Blindside

of what was happening. She sighed, saying nothing.
    “I want just five minutes with Mrs. McCamy. She’s got to be the weak link here.”
    Katie sighed again. “Listen to me, Miles. The fact is we don’t have any evidence yet against either of the McCamys. What’s even more to the point is that none of us can come up with a single reason why either Elsbeth or Reverend McCamy would be involved in Sam’s kidnapping. Until we have evidence, and a glimmering of a motive, both of them have their rights.”
    “There’s got to be a reason,” Miles said, smacking his fist against his open palm. “This is driving me nuts.”

    Katie dashed her fingers through her hair, dislodging the rest of it from the big banana clip. With fast impatient movements, she twisted it up again and clamped down the clip. French braiding was the only way to keep her hair on her head where it belonged, but she hadn’t had time this morning. One long hank of hair was left curling in front of her right ear and she shoved it back. She said, “It’s driving all of us nuts, Miles. Savich and Sherlock should be here soon with the kids. Let’s hope they’ve got something to tell us.”
    Miles looked at Katie straight on. “I’m going to talk to Elsbeth McCamy myself.”
    Katie grabbed his arm just before he could get to the door, only to have it open in their faces. Sherlock smiled at both of them, seeing all the fear and frustration. She watched as Katie gently laid her hand on Miles’s forearm. “Don’t ever shoot unless you’re sure you’ve got bullets in your gun, Miles. The McCamys are suspects, sure, and we’re going to try to find out everything we can about them, but until we’ve turned up something, they get to sit back and watch us. Them’s the rules, you know that. Hi, Sherlock. You have Sam and Keely? Are they ready for lunch?”
    “I hope you’ve got something,” Miles said and stomped out of Katie’s office. “Where are Sam and Keely?”
    “Linnie took them to the bathroom,” Sherlock said.
    Katie said, “Let me go tell my deputies where I’ll be.” She walked off in her long, no-nonsense stride, half her hair falling down her back, the other half tightly held in the clip.
    Miles quickly realized that Savich was in pain. He was standing very stiffly, like he was afraid to move at all, and his eyes were a bit unfocused. Miles said, “Sherlock, you got some more pain meds for the Iron Man here?”
    Sherlock saw that Miles was right, even though the onehe’d had not more than fifteen minutes ago should have kicked in. It scared her to her toes, she couldn’t help it. She touched her fingers to his cheek. “We can’t have this. You’re white about the mouth, partner.” She pulled out a pill bottle, dumped out another pill into her palm, filled a paper cup at the drinking fountain and gave it to him. “Don’t even speak to me until you’ve got it down your gullet.”
    At that moment, Savich would have taken the whole bottle if she’d given it to him.
    “This is a surprise,” Miles said, stroking his jaw as he looked at Savich. “He didn’t even try to kiss you off.”
    “No, he’s not stupid,” Sherlock said as her fingers touched his forearm, willing her fear for him to subside.
    Savich liked her touching him. It felt good. And because she knew him well, because she hated his pain, she continued to stroke him.
    “He needs to rest, but of course he doesn’t get enough.”
    “Let’s have lunch first,” Savich said, “and yes, Miles, we’ve got some stuff to tell you. Don’t fret, sweetheart, I’ll be okay. These pills work pretty fast.” He lifted her hand off his forearm, and lightly squeezed her fingers.
    “Dillon, why don’t you sit down over here for just a moment?”
    “Let it go, Sherlock,” and she did, as hard as it was. She wished at that moment that they were lying on the beach in Maui and had nothing more to do than suck mai tais through a straw.
    At Maude’s Burgers, everyone ordered a thick hamburger except for Savich, who had grilled West Coast swordfish on sourdough bread, which was interesting but had never been close to San Francisco.
    “He’s a vegetarian,” Sherlock said to Katie. “Sometimes, on special occasions like this, he has fish.”
    “Why is this special, Uncle Dillon?” Keely asked, chewing each long French fry down to the grease.

    “It’s special because both you and Sam are heroes. And because we’re all here together. Sam, it doesn’t look