Fixing Perfect (12 page)

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.

Becca flinched, sure Mr. Bird would smack Jake for being snotty again.

“More or less.” Mr. Bird squatted on the mattress next to Becca. “Eat up, honey. I'm going to tell you a story.”

Jake snorted, but he was too busy eating to say anything to make Mr. Bird mad.

Feeling like her daddy had suddenly come back and wrapped her in his safe arms, Becca snuggled next to Mr. Bird. “I like stories.”

“This one is about my little robin bird.”

Becca pulled away to look into Mr. Bird's face. “Is this the story I'm going to help you with?”

Mr. Bird smiled. “Yes, it is. You're going to help me tell the whole world about my little robin, and how I fixed her. She's such a good bird, but she was so sad, because she couldn't walk right. There was something wrong with her legs. No one cared. They just let her try to hop around without trying to make her legs better.” Mr. Bird stroked Becca's shoulder. “I was the only person who cared. So what I did was to make her legs all better. I had to use special magic to do it, but as soon as I was done, she could walk, and she could run, and climb. We climbed across the beach and the rocks and played in the waves and swam around the bay. And when she got tired, we went into a special little place where it was quiet, and we took a nap.” He smiled. “We're still there.”

Jake said, “Huh.”

Mr. Bird blinked like he was just waking up. “What?”

“You're not there. You're here.”

He muttered something about crazy people, and Becca tried to pull her shoulders as close to her chest as she could.

“You don't understand,” Mr. Bird said. “It's all magic, you know. I'm there, but no one can see me.” He ran one finger across his upper lip. “Your scout leader helped me a lot with it. He helped me stay invisible. I owe him a lot.”

“You mean Simon is OK?”

“Sure, he's OK. Why wouldn't he be?”

Instead of acting happy, Jake stared at Mr. Bird for a long time and turned away, wiping his face.

Becca thought he was crying.

She tipped her head back again to look at Mr. Bird. “Robin's the best little bird in the whole wide world, isn't she?”

“She sure is.” Mr. Bird stood up. “I'll bring your dinner later.”

But he never came back, and Becca fell asleep still tasting chocolate in her mouth.

 



 

Because of the tide coming in, the police and their captive had to hurry across the same beach Sam and Robin played on a few days before, and around the promontory. They skirted a cliff that jutted into the sea and climbed over a jumble of rocks. They'd get soaked on the way back. How the police would protect the crime scene and get all the information they needed, Sam couldn't imagine. Macias hadn't put him in cuffs, and Sam thanked God for that, but having to follow the detective, and having Sergeant Klou dog his heels made him want to punch someone.