Fixing Perfect (20 page)

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 trust 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.

Sam wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Hush,” he whispered. “It's not worth it.”

She jerked away. “It's worth it to me.” And if she could chase after those people, she would, and tell them a few home truths. She hadn't hated her crutches this badly in years.

“It's not the point. Come on. We want people to know I'm out, right? Well, plenty of people are going to hear it from them.” He nodded toward the shore where the family still hurried on their way. “I just hope we don't get thrown out before we get some dinner.”

In that, they were lucky. They both knew the
maître de
, and while he gave Sam a searching look, he also portioned out one of his rare smiles and led them to a table near the front windows. Robin saw the bill he pocketed after he told them who their waitress would be.

“You bribed him!”

Sam winked, a half grin pulling up one side of his mouth. “All for a good cause.” He straightened and turned, and Robin followed the path of his gaze.

Donovan had just walked into the restaurant.

Robin sighed. She was getting incredibly tired of Donovan. He liked her, yeah, but she couldn't return the favor.

Sam stood and waved. “Donovan, over here!”

Ice blue eyes swept past Sam to meet Robin's. She blinked, tried to clear the emotion from her face, but couldn't quite manage a smile. She hoped she at least looked welcoming, but she couldn't help a thread of resentment, that first Donovan had blamed Sam, and then Danny. That he couldn't accept her the way she was.

She shivered as Sam pulled his chair closer to Robin's, to give Donovan room.

“We're celebrating my release,” Sam told him.

Donovan pursed his lips as he shifted his chair closer to Robin's side of the table before he sat down. When he did, she felt as constricted as if they'd trussed her and propped her in a barrel.

Donovan's mouth remained pinched. “They cleared you, didn't they? I told them it wasn't you.”

As if they would act on his word alone. Robin pressed closer to Sam, and forced herself to relax. This was a meal out with a friend, seeing people. Simple as that.

Sam leaned around her to answer Donovan. “Not exactly. But they don't have enough evidence to charge me, so they had to let me go.” Sam's knee pressed against Robin's, but she wouldn't have said anything anyway.

“Right.” Donovan kept looking at Robin with his particular, piercing stare, far too intense for comfort, or for polite company. She felt dissected and looked away.

“I'm innocent.” Sam paused until Donovan looked at him and went on. “They tagged the wrong guy, but they don't know it, so now they're watching me.” He opened his menu with an angry flick and glared over it, at no one in particular. “It's galling.”

“I bet it is.” Donovan opened his menu as well and asked Robin about the selections.

She murmured something, she wasn't sure what, and because their table had no room for her to open a menu, leaned toward Sam to read his.

Sam scooted closer to her. Pretty soon she wouldn't have elbow room to eat her scallops. She glanced at Sam, and he mouthed something at her.

It's OK
, or,
are you OK?

She wasn't sure what he wanted her to know. Either way, the answer was, no. She gave a tiny shake of her head and looked up when she heard the sound of more familiar voices.

Mrs. Wright, followed by her husband, their daughter, and Kerry, had come into the restaurant. Behind them were Coach Danny and his wife.

The group stopped and stared at the three of them. Robin felt a bit like a cartoon character facing a racing steam engine. Part of her wanted to bundle Kerry out of danger. Part of her wanted to grab Danny by his shirt and explain what they were doing, so as to erase the condemnation in his eyes when he looked at Sam. Part of her wanted to relieve the blame she saw in Donovan's eyes. Part of her wanted to cry, and that part almost won the battle. She blinked, tried to move away from the table, and couldn't. They'd wedged her in.

After several years' worth of silence, which lasted a good half a minute, Danny said, “Robin, glad I saw you. I wanted you to know we're cancelling the games until further notice.”

“It's not fair!” Kerry burst out.

“Kerry.” His father's voice seemed to spur him on.

“It's ‘cuz of you, Sam. ‘Cuz they say you did bad things, but Robin said you didn't. I'm all confused, Sam. Did you do them bad things?”

“I didn't.” Sam pressed his lips together but made no other move, not even to reach out to the wailing young man. “I didn't do anything to those people, and I didn't kidnap anybody. I would never hurt anybody, especially not like that. You trust me, don't you, Kerry?”

“I did.”

Robin's heart broke. “You should still trust him.” She scrubbed the back of one hand under her eyes. It came away wet.

The tears stopped when Sam said, “No, he shouldn't.”