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"His appointment to defend a man accused of harming a child had changed all that. It had revived everything in his life that was ever painful. It had returned to his mind and soul an emptiness that once had overwhelmed him. It had set him on a course where he must again confront and deal with the same emotions that had almost destroyed him. As he watched the water move slowly by his deck, he winced at the thought of going to work. He was scheduled to be at the Public Defender's office that morning to view the Brewton file. Perhaps that explained why he thought the pull of the river was unusually magnetic. The more his sleepy head cleared, the more he realized he wasn't being attracted by the river. He was being repelled by his intense dislike for a man he'd never met. Clay had tried to picture him many times, but had failed. He tried venting his anger with imaginary punches, thrown as hard as he could. But, he got no relief hitting a man who had no face. It was time to get on with his dirty chore and learn all the things he didn't want to know about a man called Harco."
"Forsyth sat on the step of the parking lot office reading the
Monday morning newspaper. The same little tombstone notice had
appeared in the paper three times now, just like clockwork. He
wasn't given to reading the paper's legal notices, but a news
clipping containing a foreclosure notice on the lot had been mailed
to Harry by Fidelity Union Bank a few weeks earlier, and he'd
opened it by mistake. Since then, he'd located it in the paper and
read it for himself every week.
"Billy was quiet for a moment, then asked, "When is my face going
to turn black like yours?"
"Billy was quiet for a moment, then asked, "When is my face going
to turn black like yours?"
His appointment to defend a man accused of harming a child had changed all that. It had revived everything in his life that was ever painful. It had returned to his mind and soul an emptiness that once had overwhelmed him. It had set him on a course where he must again confront and deal with the same emotions that had almost destroyed him. As he watched the water move slowly by his deck, he winced at the thought of going to work. He was scheduled to be at the Public Defender's office that morning to view the Brewton file. Perhaps that explained why he thought the pull of the river was unusually magnetic. The more his sleepy head cleared, the more he realized he wasn't being attracted by the river. He was being repelled by his intense dislike for a man he'd never met. Clay had tried to picture him many times, but had failed. He tried venting his anger with imaginary punches, thrown as hard as he could. But, he got no relief hitting a man who had no face. It was time to get on with his dirty chore and learn all the things he didn't want to know about a man called Harco.
"Forsyth sat on the step of the parking lot office reading the
Monday morning newspaper. The same little tombstone notice had
appeared in the paper three times now, just like clockwork. He
wasn't given to reading the paper's legal notices, but a news
clipping containing a foreclosure notice on the lot had been mailed
to Harry by Fidelity Union Bank a few weeks earlier, and he'd
opened it by mistake. Since then, he'd located it in the paper and
read it for himself every week.
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