The Perfect Couple (37 page)

"Everyone at work will be so jealous."

"They should know you're special." He put down the top of his convertible and smiled as the warm afternoon breeze ruffled his hair. It made him feel carefree. And why not feel that way? Nothing had significantly changed. Paddy was gone, but they could live without him. They had it all.

But then a call came in on his cell--and because the only person he wanted to hear from was sitting beside him, he felt a strong reluctance to even check it.

"Is that your phone?" Tiffany asked when he made no move to retrieve it from his pocket.

"Yeah." With a sigh, he brought it into the light.

"Who is it?" The tone of her voice suggested she'd already noticed the change in his expression.

"I don't recognize the number, but..."

"What?"

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"It's long-distance, with a Los Angeles area code."

"Then it's got to be your mother."

That was his guess, too. The last time Paddy had talked to Colin's sister, Courtney had been living down south. It was a no-brainer that Tina wouldn't be far away. They'd stuck together all along.

Tiffany bit her lip. "Do you think she expected you to call her today?"

"I doubt it. I haven't called her in years."

"Then what does she want?"

He wasn't sure, but he knew, whatever her reason, her call wasn't a good thing. The very last time he'd seen her, he'd been a senior in high school and had still been living with Paddy. She'd come to visit and had blamed him for slashing her tires while she was there. She'd screamed at him, called him the spawn of Satan.

He had been the one to ruin her tires, but she shouldn't have been so quick to accuse him. She should've had some doubt, or at least some desire to believe him.

"We'll see." He hit the Talk button just before it went to voice mail.

"Hello?"

"Colin?"

It was his mother, all right. "What do you want?" he said.

"I want you to tell me where your father is."

The tension was back, clawing at his gut. She'd always known about him. That was why he hated her so much. When he looked into her face, he saw his true self staring back at him. "Who told you about Dad?"

"Sheryl called me. She wanted to know if he went back to me. Can you believe that? After all this time?"

Colin cringed because he'd probably caused that call. "She's jumping to conclusions," he said. "Dad's taken off, but he'll come home. He always came home before, right?"

"He was happy with Sheryl. He wouldn't leave."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you, then. He didn't check in with me.

I have no idea where he is."

"I think you might. He tried to call me last night. I wasn't there, but he left a message, said he needed to talk to me about something very important.

He said it had to do with you."

Colin tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "You've been out to get me for a long time."

"Only because I've been expecting something like this. Years ago, I promised myself that if anything ever happened to any member of the family, I'd look to you first."

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"Would you listen to yourself? You're crazy, you know that? Any normal mother would assume the best of her son."

"Those mothers don't have a son like mine."

"How do you know? How can you be so sure that I'm different?"

"Because you've been different from the day you were born, Colin.

The first words out of your mouth were a lie, and you haven't stopped lying since. I tried to remedy that by taking you to church. I thought religion might help you develop the conscience you lacked. But you simply played everybody--church leaders, your schoolteachers, even your father."

"If I'm screwed up, it's your fault! You were abusive!"

Laughter filtered through the phone, as derisive as it was incredulous.

"I was abusive? Because I tried to discipline you? Because I refused to let you manipulate me? Sure, I spanked you. There had to be some consequences for your behavior, and I didn't know what else to do. I was at my wits' end and was still fighting to save a son I wanted to love. I believed if you could only learn to take responsibility for your actions and to respect the rights and feelings of others, you'd be okay. But it was no use. You were purposely cruel to your little sister. And you turned Paddy and me against each other, broke up what would've been a happy marriage. You even convinced your teachers and coaches, the parents of your friends, that I belonged in an asylum."

It had almost worked, too. He'd nearly had his mother committed, right after her nervous breakdown. They'd tried that on each other. "That is where you belong. What mother could do what you did?"

"Disappear with Courtney? It was my only choice. I had to save the one child worth saving."

"Go to hell," he said and almost hung up, but her next words made him freeze.

"I'm calling the cops, Colin. And I'm telling them that I think you're dangerous."

"If you do that, you might find out how dangerous I can be," he said.

"Is that a threat?" she countered.

He jammed a hand through his hair. He had to be careful, couldn't let his temper get away from him. She could be recording this call. "Of course not. I'd never hurt you or anyone else. You just...get me so angry that I say stupid things. You always knew how to push me to the point of lashing out."

"Tell me what you did to Paddy, Colin."

"I didn't touch him!"

"He loved you, you know. The poor bastard loved you, more than he loved me or Courtney, or he and I would still be together. You owe him a lot 243

for his blind faith. I hope you haven't repaid him the way I think you have,"

she said and hung up.

Colin's heart and lungs were pumping as fast as if he'd run five miles.

"That bitch! God, I hate her!" He threw his phone against the dash. "She's still making my life miserable!"

Tiffany had overheard enough that her face had gone pale. She didn't even pick up his phone, which had ricocheted and hit her before landing at her feet. "How does she know?"

"She doesn't know. She can't hurt us. Even if she gets the police involved, they won't be able to prove anything. All I have to do is fight fire with fire."

Tiffany's eyes were as round as silver dollars. "What does that mean?"

"Don't worry." He breathed in through his nose, held the air, then let it go, twice, and soon a steely calm came over him. "I've gone up against my mother in the past, and I've won every time. Bottom line, I'm better at eliciting sympathy than she is. And these days, the poor child is always right." If she gave him any trouble, he'd claim she was out to get him--and he'd be able to show a documented history of it.

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The Simpsons weren't in the room when Zoe and Jonathan arrived at the hospital. A nurse stopped them at the entrance to the intensive care unit and asked their names. Then she placed a call before giving them clearance to go in.

The blinds were open, admitting the sun, and there was a radio playing, as if Toby's parents didn't want him left in silence. The flowers on the bedside table created a cheerful effect, but from what Zoe could tell, Toby's condition hadn't improved.

It was painful for her to see the boy still lying in the same bed, hooked up to the same machines, because every day he remained in this state made it less likely he'd ever come out of it. But at least the Simpsons knew where their son was. There had to be some small measure of comfort in that, in knowing Master couldn't hurt him anymore.

"You're one hell of a bastard, Master," she muttered under her breath as she took the boy's hand.

Jonathan stood at her elbow. He tried to put his arm around her, to show her some support, she supposed. But she avoided his touch by crowding closer to the bed. She couldn't let herself lean on him again; she knew where it would lead. Memories of last night intruded almost every time she looked at him. Commitment or no commitment, their lovemaking had possessed a spiritual dimension she'd never experienced with anyone else.

But that was the problem. She couldn't allow Jonathan to be the thread that made the rest of her unravel.

"We're going to get you," she promised Toby's attacker.

Hearing a noise at the entrance, Zoe turned. Mr. and Mrs. Simpson were coming in, carrying a bag of takeout. The smell of Chinese food filled the room as they slipped around the foot of the bed to the other side.

Zoe didn't want to intrude on their privacy. She started to apologize for stopping by unannounced, but at Mrs. Simpson's twinkling eyes and wide smile, she stopped in midsentence.

"What?" she asked curiously.

The other woman exchanged a glance with her husband. "Lyle didn't want me to call you, but now that you're here, I'm telling you anyway."

"Theresa--" he began with a note of admonishment, but she ignored 245

him.

"Toby squeezed my hand this morning!"

The breath whooshed out of Zoe's lungs. "He what?"

"He squeezed my hand!"

"Honey, you know the doctor told us not to get too excited. It could've been a reflexive action. That's why I asked her not to call you," he added apologetically to both Zoe and Jonathan. "I didn't want you to...get your hopes up if...well, you know."

"I know." Zoe understood completely. But adrenaline, triggered by his wife's excitement, was already pouring into her bloodstream.

"I don't believe it was reflexive," Mrs. Simpson argued. "Our boy's mind is clicking away in that slumbering body. He was trying to tell me not to give up on him. I said, 'It's Mother's Day, baby. Come back to me." Her voice cracked, but she cleared her throat and forged on. "And he gave my hand a squeeze. I swear it happened at that very moment. The timing couldn't be a coincidence, whether the doctors believe that or not."

"Honey, we spent over an hour trying to get him to repeat the action or to respond in some other way, but...nothing," Mr. Simpson said.

Just the possibility made Zoe's heart beat faster. But...did they dare read more into that than the doctors suggested?

Taking the boy's hand between her own, she leaned close. "You're going to be fine, Toby. You have a family who loves you, and they're waiting for you. They're right here," she told him and, unlikely though she knew it was, she couldn't help wishing he'd squeeze her hand--or give her some other small token on which to hang all her hope.

He didn't move. It wasn't until hours later, after she and Jonathan had returned from creating a new flyer--one advertising the reward sponsored by Franky Bates--that they received a call from the hospital.

"He just opened his eyes!" Mrs. Simpson screamed into the phone.

"Can he talk?" Zoe asked, but that was all the news she could get because the poor woman was crying too hard to say more.

"I've met Sheridan."

Jonathan glanced over at Zoe, who was walking beside him, and guided Kino away from the neighbor's yard so they could cross the street.

Except for a few streetlights, it was dark and colder than it had been for the past week or so. Zoe was wearing one of his sweatshirts to ward off the chill, but she wouldn't let him touch her. He'd tried a few times. He didn't know why.

"At the victim support group?" he said, but only because it seemed 246

like the most innocuous response. He didn't want to talk about Sheridan, especially to Zoe. Considering he'd made love to Zoe last night but admitted his feelings for Sheridan this morning, it wasn't the most comfortable topic.

"Yeah."

He was hoping they could let it go at that. But Zoe spoke again. "She's a nice person, Jon. And very pretty."

She was no prettier than Zoe, but he knew Zoe wouldn't believe him if he said so. He tried to change the subject. "I'm so relieved that Toby's out of his coma."

Turning back the sleeve of her sweatshirt, which hung down to her knuckles, she checked her phone for missed calls. Never mind that she'd been holding it ever since she'd talked to Mrs. Simpson and would've heard it ring if someone had tried to reach her.

"I wonder if he'll be...you know, all there," she said, her voice worried.

They hadn't received a full report. Mr. Simpson had called back to say that Toby recognized his name, and that was the last they'd heard from the family. To avoid bothering them repeatedly, Jon had called Detective Thomas, and Detective Thomas had contacted the doctors at the hospital.

But they were being typically cautious. The official word was that it would be a few days before they'd know how well Toby would recover.

That didn't stop him and Zoe from wishing it would be much sooner, however. And Jonathan had an extra reason to be glad of this positive turn of events. Earlier, Zoe had mentioned that they needed to get home in time for her to move into a motel. He'd expected her to leave as soon as she had the chance, but so far she hadn't acted on that comment. She was preoccupied with waiting. It was easier to wait with someone than to wait alone.

"I saw a Dateline once that featured a girl who'd been in a coma for five weeks," he said. "It took some time, but she recovered completely."

"I hope Toby can do the same...."

Kino did his business on a tree and sniffed a gopher hole before they headed down the sidewalk on Jonathan's usual circuit. "Even if that happens, it might be touchy getting information from him about what he suffered," he said, concerned that she might be hoping for too much.

Zoe frowned but nodded, and they walked in silence until they came to the corner, where Jonathan held Kino on a tighter leash so another dog and his owner could pass without an overenthusiastic greeting.

"So how long have you known Sheridan?" Zoe asked when they resumed their walk.

Stifling a groan, Jonathan kept his gaze on the sidewalk in front of 247

him. "About four years."

"Did you ever date?"

"For a while."

"What went wrong?"

He blew out a sigh. "She liked me, but I broke it off because I wasn't all that into her. Then I liked her, but she broke it off because she wasn't all that into me."