Riptide

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
    suddenly exactly where she was. He would sound nuts. She didn't
    need anyone else around her sounding nuts.
    "How long will my wrist be numb this time?"
    "Not more than five minutes. Don't whine. Did you expect me
    to let you shoot me?"
    "No, I guess not."
    "You look tired. Better if you'd taken a nap in your bed than
    come out here to snore beneath the tree. It just might, not be all

that safe." That was one of the best understatements out of his
    mouth yet.
    "Why? The only one who was ever lurking outside here was
    you, and you're not lurking out here anymore. You've moved right
    into the house." She sighed. "I don't know why I came out here. I
    just couldn't stand to stay in the house alone anymore."
    He said again,"You scared me, Becca. Please don't take off again
    without leaving me a note."
    She looked up at him, her face so pale now it was nearly as white
    as winter sleet, and said in a dead voice, "He's found me. He called."
    "He?" But he knew. Oh yeah, the stalker had found her and he
    hated it, had dreaded it, but he'd known it would happen. This guy
    was good. Too good. He had contacts. Whoever he was, he knew
    people, knew how to use them to get what he wanted. Adam was
    sure he'd been on her the minute she'd left New York. Still, it surprised
    him. More than that it scared him to his soul. He hated that
    surge of fear, deep and corroding. He could almost smell the
    flames. The fire was coming closer.
    "All right, so he called. Get a grip." He stopped, grinned at her.
    "Oh yeah, I'm talking to myself, not you. Now, what did he say?
    Did he tell you how he found you? Did he say anything that would
    help us pinpoint him?"
    He'd said "us." She had felt utterly frozen inside, then he'd said
    "us." Slowly, she began to feel a shift deep inside her. She wasn't
    alone anymore.
    She looked up at him and smiled. "I'm glad you're here, Adam."
    "Yeah," he said. "Me, too."
    "Even though you're gay?"
    He looked at her mouth, then jumped