Looking Behind the Mask: Second Chance Series - Book 2 Read online

  Looking Behind the Mask

  By

  Joan Davis

  Copyright © 2014 by Joan A. Davis

  [email protected]

  Acknowledgements

  Cover Art by Shutter Stock / Cover Design by Ellen Davis

  Dedications

  This book is dedicated to my angels. I love and admire each of you with my whole heart and soul.

  Ellen Davis: She is the person I admire most in this world. She trail blazes through life and cares enough to want the best for all those she encounters. She is blessed with the rare combination of proactive action and empathy. She is also one tough Beta reader. She is the one I count on to make me face up to the holes in my stories and helps me plug them. I love you sis.

  Barbara Eaton: My sister-friend and motivator. I love you and wish all good things for you.

  Doanyelle Conner: The sweetest person with the biggest heart I know. She volunteered and became my chief Beta-reader and Editor. I could say thank you a million times over and it still wouldn’t be enough. So I will only say, “I love you and I’m first today!”

  Barbara Brann: A sister who knows what family really is. She is my biggest cheerleader. Love you, Barbie.

  Mildred and Fred Davis: The finest people I know. They have shown me nothing but absolute love all my life. I thank God for you both every day. I love you more today than yesterday and less than tomorrow.

  Disclaimer

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, locations, characters, and scenes are either a product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner for dramatic affect. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Joan A. Davis.

  Acknowledgements

  Dedications

  Disclaimer

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  About the Author

  Thank You

  PROLOGUE

  13 YEARS AGO

  Honor Weston opened her eyes slowly. Nausea and dizziness hit her when she tried to sit up straight. She fell back onto the bed she was on and swallowed several times trying to calm her stomach. Once the nausea subsided she sat up once more. Feeling disoriented and groggy, she looked down at her body. She was barefoot and wearing some sort of white dress or nightgown that reached just past her knees. Confused, she stood up beside the bed and looked around her. Everything seemed to tilt. She groaned and had to grab at the mattress to keep her balance.

  Trying again, Honor slowly turned her head and looked around the unfamiliar room. Everything was white, colorless and pristine from the bed to the floor. Frowning, she saw a door and walked towards it trying to keep her balance. It took her a couple of tries to get the door knob to turn but the door finally opened. She found herself standing in a hallway with stark white walls and light wood flooring. Holding on to the wall, Honor looked both ways before deciding to turn left and head down the long hallway. Her stomach still protesting, she had to stop several times and rest against the wall until the nausea settled enough so that she could continue. She didn’t know why, but the urge to leave this place was overwhelming.

  Coming to a pure white marble staircase, Honor swallowed hard. She knew she’d never be able to walk down the steps without falling, so she slid down the wall until she was sitting on the first step of the staircase. She grabbed the first metal baluster of the hand rail and lowered herself down to the next step of the staircase. Over the next several minutes she made her way down each step until she reached the bottom. Her body shook with the effort and she put her head between her legs and moaned as a cold sweat coated her body. Her hair felt like it was plastered to her scalp.

  Looking up bleary-eyed after several minutes, Honor found she was in a stark entryway. A sea of white marble separated her from what appeared to be a very large white front door. Whimpering, and feeling a little desperate to get out, Honor grabbed the stair’s metal newel post with both hands. She struggled to pull herself up until she was standing unsteadily on her feet. Waiting for the dizziness to dissipate, she put her hands out in front of her for balance and shuffled across the large room until she made it to the door. She pulled down on the handle, and surprisingly, the door easily swung open.

  Piercing sunlight burned her eyes until they watered profusely. Blinded, she had to stop until she was able to see again. Wiping at the tears streaming down her face and squinting against the harsh light, Honor made her way down two wide entry steps. She began to weave her way down a long drive. Falling twice, she scraped both her hands and knees, but made herself get back up and keep walking. Her instincts told her to keep walking. Coming to a large iron gate, she tried to open it several times but it wouldn’t budge. In desperation, she wedged her thin body between two of the tall railings. She felt the rough metal bite into her skin in several places, but she made it through and promptly fell to the ground on the other side.

  Honor gripped the gate’s railing and pulled herself back up, but her stomach had finally reached its limit and she vomited. Harsh breaths rasped from her raw throat and she tried hard not to cry. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and rubbed it off on her clothing. She turned and pushed away from the metal fence and made her way to a sidewalk in front of the gate. Her legs shaking and weak, Honor started weaving her way down the street. She was able to stay upright by holding on to the stone walls and large hedges that flanked her left side as she made her way slowly along the segmented cement path. It seemed like she had been walking for forever when she came to a bench that sat under a shade tree.

  Exhausted and disoriented, Honor sat down to rest. She pulled her knees up to her chest and laid her head down. She closed her watery eyes against the bright sunlight and moaned as dizziness and nausea plagued her again. She had no idea how long she sat there before she heard a voice.

  “Miss, are you okay? Do you need help?”

  Honor, looked up hazily, and tried to focus on the person in front of her. “I think I’m sick,” she said, but her words were sluggish and slurred. She was finally able to focus and saw a woman bending down towards her. She had blond hair and was wearing shorts and tank top.

  When the woman looked at Honor she gasped and backed away a step. Thinking she must have gotten vomit on her face or hair, Honor tried to feel her face to check, but her hands seemed to be disconnected from her body. They flopped uselessly in front of her before dropping down to her sides. “I think I need to go home.” she said trying to focus on the woman again.

  The woman cautiously sat down next to Honor and took her hand. “Where is home, honey?”

  Honor wrinkled her brow at the woman’s question and then said, “With Mama Leone.”

  “And where is Mama Leone, honey? Can you call her to come and get you?”

  Honor nodded and then moaned when the world seemed to tilt again.

  Hesitating, the woman pulled out a cell phone from her arm pack and offered it to Honor. “Here, why don’t you try to call your Mama Leone and see if she can come and get you?” Honor tried to take the phone but couldn’t seem to grasp it in her hand. Finally the woman said gently, “You can tell me the numb
er and I’ll dial it for you.”

  Honor’s brow creased again and she slowly recited the familiar phone number to the woman. When it began to ring the woman put it up to Honor’s ear. “Hello?” A distracted voice answered the phone at the other end.

  “Mama Leone, I need a ride home. I’m sick.” Honor said into the phone.

  “Honor, oh my Lord in heaven. Is that you, child? Where are you? I have been worried sick!” Mama Leone said with obvious distress in her voice.

  “I don’t feel so good Mama Leone. Can you come get me?” Honor asked again almost sobbing.

  “Where are you darlin’? I’ll come right now. Just tell me where you are,” Mama Leone assured her.

  Honor looked around her and was totally disoriented again. Whimpering and sounding lost, she whispered, “I don’t know where I am. Can you find me?”

  The woman on the bench next to Honor took the phone away from her ear and put it to hers. “Ms. Leone? My name is Felicity Jensen and I was out walking when I came upon this young girl. Ms. Leone, she doesn’t look well at all. I found her sitting on a bench in my neighborhood. All she has on is a short cotton night gown and nothing else. She has scrapes and cuts all over her, and she really seems out of it,” Felicity said.

  “Oh my poor baby! Ma’am, her name is Honor Weston. She is one of my foster children and she disappeared about ten days ago. She’s only thirteen. I’ve called the police but they haven’t been able to find her. Can you tell me where you are so I can come and get her?” Mama Leone implored.

  “Yes, we are on the corner of Dumont Place and Tremont Boulevard in the gated community of Rosehill. Do you know it?” The Felicity Jensen asked.

  There was a hesitation on the other end of the phone. “I thought I knew Atlanta pretty well, but I have never heard of a gated community called Rosehill,” Mama Leone said puzzled. “Can you give me directions or an address? Maybe I can look it up on the computer.”

  “Atlanta, as in Atlanta, Georgia, that’s where you are?” Felicity Jensen asked incredulously.

  “Yes ma’am, I don’t understand. Where are you?” Mama Leone asked.

  Felicity squeezed Honor’s hand gently as she said, “Ms. Leone, I hate to tell you this, but I am talking to you from San Francisco, California. That is where Honor and I are.” Felicity said to press the point home. “I think I need to call the police and get them out here. Something has obviously happened and this girl needs help.”

  “San Francisco? Oh my God! How did that child end up all the way out there?” Mama Leone said tearfully. She finally seemed to regain control after a moment and said, “Yes, yes, please contact the police. I have to figure out how to get out there. Oh my. Is she okay? Is she hurt? Oh my poor girl . . .”

  “Ms. Leone, I have your number on my phone and I’m going to hang up with you and contact the police. I will call you back as soon as they get here, okay?” Felicity Jensen said patiently trying to calm the other woman.

  “Oh, okay, your number is showing up on my phone too. Thank you and bless you for calling me. I’ll sit here and wait for your call,” Ms. Leone said and disconnected the call.

  “Am I in trouble? Are the cops going to put me in jail?” Honor slurred out worriedly to Felicity.

  Still holding Honor’s hand, Felicity dialed 9-1-1. “No honey. You’re not going to jail. I’m just going to get some help for you.” Felicity said soothingly and began speaking to the emergency dispatcher.

  Seventy-two hours later, Honor again found herself waking up on a strange bed in an unfamiliar room. This time though she was more alert and aware. Her head hurt a bit and she looked down at her hands and realized they were stinging and felt raw. She saw deep scrapes and bruises on both of her palms and frowned trying to remember how she got them.

  The door of the room swung open wide. A gray haired man in a white doctor’s coat briskly walked in followed by a nurse in a baby blue uniform. “Miss Weston, how are you feeling today? My name is Dr. Hauser. You have been sleeping for quite a while, but the drugs are almost completely out of your system.”

  “Drugs . . .?” Honor croaked and realized her mouth was incredibly dry.

  The nurse moved around the bed and set a pink container on the over-bed table. She pulled out a small pitcher and poured Honor a glass of water and handed it to her with a gentle smile.

  “Thanks,” Honor said gratefully and drank the whole thing down before turning back to the doctor. “What do you mean? What drugs? Why am I here? Where am I?” she asked frowning in confusion.

  The doctor took her pulse before replying, “Miss Weston, you’re in San Francisco Memorial Hospital. You were found wandering the streets of Rosehill. A woman was kind enough to call the police to help you. What is the last thing you remember, Miss Weston?” Dr. Hauser asked in a distracted voice as he looked at Honor’s hands and then pulled back the sheet and began examining her legs.

  Honor could see a multitude of scrapes, cuts and bruises all along her body. “What happened to me? Was I in an accident?”

  Standing back the doctor looked into Honor’s eyes for the first time. “Miss Weston, can you tell me the last thing you remember before today?” the doctor repeated his earlier question.

  Honor’s brow wrinkled and then she looked down at her hands and said, “I snuck out of Mama Leone’s house after she went to bed. I wanted to go to a Rave with my friends.”

  “Do you remember what the date was on that day?” Dr. Hauser asked.

  “I think it was June 4. I know it was a Friday,” she said looking at Dr. Hauser. “Why are you asking me about the date?”

  “My dear, today is June 20, 2001, and you are in San Francisco, California,” Doctor Hauser said in a calm, soothing voice.

  “What?” Honor asked in a dazed voice looking from the doctor to the nurse and back again.

  “Honey, did your face and eyes look like that before you snuck out of your house?” The nurse asked gently taking Honor’s hand.

  Starring at the nurse in shock, Honor raised a trembling hand to up to her face to feel around her eyes. Nothing hurt or felt different. Starting to panic, Honor asked, “What’s wrong with my eyes?”

  The nurse looked at the doctor who nodded. She pulled a small hand mirror out of the pink bed tray and held it up so Honor could see into it. She leaned forward and gasped in surprise. Someone had lined both of her eyes in black. It made her already slightly tilted amber eyes look cat-like. They seem to blaze out against her pale skin. But that was not all. A black design of swirls and lines curled from the corner of her right eye up and over her right eyebrow. The design also swirled down the right side of her face near her hair line, which accented her high cheekbones and jaw line. The effect was exotic and disconcerting.

  Annoyed, Honor rubbed at her forehead trying to take off the black makeup. Nothing happened. She looked down at her fingers and found no makeup residue. Frowning she tried again with the same result. “It won’t come off. Maybe I need a little soap and water or something. I didn’t put on this makeup, I don’t know how it got on me, but I didn’t do it,” Honor said shaking her head at the nurse. A shiver of dread went down her spine as she saw the expression on the nurse’s face.

  The nurse nodded and then looked at the doctor. “Miss Weston, I’m afraid that is not makeup.” Dr. Hauser said.

  “Then what is it?” Honor asked still rubbing at her forehead while looking at the doctor.

  “It’s a tattoo. Someone tattooed you, Miss Weston.” Dr. Hauser informed her and then continued softly. “It’s permanent, I’m afraid.”

  Honor stared at the doctor for a few seconds before slowly turning to the nurse in shock. She saw confirmation in the nurse’s eyes before tears started to well in her own eyes. “No, that isn’t true. Why would anyone do that to me? Why can’t you take it off me? No.” She began to sob. Her stomach clenched as fear overwhelmed her.

  The door to the hospital room swung opened again and a tall, beautiful, older African American woman walked in
to the room. “Where’s my baby?” she demanded and moved the doctor aside with her hand when she heard Honor sobbing.

  Honor looked up and into the familiar kind eyes of Mama Leone. Sobbing harder, she threw herself against Mama Leone as she sat down on the bed. Mama Leone rocked her gently for a few minutes and spoke comforting words into her ear before sitting back. She cupped Honor’s face between her gracefully long fingered hands and said, “There now, baby girl, I’m here now. Don’t cry.” Mama Leone wiped away Honor’s tears with her thumbs.

  “Look at my eyes, Mama Leone, and my face. The doctor said it won’t come off, that somebody tattooed me. He said it won’t come off my face.” Honor sobbed broken-heartedly. “Why would someone do this to me? I’m sorry I snuck out Mama Leone, really I am, but I didn’t know this would happen. He said it won’t come off, Mama Leone. What am I going to do?” she asked looking lost, bewildered and terrified.

  Mama Leone just smiled gently as she looked into Honor’s eyes. “My baby girl, don’t you worry about all of that right now. I’m just glad I found you and you’re okay. The rest we can deal with later. One thing at a time, agreed?” she asked and then holding out her long elegant arm to the nurse she took a few tissues and wiped Honor eyes.

  With Mama Leone at her side Honor later fielded additional questions from the police detective assigned to her case. Her distrust of the police was very evident in her short clipped answers. She knew from experience that cops were bad news. Her description of the white room, the long driveway and a big black metal fence was met with a frown. Didn’t she remember more details? No? She told him she could only vaguely remember the woman who stopped to help her, and after that point she couldn’t remember anything else.

  “You don’t remember what the color of the outside of the house was, do you?” Detective Joseph Lane asked for the third time.

  Shaking her head Honor said, “Look, all I remember is the light hurting my eyes and the driveway being really long. I told you before, that’s all I remember.” She watched the detective warily. Did he think she was lying?