Fixing Perfect Page 15

  Becca gasped, and Mr. Bird’s hand pressed down on the top of her head.

  “Your hair’s as bad as Becca’s,” Mr. Bird went on. “It’s all tangled. I’m gonna have to do something about that, too.”

  “Give me a brush and I’ll take care of both of us.”

  Mr. Bird laughed. It didn’t sound nice, like when Becca’s daddy laughed. It sounded like the kid on the bus who made fun of Becca’s brother when he cried.

  Mr. Bird didn’t say anything else. He left them in the room again, and Becca heard the sound of the lock. Jake didn’t even try the door after he left. Mr. Bird never forgot, never made a mistake about that lock.

  Jake sat back down and put his head on his knees. After a minute, he looked up. “You better eat,” he said. “And drink all your milk.”

  “OK.” She took a bite. “Aren’t you gonna eat?”

  “Yeah.” Jake ate his sandwich is three bites and gulped down his milk. He threw the carton in the corner, on top of all the other stinky trash and went back to his mattress. He didn’t sit down, though. Instead, he knelt on the concrete floor and started pulling at the edge of his mattress.

  “Do you want me help you move it?” Becca asked. “What are you doing? Are you gonna try to dig another hole over there?”

  “No. Be quiet. I’m trying to rip it open.” Jake leaned down and bit the striped cover. Over and over, he’d bite, jerk his head, ripping the fabric. After a few minutes, he made a long hole in the cover. After that, he ripped at it with his hands.

  “Why are you doing that?” Becca finished her sandwich and went to stand next to him.

  “‘Cuz I was thinking. There’s stuff inside mattresses. Springs and wires and stuff. If I can get some of them out, we can dig with them.”

  “And you can hide the hole just like we did with the hole in the wall.”

  “Right.”

  She sat down to watch. He pulled out lots of fluffy stuff that wouldn’t help anybody, and finally made a noise that let her know he’d found what he wanted.

  But no matter how hard he pulled, or how he tried to twist the pieces inside his mattress, he couldn’t get anything to come out. Everything was all wound together, tight.

  When Jake threw himself down on the mattress and put his arm over his eyes, Becca climbed up next to him. She wriggled around until she could stroke his hair. He didn’t push her hand away.

  “I’m gonna pray now.”

  “OK.” Jake’s voice sounded funny.

  “God, I’m scared. I think Jake is scared, too, even though he won’t say it. Can You help us, please?”

  Jake didn’t say anything else, and Becca went on stroking his head for a long time.

  

  Since his phone had gone dead in the three days he’d been incarcerated, Sam first went home to plug it in. Then he headed to Robin’s. He found her in the garden in back of the house. She leaned over the wall that separated her grandmother’s property from the street and looked out at the harbor. From that position, she could probably only see the tops of the sailboat masts, and maybe a hint of blue-gray and choppy white, but as much as she loved the ocean, it might be enough.

  Something about the way she was standing, with her crutches dropped to her sides and her elbows atop the wall, her shoulders hunched as she stared out to sea, caught at Sam’s heart. She was beautiful. He’d always known that. Now, his heart knew something more.

  And he didn’t want to acknowledge it. Because if he did, if he let himself realize how much she meant to him, he wouldn’t be able to protect her. Hadn’t he failed the last time someone’s life depended on him? He wasn’t about to set Robin up for him to let her down.

  He shook his head. He couldn’t think that way. Yes, his partner had died because Sam hadn’t been quick enough, but Sam hadn’t been the one to point the gun. And he wasn’t the one targeting Robin. Just the one who wanted to keep her safe.

  Still, a small part of him believed that if he gave in to his heart, he’d put her in danger.

  Robin turned, shrieked his name, and grabbed for her crutches. While she scrabbled for them, he was across the tiny patio, and his arms were around her.

  So much for not giving in to his heart.

  “Oh, Sam, you’re—you’re here. They let you out? I mean, they don’t think you’re the one who—”

  He brushed his lips across her hair. She smelled like the wind. “They still do. At least, Detective Macias does. He said he’ll be watching me.”

  “What?” She leaned back, resting her weight against his arms. It felt so right. “How can he possibly think you’re guilty? He’s crazy.”

  “Unfortunately, he’s the police.” He held her closer, pulling her head to his chest, careful to let her keep her balance. “Looks like I’m the one who has to prove I’m innocent, and I can’t do that going home alone every night. Any chance your grandmother will let me stay here at night? I can even stay on the second floor with her, if she’s suspicious—” He stopped his own words. Why wouldn’t she be suspicious? And of far more than Sam having designs on her granddaughter.

  He helped Robin gather her crutches, which had clattered to the floor when he grabbed her, and held the door. He fetched them both sodas and jerked his head toward her bedroom. “If we go in your room and shut the door, is your grandmother going to come after me with a shotgun?”

  “I doubt it.” Robin shoved the door open. “An ax, maybe.”

  Sam stopped walking.

  “I’m kidding. Honestly, I don’t think she sees me as a normal human being sometimes. I don’t know if it’s that business where parents can’t believe their children are really old enough, or if my crutches have blinded her.”

  “They can do that.” They might have blinded Sam. But then again, he often didn’t notice them. They were a bit like a favorite pair of jeans, intrinsically a part of her, something she always wore, but not especially important.

  He waited for her to hoist herself onto her bed and parked himself as far away as he could get. That meant the folding chair in front of her sewing machine. He left it facing the machine, sat on it backward, and leaned his elbows on the back. As he stretched his legs out, one foot rustled the curtain of blue and blue-green beads. Their song made him smile and reminded him of Robin’s story about her dad. He hadn’t been perfect either, but he had loved Robin with a perfect love. He’d saved her from feeling abandoned when she needed it.

  God willing, Sam would be able to save her, too, as soon as she needed it. Because it wasn’t up to Sam anyway, it was up to God.

  “Tell me.” With both hands, Robin pulled one leg up so it folded in front of her, then the other, and she was sitting cross-legged. She had to bolster herself with pillows so she didn’t topple over, but still, she looked like a teenager settling in for a long gossip with friends.

  If only he could give her that kind of news.

  “Macias admitted that Bricker told him he’d leaked privileged news to me. But he still thinks I knew Cynthia was in the warehouse before I found her, and the only way I’d know was if I’d put her there.”

  “And no one has gone missing since they arrested you. No bodies have shown up, either. Which makes everything worse.”

  “And as soon as everyone knows I’m out?” Sam raised his eyebrows and took a drink of soda. “Macias is announcing it right now.”

  “You mean, you think the murderer was waiting for you to get out so he could frame you? Make it look like you all over again?” Robin frowned. “If he does, what are you going to do?”

  “That’s why I want to stay here.”

  “Oh. I see.” She looked down, her hands worrying the fringe of a blue blanket, color staining her cheeks. “That means someone else will probably get hurt.”

  “It could happen.” Sam nodded. “The police can’t be everywhere. And there are still two kids missing.”

  Her head came up. “Sam, it’s not right. We can’t let them risk those kids!”

  “No, we c
an’t.”

  “How are we going to stop him?”

  Sam grinned. “You think Grams is going to be OK with me staying here?”

  Robin’s mouth opened, and nothing came out. She closed it and blurted, “No, I really don’t think she’s going to be too happy about an ex-con living here with her and her granddaughter.”

  “I won’t be living here, in your room. And technically, I’m not an ex-con.”

  “Yeah, well.” She reached for her cell. “Let me call her and ask.”

  Sam shot to his feet. “You mean she’s not here?”

  “She’s upstairs. This is how I get in touch with her when she’s not on the ground floor.” She punched a number and said, “Grams, Sam is here, and we need to talk to you.”

  After she clicked off, Sam said, “Just tell her I need to protect myself.”

  “Sam.” Robin scooted to the edge of the bed. “We need to protect everyone. Once this guy knows you’re free, everyone is in danger again.”

  15

  He stood, tumbling the chair, but righted it as he tried to frame the words. “I know, I know, babe. I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head, the tears making tracks on her cheeks. “These last couple of days, people have gotten, I don’t know, almost cocky. They think they’re out of danger.”

  “They weren’t.”

  “Wait. I think they were.” She held up her hand as if reading the protest forming in his mind. “Not because I think you’re the murderer. You know better than that. But maybe he was holding off doing anything, to make it look like it was you after all. And now you’re cleared—”

  “Not cleared, just not charged.”

  She nodded. “Now, he might try to frame you.”

  “Which is why I’m here.”

  “I know.” She sighed, and looked up. “Oh, you’ll never guess who’s been helping me the last couple of days. Donovan. He felt so guilty because he thought his description of the guy who tried to grab Kerry put them on to you. Remember how everyone said the sketch looked like you? Well, he told Macias he knows you, and it wasn’t you.”

  He sat down again, his heart thudding in dread. So much for that hug, for the kiss. So much for his heart finally letting him in on its little secret love for her. He’d already lost her to a creep. But he said nothing.

  “You have no idea how thankful I am. He really has been a big help.”

  Gratitude was so far from what he was feeling that he couldn’t find words.

  “And he’s been coming up with ideas. I don’t think much of them, but he’s trying to help you.”

  He couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice. “Oh, he has another suspect? Who’s the lucky guy?”

  “Sam!”

  He held up his hands. “Sorry. Just tell me. Who does he suspect?”

  Red flooded her face. “Danny. Coach Danny. I don’t think he’s right, but he keeps coming up with reasons why it has to be him. No real facts, just—just ideas.” Again, she blushed. What had Donovan told her?

  He turned away, clenching his fists.

  “Sam?” Her voice sounded small and lost.

  He shrugged. He wasn’t mad, and he didn’t know how to explain what he felt. He still needed to protect her. And his heart was still hers.

  

  Robin watched the emotions close down on Sam’s face and wanted to throw herself in his arms, demand he open up to her, the way he always had. But she’d just hurt him. Wounded pride, or something more? How she longed for that more, but she had no right to ask for it. “Sam, just because I trust someone else doesn’t mean I’ve abandoned you. You’re still my—my best friend, you always will be.” She shook her head, pushing away the personal and focusing on the urgent. “Listen, Sam, maybe—just maybe—he can help. Can you consider that for just a minute?”

  Betrayal and hurt filled his face. When he stood again, she reached for him. “Don’t. Please, don’t look at me that way. You don’t know what it was like when Grams told me you were in jail.”

  Sam crossed his arms, the cold in his face as he stared down at her freezing her soul. “So you went running to Mr.-let-me-tell-you-what-I’d-do-to-pedophiles?”

  She jerked, reaching for crutches that weren’t close enough, wanting to get away from his accusations. “That is not fair. What’s making you act like this?”

  He looked away. “I just spent three days in jail for something I didn’t do.”

  “And I spent those same three days trying to prove to Macias and everyone else that you’re innocent. So why take your snit out on me?”

  He kept his shoulders rigid for only a moment until his tension collapsed. “I’m sorry, babe. You’re right; I shouldn’t take it out on you.” He finally met her gaze. “Forgive me?”

  She held out her hand. “Always.”

  He pulled her from the bed, wrapping his arms around her and holding her as he’d done in the ocean, as though her lack of usable legs was no hardship for him.

  And yet the unease of wanting to check over her shoulder, to make sure no one was watching her this time, stole much of Sam’s comfort.

  He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “You’re my greatest champion, babe.”

  “I am.” She leaned back, trying to put some levity into her expression. “And I think I’ve been able to nudge Detective Macias into another direction.”

  “Oh, really? Which way?”

  Robin pinched her lips together. “Well, right now he’s looking at the same person Donovan suspects. Coach Danny.”

  Sam let his arms lower. “Are you serious?”

  Miserable, she nodded. “He kept asking me about him, about the games, about the things he says.” She looked up. “About how he treats the kids, and how he makes me feel.” She blinked, but it didn’t stop the tears from pooling in her eyes. “That was the worst part, Sam, when he asked me how I knew it wasn’t Danny. And I couldn’t tell him. And I could only think of all the reasons it might be.”

  “Did you tell him?”

  “I tried not to, but I don’t think I did a very good job. He’s pretty good at making up his mind when you’re trying to distract him.”

  “I noticed.” He paced from the doorway to window and back, his head bowed. “And Donovan gave him some other info that made him think he was onto something.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  “He went to Macias and told him you weren’t the guy who went after Kerry.”

  “Kind of him, wasn’t it, since he was the one who told them I was.”

  “He’s sorry about that, OK? Come on, Sam. It isn’t like you to hate a person for no reason.”

  She stared at his unreadable face until he nodded.

  “You’re right, it’s not like me, and I should probably give him some credit.” He sat again, hooking his arms over the back of the chair. “So what’s the evidence against Danny? I can’t believe there is any. Robin, we’ve known him forever. He’s devoted to the kids.”

  “Maybe he’s too devoted.”

  “So you’re back.”

  Sam turned as Grams entered Robin’s room. She stood at the end of the bed, looking first at Sam with a penetrating stare before she turned to Robin. With a bit of a shrug, she said, “The police let you out, and Robin let you in, so I suppose that means you’re cleared?”

  “No. It means they didn’t have the evidence to charge me. But I’m innocent.”

  “Well, we knew that, didn’t we?”

  Sam reached out and gripped Grams’ hand while Robin let out a breath full of relief. Grams was so incredibly unpredictable, and not always supportive. But she liked Sam just fine.

  “I’m going to need to stay here for a bit, if you’ll allow that. I need a constant alibi.” Sam glanced at Robin. Something in his eyes quickened her heart, but then it was gone, and the bleak sorrow replaced it. “On the couch, of course. Or upstairs, if you’d rather.”

  Grams regarded him for a long, tense minute before she nodded. “OK, if I’m going to trus
t you a little, I’ve got to trust you the whole way. As long as you need.”

  Sam bowed his head in thanks. “Only until the killer messes up and we catch him.”

  “We? You’re on the police force now?”

  “I’ve always been on their side. They just aren’t on mine.” Sam shook his head. “Sorry, no. I’m on my own.”

  Grams nodded. “No, you’re not. You’ve got Robin, and you’ve got me. And best of all, you’ve got God. Never forget that.”

  This time Sam got all the way off the chair and came to grip Grams’ hand. He reached back for Robin’s. His fingers were warm. Something about his touch carried promises, and hints of joy, and she would do anything for this man. She was so grateful neither one of them had to do it alone any longer.

  As long as that was what Sam meant. She needed him to tell her, but now wasn’t the time.

  “Look, they have to blame somebody, or people are going to get on their case. And if Macias points at me, and I take the heat for a while, what does that matter? We’re going to catch him, Robin.” He stared down at her, hope finally filling his eyes, before he turned away.

  She might have melted under the intensity. Whether he grieved for the position he’d been forced into, or for something else, she had to wait for him. Otherwise, she might fly away on daydreams. But for the moment she had Sam, and he made it all worthwhile. Loving her or not, he made it all right.

  Grams headed out the door. “I suppose you two need to do some planning.” She winked at Sam, but Robin caught it. She was probably meant to.

  “I did a lot of planning when I couldn’t do anything else,” Sam said. “Tonight, we’re going out to dinner. I need to be as visible as possible.” He glanced at Robin.

  She nodded and struggled off the bed. “But this time, we’re taking my cart. I’m glad I plugged it in after church.”

  Twenty minutes later they were waiting in line at one of the busiest cafes on the harbor. The scent of fried fish wafted out the door, along with customers, every time it opened. Some stared at Sam. One lady grabbed her child’s arm and hustled him across the walkway, nearly to the now-damp sand.