There are people in our lives we encounter who make their marks. Those who leave some indelible influence on who and what we will become. But if we’re really lucky, there are those whose presence in our lives makes a difference that goes so much deeper than the skin that our life would not have been what it was destined to be without them. This book is dedicated to one such person with whom I have had the pleasure of love and laughter and the overwhelming sorrow of loss and grief.
To my baby brother, John Brashier.
You are my soul’s twin.
Never forget how very much I love you.
PERSON OF INTEREST
Debra Webb
DEBRA WEBB
wrote her first story at age nine and her first romance at thirteen. It wasn’t until she spent three years working for the military behind the Iron Curtain and within the confining political walls of Berlin, Germany, that she realized her true calling. A five-year stint with NASA on the space shuttle program reinforced her love of the endless possibilities within her grasp as a storyteller. A collision course between suspense and romance was set. Debra has been writing romantic suspense and action-packed romantic thrillers since. Visit her at www.DebraWebb.com or write to her at P.O. Box 4889, Huntsville, AL 35815.
Chapter 1
Finished.
With a satisfied sigh, Dr. Elizabeth Cameron surveyed the careful sutures and the prepatterned blocks of tissue she had harvested from inconspicuous donor sites. For this patient the best sites available had been her fore arms and thighs which had miraculously escaped injury.
The tailored blocks of harvested tissue, comprised of skin, fat and blood vessels, were tediously inset into the face like pieces of a puzzle and circulation to the area immediately restored by delicate attachment to the facial artery.
Lastly, the newly defined tissue was sculpted to look, feel and behave like normal facial skin, with scars hidden in the facial planes. In a few weeks this patient would resume normal activities and no one out side her immediate family and friends would ever have to know that she had scarcely survived a fiery car crash that had literally melted a good portion of her youthful Miss Massachusetts face.
She would reach her twenty-first birth day next month with a face that looked identical to the one that had won her numerous accolades and trophies. More important, the young woman who had slipped into severe clinical depression and who had feared her life was over would now have a second chance.
“She’s perfect, Doctor.”
Elizabeth acknowledged her colleague’s praise with a quick nod and stepped back from the operating table. With one final glance she took stock of the situation. The patient was stable. All was as it should be. “Finish up for me, Dr. Jeffrey,” she told her senior surgical resident.
Pride welled in her chest as she watched a moment while her team completed the final preparations for transporting the patient to recovery. Yes, she had performed the surgery, but the whole team had been involved from day one, beginning with the complete, computerized facial analysis. This victory had been achieved by the entire team, not just one person. A team Elizabeth had hand picked over the past three years.
In the scrub room she stripped off her bloody gloves, surgical gown and mask, then cleaned her eye glasses. She’d tried adjusting to contacts, but just couldn’t manage the transition. Sticking to the old reliables hadn’t failed her yet. She was probably the only doctor in the hospital who still preferred to do a number of things the old-fashioned way. Like working with a certain team day in and day out. She’d worked with Jeffrey long enough now that they could anticipate each other’s moves and needs ahead of time. It worked. She liked sticking with what worked.
Exhaustion clawed at her. The muscles of her shoulders quivered with fatigue, the good kind. This one had been a long, arduous journey for both patient and surgical team. Weeks ago the initial preparations had begun, including forming a mold of a right ear to use in building a replacement for the one the patient had lost in the accident. The size and symmetry had worked out beautifully.