Face in the Frame by Heather Atkinson Read Free Book Online

with Fred vanishing, end of story. Accept it.”
    “I won’t because there’s more to it and Lucas Thorne is a mark. You do not get personally involved with marks, it’s one of my cardinal rules, which you promised to abide by when you started working for me and you broke it.”
    “Because he’s not a mark anymore. He’s not some weirdo who likes cutting people’s faces off.”
    “I say when someone’s not a mark anymore, not you.”
    “Give it up Brodie, you’re making a right prat of yourself.”
    “Don’t talk to me like that. You messed up tonight for the first time ever and you know it.”
    “I did my job, like I always do. Yes, I broke a couple of your stupid rules but I still got the job done. It’s not my fault it didn’t turn out the way you wanted. Now go away, I’m tired.”
    “Oh you’d love it if I left nice and quietly,” he seethed.
    “Actually I would.”
    “I mean you’d like me to cave in so easily but it’s not going to happen. I’ll leave now but this conversation isn’t over. I want you in my office first thing in the morning, hangover or not.”
    “Whatever.”
    Brodie stalked to the door, seething and with no way to exorcise his rage. He stopped at the door and looked back at Cass, who was glaring at him with anger and a little hurt in her eyes, hands on her hips, cheeks flushed, tossing back her magnificent mane of hair and his anger deflated. But he still made sure to give the door a good slam on his way out.
     
    Bill hummed to himself as he roamed the museum. He’d been a security guard here for seven years and - despite what he told everyone - he loved his job. He always requested the nightshift and he always got it, mainly because no one else wanted to do it. He loved the peace and quiet, the solitude. He’d always been a loner, right from being a wean, shunning the company of friends his own age, shutting himself away with his toys and his beloved Airfix models. Wandering these corridors made him feel like he owned the place and all these magnificent creations were his. Plus it meant he got time away from his nightmare of a mother and all her demands. She’d supposedly been dying for the last three years and if she didn’t hurry up he thought he might just finish the job for her. She made him do everything for her, even take her to the toilet and wipe her arse, not that she needed help but because she was a lazy bitch who enjoyed degrading him. But here he was free.
    He paused by the door of the Face in the Frame exhibition and peered inside. The cleaners had gone, finally. It was amazing the mess posh people left behind. He’d seen Lucas Thorne tonight, who hadn’t looked like he’d enjoyed having lots of people fawning over him. Bill admired Lucas, the museum had exhibited his work before and he thought him very talented. After seven years of working in an art museum Bill considered himself to be quite the expert. But he wasn’t sure about this face exhibition, it was just a bit too out there for his taste. A shiver ran down his spine when he saw all the faces with their eyes closed and mouths shut, looking like they were dead. Earlier it had been quite fun with everyone talking and laughing and pressing the buttons, bringing them to life. Now it was just eerie.
    Cautiously he stepped a foot inside, half-expecting them all to open their eyes and glare at him for disturbing their slumber, but nothing happened. Swallowing down his nerves he took another step into the room and looked around. The faces remained still and silent.
    “Pull yourself together you bampot,” he told himself.
    He began humming to himself to break the silence, which suddenly seemed unnatural, finding himself drawn to a face in the centre of the exhibition. It was a pretty face of a young woman, he imagined about twenty one years old, a nice age. Her eyelashes were long and blond, skin peachy. Idly he wondered what colour her eyes were.
    Bill extended a hesitant hand and pressed the