Fixing Perfect by Therese M. Travis

Sam.
    “It’s crossed off the list,” Bricker said.
    “I don’t know.” Sam stared at the row of windows so dirty they appeared gray.
    “We did. In fact, two teams went through, remember?”
    “Yeah, I do. But I’ve got a feeling.” He didn’t explain it.
    “So you want to go in again? Fine, you go. I’m not wasting my time.” Bricker turned away, skirting the building and kicking aside boxes and debris in the alley that ran between the warehouse and the service area of a hotel.
    Sam pried open the crooked door enough to slip inside. The windows allowed very little light, and he thumbed his flashlight on, sweeping the beam across the gritty floor.
    Both he and Bricker, as well as the other team, had been thorough in their searches. God, am I crazy? Am I wasting time?
    The killer had left Lehanie out in the open. He’d wanted people to find her. He’d wanted to show off his work. So why did Sam have such a strong urge to look again among the hidden, and the trash? Guide me, Father.
    A rat scuttled from a pile of boxes, and Sam directed the light toward the corner. Something had shifted them. Not the other team. They’d gone through before Sam. But something—something that interested a rat.
    A lot of rats. Three more fled before his light. He heard much scurrying, and several boxes fell as he watched.
    Oh, dear God, please.
    He crept forward, shoving empty cartons out of his way with his foot, making sure nothing he wanted to find could be hiding in them. After all, Cynthia was only two.
    The smell hit him with sudden intensity. Not a dead body, but feces. He stared down at the diaper ripped from the back, chewed by rats, and the chubby leg protruding, and jerked out his phone. “Bricker, get in here. I found the baby.”
    Setting the flashlight on the edge of a box, so the child could see him as well as he could her, he squatted next to her. “Hey, Cynthia.”
    “Mommy!” she wailed.
    “I know. We’re gonna take you to your mommy right now.”
    She held out her arms, and he reached for her. No matter how disgusting her condition, he could not deny her the comfort of loving arms, hands that wouldn’t hurt, hands that didn’t want to paint her or kill her.
    And he could only thank God that he found her before the rats finished with the diaper.
     
    
     
    He watched Sam carry the kid out. Fair enough. It’d be a wasted death if they hadn’t found her. For half a minute, he wished her back. He could do her hair and eyes just like he’d done Lehanie’s and put her in one of the sky blue outfits he loved and set her up with some stuffed mermaids.
    But he couldn’t have done that yet. It would give too much away. Better to let this one go and find another little girl for later. There were plenty of babies on the island.
    And there was always Becca.
    He nodded sharply, once, and headed for home. Becca was at home.
    He almost forgot the kid had been found, until he heard the celebrating. He ran toward the crowd, whooping and hollering with the rest of them. He felt someone staring at him, but the best way to avoid suspicion, he’d found, was to ignore it.
    He clapped Sam on the back, congratulated him, and let everyone there assume he was as surprised as they were.
    No problem. There were plenty of other kids wandering around.
     
    
     
    Clouds dimmed the day but not the players’ faces the next Saturday. Robin looked at each team member in turn as they gathered around Coach Danny for the opening prayer. Robin reached out for Kerry’s hand on one side, and Sam covered her fingers, clutched on her crutch, on the other. She bent her head, and a sharp, chill breeze tugged at the hair already clasped in a barrette at the back of her head.
    Sam’s grip tightened and relaxed, and she glanced at him. His lips tipped up at the corners, more reassurance than actual happiness. But then, she could tell he was worried.
    Danny’s voice rose and even the squirmiest of players stopped talking. “We ask