someone in the road. Both she and James swerved so as to miss the bastard. She went to one side of the road, the trucker the other.”
“Jesus, do you believe that?”
“Not yet. She’s coming in later today to make a formal statement, then we’ll see.”
“What happened to the guy who ran into the road?”
“Since he was not flattened into a pancake and there was no trace of a dead body in the woods, I assumed he got away.
“She claims the guy in the road glowed which meant light came from him.
“What if the guy held up a mirror to confuse…”
“Don’t you think you’re jumping into conclusions? Who would want Fiona George dead? And why not kill her straightaway- push her down the stairs, or stab her? Why all this trouble? Just to make it look like an accident? I’m not buying it.”
“I think James was the intended victim,” Joe thought aloud. “Someone went through a lot of trouble to see that he never woke up, while Fiona George went home to her private estate. Maybe James was the target all along.”
“Except that he’s clean.”
“Unlike anyone related to the George family.”
Shit, this case was driving him nuts.
                                  *          *           *
   In Max’s opinion, their father may as well have been dead. Lying flat on his back, tubes running in and out of his body, the old man glanced towards the doorway of his private room as Fiona opened the door. “Dad?” she said, approaching the bed while Max stayed behind. He didn’t want to mess up the reunion.
Fiona touched the back of one of his bony hands.
“It’s Fiona.”
He moved his head to one side and stared at her through pain clouded eyes. “Fiona?” he repeated, he looked confused. Once a robust man who has carried himself with pride, he’d been ravaged by age and disease, reduced to a skeleton.
“No.” He jerked his hand from hers, took his glasses wore them and stared at her.
“Yes, yes, I know I look different, but it’s because I’ve been in an accident….” She hurried to explain, “but I’m okay now. I cut my hair, but….”
“You’re not Fiona.” “An imposter, that’s what you’re. “You’re both imposters.” He motioned toward the window pane where pictures of Fiona, he and his wife and Max.
“That’s Fiona.”
“Yes, Dad, I know.”
“And you thought because I’m about to meet my maker you could come in here and pull wool over my eyes.”
“You never understand, did you?” his old voice fading. “You’re not my daughter.”
“But…..” She said, then stopped, her lips were trembling. “Oh, God…”
“Get out, Now!”
Someone bustled through the doorway. “Mr. George, is there something wrong”
“Yes,” George hissed so hard. “Get these people out of here and never let them back in!”
“But she’s your daughter and he’s your son,” the nurse said gently.
“Bah! She’s not mine.”
“Mr. George!” The nurse feigned shock. The nurse sent Fiona a look that quietly told her George wasn’t completely in his right mind.
“Get them out and be quick about it,” he ordered, and the nurse ushered them out of the room.
“Let’s get out of here,” Max said to Fiona
“George always was a miserable old bastard,”
Max said as they walked along a sidewalk to the parking lot
“He’s ill.”
“And he wasn’t much better when he was healthy, believe me.”
“The next time I get a brilliant idea to meet any of our relatives without an invitation, just shoot me, okay?” she suggested
“I’ll try to remember.” Bitch….gladly.




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