Riptide

of her head. She was keeping it together. Being pissed was
    good. He was pleased and inordinately relieved. He was afraid,
    though, that being an asshole was a bit too easy for him. He noticed
    again that the tilt of her head was just like her father's.
    "So," Sherlock said some thirty minutes later at the kitchen table
    after she'd chewed a bite of tuna salad that Savich had whipped up,
    "this Tyler McBride seems hung up on you, Becca, and he's wildly
    jealous of Adam. Could he be a problem?"
    "He already is a problem," Adam said, waving a dill pickle. "The
    guy attacked me. I wasn't doing a single thing and he attacked me."
    "You held back from hurting him," Sherlock said. "That was
    smart. Mr. McBride is not only very afraid for Becca, he also feels
    threatened because another male showed up. It's strange. Here he
    knows that Becca's in trouble. You'd think that the more folks to
    help, the better."
    It was just the way he should have felt the entire time, Adam
    thought. Bottom line, just like Tyler, he'd felt threatened. And the
    women knew it.
    "I'm glad you didn't hit Savich," Sherlock said, seeing quite
    clearly what he was thinking. "I would have done more than clip
    you on the jaw if you had, Adam." She then gave him a sunny smile,
    raised the plate, and said, "Anyone want another tuna sandwich?"
    Becca said, "Or would you prefer raw meat?"
    "That's really quite enough, Becca," Adam said, finally annoyed.
    "I'm going to take another sandwich and go talk to the guys, see
    how they're doing. The moon's nearly full tonight. It's quiet. Don't
    worry about the boyfriend being out there to shoot me. I'll take
    my gun. Oh yeah, if I had attacked Savich, I would have cold-cocked
    him before you could have hurt me, Sherlock."
    He left the kitchen.
    Sherlock couldn't help herself; she laughed. Savich looked back

and forth between the two women, stood slowly, nabbed a sandwich,
    then said, "I think it's a little thick in here. See you later,
    Sherlock. I'm going to go give my mom a call and see how she's
    faring with our boy."
    "Call me when you've got him on the phone," Sherlock said,
    then took a big bite out of an apple.
    Savich walked to the living room, where the only phone in the
    whole house was. He heard Adam whistling outside.
    He hated to lie to his mom when she asked him exactly what he
    and Sherlock were doing, but he did, and cleanly. "It's a background
    check on someone very important who's being considered
    for the Supreme Court. All very hush-hush and that's why Jimmy
    Maitland asked me and Sherlock to take care of it. Don't worry,
    Mom, we'll be back in a couple of days. I met a really cute little
    boy today. It seems his mother abandoned him and his father over
    a year ago and he hasn't said much since then. Is that Sean gurgling
    in the background? I'd sure like to speak to him, Mom."

Chapter 16

    The phone rang sharply at midnight. Everyone heard it, but Becca
    "was the fastest. She was on her feet, running down the front stairs
    to the living room by the second ring.
    It was him, she knew it, and she wanted to talk to him. There
    wasn't the need to keep him on for any specified length of time.
    The slammer was instantaneous, the identification there in a flash.
    Her hand shook as she picked up the phone. "Hello?"
    "I don't know if I want to be your boyfriend anymore. You shot
    my dog, Rebecca."
    Shot his dog? "That's a lie and you know it. Besides, no animal
    would have anything to do with you. You're too crazy and sick."
    "His name was Gleason. He was very fat and you shot and killed
    him. I'm really upset, Becca. I'm coming to get you now. Not long.
    Hey, honey, you want to send flowers to poor Gleason's funeral?"
    "Why don't you bury yourself with him, you murdering psycho?"
    Adam heard his hitching breath, the flutter of rage. She'd gotten
    to him. Good.
    He saw Savich write down the name and address from the slammer
    and sit down on the sofa, opening his laptop. He pressed close
    to Becca.
    "You got that big guy there with you, Becca? Listening to me?"
    "Yeah, I'm here listening to you, you pathetic piece of shit.
    Cheer up, you killed the front door, but we're so good we even
    brought it back to life. It probably looks better than you do."

Becca could feel the black fury in the silence that flooded over
    the phone line. She could nearly feel the stench of it--hot and rancid,
    that fury. "I'll kill you for that, you bastard."
    "You already tried, didn't you? Not much good, are