longer for only the rich and famous. It is for anyone, whether he or she needs it, or simply wants it."
He took off his glasses and rubbed his forehead as though he had a headache. "Parents bring in teenagers, boys as well as girls, who are so conscious of a perceived defect that they simply can't function. Yesterday I operated on a fifteen-year-old boy whose ears stuck out so much that they were the only thing one saw when looking at him. When the bandages come off, all his other quite pleasing features, which had been obscured by this offending problem, will be what people see when they look at him.
"I operate on women who look in the mirror and see sagging skin or baggy eyes, women who had been beautiful girls in their youth. I raise and clamp the forehead under the hairline, I tighten the skin and pull it up behind the ears. I take twenty years off their appearance, but more than that, I transform their self- deprecation into self-worth."
His voice rose. "I could show you before-and-after pictures of accident victims whom I have helped. You ask me why several of my patients resemble my daughter. I'll tell you why. Because in these ten years, a few plain and unhappy young women came into this office and I was able to give them her kind of beauty."
Kerry knew he was about to tell her to leave. Hurriedly, she asked, "Then why several years ago did you tell a potential patient, Susan Grant, that beauty sometimes is abused, and the result is jealousy and violence? Weren't you talking about Suzanne? Isn't it a fact that Skip Reardon may have had a reason to be jealous? Perhaps you did buy her all the jewelry Skip couldn't account for, but he swears he did not send Suzanne those roses she received on the day of her death."
Dr. Smith stood up. "Ms. McGrath, I should think in your business you ought to know that murderers almost inevitably plead innocence. And now, this discussion is over."
There was nothing Kerry could do except follow him from the room. As she walked behind him, she noticed that he was holding his right hand rigidly against his side. Was that a tremor in his hand? Yes, it was.
At the door he said, "Ms. McGrath, you must understand that the sound of Skip Reardon's name sickens me. Please call Mrs. Carpenter and give her the name of another physician to whom she can forward Robin's file. I do not want to hear from you or see you or your daughter again."
He was so close to her that Kerry stepped back involuntarily. There was something genuinely frightening about the man. His eyes, filled with anger and hatred, seemed to be burning through her. If he had a gun in his hand right now, I swear he'd use it, she thought to herself.
After she locked the door and started down the steps, Robin noticed the small dark car parked across the street. Strange cars weren't common on this street, especially at this hour, but she didn't know why this one gave her an especially funny feeling.
It was cold. She shifted her books to her left arm and zipped her jacket the rest of the way to her neck, then quickened her steps. She was meeting Cassie and Courtney at the corner a block away and knew they probably were already waiting. She was a couple of minutes late.
The street was quiet. Now that the leaves were almost gone, the trees had a bare, unfriendly look. Robin wished she had remembered to wear gloves.
When she reached the sidewalk, she glanced across the street. The driver's window in the strange car was opening slowly, stopping after it had been lowered only a few inches. She stared at it as hard as she could, hoping to see a familiar face inside, but the bright morning sun reflected in such a way that she could see nothing. Then she saw a hand reach out, pointing something at her. Suddenly panicked, Robin began to run. With a roar, the car came rushing across the road, seemingly aimed right toward her. Just as she thought it was going to come up the curb and hit her, it swerved into a U-turn and then raced down the
He took off his glasses and rubbed his forehead as though he had a headache. "Parents bring in teenagers, boys as well as girls, who are so conscious of a perceived defect that they simply can't function. Yesterday I operated on a fifteen-year-old boy whose ears stuck out so much that they were the only thing one saw when looking at him. When the bandages come off, all his other quite pleasing features, which had been obscured by this offending problem, will be what people see when they look at him.
"I operate on women who look in the mirror and see sagging skin or baggy eyes, women who had been beautiful girls in their youth. I raise and clamp the forehead under the hairline, I tighten the skin and pull it up behind the ears. I take twenty years off their appearance, but more than that, I transform their self- deprecation into self-worth."
His voice rose. "I could show you before-and-after pictures of accident victims whom I have helped. You ask me why several of my patients resemble my daughter. I'll tell you why. Because in these ten years, a few plain and unhappy young women came into this office and I was able to give them her kind of beauty."
Kerry knew he was about to tell her to leave. Hurriedly, she asked, "Then why several years ago did you tell a potential patient, Susan Grant, that beauty sometimes is abused, and the result is jealousy and violence? Weren't you talking about Suzanne? Isn't it a fact that Skip Reardon may have had a reason to be jealous? Perhaps you did buy her all the jewelry Skip couldn't account for, but he swears he did not send Suzanne those roses she received on the day of her death."
Dr. Smith stood up. "Ms. McGrath, I should think in your business you ought to know that murderers almost inevitably plead innocence. And now, this discussion is over."
There was nothing Kerry could do except follow him from the room. As she walked behind him, she noticed that he was holding his right hand rigidly against his side. Was that a tremor in his hand? Yes, it was.
At the door he said, "Ms. McGrath, you must understand that the sound of Skip Reardon's name sickens me. Please call Mrs. Carpenter and give her the name of another physician to whom she can forward Robin's file. I do not want to hear from you or see you or your daughter again."
He was so close to her that Kerry stepped back involuntarily. There was something genuinely frightening about the man. His eyes, filled with anger and hatred, seemed to be burning through her. If he had a gun in his hand right now, I swear he'd use it, she thought to herself.
After she locked the door and started down the steps, Robin noticed the small dark car parked across the street. Strange cars weren't common on this street, especially at this hour, but she didn't know why this one gave her an especially funny feeling.
It was cold. She shifted her books to her left arm and zipped her jacket the rest of the way to her neck, then quickened her steps. She was meeting Cassie and Courtney at the corner a block away and knew they probably were already waiting. She was a couple of minutes late.
The street was quiet. Now that the leaves were almost gone, the trees had a bare, unfriendly look. Robin wished she had remembered to wear gloves.
When she reached the sidewalk, she glanced across the street. The driver's window in the strange car was opening slowly, stopping after it had been lowered only a few inches. She stared at it as hard as she could, hoping to see a familiar face inside, but the bright morning sun reflected in such a way that she could see nothing. Then she saw a hand reach out, pointing something at her. Suddenly panicked, Robin began to run. With a roar, the car came rushing across the road, seemingly aimed right toward her. Just as she thought it was going to come up the curb and hit her, it swerved into a U-turn and then raced down the
Similar Books
