The FBI Thrillers Collection Books 1-5 - Catherine Coulter [695]
Everyone stared at Sam. He looked quite pleased with himself. He grinned at Becca.
“Sam, that’s great.” Becca came down on her knees beside him. “I did come for you, didn’t I? That’s right, sweetie. Take another drink of your hot chocolate. It’s good, isn’t it? Now, tell us what you were doing when he got you.”
But Sam didn’t say anything more. He looked once at his father, yawned, and shut down. It was the strangest thing she’d ever seen. Sam just shut his eyes and went to sleep, slumping against Tyler’s chest. One minute smiling, then just gone.
“He’s a very brave little kid,” Adam said, rising. “If it’s okay with you, McBride, can we speak to him in the morning? At least try?”
Tyler looked like he wanted to shoot all of them, but in the end, he slowly nodded. “I’m taking him home now.”
Adam looked at Becca, then said, “Nah, forget about us talking to him again. Sam probably doesn’t have all that much more to tell us that would be useful. It’s done and over. Please don’t tell the sheriff about it. We’re leaving right now. I guess whatever it was Krimakov wanted, he got.”
“But what the hell did he want?”
“I don’t know, Tyler,” Becca said. She kissed Sam’s cheek. “He’s a very brave little boy.”
“Will you come back to see him again?”
“Yes,” she said. “I will. I promise. We just have to get all this business resolved first.”
When Tyler was out the front door, Adam said suddenly, “Hold it right there, Becca. Your back. With all the excitement, I forgot about your back. He shot you with something. Let me see.”
But there wasn’t much to see. A bit of blood, a small hole, nothing more. “Why did he do this?”
“I don’t know,” Becca said to him over her shoulder, “but I promise I feel just fine. Here’s the dart he shot into my shoulder. You see the rolled paper around it.”
Adam unrolled the paper, frowned as he read it. “The bastard. What is he thinking? What is his plan? I hate this. He’s controlling us. All we’re doing is reacting to what he initiates. Damnation.”
“I know. But we’ll turn it around. Come on, Adam, let’s get out of here. I’m very relieved that Sheriff Gaffney hasn’t found his way here yet. Where is my father? Sherlock and Savich?”
“Sherlock went back to Washington with the handwriting samples. Your father, Savich, Hawley, and Cobb are waiting for us. I’ll tell them to meet us at the airport; we’re out of here.”
They were driving away in her rented Toyota when she thought she saw Sheriff Gaffney’s car in the distance. She stomped down on the gas.
She looked over at Adam’s profile. He looked pissed and very tired. Not physically tired, but a defeated tired. She understood because she felt the same way.
Nothing made any sense. He’d gotten her here, he’d shot her with a dart in the shoulder, and delivered Sam. Nothing else.
Where was Krimakov? What in God’s name was he planning to do now?
Dr. Ned Breaker, a physician whose son Savich had gotten back safely after a kidnapping some years before, was waiting at Thomas’s house when they arrived.
All the men shook hands, Savich thanking him for coming. “She refused to go to a hospital.”
“No one you work with ever does,” Dr. Breaker said.
“This is Becca, Thomas’s daughter. She’s your patient, Ned.”
“Dr. Breaker,” she said, “I’m really okay, nothing’s wrong. Adam already checked me out.”
Adam said, “And now it’s time for the real doctor to step up and have a look at the wound in your shoulder. We have no idea what was on that shaft that Krimakov shot into you. Be quiet, Becca, and do as you’re told, for once.”
She’d honestly forgotten about her shoulder. It didn’t hurt. Adam had washed it with soap and water and put a Band-Aid over it. She was frowning when Thomas said, “Please, Becca.”
“All right then.” She took off her sweater and lifted her hair out of the way.
“Come into the light,” Dr. Breaker said. She felt his fingers on the wound, gently pressing, pushing the flesh together, perhaps to see if any liquid or poison or God knew what came out. Finally, he said, “This is very strange. You