Almost Perfect (35 page)

“My lawyer?” she asked, examining the contents of the bag. Her chosen methods of self-destruction didn't involve starving to death. Even a Big Mac smelled good. “I know lots of lawyers, but that guy isn't one of them. Sure he isn't a preacher or country singer?”

Jack shrugged. “He's a lawyer, all right. He's filed for court injunctions and threatened to sue everyone from the janitor on up to the Supreme Court, from what I can
tell. Says you're innocent of anything but trying to protect yourself, and the feds violated your rights to the Second Amendment for arresting you the first time around, and if they try to intervene in this matter, he'll haul their asses off to jail. Figure the temperature down there has risen ten degrees already. Much more pleasant up here.”

“Yeah, that's how I've got it figured.” Cleo popped a fry and savored the grease. Hell, if she was going to die up here, she might as well take a little cholesterol with her. “I like the sound of this lawyer. Tell him he's hired, but not to defend me. I want Gene out of jail, and his damned mother and her child-molester lover arrested. Linda has finally forfeited my sympathy. I'm gonna take her down with me.”

“If I can get him to shut up long enough, I'll do that,” Jack said doubtfully. “The sheriff told me to tell you he's gonna throw your ass in jail for causing a public nuisance if you don't get down from here.”

Cleo grinned around her grease-covered finger as she sucked on it. “Tell him to come up and get me.”

“The fed is threatening a SWAT team to do just that,” he warned.

“Fine. If they want their knees whacked, I'll whack 'em.” She didn't even bother indicating the crow bar dangling from the chain she'd wrapped around her waist. She about had the broken cog off. Maybe she'd drop it on somebody's head.

“Way I look at it, you'll have to whack their thick skulls.” Jack dubiously eyed the steep shingles between them. “Not that they could send up more than one man at a time. You planning on staying up here all night? The boys in the department don't mind getting a little overtime.”

“I figure they'll let me become a skeleton to scare the pigeons before they settle anything down there. Reckon
they'll make a movie of that, or are they still on that pirate kick?” Not waiting for an answer, she sucked down another fry and frowned at the arm-swinging preacher. “Maybe I ought to talk to the lawyer guy and give him a few clues.”

“A cell phone might work,” Jack said cautiously. “The guy's too fat to climb up here, for sure.”

“Jack, you're amazing when you apply yourself.” Cleo savored the hamburger and kicked at the gull landing near her knees where she straddled the rooftop.

“Well, the fed suggested it,” Jack admitted. “But the sheriff figured you'd heave it at them, and it would be a waste of good equipment.”

“Good man. Tell you what, tell them I want to call my lawyer. Get the phone up here, and I'll talk to the wild man.
Then
I'll throw it at them.”

Jack laughed. “They're gonna grill your ass on hot coals when you get down.”

“Linda's ass fries first,” she corrected.

“You got that right.” Grimly, Jack backed down the ladder.

She'd thought it would be peaceful up here, but it was kind of lonely. She'd hoped she'd have space to figure out what to do next, except she wasn't much good at thinking on her own. She needed Jared to bounce ideas back at her. She'd never had anyone to argue with before and hadn't realized how useful it was for seeing all sides of a problem.

That was not a productive train of thought. She was heading back to prison as sure as God made little green worms, so none of this was relevant. Saving the kids had to be her priority now. Of course, she might be in denial about Kismet, but she'd rather cling to hope. It gave her strength to fight.

So, if she could wrangle the lawyer into looking after
Gene, and set Jared to looking for Kismet, she supposed she'd have to come down. Maybe she could persuade Jack to bring her some fireworks, and she'd wait until it was dark. She ought to have some fun out of this last fling.

With that resolve made, she glanced over the roof edge again. Some of the people in the yard were toting picket signs. Maybe the lawyer had convinced them the world was coming to an end.

For a few odd days there, she'd actually been foolish enough to think she'd turned her life around, and she might actually be allowed a little pleasure for a change. Stupid of her. Jared had inspired that false sense of hope, but she supposed he'd also given her the courage she needed to finally stand up to authority. So, she couldn't call their relationship a total loss. It had been kind of fun, while it lasted, if one wanted to call what they'd shared a relationship. She didn't expect even friendship to last beyond prison walls.

She missed him desperately.

Before she could cry over that stupidity, Jack's head popped back over the edge again.

“Got the phone. They programmed in the lawyer's number, so all you have to do is punch star nine.”

“Clever.” She dropped him a rope and hauled on the line to retrieve the attached package. “I wish I'd had this guy the first time around. He's good.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah. He's already got half the crowd convinced you were railroaded. Of course, he's also said stupidity shouldn't be worth federal prison time.”

Cleo laughed. “I definitely like this guy.” She dialed star nine.

The lawyer roared her name into the receiver. She could see him gesticulating below as Jack backed down the ladder.

“Are you all right up there, young lady?”

Young lady. Only a Southern lawyer would call her that. She leaned back against the steeple and watched the last of the sun's rays reflecting off the clouds on the horizon. The ocean looked peaceful today. Pity she'd never had time to add a widow's walk to her roof. She kind of liked the scenery from this height.

“Doing fine. And yourself?” she asked politely. One did not get straight to the point with Southerners, she'd learned.

“I'm having a fine old time. I'll thank your friend for the opportunity when he arrives. Last I talked with him, he'd run into a little trouble, and had a few errands to run.”

“Trouble?” she asked. He
was
talking about Jared, wasn't he? She hoped he hadn't run into any more peacocks.

Being a lawyer, he didn't reply but bellowed onward. “The judge is a tad hostile to our case, seeing as how he's had this crowd outside his courtroom all day, but my assistant is thorough. He'll have you released from custody shortly.”

“I'm not in custody,” Cleo reminded him. She'd hate to think of Jared turned over in some ditch again.

“Why, of course you're in custody, dear lady! They have you unjustly imprisoned on their roof as we speak. I intend to have your case overturned, your name cleared, and the federal officers out of your life before this is over.”

“Yeah, and my name is Jesus Christ. Look, I just want them to go after Linda and her boyfriend before anyone else gets hurt. Has anyone arranged bail for Gene?”

“We've arranged to have the child remanded to the custody of Social Services. The arrest warrant has been served on the molester in Charleston, where he was
hiding. The mother has been picked up on a variety of charges ranging from welfare fraud to persistent drug violations. You are not to worry, ma'am. I shall see justice served if I must take the law into my bare hands.”

Reflecting that good Southern lawyers had seen the insides of too many Baptist churches, Cleo rubbed her sunburned nose and tried to feel triumph. Mostly, she felt an urgent need for a toilet.

“I appreciate that, Mr. …” She didn't even know the name of her lawyer. Where the hell had Jared found him?

“Daniels, ma'am, Amos Daniels, at your service. You just hold on tight, and we'll have you off there in no time at all.”

She wasn't at all certain she wanted to climb down to the shattered remains of her life. Where would she go now? Everybody on the whole East Coast would know her name. She'd never live this down, even if the crazy lawyer could find some way of keeping her out of jail. And after embarrassing him totally like this, Jared probably wouldn't even speak to her.

That path caused too much pain to travel, so she sought a better-known one.

Would they let her keep Matty?

She'd been terrified to ask, and she didn't know how to pray. Balling up the McDonald's bag, Cleo flung it over the roof's edge to the shouting crowd below. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but they were becoming right boisterous. Propping her elbows on her knees, she rested her chin in her hands and tried not to think at all. The sky was turning a lovely pink. It would be too dark to work on the clock shortly.

The shouts continued, and Cleo glanced down again. Standing on a makeshift platform, the overweight lawyer was speaking with someone considerably better proportioned. The fading daylight prevented seeing more, and
she returned to staring at the sky. She lacked the energy even to wonder if the growing crowd intended to egg or lynch her. It was past the supper hour, she calculated, and this was better entertainment than TV news.

The fire-truck ladder wobbled again. Maybe Jack had brought dessert. A good Häagen-Dazs would be nice. A bathroom would be nicer.

“I brought some fireworks.”

She must be hallucinating. Cautiously turning her head, Cleo gazed at the top of the ladder. In the fading light, she could see the white of the paper sack easier than the man holding it. She didn't have to see the man holding it. She could feel his vibrations all the way up here. Jared. An unfamiliar excitement lurched in the vicinity of her heart.

Obviously hallucinating. “Got a match?” she asked laconically, returning to staring at the skyline. She used to talk to hallucinations, but she was a bit out of practice. She was starting to shake all over. The rope ladder fell from her hands, and she didn't attempt to catch it.

“Yep.” The ladder instantly tensed with a heavy weight. “Although I have to admit, you've topped any prank I ever dreamed of. The jock's locker explosion pales in comparison.”

“Pity we didn't attend the same school. I would have gone for the gym coach as well, but it would have involved file cabinets and not lockers.” She glanced down, unable to prevent her heart from crawling up to her throat and lodging there as Jared's thick sable hair moved closer.

“You'll have to give me a hand with these things. Mine seem to be otherwise occupied.” He clung to the ropes several rungs below her and shifted to hand up the sack.

“You'll break your scrawny neck.” She leaned over to take the sack so he could manage the tricky task of straddling the roofline sans benefit of the rope and chains that
held her. She was amazed that she could speak at all. Even if he was an apparition, he was the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen. Tears sprang to her eyes as he grinned at her. Damn, but she loved that goofy grin too well. No one ever grinned at her.

“But you gotta admit, if I've got to go, this would be the most appropriate way.” He dug a pack of matches out of his pocket.

She stared at him in astonishment. “You mean it? You mean there really are fireworks?”

“Of course. Why would I make up something like that?” He leaned over and appropriated the bag. “You're not the only one who can think like a child. Most of us just don't act on it. And I have good reason for celebrating.”

She looked at him dubiously. “Such as?”

A wicked grin bared gleaming white teeth through the dusk. “The phones on the island are working again. Kismet has Gene's palm computer. She e-mailed me from your place. She's fine. She faked The Perv out, big time.”

Cleo choked on a sob. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she wanted to reach over and hug him in joy and relief, but the chain at her waist prevented immediate action. She couldn't summon a suitable reply, and speechless, she merely rubbed her eyes.

He shrugged at her silence and dug a large cardboard tube with a wick from the sack, then handed her the matches. “Want to do the honors?”

Why not? It was about the only thing that made sense of this day.

With joy, relief, and fear coursing through her, Cleo struck the match, leaned over, and carefully applied it to the fuse he held.

With a throw that would have made a baseball pitcher proud, Jared flung the firework toward the bay. Together,
they watched the night sky erupt in a shimmering shower of rainbow stars.

The crowd below cheered as one by one the tubes of colorful gunpowder exploded from the courthouse roof. For the first time in her life, Cleo celebrated hope in company with the rest of the world.

“Climbing on roofs isn't the way mature adults handle problems,” Axell said wearily, wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands as he sprawled in the ramshackle wicker chair. Jared had brought Cleo home after the fireworks display, to find Axell waiting for them. He should have known Cleo's sister would insist on reinforcements.

“So sue me.” Hugging her knees, Cleo nearly disappeared into the corner of the couch. A single lamp illuminated little more than her bare feet with their curled-up toes.

Jared thought he recognized a resemblance to Kismet's turtle act in her body language. After the scene she'd created, she ought to be accustomed to being a target. If he was too rattled to think clearly right now, he supposed she had to be in worse shape. Without asking permission, he lifted her off the cushion and hauled her into his lap. She didn't struggle but curled up beneath his chin, her head warm against his chest. That behavior fright
ened the hell out of him, but he wouldn't let her brother-in-law know that.