Riptide

have been Sam's mother.
    But once you were with me, you wouldn't have spent all that much
    time with him. Sam would have understood that you were mine
    first, that he really had no claim on you, not like I did."
    She was cold, so cold her teeth would soon be chattering. This
    lovely man who'd seemed so kind, so gentle--he was crazy, probably
    he'd been born crazy.
    "Melissa was only eighteen, Tyler. Both of you were too young
    to run off."
    "No," he said. "I was ready. I believed she was. She was faithless.
    She would have left me, just like Ann did."
    How many other women had he believed to be faithless? How
    many others had he killed, then hidden their bodies? Becca looked

around for some sort of weapon, anything, but there was nothing.
    No, she was wrong. There were about half a dozen bricks stacked
    against the gaping open wall, about six feet away from her.
    She took a step sideways.
    He said thoughtfully now, "I think I'll bury you close to Ann. Out
    under that elm tree. But you don't deserve a nice service, Becca, not
    like the one I did for Ann. She was Sam's mother, after all."
    "I don't want to be buried there," she said and took another step.
    "I don't want to die,Tyler. I haven't done anything to you. I came
    here to be safe, but I wasn't ever safe, was I? It was all an illusion.
    You were just waiting, waiting for another woman to love, to possess,
    to imprison so she'd want out and then you could kill her, do
    it all over again and again. You need help, Tyler. Let me call someone."
    She took another step toward the bricks.
    He began walking toward her. "I would rather have held you
    close, Becca. If only--"
    There was the sound of a car pulling up outside.
    "The sheriff's here," Becca said quickly. "Just listen. It's over,
    Tyler. The sheriff won't let you hurt me now." She took another
    quick step to the side. Three feet, just another three feet. Tyler
    looked up and frowned when he heard a car door slam. He cursed
    even as he ran toward her, his hands outstretched, his fingers curved
    inward.
    Becca leapt toward the pile of bricks, went down on her knees,
    and grabbed one. He was on her then, his hands around her neck,
    and she slammed the brick against his shoulder. His fingers tightened,
    tightened, and his face was blurring above her. She raised the
    brick again, brought it upward slowly, and he twisted just as she
    heaved it toward him. It struck his face and he howled with agony,
    and his fingers loosened for just a moment. She gulped in air and
    struck again. He sent his fist against her head, and she saw blinding

flashes of light, felt the pain sear through her head, knew she
    couldn't hold on. She was losing and she would die because she
    wasn't strong enough. She tried to raise the brick again but she just
    couldn't.
    "You faithless bitch, you're just like all the rest of them!" His fingers
    tightened around her neck.
    Sheriff Gaffney yelled, "Let her go,Tyler! Let her go!"
    Tyler was heaving now, his fingers strong, so strong, tighter and
    tighter now and she knew she would die.
    Then there was a shot. Tyler jerked over her. His hands fell away.
    She blinked and saw him turn slowly to face Sheriff Gaffney, standing
    in a cop's stance, his Ruger P85 pistol held tightly between his
    hands. "Get away from her,Tyler. Now! MOVE!"
    "No," Tyler said and lunged for her again. Another shot rang
    out. Tyler fell on top of her, his face beside her head. Dead weight,
    oh God, he was now dead weight.
    "Hold on, Ms. Matlock, and I'll get him off you."
    Sheriff Gaffney pulled Tyler away. He'd shot him once in the head
    and once in the back. He gave Becca a hand up. "You okay?"
    She was shaking, her teeth chattering, her throat burning, Tyler's
    blood all over her, and the healing burn on her arm was throbbing
    fiercely. She smiled up at him. "I think you're the most wonderful
    man in the whole world," she said. "Thank you for coming in the
    house. I prayed and prayed that you would see all the lights on and
    come in."
    "I heard little Sam crying," Sheriff Gaffney said.
    "Hello?"
    A small, thin voice. It was Sam and he was standing at the top of
    the basement stairs.
    "Oh, no," Becca said. "Oh, no."
    "I told him to wait in the kitchen for me. Damn. Okay, I'll get

Rachel over here. Can you pull yourself together, Ms. Matlock?
    We'll go upstairs and you can take care of little Sam until Rachel
    comes. He loves Rachel a whole lot, you'll see. Just keep hanging
    in there, ma'am." He shook his head, then