Fixing Perfect (11 page)

“And they can see us.”

“You suppose anyone's looking? Even here, there aren't too many people on the beach.”

His gaze made a lazy arc before it stopped on her. “It's the end of October. Probably as cold there as it is here. But I'll bet there's someone out there as excited with the clear sky as we are.”

Robin nodded and took another few shuffles. At this rate, she'd never reach the water. And when she did, she'd collapse from exhaustion.

Again, Sam scanned the beachfront and turned to her, grinning. “Want a piggyback ride?”

She pulled up short, wobbling until she plunked a ball-covered crutch tip deep into a sand valley. “What?”

“You'll get there faster.”

“You want to rush down to the water, feel free.” She bent her head to hide her eyes, but the wind whipped her hair away and exposed her anger.

“That's not my point. You're already breathing hard. Look, it doesn't have to mean anything, Robin. It'll be like I'm your runner. Just helping out where you need it.”

That was it? He just wanted to help, and she could accept it on the baseball field but not here? Robin bit her lip and stared at her crutches. She could remember back to when she didn't have them, when people, usually her grandmother, carried her everywhere she needed to go. She hadn't started taking steps until she was almost five, after her fourth or fifth surgery.

She could even remember back to when her mother carried her—here, to this island, to leave her once and for all, complaining about Robin's weight and saying that she wasn't even trying.

Robin had been trying ever since, but now, maybe that meant trying Sam's patience. He only wanted to help, and he never—almost never—invaded her space or forced his help on her. He asked, and he respected her decisions.

Refusing just made it harder on both of them.

“All right.”

A wider grin transformed his face. Before, it had been pleading. Now, he was just happy. And rather than haul her to his back, he scooped her up, crutches and braces and all, and strode to the water's edge. He let her down, bent, and untied one of her shoes. “Step up.” He didn't look at her but remained in a squat, waiting.

She lifted her foot high enough that he was able to slip the shoe off. He unlocked the brace, loosened all the straps, and let it fall.

When she let her bare foot touch the sand she remembered the feel of it—gritty and warm from the hidden sun, almost silky and yet full of sensuous texture.

He started to work on her other foot before she realized it, and within seconds that shoe and brace were off as well. Sam stood. “Leave your crutches, too. Don't worry. I won't let you fall.” He gathered her in his arms, with the same clinical detachment he used as her runner, and carried her to the water.

Oh, it was cold, freezing, delicious and foamy and full of the scent of fish and salt.

She closed her eyes against the wind and immediately felt as though she were moving. The breeze rushed her body as did the waves. When the water changed direction, she had to open her eyes so as not to get dizzy.

Sam let go of her legs, and she set her feet on the sand, let the waves pull at them, pull them out from under her. He had such a tight grip on her that she knew she wouldn't collapse, would never float away from him.

They played in the waves for half an hour before Sam turned her to look into her eyes. “You're worn out. Let's go back.”

She nodded and let him carry her up through the encroaching tide and across the expanse of sand.

He set her on a concrete wall and went back for her things. Before he slid the braces back on her legs, he dried her skin with the edge of his t-shirt and brushed away every speck of sand, both from her legs and the braces. Each time his fingers touched her, she shivered.

“Won't be too long,” he said. “Pretty soon we'll get you home where it's warm.”

It was while he was putting her shoes back on, and tying the laces, that someone stopped next to them.

Robin looked up.

Donovan stood with his camera around his neck. He hadn't seemed to notice Robin yet, but his expression as he looked down at Sam puzzled her.

“Donovan,” she said.

Sam straightened, though still on his knees in front of her, and looked at the other man.

Donovan gave Robin only half a glance before he focused again on Sam. “Been playing?”

“Yup. Isn't that what the beach is for?”

Donovan's lips pinched, but he didn't answer. “I was getting some shots of the mainland from up there”—he pointed toward the top of the cliffs—”when I saw you down here. I wasn't quite sure who you were, Sam. I thought maybe Robin was in trouble, so I wanted to make sure she was all right.”

“I'm fine. I'm with Sam. Why wouldn't I be all right?” But Robin heard the crack in her voice, and the two men must have heard it as well.

Donovan finally looked at her. “It just seemed like an odd thing for you to do—go in the water when it's so cold, and rough.” When she frowned, he went on, “I was worried. That's all.”

“Donovan—”

Sam stood, though one hand still reached to Robin's knee. “I can take care of her, you know. I wouldn't let anyone hurt her.”

“I'm right here, you know.”

“Of course you are.” Sam smiled, his glinting gaze warming as he looked at her. “And I promised to get you home soon, so that's where we're going.” He handed her the crutches and nodded to Donovan.

Robin fitted the cuffs to her hands and headed for the street leading to her house. More than ever she thanked God that Gram lived close enough to the bay that her street didn't climb the hills.

Sam carried his shoes over his shoulder as he paced beside her.

“You want to stop and put those on?”

“It's fine.” He glanced behind him. “Is it just me, or did that guy creep you out, too?”

“Sam.” She shot him a look full of reproach. “He was worried. You heard him. What's wrong with that?”

“I was with you!” After that, Sam was silent for half a block. Only when they reached the short walk leading to Gram's front door, did he say, “I'm sorry. I guess I'm letting...things...things that shouldn't bother me get to me.”

“You think?”

Sam's gaze was steady and serious for the half second he met her eyes. Then he looked down.

“Oh, Sam.” She let one crutch lean on her hip as she reached for him. His fingers met hers, and he finally let her see his face again. “He's a nice guy. He's good looking, all that. But he's not—” She'd been about to say, he's not you. She shook herself and gripped the crutch again. “He's not anybody I'm interested in, OK?”

Sam stared at her for a long minute, and started to shut the door. He stopped, pushed it open again, and leaned forward to kiss her mouth, hard, before he left.

 



 

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.”