pointing her gun at him, so afraid she’d thought she’d choke on it.
But she hadn’t had time to shoot or to choke. He’d kicked the gun
out of her hand before she could draw two breaths. She closed her
eyes and leaned back against the tree. Would the stalker have just as
easy a time with her as Adam? Probably so.
She closed her eyes and let her mind shut down. She saw her
mother, laughing down at her–she couldn’t have been more than
seven years old and she was trying to do a cheerleading chant. Then
her mom had showed her how to do it and it had been so wonderful,
so perfect. Her mother’s laughter, so sweet, filling her, making
her warm and happy. She rubbed her wrist where Adam had
kicked the gun out of her hand. It didn’t hurt, but there was memory
of the cold numbness that had lasted for a good five minutes.
Where was he? Why had he left?
Adam was back at Jacob Marley’s house and he was so scared for
a moment he couldn’t think. She was gone. The door was open but
she was gone. There were even two lights on but she was gone. The
stalker had gotten her. No, no, that was ridiculous. He was the only
one who had found her.
He searched every damned room in the house. He saw his
carryall lying on top of his bed. It looked like she’d started unzipping
it and then, for whatever reason, had just walked out of the
room, leaving it there for him to see.
Why? Where had she gone?
Don’t panic. She’d gotten a call, something of an emergency.
She’d gone to Tyler’s house. It had to do with Sam. The kid was
sick, yeah, that was it.
But she wasn’t there, no one was home. He drove by the Food
Fort, the gas station, the hospital. Jesus, he could drive all over this
dammed town and not find her.
He drove slowly back to the house. He cut the engine and sat in
his black Jeep, his forehead against the leather-wrapped steering
wheel.
Where are you, Beaa?
He didn’t know why he raised his head and twisted around to
look toward the woods. He just did it. And in that instant he knew
she was there. But why? It took him three minutes to find her.
She was asleep. He came up on her very quietly. She didn’t stir.
She was leaning against the tree trunk, her right hand in her lap.
She was holding the Coonan, its polished silver stock gleaming
from the slashes of sun through the tree branches.
Had he seen that flash of silver? He didn’t know how he could
have, yet he’d known she was there. Why couldn’t he have had this
marvelous intuition before he’d scared himself spitless?
He came down on his haunches. He looked at her, wondering
what had made her come out here. He saw dried tear streaks down
her cheeks. Everything had gotten to be too much for her, and no
wonder. She looked pale, too thin. He looked at her fingers curled
around the trigger of the Coonan, at her nails, short and ragged.
He touched his fingertips to her cheek. Her flesh was soft to the
touch. He lightly stroked her cheek. Then, slowly, he shook her
shoulder.
“Becca. Come on, wake up.”
She came awake instantly at the sound of a man’s voice, the Cooan
up and ready to fire. She heard him curse, then felt the gun fly
out of her hand. Her wrist was instantly numb. “Not again.”
“Shit, you nearly shot me.”
It was Adam. She looked up at him and smiled. “I thought it was
him. Sorry.”
His heart began to slow. He eased down beside her. “What’s up?”
“What time is it?”
“Nearly four o’clock in the afternoon and I couldn’t find you
and I nearly lost my mind trying to figure out where you were. You
scared me, Becca. I thought he’d taken you.”
“No, I’m here. I’m sorry. I didn’t think. So how’d you find me?”
He shrugged. He didn’t want to tell her that he just knew very