should collect some of these. Patrick has been distracted.'
Sam crouched next to me. 'I'm telling you again, Kate, you can trust me.'
Saying no more, he quietly gathered stones with me till I called to Patrick.
We climbed the steps and found our snowman sweating, its surface shining in the warm afternoon sun. We pressed the shells in place, then worked on the number for his 'jersey.' Patrick chose 23.
'Twenty-three!' Sam exclaimed. 'Are you saying my ears look like clamshells and my hair like dry seaweed?'
Patrick cackled. 'Yup.'
When our hockey player was complete, we went for a walk. Patrick wanted to show Sam and me his tricks on the monkey bars. As we passed the garage, November sauntered out of the bushes and followed us to the workers' cottages, where the old play set was. Sam glanced sideways at me, as if to ask if this was the cat I'd told him about.
When the play equipment was in sight, Patrick raced ahead.
'It's not exactly state-of-the-art,' Sam remarked, observing the large metal structures.
'It was built by a groundskeeper from equipment he salvaged. Patrick has a new set beyond the pool, but the swings aren't half as tall, and the plastic slide is slow. He prefers this one.'
I caught my breath as I watched Patrick swing himself around a bar and narrowly miss whacking his skull. 'Don't forget where your head is.'
I guess it's genetic,' Sam remarked. 'Guys just have to show off.'
'Watch this! Is everybody watching?' Patrick shouted.
'We see you.'
He leaped from a high bar to the ground.
'Good jump!'
'Want to see another?' he called, and didn't wait for our reply.
Sam leaned over and brushed snow off a bench, then gestured for me to sit down. 'Which house did you live in?' he asked, turning to gaze at the cottages behind us.
I turned with him. 'The one on the end with the green trim.'
'And that's where your dad painted?'
'No, Adrian gave him part of the orangerie-the light was better there. Sam, since you mentioned Dad, there's something'-l swallowed in mid-sentence, still awkward with the truth-'something I need to tell you about. Yesterday I learned that Dad was the father of Ashley and that my mother discovered it two weeks before Ashley died. That doesn't mean she killed Ashley,' I added quickly. 'I'm telling you only because I said your father went after her without a motive. The truth is, your father had a good reason to chase us that night.'
Sam nodded.
'You're not surprised.'
'No, I knew about your father and Corinne.'
'You what? Why didn't you tell me? How long have you known?'
He shrugged. 'I guess I was eleven or twelve when I asked my mother to tell me everything she knew about the case. My father left behind some notes.
He always typed separate notes for the client-he never handed over his personal notebook. She had kept it and told me what was in it.'
I was outraged. 'You knew all along about my dad. Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you correct me when I said my mother had no motive?'
'I didn't want to hurt you.'
'I'm tired of people lying to me!'
'I didn't lie,' he answered calmly. 'I just didn't tell you everything I knew.'
'Omitting important facts is the same as lying-it's the kind of lying my father specialized in.'
'Maybe he didn't want to hurt you,' Sam suggested.
'Or maybe he was ashamed,' I said. 'Tell me this: If you discovered my mother was guilty, would you go to the police with that information?'
He looked me steadily in the eye. 'Yes.'
'So if you would do it then, why save me the grief now?'
'Because I don't want to hurt you unnecessarily.'
'Don't you understand? It hurts twice as much when you finally discover the truth.'
He was silent for a moment. 'I guess I never thought about that. I was trying to do the right thing for you.'
'Stop trying. I don't need you to look out for me.'
'Why does it bother you if I do, Kate?' he asked, his anger surfacing. 'What's the big deal?'
The big deal was that it made me vulnerable, ripe for abandonment. But that was telling him too much. 'You can't ask me to trust you and, at the same time-' A shout froze the words in my throat. Sam and I turned.
Patrick hung from a metal bar high above the snow. He had climbed to the top of the swing set, onto the beam from which the swings were suspended, halfway between the tall A-frames that were meant to support it. One end of the beam had broken loose from its frame.
I can't-l can't hold on,' he cried.
Sam and I rushed forward. The ten meters between Patrick and us seemed to stretch as long as a playing field. Patrick dangled helplessly, kicking his legs. I saw his mittens slipping on the bar. He lost his grip.
'Patrick!'
He fell, landing on his back in the snow. I heard a low, grinding sound and looked up quickly. The long bar above him was pulling loose from its connection to the other frame.
'Roll away!' I screamed. 'Roll away-the bar's going to fall!' But he lay there stunned.
Sam reached him first. Grabbing Patrick's feet, he dragged him away from the swing set. Seconds later, the end of the heavy bar broke free. Chains clanked as it dropped on top of the swings and plunged into the snow.
'Patrick,' Sam said, breathing hard, 'are you all right?'
I knelt on the other side of Patrick. He stared up at Sam, then turned his head to see me. There was something strange about the look in his eyes-a distance, a coolness in their blue light.
'Say something,' I begged.
He gazed at me for a long moment, then frowned. You re crying.
'Of course I am,' I said, hastily wiping my cheek. 'You could have been seriously hurt.' I m not.
He didn't appear shaken, didn't seem to understand how close he had come to harm. November ventured near, making a circle around us, continually sniffing.
'What were you doing on the top bar?' Sam asked, his voice rough.
'Playing.'
'That's a support for the swings, not a bar to climb on,' Sam scolded.
Patrick's eyelashes lowered, then he looked up again. 'It was Ashley's idea.'
'It was a very bad idea.'
'She dared me.'
'Then she's an idiot,' Sam replied gruffly.
Patrick's eyes widened. 'You had better be careful what you say. She can hear you.'
Sam shook his head, then rose and walked over to examine the bar that had fallen.
'Can you wriggle your fingers and toes, Patrick?' I asked, gently brushing the snow from his hair.
He pushed my hands away and sat up. 'Leave me alone.'
Bewildered by his response, I left him sitting in the snow and joined Sam.
'How could this have happened?' I asked. 'How could the swing set have fallen apart like that?'
'Looks like some bolts are missing,' he replied, then turned toward Patrick. 'You were awfully lucky, buddy.'
'I'm lucky Ashley is my friend. She watches out for me.
