Fixing Perfect

by Therese M. Travis

  

  He watched her swimming. He giggled behind his hand with the joy of her perfection. If he could only save this in a picture forever, keep it always.

  But then, he could. He squirmed into a tighter hiding place, so she wouldn’t see him, realized she wouldn’t have, anyway, and relaxed. She only saw Sam.

  Fair enough. He’d make another one of his pictures, right away, before he forgot the vision, and he’d put Sam in it. Show her she couldn’t hide from him.

  She’d never be able to hide.

  9

  Sam was nuts. Out of his mind. Crazy. And yet—if Robin hadn’t said she didn’t much like the other guy, Sam would never have kissed her. He’d have had that much restraint. Shouldn’t have kissed her, anyway.

  Because what could she think of him after that?

  He was half glad he hadn’t stuck around to find out. He peeled his uniform shirt over his head and tossed it across the ambulance door.

  Bricker came around the back of the car, his face pale.

  “What’s up?” Sam dragged a pullover around his waist. Playing in the water the day before had left him with a sore throat, but he wouldn’t change that, either. Not the time on the beach, and not the kiss. No matter what Robin thought. It was all worth it.

  She hadn’t smacked him with one of her crutches, at least. Not that he’d given her time, but he hadn’t seen any intent of bodily harm in her eyes, for that half second he’d looked into them.

  “Sam.”

  He looked back at Bricker. “Sorry. I’m listening.”

  “There were some kids up at Wrigley, said some guy in one of your uniforms stopped them, and was talking to them.”

  Sam frowned at his friend. “And?”

  “And nothing.” Bricker held his hands out, frustration strong in the tension of his stance. “That was enough. This climate, any adult male talks to a kid he doesn’t know, and he’s going to get hauled in.”

  Sam shook his head. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning everyone has to go in to give an alibi. And whoever can’t clear himself is gonna be doing a lot of explaining.”

  Something hot and shocking flooded Sam’s chest. So this was what it meant to be under suspicion? “When’s it happening?”

  “Right now.” Bricker jerked his chin, and Sam followed him out of the ambulance bay and across the street to the police station.

  Detective Macias watched them as they walked in, nodded his thanks. “All I need to know is what you were doing at three forty yesterday afternoon.” He slid report pages to each of them.

  Sam studied his and wrote. I was on the beach with Robin Ingram, 2:30 to 4 PM. He signed his name, handed it to the detective, and waited to be dismissed.

  Detective Macias looked up. “She’ll corroborate?”

  “Yup. I walked her home. We probably got there a little after four-thirty. And Donovan Haggart can vouch for me as well. We talked to him.”

  “All right.” The man nodded approval. “I’ll give them both calls.”

  Robin would be all the alibi Sam needed, but let them get as much proof as they needed to clear him.

  Something nagged at Sam’s brain, knocking for attention, but when he tried to focus on it, the feeling slid away into a faint unease. Something about Donovan. Something about talking to him? But Sam had nothing to worry about. Donovan wouldn’t lie, and Robin knew where he’d been at that time. They would believe her, because she wanted the killer caught as badly as anybody else on the island.

  Because she was his target.

  

  The weather warmed before the next game. Saturday morning most of the players showed up without jackets or sweaters.

  Robin pulled her hair back into a band and made her way to the lineup.

  Danny smiled, wiped a hand over his grizzled face, and jerked his head toward Kerry. “He’s been waiting for you.”

  “We’re best friends now.”

  Danny laughed. “Robin, you’re everybody’s best friend.”

  A chuckle behind her made her turn. Donovan posed against the net of the backstop, his camera hung slack in his hand. He lifted his chin when he saw her looking.

  She smiled but saved her energy for the game rather than walking over to him.

  Danny touched her arm. “I’m putting you fourth, all right? Sam coming?”

  “Last I heard.” Not that she’d spoken to him lately. Not since the kiss. No. In her mind, it was The Kiss, the beginning of everything.

  Donovan pushed forward. “Can’t I be her runner?”

  Danny studied Donovan for a few moments and shrugged. “She’s an adult. She can make her own decisions.”

  “What about the kids?” Robin asked.

  “He’s not a stranger anymore. I’ve cleared him.” Danny grinned for half a second before he went on. “If I thought he was intending anything other than helping—well, he wouldn’t get past me. You’d better believe I’d protect any one of these kids with my life. I’d kill for one of them.”

  Donovan nodded, not at all fazed by Danny’s vehemence.

  Robin, on the other hand, was reeling. She’d never heard Danny threaten to kill a soul, never heard him use that kind of language. What stress did to people…She shook her head, looking around the park for any sign of Sam.

  “You’re right. We need to get rid of all the people who hurt our kids.” Donovan nodded and smiled at Robin. “Looks like I’m your runner today.”

  And just then, Sam loped onto the field. He wore his usual sloppy pants, a backwards hat, and a sleeveless gray t-shirt.

  Robin’s heart slammed against her chest, doing its own version of a happy dance that her legs could never join, and making breathing questionable. She tried to calm herself down. By the time Sam reached the backstop, her heart had quieted and let her smile, at least.

  He moved past her and grabbed Danny’s arm. “Another girl went missing last night.”

  Robin clasped a hand to her stomach and a crutch clattered to the dirt.

  Donovan picked it up and handed it to her.

  She took it without looking at him. “Who was it?”

  “An eighteen-year-old tourist named Isabel Solis. Her parents just woke up about an hour ago and realized she wasn’t in her room. She was sleeping with her older sister, connecting doors, all that, and no one heard a thing.”

  Danny, looking far too gray for his age, rubbed his hand over his face. “Dear God, when will this end?”

  “I can’t stay. I’m joining the search.” Sam looked back at Robin. “I’m really sorry, babe.” Even as he said it, he glanced behind her. “You coming to help us?”

  “Sure. Another kid. I mean, yeah, she’s legally an adult, but still…” Donovan’s voice faded as he straightened. “Yeah. I’ve got to take my camera home…”

  Danny held out his hand toward Donovan. “I’ll take it. You come by the office anytime and pick it up. Just call my cell, and I’ll meet you there.” He took the camera and glanced at Sam. “Once I get all the team taken care of, send everyone home, I’ll join you guys.”

  Sam nodded and looked at Donovan.

  “Yeah. Yeah, sure. OK, let’s go.” Looking dazed, Donovan followed Sam from the park.

  Three other runners went with them.

  Robin let go of one crutch to be able to grip Danny’s arm. “I’m glad you’re cancelling the game.”

  Danny bowed his head. “I have to, don’t I? But I’m not sure the kids will understand.”

  “Of course they will.” Robin moved among the players and their parents, giving the news. Four weeks, seven kidnappings, two deaths. And two children, the most vulnerable of the victims, among the missing. Like Danny, she had to demand of God when it would end.

  She didn’t hear an answer.

  

  Kerry’s mother called the meeting, and most of the team, parents and runners along with the members, showed up. It made for a really crowded front room to her house, but no one wanted to chance
meeting outside, where one of the kids could go missing.

  Sam had jammed folding chairs into every available space, and kids sat on laps and on the floor.

  Kerry shoved onto the couch next to Robin. “Where’s Donovan?”

  His mother slapped her forehead. “I never called him. He’s not on the roster.”

  Danny patted her hand. “He’s really not on the team, remember? He’s not even a runner.”

  “I forgot.” Kerry frowned, his face crinkling with his concentration. “I forgot. He’s always there, so I forgot.”

  “That’s OK, Kerry.” Robin put her arm around him, half to comfort him, and half to give herself a little breathing room.

  “The question is, are we going to continue the games until this guy is caught?” Danny looked around the room.

  Robin followed his gaze. Concerned parents, anxious kids, team members she’d come to love, all stared at Danny.

  “We keep a good eye on everyone,” she said. “And everyone has a runner. It’s not like we’re letting the kids wander off by themselves.”

  One of the fathers spoke up. “But none of the kids who’ve gone missing have been alone. Look at that last girl. Isabel. She was in a hotel room, for heaven’s sake. How did he get her out without security or her parents or her sister hearing something?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she went out on her own. She’s a teenager, sometimes they do stuff like that. But our kids need an outlet.” Robin needed it. She needed to see these kids, to hold them dear in her heart, to be able to ascertain for herself every week that they were all OK. All protected. Didn’t anyone else feel that way? “I just don’t think isolating ourselves will keep anyone safe. I think it’ll have the opposite effect.”

  Danny nodded. “You’re right there. Maybe we should vote on it. Because if you all want to continue, I’m all for that. But before we do”—he raised his hand over the sound of voices—“We need to pray about it.” He bowed his head and waited for silence.

  Only one family voted against continuing. The father who had been against it shook his head, gathered his daughter, and left.

  “That’s fine. That’s his decision. I won’t blame anyone who chooses to keep their kid home.” Danny held out his hands, reassuring. “But I’m not going to take that decision away from anyone who wants to play. I think they’ll be back. He’s scared. He has a right to be. We all should be. And we each deal with it in a different way.”

  “She better come back,” Kerry said. “We can’t be a team without her.”

  “Sure we can, Kerry.” Robin squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll miss her, but we’re still a team.”

  Kerry looked around the room. Once again, anxious faces turned toward him, and when he finally nodded, the relief was tangible. “OK, yeah, she’s one of us, but it’s OK if she can’t come. I’ll pretend she’s got a cold.”

  After the relieved laughter faded, Mrs. Wright organized handing out the snacks and drinks everyone contributed.

  Danny leaned over the back of the couch. “I’m glad you all decided to stick with the team.” He nodded at several parents. “I believe it’s the best course. But we have to protect our kids, regardless.” He straightened, raised his hand, and using his coach’s voice, addressed the team. “Kids, remember, you’re safe with the team, or with your parents. No one else. Got that? There’s a killer out there, and we don’t know who it is. If you ever think you’re in danger, you can come to me. Call me. I’d defend any one of you with my life.”

  Robin’s eyes teared up as the others chimed in. Her kids—these kids—at least, would be safe.

  The atmosphere charged up to almost a party.

  Sam, on the floor across the room, lifted a plastic glass of soda to Robin in a toast. She grinned and returned the gesture. She needed these people so much. Thank You, God, for not taking them away from me.

  Lillian, mother of a little girl with developmental disabilities, perched on the arm of the couch next to Robin. “I was in your shop the other day. As soon as I said I knew you, Grace showed me all your mermaids. You’re very artistic.”

  “You’re autistic?” Kerry, wide-eyed and sad, stared at her. “And you have bad legs, too? I’m sorry. Poor Robin. I’m glad I’m me. Kerry.”

  Robin shared a grin with Lillian. “I’m glad you’re Kerry, too.”

  He hugged her hard, laughing. “We’re both glad I’m Kerry!”

  Sam made his way between a pair of twins from the team. “If I say I’m glad you’re Kerry, do I get a hug, too?”

  Kerry bounced on the couch, nearly tipping Robin into his side. “Are you glad I’m Kerry?”

  “I’m very glad you’re Kerry.”

  Laughing harder, bent almost double in his glee, Kerry said, “I’m very glad I’m Kerry, too.”

  “So where’s my hug?”

  Kerry held out his hands so Sam could pull him to his feet and wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist.

  Robin met his gaze over Kerry’s tousled head. He was such a true friend. Such a true man, a good man. Even if he never fell in love with her, she would never want him out of her life. She treasured what he gave to her too much to throw it away on a whim.

  

  Sam spent the next morning helping to search the hills directly above Avalon, just beyond the Catalina Island Golf Course. He coughed his way through four hours of scrabbling over rocks, avoiding cactus, and coordinating with the others on the search. They found no sign of any of the missing people, and only succeeded in disturbing the local fauna.

  Detective Macias looked up as Sam dragged into the police station.

  “Nothing.” Sam threw his reflective vest onto the counter and leaned on his elbows, running his hands through his hair. “I even found a cave and thought there might be something in it.”

  The detective leaned back in his chair, creaking the struts. “Yeah?”

  “But it was only about three feet deep. Lots of broken soapstone and no sign of anyone ever having been in it.” His voice gave out on the last words, and he coughed until it came back, however rough.

  “We’re going to find them.” Macias narrowed his eyes.

  “I know.” Despite how positive he wanted to sound, Sam shook his head. “I know, I’m just afraid it won’t be until after they’re all dead.”

  “That’s why we’re searching.”

  Sam didn’t bother to answer. He pushed away from the counter and rubbed his sunburned face, coughing again. “Makes you wonder what kind of kicks he’s getting out of these little scenes he sets up. What is it about Robin that makes him do that?”

  “Obviously, he’s nuts. Killing grown women.” Macias paused, and his voice deepened to heavy significance. “Doing who knows what to the kids he keeps.”

  Turning away, Sam waved his hand. “Yeah, well, you know as well as anyone else here that we’re not looking for a pedophile.”

  Though the detective didn’t move, something in his face hardened, became almost satisfied in anger. “I know it, sure. How do you?”

  Sam closed his eyes, berating himself for the slip. “Bricker told me.”

  “Right. Have a seat.” Macias reached for the phone.

  Sam sank into the hard chair, knowing that, though Macias looked and sounded almost as calm as ever, Sam had just made himself a suspect. Again, fire shocked his chest, and he could barely keep his hands and feet still. Hearing the other man’s muttered questions, though he didn’t catch all the words, didn’t help.

  Ten minutes later Macias hung up and stared at Sam. “Bricker says he would never have told you privileged information. Listen, Albrecht, I need to know how you found this out. I need to know how you knew where to find that baby. Bricker swears the teams went through that warehouse twice before, and you knew it. You were in on those searches. And you still insisted you had to go back. Was that because you’d just put the kid there and wanted to be the hero getting her out?”

  “No—”

  “You’d better tell me now,
Albrecht. Because if you don’t have a good explanation, you’re not walking out of this station, not unless you plan to lead us to where you’ve got these people hidden.”

  Sam leaped to his feet. “Bricker told me! How else would I know he knew? Come on. Robin is my best friend. I’ve spent the last month helping to search—”

  “So has every other able-bodied male in town.”

  Panic twisted Sam’s chest and squeezed. What possessed him to forget he wasn’t supposed to know privileged information?

  He gripped the edge of Macias’ desk, leaning forward and putting all his weight onto his arms and into his words. “I am not the murderer. I am doing everything I can to help find this guy, and you’d rather blame me than look somewhere else.”

  The phone rang and Macias picked it up, listened a minute, and stood. “Sargent Klou!”

  An officer Sam recognized but hadn’t talked to much strode into the room. “Sir?”

  Macias motioned to Sam. “Take him into custody. But we’re not going to process him just yet. We’re going to another murder scene.” He narrowed his eyes at Sam. “I want to see your face when your audience gets its first look at this new little tableau of yours.”

  10

  Becca kneeled on her mattress and stared at Mr. Bird. Ever since he’d brought Jake to stay, he’d been so mad with her. It made her want to cry and made her mad right back, sometimes. Mad at Jake, but mostly mad at Mr. Bird, because he didn’t have to bring Jake here. He’d just ruined everything, making Jake stay when he didn’t even like Jake, and Jake didn’t like him, and everybody being mad all the time.

  Besides, he never said Jake was gonna help him with his story, and if he wasn’t, then why was he there? He just made everything bad.

  But now Mr. Bird smiled and gave Becca a brown paper sack. He gave one to Jake, too.

  She opened hers and grinned. Not another sandwich, instead, she found milk and cookies, and a chocolate bar underneath.

  “This is dinner?” Jake asked.