Fixing Perfect (23 page)

“He went missing. Remember he was at the restaurant?”

“Sure.”

“They went home, each one doing their own thing, and when his mom went to tell him it was time for him to go to bed, he wasn't there.”

“Wow. That's too bad.”

The guy was losing his touch if that was all the sympathy he could manufacture.

“So we're all out looking for him.”

“Yeah?”

“He can't be out all night. He doesn't have the stamina to hold up to a night out in the open.” Or in Donovan's clutches, for that matter. “Anyway, Danny wants you to help with the search.”

“Oh, sure. Tomorrow.”

“He wants you tonight.”

Silence answered at first. Then Donovan said, “OK, but I got a couple things to take care of. Maybe half an hour. You let Danny know for me, all right?”

“He needs you right now. Do you know how cold it is out here? Someone like Kerry couldn't stand the exposure for more than a few minutes, and it's been almost an hour already.”

Another pause before Donovan ground out, “Ten minutes. Let him know.”

“Sure thing.”

That would give Sam time to scout up the hill for a good vantage point. He prayed that Donovan wouldn't touch the kids—that those ten minutes of grace wouldn't be long enough to hurt, or kill.

 

 

 

 

17

 

Becca watched as snot and tears rolled down Kerry's cheeks and upper lip. She sighed and went into the bathroom to grab a handful of toilet tissue. She took it back to him. Why didn't Jake take care of him? He'd always done that kind of stuff for Becca. But maybe, now they had a new kid, it was her turn.

She shook her head. She probably should take care of Jake, too. He still hadn't gotten up since Mr. Bird hit him.

She held the toilet tissue out to the new kid. “Here. You better wipe your nose.”

He did, getting the worst of it off his face, and pushed the mess back at her. She made a face but took it.

“I saw you on TV. Your pictures. They had pictures from school and stuff.” Kerry pointed first at Becca and then at Jake. “And a couple other kids. A baby. They found her, but not her babysitter. I mean, she was dead. There were some other people dead. Somebody killed them.”

Becca stared up at him, and could barely ask, “Who killed them?” Maybe he'd say it wasn't Mr. Bird.

Kerry shrugged. “I dunno. First they said Sam did it, but he said no. And Robin said it wasn't Sam, and I believe her. She said I could trust Sam. So I don't know who it was. But it's a bad guy. I think it's Donovan.” His eyes went wide, and he sniffled again. He looked around the room, dim now with only a faint light from the bathroom. “How'd you guys get here, anyway? Did Donovan bring you?”

Becca swallowed. “Mr. Bird brought us here.”

“Who's he?” Kerry swayed and moved so his feet were farther apart, like he wanted to ride a bike. The bottoms of his pant legs came up and showed the poles, and some plastic bits that held them close to his leg.

“Mr. Bird.” Becca pushed her hands at the door to show the new kid and tried to keep her chin from shaking. “He scares me. He used to be nice.”

“Who's Mr. Bird? I'm talking about Donovan. That's Donovan.” He jerked his hand toward the door. “The man who put me in here. The one who hit that kid.” He pointed at Jake, still on the floor.

Becca squatted next to Jake. Red pooled under his nose. She used a corner of tissue that looked the cleanest to wipe at it. Jake rolled from his stomach to his side, peering up from under his arm at Becca. She smiled and patted his shoulder and looked up at Kerry.

“That was Mr. Bird brought you here. Maybe you only know his first name.”

Kerry shuddered. “I don't want him to be the bad guy. He told me he wasn't. He said Sam was. Only Robin said he wasn't. But she didn't say anything about Donovan being the bad guy.” He wiped more tears off his face with his sleeve. “I wish she told me. I get confused. She knows I get confused. She should've told me.” He started to cry harder. “She told me not to trust anyone but Mom and Dad. She told me, and I forgot! She knows I forget stuff. She should have told me more.”

Jake pushed against the floor and sat up. Blood made another trail from a cut on his cheek to the corner of his mouth. Becca threw Kerry's tissues into the corner, washed her hands in the bathroom and wiped them on her pants. She got clean tissue and gave that to Jake. After that, she got more clean tissue for Kerry. As she handed the wad to him, she felt something good bubble inside her, like she was getting to be a big girl. Mommy always said she'd grow up. It looked like she had been, even without Mommy and Daddy to help her.

But they were there with her, anyway. Right in her middle where she kept them.

Jake wiped the blood and smeared it almost as much as Kerry had smeared the gunk on his face. When he threw the dirty tissue in the corner, he looked like he wanted to fight someone. The look in his eyes scared her as much as Mr. Bird did. Jake wasn't in his eyes anymore. He'd already gone off to fight whoever it was he hated, even though he started talking.

“He's going to kill all of us. And then he's going to kill that other one. The one he called Robin.” His voice sounded like he'd put a paper towel roll to his mouth, and talked through that.

“He can't!” Kerry wailed. He wobbled again and backed up until he leaned against the wall. “He can't kill her. He likes her.” His shoulders shook, and he wiped at his face again.

Becca got close enough to pat his shoulder, and he gulped.

“He takes pictures of Robin all the time, and he puts them all over his house. He told me. I even saw some of them. I saw them when he brought me here.” He put his head back, almost yelling now. “He even gave me one. Robin saw it, and I told her he gave it to me. And she didn't say anything.”

“Stop crying.” Jake limped closer to Kerry. He walked as bad as Kerry had when he first stumbled inside the room. “It's gonna be OK. Just ask Becca.” He laughed and shook his head like he had something in his ears, and pointed. “What's that thing on your leg?”

Kerry turned pink and looked down, not at his leg, but as though Jake had made fun of him and it scared him. “It's a brace.”

“What's it for?”

Kerry frowned. “It's to make my leg strong. ‘Cuz it's not strong all by itself. It's like my arm, only it has to help me walk. So it needs a brace.”

“What's it made of?”

Becca picked up the empty food containers and dropped them in the pile on the corner. When they fell, some other things that were already on the pile moved and a nasty smell came up. She pinched her nose and turned her back on the trash.

“I don't know,” Kerry answered Jake. “It's a brace.” He rubbed his good hand over his bad arm, circled round and round his elbow with his fingers.

“Can I see it? Do you know how to take it off?”

“Why?” Now Kerry edged away from Jake and his staring, crossing his bad leg behind the other one.

Becca frowned at Jake, but he ignored her. “Look, Becca, show him the hole. Show him.”

“Why?”

“Just show him.” Jake turned back to Kerry. “You can't tell him about it, OK? That—what did you call him? Donovan? You can't tell Donovan what we're doing or anything.”

Kerry nodded. “I won't tell him
anything
. He's bad.”

Becca nodded, hard.

“Good.” Jake hunkered in front of Kerry, not close, but like he wanted to rest. “So it's OK to show him, Becca.” He sounded very tired.

Becca climbed onto her mattress and pulled the sheets away from the wall. The hole was bigger than a basketball now, except for some of the wood pieces that still stretched across it.

“We're trying to dig a hole so we can get out.” She kneeled next to it. “We used our fingernails, and our toothbrushes, but those broke.” She looked up at Kerry. “I know what Jake means! Maybe we can use your brace to dig. Then we can get out and Mr. Bird won't be able to hurt us.”

Kerry frowned at her for a long time. Jake straightened next to him, looking like he wanted to jump on him and take the brace off all by himself. Finally, Kerry nodded. “OK.” He sat down, his arms going in circles before he caught his balance. As soon as he had his balance, he pulled up the stretchy bottom of his sweatpants. “OK, there's buckles. I'm not good at buckles yet. Can you do them?”

“Yeah, I sure can.” Jake kneeled in front of Kerry, and his hands were like Becca's daddy's, when she scraped her knee, soft and gentle. Becca could tell Jake wanted to be especially nice to Kerry. She was glad. She liked Kerry.

Jake pulled apart the buckles, and lifted the brace off of Kerry's leg.

“Will you look at that?” All three of them stared at the metal poles that stretched between the part that cupped Kerry's knee, and the part that strapped around his foot. “Metal. Kerry, I think you just saved all our lives.”

 



 

Twenty minutes later, Sam watched Donovan leave his house. He turned and spent at least a minute fumbling at the locks before sauntering toward the street. Sam edged down the hill as soon as Donovan disappeared.

Cactus and other spiny plants gripped Sam's jeans with tiny thorns, which broke as he slid past. Sam waited at the corner of the house, pressed flat against the wall, listening. He heard Donovan's footsteps and when the sound faded to almost nothing, he rounded the side of the house.

How could Donovan not suspect him? How could he walk away from the house and the kids, as though they were hidden from every eye?

Well, two possibilities. Either the kids were secreted somewhere else, or Donovan was not the kidnapper.

And Sam didn't believe either of those solutions.

So it must just be a case of supreme confidence on Donovan's part.
Please, God, don't let him remember he's forgotten something and come back. Please, let me find the kids. Don't let me let them down.

Donovan had left the porch light off, which made messing with the lock a bit of a problem. And there wasn't just one lock, but three. A simple key lock and two inside bolts. They looked to be of different manufacturers, and for sure Sam had no clue how to break in.

From there, he went around the side of the house to check the windows.

Most were boarded up. Those that weren't, were barred. Had the cops even come to check out his house? Each defense added more evidence to Sam's theories, but as he was already positive, he didn't need the proof. He just needed a way inside. Because he was sure those kids were there, and they were in terrible danger.

He called Robin on his cell. “I got him to leave, but I can't get in the house. You think you could convince Macias to send some men out here to check it out?”

“I'll try.” She sounded like she didn't believe she'd have any effect on the detective, and Sam had to agree with that. Macias was so sure Sam was wrong.

“Try Bricker.”

“He lied about you!” Her righteous indignation on his behalf warmed something inside him and made him wish this was all behind him. That they were together, over the horror, and working on a new phase to their relationship.

Soon. He would be with her soon.

For now, he had to concentrate on getting the kids out of the house. “Actually, no, Bricker didn't lie.” Sam leaned against the wall and dug through his pockets. Nothing huge and heavy like a forgotten Maglite. Not that he'd forget a monstrous flashlight, or anything else useful. Not until he was going to need it, anyway. He pulled out the penlight clipped to his keys. “That was all Macias. He wanted to arrest me, so he rearranged a bit of evidence to suit him.”

“In other words, the lead detective is the one who lied.” More anger threaded her voice.

“Well, yeah. But he had his reasons, babe. Look, I'm going to keep trying to find a way inside. You make some calls, all right?”

“I will.”

“And Robin?”

“Yeah?”

He let the pause build just a fraction of an instant. “I love you.”

“Oh, Sam.” A choked moment passed. “I love you, too. Be safe!”

“I plan to, but I'm more interested in getting those kids out of this house.”

He hung up and pocketed his cell. If he had a car, he could use it like a bulldozer. A golf cart wouldn't have the same stellar results, and besides, he didn't want to take the time to hike down to Robin's to fetch hers.

He started yet another trek round the house.

 



 

Now that he understood what he was meant to do, everything else faded away. It was just him and Robin. They were the only ones who mattered. The kids, Sam, all the people surrounding Robin and trying to interfere—none of them mattered. Now he knew what he had to do. He had to convince Robin.

He had to get to her, show her what he meant. He could fix her then.

He knew just how he'd pose her. Had it all figured out, from the first time. The first girl—Lehanie. Robin would be dancing just the same way. Maybe have a butterfly fluttering around her hair. That would be a nice touch. No kids, no one else. Just Robin and Donovan.

His camera had a timer, he could pose her, and put himself into position for each shot.

But he'd forgotten his camera. He had to go back now.

He turned around, stopped, and laughed out loud. The cops would take plenty of pictures. He didn't have to worry about it. He had everything he needed to fix Robin in his pockets.

Robin and himself.

Because sometimes, he forgot what the whole plan was about. He forgot how everything was meant to be about him and Robin, that Sam had never had any part in it. That had been his mistake before. He'd put Sam in the picture.