man, Becca. If something’s wrong, Adam, she’ll tell us.”
“I still don’t like it. Another thing: I’ve been thinking that maybe
you would be safer at my house. At least you could stay there some
of the time.”
Her left eyebrow went up. “Where do you live, Mr. Carruthers?”
“About three miles down the road.”
She stared at him. “Then why are you staying here? Why aren’t
you going home at all?”
“I’m needed here,” he said, studiously rubbing the barrel of his
Delta Elite to an even higher shine. “Besides, I do go home. Where
do you think I get clean clothes?”
“Get over it, Adam,” she said, and went to get her small address
book.
“Use my private line,” Thomas said. “It’s untraceable. Adam,
your gun looks good.”
“You’ll like my house,” Adam called after her. “It’s a showcase,
it’s the prettiest place you’ve ever seen. Plants don’t like me, but
everything else does. I have a housekeeper come in twice a week
and she even makes me casseroles.”
Becca turned to face him. “What kind?”
“Tuna, ham and sweet potato, whatever. Do you like casseroles?”
“You bet,” she said.
He heard her laugh as she walked away.
He wanted to hear what she said to Tyler McBride, he really did,
but he didn’t move. Neither did Thomas, who stood there leaning
against the refrigerator, his arms crossed over his chest.
“I’m giving her privacy,” Adam said. “It’s tough.”
“Yeah, and you want her to think about your house, don’t you?”
“It’s a very nice house–an old Georgian brick two-story, lovely
yard that I pay a big chunk to keep looking good. Remember I
told you how my mom talked me into buying the property some
four years before, told me it was a good investment. She was right.”
Thomas said, “Parents usually are.”
Adam grunted and looked at his reflection in the gun barrel.
“McBride wants her, that’s why he’s called. He wants her to know
that he’s still laying claim. Damn, I don’t trust him, Thomas. He’ll
use Sam if he has to. He can’t have her.”
Thomas said, grinning now, “I can see your scowl on your face
in the barrel of the gun. No, more than a scowl.”
Adam grunted. “How about seriously pissed off?”
What the hell was she saying to Tyler McBride? Worse, what was
he saying to her?
Chapter 24
In her father’s study, the door closed, Becca was leaning on the big
mahogany desk, so pale, so off balance that she felt transparent. She
knew that if she looked in a mirror, she wouldn’t see anything at
all. “No, Tyler,” she said again. “I can’t believe this.”
“No, Becca, it’s happened. Sam is gone. Gone from his bed
when I looked in on him this morning. There was this note pinned
to his blanket that said I had to call you, that I could get to you by
calling the office of the CIA director. So I did. And now you’ve
called.”
“No, Sam can’t be gone,” Becca said, but she knew that he was,
she just knew it.
“He wrote in the note that I wasn’t to say a word to anyone, not
the local cops, not anyone, just you. He wrote that he’d kill Sam if
I said anything.”
She heard his breathing hitch before he said, “Thank God you
called, Becca. Jesus, what am I going to do?”
Becca heard the awful deadening fear in his voice, the anger, the helplessness.
“Don’t call Sheriff Gaffney,Tyler. Don’t. Let me think.”
He nearly yelled,”Of course I won’t call Sheriff Gaffney. Do you
think I’m nuts?”Then he added, more calmly now, “He wrote that
you had to come to Riptide.”
Oh, God, she thought, and said, “Just a second, Tyler, let me get
Adam.”
“No!” She nearly dropped the phone he’d yelled so loud. Then
she heard him draw a deep breath. “No, Becca, please, not yet.
He says if you tell anyone–including your father–he’ll kill Sam.
Dammit, I didn’t even know you had a father until the media went
nuts over you and him. Jesus, Becca, the guy’s just murdered four
more people. He’s got Sam. Do you hear me? That maniac’s got