Almost Perfect (33 page)

Thoughts chased madly in circles in her head as she heard his low voice on the phone in the kitchen hall. She was so used to being alone that she hadn't thought of how she was hurting anyone but Matty, and she was doing her best to shield him. He would be happy with Maya. She was packing up all his beloved things so Maya could come get them. She didn't know if Maya wanted the animals, but she'd thought Gene would be returning to tend them after she was gone.

She hadn't thought about how all this would affect Kismet. Or Jared.

Of course, she hadn't thought Jared would return. She'd figured someone would tell him she'd been shipped off to prison, and he'd shrug and get on with his life. She'd tried hard not to think about it. She must have blocked out Kismet completely in some subconscious attempt for sanity. Now that Jared was here, the block dissipated, and all the emotions tumbled out: fear and anger and guilt and all those things that caused her to lose control.

She didn't want to go back to being that insane woman she'd been in the past, the woman who needed drugs and alcohol to cope. The desperate craving for oblivion sang through her veins, whispered temptingly at the back of her mind, promised freedom from the panic freezing her thoughts. She was going to jail again. The
clickety-clack of the train rumbling closer while she lay tied to the track obliterated any coherent plan of action.

She would lose Matty, her house, her store …

Kismet could be sold into drugs and prostitution. Gene would have a record. They already had two strikes against them. The law would never give them a chance— just as it had never given her a chance.

She watched in wide-eyed terror as Jared returned looking grim.

“She wasn't at school. No one knows where she is.”

The social worker must have shown up and set Linda off on this trip. Kismet must have run away. Had Lonnie hurt her?

Cleo bit her lip and desperately tried to think through the chaos in her head. “I'll go back to her house. I know a couple of her hiding places.” She dropped the scrapbook and swung her feet to the floor. She couldn't go to jail until she found Kismet. She'd focus on that.

Jared caught her arms before she could go a step farther. “I'll go to Linda's. You call Axell. Get the name of a lawyer. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for me and Gene and Kismet. I'll lose my mind worrying about you behind bars. Don't put me through that.”

Cleo gazed at him in wonder and disbelief. Disbelief won, but the concern in his eyes was too real to ignore. She didn't doubt that he'd worry for a while. She smoothed his creased, bronzed cheek with her palm, wishing she could wipe away the worry, knowing she wasn't worth his concern. “Axell would shout and yell. I'll call a lawyer tomorrow. I doubt I'd find one at this time of day. Go to Linda's, but be careful. I'll check Kismet's hiding places.”

He didn't look happy, but there wasn't much she could do about that. “Why did you come back?” she asked out
of curiosity. “You could have just called someone about Kismet.”

He looked decidedly grim glaring at her like that— Superman in a tantrum. “Cleo, when this is all over, I'm going to shake you until your teeth rattle.” He walked out again, as if afraid he might not wait but would do it now.

Well, that was an interesting reaction to stress. She'd have to try it sometime. Meanwhile, she had to find Kismet. Worry gnawed at her insides as her mind swept away the cobwebs of her own fears and focused on others.

As Jared roared the Jeep from the drive, Cleo set out down the mangled paths the kids had made through the overgrowth between the houses. The hurricane had ripped trees and bushes out by the roots, and in the growing dusk, it was hard to see where she was going. Mosquitoes buzzed and bit, and she had to be wary of snakes and sand traps. Kismet's favorite hideouts might be gone. She may have found new ones. Cleo had tried to keep an eye out all weekend while Maya and everyone were here, but she'd seen no sign of either Gene or Kismet. Jared had brought them to the island on Friday, so she'd figured they had to be here somewhere.

Gene had been arrested at school this morning. The sheriff had interviewed Linda in town, so she must have taken him to the mainland.

But not Kismet. That did not bode well. Had the sheriff arrested Lonnie as promised? Kismet had called Jared. She was safe somewhere. Cleo had to believe that or lose what remained of her mind. Not finding any sign of the girl in the tangle of brush, Cleo turned toward the beach.

* * *

Cleo's screams hit Jared the instant he switched off the Jeep's ignition outside her house. He couldn't tell exactly where they came from, but the logical place was the beach. He'd already exhausted all the fear in him and had reached numbness some time ago. Cleo's screams induced terror, more because they were heartrending wails than cries of pain.

Hitting the ignition again, he floored the Jeep's gas pedal and careened down the narrow lane toward the beach. He'd searched Linda's filthy shack but hadn't found Kismet or anyone else. Something told him Cleo had found what he hadn't.

The debris barrier blocked his way. Someone had been back to dig around the graveyard Matty had uncovered, but they hadn't opened the road. Leaping out of the car, he raced up the tangle of roots and limbs and sand. He used muscles he hadn't known he possessed to reach the top, and skidded all the way to the bottom on the other side.

Cleo's screams sounded closer now, and bordered on hysteria.

The sun had set, but enough light remained to see her slight figure silhouetted against the backdrop of shimmering waves. He could see no one threatening her, no ominous figures or vicious animals. She seemed to be holding something, but the shape wasn't recognizable.

Adrenaline drove him. The sand dune had shifted, but what sand remained was loose and impossible to navigate smoothly. He nearly fell once, then tripped on driftwood and went sprawling. Picking himself up, he proceeded with even less caution.

She quieted as she saw him running, but she was shaking all over by the time Jared reached her. Clasping her against him, ignoring the article of clothing she clutched in her fists, he gasped for breath and held her
tight, taking her shudders into him as she sobbed and beat her head against his shoulder.

“Cleo, don't,” he pleaded. “You're scaring me. What's wrong? What happened? Are you hurt?”

“Kismet,” she gasped. “It's her sweater. Her things. Her drawing pad. She's …” She couldn't finish but wept harder.

He'd thought Cleo had drained him of all feeling, but sorrow deeper than anything he had ever known permeated his bones. Disbelief followed close behind, then rage. Never in his life had he been through something like this. He'd never lost a loved one. Cleo had lost both parents. He'd never suffered grief, and given the cold competitiveness of his family, had never recognized love. She was putting him through every emotional wringer in existence, and he simply didn't have the experience to handle it.

He held her, let her weep, and had absolutely no idea what to do except weep with her. He despised this feeling of helplessness.

Waves washed gently against the shore, and struck violently against the rocks she'd warned him about the first day he'd arrived. He watched the rising moon against the tide, expecting to see a dark head of curls emerge from the water as it would in the movies. No such image appeared.

“We'll call the police,” he murmured. “They'll send out boats. We can look for her.” Her body, at least. He couldn't imagine gentle Kismet battling an undertow to swim away to safety and happiness.

He mourned the loss of all that talent, of a child on the brink of life who had so much to see and do ahead of her. It didn't seem fair. Why would evil creatures like Linda survive and gentle ones die?

He rocked Cleo silently until she ran out of sobs.

Together, they gathered Kismet's favorite possessions and walked quietly back to the car.

Coast Guard cutters and yachts from the harbor turned out to sweep the water with searchlights once word spread. The sheriff called in off-duty officers, and the state police walked the storm-ravaged shore.

Cleo refused to leave the beach. Jared wrapped her in blankets, sat her down on the sand, and curled his arms around her to protect her from the cool wind off the water. Nothing stopped her shudders.

If he could rip his heart from his chest to ease her sorrow, he would, but he was helpless. He'd thought he'd grown up a little these past weeks, but nothing had taught him how to deal with tragedy. Cleo had shown him how to look outside himself, how to accept responsibility for others, even how to use all his advantages for a good cause, but what good did that do when he couldn't change the wrongs that needed righting?

So he held Cleo, and cherished her, and vowed he would turn the world upside down before he let it hurt her again.

One by one the searchers gave up, promising to return in daylight. By the time the last searchlight switched off and the sheriff stopped to offer stilted condolences, Cleo had fallen asleep in Jared's arms.

“Sometimes, life don't make no sense, boy,” the burly man said, shaking his head. “It ain't gonna be any easier for her tomorrow. Take her home.”

Jared wished he could. Home for him was in Miami, in his sunlit apartment overlooking the water. He'd tuck Cleo between satin sheets, lock the doors, and open the windows to the sound of surf and laughter.

He'd known Cleo would never share that with him, but the full implications were just starting to sink in. He couldn't push Cleo. He had to wait—patiently—until she was ready. He'd never possessed a large store of patience.

She stirred as he carried her to the car and tried to settle her into the seat, but she apparently didn't want to wake any more than he wanted to think. She was unconscious again by the time the Jeep purred to life.

He had a few hours before dawn to lay awake and plan his next action. He'd need more than a few hours to figure out what to do with the rest of his life now that he'd blown his career to smithereens.

Cleo woke the instant Jared climbed from the bed in the morning. Her head pounded, her eyes were too groggy to open, but she sensed his absence instantly. He'd been a part of her all night, like blood flowing through her, keeping her alive, and his absence emptied her as brutally as a cut artery.

She must have been drinking.

She squeezed her eyes tight as she listened to him dress quietly, trying to remember if she'd opened those beers she'd bought. She'd had some notion that she might as well enjoy her last few hours of freedom. What would it matter if she poured poison into her system when she would be soul-dead soon enough? But she'd wanted to
pack Matty's things before she sought oblivion, and then Jared had come home.

Home. This wasn't his home. But he'd come back. And he'd held her all night, this man from another world, the gilded world she'd never known. He didn't belong in the mud wallow of her life.

She wanted to go to sleep again. She didn't have the strength to face the day. If she woke any more, she'd have to face the horrors lurking just behind her eyes.

Jared sat on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through her hair, then kissed her cheek. She must look like death warmed over.

“Cleo, hon? I've got to go into town to take care of a few things. Why don't I just call Axell and look into a good lawyer for you? I can drive into Charleston, interview them, find you and Gene someone willing to fight for you. I'll be back as soon as I can. You just stay here and get some rest.”

Like hell she would. She wasn't a baby to be coddled and cooed at.

But it was nice of him to try. She wouldn't bite his head off for that. She thought it might hurt her as much as him if she tried.

That was the damnedest part of this sharing business. She couldn't yell or snap at him any more than she could at Matty.

“My address book is in the desk,” she said wearily, accepting this part of the reality awaiting her. She still couldn't face the glaring emptiness that was Kismet's place in the world. Some as yet undefeated part of her couldn't believe Kismet would take her own life.

“Lawyers are listed under ‘L,’ for liars,” she told him, curling up in a tight ball around her pillow. “The page under ‘A,’ for assholes, was full. Most of them know me, but they'll not thank you for your business.”

She thought he chuckled understandingly. She'd harrassed every lawyer she'd ever come across—and she'd come across plenty dealing with some of the people who came to her for jobs.

He wandered off, and she tried summoning the energy to get up. Her hair felt stiff and matted from the salt air. Jared had apparently removed her clothes before tucking her into bed, but he hadn't been brave enough to remove her T-shirt and panties. She hoped it was a sign that she still tempted him. Or maybe not. Maybe he'd be better off developing a disgust of her, and getting the hell out of here.

She'd bled enough for now. She would cut that artery some other time. Wrapping the sheet around her shoulders, she sat up and rubbed her eyes against the light from the window. They'd be out on the beach again, searching. She didn't want to know how often the bodies of drowning victims returned to shore. Matty's discovery of the old skeleton seemed somehow prophetic. The sheriff had said it had probably been some long-ago drowning casualty.