• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

Adam came down on his knees in front of her. “Becca, look at me.”

“I was looking at you. You’re trying to lighten things up. You can’t. You can’t help me. Only I can do something here. I don’t want to look at you. Just because you’re stronger, well, never mind what you are, Sherlock got me first. It doesn’t matter. I’ve got to call Tyler. You can’t help.”

“All right.” He rose and offered her his hand. A big hand, she thought, a strong hand, and she wished she could take it and bite it again, then flip him over the back of the sofa.

“You all right, sweetheart?” Thomas said, handing her a cup of tea.

Sweetheart? He’d called her sweetheart and it seemed to have come out naturally, not a fake endearment. It nearly made her cry. No one had ever called her sweetheart before. Her mom had always called her honey, or when she was a little girl she’d been Muffin.

She didn’t let it touch her. She couldn’t, not now at any rate. “I’ve got to call Tyler, tell him that I’m coming right away to Riptide and that none of you are coming with me. Do you understand? Sam dies if anyone comes with me. No, Adam, just shut up. I will not let that little boy die.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Thomas said slowly. “He wants you, that’s true, but he wants me more. Why doesn’t he want both of us to come to Riptide? The package deal he always wanted? What’s he up to now?”

Becca said, “I don’t know. I agree that it doesn’t make any sense at all, but that’s what he wrote in his note to Tyler. He told Tyler how to contact me, and then when I did call, Tyler was to tell me to come to Riptide alone. Not to tell either of you or Sam would die.”

“Note?” Sherlock said. “What note?”

“The kidnapping note,” Becca said. “Krimakov left it on Sam’s bed after he took him. Told him exactly what to do, told him that if I didn’t come, he’d kill Sam, just like Linda Cartwright.”

“It might not even matter now,” Sherlock said, “but if we can get the note, I’ll give it to our handwriting experts. Also, they can compare the handwriting to other documents that you have, Thomas, with Krimakov’s handwriting on them.”

Thomas said, “There are some samples of his handwriting, yes, but what good would it do to analyze it? You’re right, it probably doesn’t even matter now. We’re coming down to the endgame here.” Thomas sighed and streaked his fingers through his hair. “I wish to God I knew what kind of gambit Krimakov was playing.”

Sherlock said, “I do, too, but since we don’t, we have to keep using the tools we’ve got. If he gives us the time, if he continues with his delaying tactics, and more distractions, I can get the two samples of his handwriting compared. Maybe they could tell us how far over the edge he’s gone, or maybe prove that all he’s done is cold manipulation and butchery, and he’s as sane as you and I. Our people are good, trust me. There’s no reason not to do it.”

“I’ve got to talk to Tyler,” Becca said, rising, throwing off the afghan. “Reassure him. Tell him what’s going on here.”

Sherlock said, “At the very least, if there’s still time, the analysis and comparison will let us know what we’re up against. Trust me on this. Get that note from Tyler, Becca.”

“Yes, she will,” Thomas said. “Go make your call, Becca.”

Becca nodded and walked to the phone, pulling the small address book out of her purse as she walked. She looked up Tyler McBride’s number. She dialed.

After three rings, Tyler answered, his voice frantic. “Becca? Is that you?”

“Yes, Tyler.”

“Thank God. Where are you? What are you doing? What’s happening?”

“Okay, Tyler, just listen to me. Here’s the plan. It’s the only way to handle this, so don’t yell at me. We’re all coming up to Riptide, but not together. No, just be quiet and listen. We’re all going to trickle in. He’ll never know there’s anyone else but me in Riptide. I’ll come directly to your house, we’ll speak, he’ll see me, then I’ll go to Jacob Marley’s house. He’ll come for me there. You know it. I know it.” She drew