Riptide

“Yes,” Thomas said, smiling up at his daughter. “It’s a very good start.”

Adam was now walking up and down the corridor, ill-tempered, his back throbbing, his arm throbbing, feeling useless, wanting to hit someone because he felt so damned helpless. At least the damned catheter was out.

He was carping and carrying on when Becca laughed and said, “All right, you’ve finally driven me away. My father is doing fine, the pneumonia is kicked, and I’m going to Riptide to see Sam.”

“No,” he said, leaning against the hospital corridor wall, utterly appalled. He wanted to grab her and tuck her under his arm. “I don’t want you going there alone. I don’t trust McBride. I don’t want you out of my sight. I’d really like it if you would sleep in my bed with me and I could hold on to you all night.”

She realized she’d rather like that as well, but she said, “There’s no danger, Adam. How could there be? I’m not going to see Tyler. I’m going to see what’s going on with Sam. Don’t forget, Adam, it’s my fault that Krimakov even took him, my fault that Sam got traumatized. I’ve got to fix it. Tyler has nothing to do with it.”

“Dammit, it was Krimakov’s fault. Give it another couple of days, Becca, and I’ll go with you.”

“Adam, you can barely get to the bathroom by yourself now. You’ll stay here and just concentrate on getting well. Spend time with my father. And maybe you could work on all those church dates as well. None of your family can come to an agreement.”

“Well, are you still going to marry me?”

“Is that your final offer?”

He looked both pissed and chagrined. Suddenly he laughed. “I swear I’ll change that green tile. Do you mind moving from New York, living down here? We’re really close to your dad. Is he going to rebuild?”

“We haven’t discussed it yet. Yes, Adam, I’ll marry you, particularly if you change that bathroom tile. Consider it a done deal. I have no real ties to Albany. Goodness, there are so many folk around here who need good speechwriters. I’ll make a fortune. Now, you can’t flirt with any of the hospital staff anymore, you got that? I’m considering that we’re now officially engaged.

“Ah, good, here’s Hatch. Is that cigarette smoke I smell, Hatch? Adam won’t like that. He’ll probably take a good strip off you for that, maybe hit you with his walker.”

She watched the two men argue, smiling. Sherlock came up behind her and said, “Everything nearly back to normal, I see. Let’s watch CNN. Gaylan Woodhouse is going to be on in about a minute. He’s speaking for the president, and you’re going to love this spin.”

Good grief, she thought, watching the TV, she was now a heroine. Someone, she had no idea who, had somehow taken a photo, very grainy, showing her facing Krimakov on that burning roof, her white nightgown blowing around her legs, her Coonan held in front of her in both hands, pointed straight at Krimakov. Gaylan Woodhouse wouldn’t shut up. “Oh dear,” Becca said. “Oh dear.”

“It’s been a long haul, and you came through,” Sherlock said, and hugged her tightly. “I’m really glad to have met you, Becca Matlock, and I like your being a heroine. I have this feeling that you, Adam, and your father will be coming to lots of barbecues over at our house, begi

“Not yet,” Becca said. “Hey, I’m so famous maybe I’ll ask if the churches want to place bids for our ceremony.”

“You’re a writer, you could write a book, make a gazillion bucks.”

“She’ll have to make it fast,” Savich said, coming up and squeezing his wife against his chest, “fame is fleeting nowadays. Another week, Becca, and you’ll be a last-page footnote in People magazine.”

The next day, Becca fle w to Portland, Maine, rented a Ford Escort, and drove up to Riptide. It was cooler this trip, the breeze sharp off the ocean. The first person she saw was Sheriff Gaffney, and he was frowning at her, his thumbs hooked in his wide leather belt.

“Ms. Matlock,” he said, and gave her his best intimidating cop look.

“Hi, Sheriff,” she said, gri

For the life of him, Sheriff Gaffney couldn’t think of a thing to say except “Humph,” which he did. “I’ll want to speak to you about that skeleton,” he called after her. “I’ll come to Jacob Marley’s house this evening. Will you be there?”

“Certainly, Sheriff, I’ll be there.”

Then she ran into Bernie Bradstreet, the owner and editor of The Riptide Independent. He looked very tired, as if he’d been ill. “My wife’s been sick,” he said, then he tried to smile at her. “At least all your troubles are over, Ms. Matlock.” He didn’t mention how she’d lied to him that long-ago night when Tyler had taken her out to di

And then she was knocking on Tyler’s front door just as the sun was setting. The insects were begi

Tyler’s car wasn’t in the driveway.

Where was he? Where was Sam?

She didn’t understand it. She’d told him when she’d be here and she was only ten minutes off. She got back in her rental car and cut over to Bellado

She turned the key in the lock and shoved the door open.

“Hello, Becca.”

It was Tyler, standing there, Sam in his arms, smiling really big. “We decided to wait for you here. I left the car just down the road. We wanted to surprise you. I’ve got champagne for us and some lemonade for Sam. I even bought a carrot cake; I remembered that you liked it. Come in.” He set Sam down, and Sam stood there staring at her.

Tyler walked to her and wrapped his arms around her back. He kissed the top of her head. “I like your hair. It’s natural again. God, you’re beautiful, Becca.” He kissed her again, pulled her more tightly against him. “I thought you were beautiful in college, but you’re even more beautiful now.”

She tried to ease away from him, but he didn’t let her go.

He gently pushed her chin up with his thumb and kissed her. It was a deep kiss, and he wanted to make it deeper, he wanted her to open her mouth. Sam was standing there saying nothing, just looking at them.

“No, Tyler, please, no.” She shoved hard against his chest and he quickly stepped back.

He was still smiling, breathing hard, his eyes bright with excitement, with sex, lust. “You’re right. Sam is standing right here. He’s four, not a baby anymore. We shouldn’t do this in front of him.” He turned to smile down at his son. “Well, Sam, here’s Becca. What do you have to say to her?”

Sam didn’t have anything to say. He just stood there, his small face blank of all expression. It scared her to her toes. She walked slowly to him and went down on her knees in front of him. “Hello, Sam,” she said, and lightly touched her fingertips to his cheek. “How are you, sweetie? I want you to listen to me now. And believe me because I wouldn’t lie to you. That bad man who kidnapped you, who tied you up and put you in the basement, I swear to you that he’s gone now, forever. He’ll never come back, ever, I can promise you that. I took care of him.”