The Fast Аnd Тhe Furriest

Chapter 20

Mac lunged for his old friend but Jackson grabbed my arm, pulling me in front of his body like a shield.

“Let her go,” Mac growled, his voice laced with menace.

“I’m done letting you ruin my life,” Jackson said. He was oddly unemotional. One arm held me tight against his body while the other felt for something in his pocket. A gun?

Whatever it was it wasn’t there. I flashed to Mr. P. bumping into us earlier. What had he done?

Jackson swore and shifted the arm that was holding me so he could look at his pocket. I turned my head to the side and bit down on his arm. At the same time Mac came at us. Jackson’s hand came up and punched the side of my head. Hard. The boardwalk seemed to ripple under my feet. Everything happened so fast after that. It wasn’t until later that Mr. P. filled in the details for me.

Jackson caught my shoulder and threw me off the dock into the water. Mac’s fist connected with Jackson’s chin, sending the lawyer sprawling down onto the boardwalk. Nick came seemingly out of nowhere, sprinting across the wooden decking in just a couple of long strides. He kicked off his shoes and dove in after me, and Michelle and Cal Barnes came running down the boardwalk, guns drawn. It was over.

I came up sputtering, the side of my head throbbing and a high-pitched ringing sound in my ears. Nick was just a few feet away. “You all right?” he called.

“I’m okay,” I said, coughing and spitting out water. I kicked my feet out of my cute canvas shoes and let them sink to the bottom of the harbor. Then I swam toward Nick. A police officer helped pull me out of the water and wrapped a gray blanket around my shoulders.

“I think I ruined the mic,” I said to Nick, who stood dripping beside me.

He reached over and pushed the wet hair back off my face. “You sure you’re all right?” he asked, dark eyes scanning my face.

I started to cough and he made a move toward me. I held up my hand until the coughing jag passed. “I’m fine,” I said. “I just swallowed a little water, that’s all.”

“Don’t worry about the mic,” he said. “We got what we needed.”

“Thank you for jumping in after me,” I said, squeezing some of the water out of the ends of my hair. “How did you know I was here?” Before he could speak I answered my own question. “Mr. P.”

Nick nodded.

“He picked Jackson’s pocket.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Yes. And that wasn’t my idea, believe me.”

I looked past him to see that Jackson was in handcuffs and Michelle was reading him his rights.

Nick followed my gaze. “I need to talk to Michelle,” he said. “You sure you’ll be all right for a few minutes?”

I nodded. “I’m fine. Go.”

He leaned over and kissed my cheek and walked away.

Mac had been standing a few feet away. Now he came over to me. “I’m sorry,” he said.

I shook my head. “No. You don’t have anything to be sorry about. But I’m sorry that Jackson . . . that he wasn’t . . .” I didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

“I should have known.”

“Don’t do that,” I said.

He made a move to touch me and then, maybe thinking better of it, yanked his hand back.

I pulled the blanket a little tighter over my shoulders. “Mr. P. and I talked to Stevie. Leila loved you. She did. I can promise you that.” I believed it and I wanted Mac to as well.

“She wasn’t the person I thought she was,” he said. “And maybe part of that is because I put her up way too high on a pedestal.” He was clenching his teeth, the muscles tight along his jaw.

“I have to go see her,” he went on. “And I have to talk to her parents. I’m leaving tonight. Michelle said the charges against me will be dropped.”

I nodded. My chest hurt all of a sudden. Mr. P. had joined Nick and Michelle but mostly he was watching Mac and me.

Mac looked away for a moment. “I . . . I’m resigning, Sarah. Please thank everyone for their help and for believing in me.”

“Tell them yourself when you come back. Take as much time as you need but I’m not taking your resignation.” I swallowed down the lump in my throat, leaned over and kissed his cheek. “We’ll all be here when you’re ready.” I hesitated. “Me included.”

I turned then and headed across the weathered wooden walkway. Mr. P. came to meet me. A uniformed officer was leading Jackson away.

“Trixie Belden,” I said to Mr. P.

He frowned. “I’m sorry, my dear. I’m not following you.”

“I read Trixie Belden when I was a kid. Not Sherlock Holmes. They were my mom’s books from when she was young.” It suddenly seemed important that I get that out there.

He nodded. “Good to know,” he said. He offered his arm and I took it and I didn’t look back.

I gave Michelle a brief statement. The microphone I’d been wearing had captured all my conversation with Jackson. I peeled it off my skin and handed it to her. “I’m sorry it got wet,” I said.

She smiled. “I’m sorry you did.”

Mr. P. and I headed for Charlotte’s. “Once again I owe you,” I said.

“You owe me nothing, my dear,” he said. “I’m just glad you’re all right and Mac has been exonerated.”

“You called Nick.” I shot him a quick glance.

He shook his head. “No. Mac called Nicolas when he figured out why you had gone to meet Mr. Montgomery for dinner. I just tagged along for the ride.”

“Where did you learn to pick pockets?” I asked. “Or is that something I’d be happier not knowing?”

I saw him smile from the corner of my eyes. “Did I ever tell you that I spent some time working in a carnival?”

I shook my head, not even trying to hide a smile. “Alfred Peterson, you never cease to amaze me,” I said.

We drove in silence for a couple of minutes. “I could teach you,” he offered.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to offer,” I said.

“So that’s yes?”

“That’s yes.”

I walked into Charlotte’s kitchen still wrapped in the soggy gray blanket, wearing a pair of flip-flops that had been in the backseat of my SUV. Avery was leaning against the counter feeding a bit of cheese to Elvis. Liz, Charlotte and Rose were sitting at the table having tea—with my grandmother. She turned and smiled at me. “Hello, sweetie,” she said.