Riptide

taking any chances at all.
    "Show time," Savich said after he checked his watch. "Go,
    Adam. Good luck. Becca, you keep down."
    Adam, with Becca on his heels, made a wide berth to the east
    side of the house. He walked slowly, quietly, Becca just as quiet,
    through the pine trees. When they got to the edge of the woods,
    Adam pulled up. Twenty feet, he thought, not more than twenty
    feet. He looked through the window at the other end of those
    twenty feet, right in front of him. There were curtains, thin, see-through
    white lace, but they weren't drawn over the single wide
    window. It was probably a bedroom. He turned to look at Becca,
    her face as pale as the fat moon overhead. He cupped her neck in
    his hand and pulled her close. He whispered against her cheek, "I
    want you to stay right here and keep alert. You stay hidden, do you
    hear me? You see him, you blow his head off, all right?"
    "Yes. Please be careful, Adam. Your vest is on correctly? You're
    protected?"
    "Yeah." He touched his fingertips to her cheek, then dropped
    his arm. "Stay alert."
    It seemed to Adam that it took him damned near an hour to run
    those twenty feet. Every step was long and heavy and so loud it
    shook the earth. It seemed to him that every night sound, from owls
    to crickets, stopped in those moments. Watching, he thought, they
    were all watching to see what would happen. Nothing from the

house, no movement, no sound, not a single quick shadow. He flattened
    against the side of the house, his pistol held between both
    hands, then slowly, slowly, he looked around into a bedroom filled
    with old white rattan furniture with cheap faded red cushions, a
    dim-watted bulb shining from an old Lava lamp on a nightstand
    next to a single bed. He saw nothing, no movement, no one. The
    cover on the twin-size bed barely covered the top of the mattress.
    He could see that there was nothing beneath the bed except big-time
    dust balls. No, no one in the room. If anyone was in there, he
    was in the closet, on the far side, the door closed. He saw that the door
    to the bedroom was also shut. He quietly tested the window, paused,
    listened intently. Still nothing. The window wasn't locked. He raised it
    slowly, the sounds of creaking and scraping against old paint as loud as
    thunder in his head.
    The window was some five feet off the ground. Because he had
    to, he stuck his pistol in the waistband of his jeans. He'd always
    hated doing that ever since he'd heard the story some decades back
    that an agent had stuck his gun in his pants and hit against a car
    fender in some weird way that pulled the trigger. He shot off the
    end of his dick. Damn, no, he didn't want to do that. He pulled
    himself up and eased his leg over the windowsill. He waved back at
    Becca, motioning for her to stay back and keep hidden. But, of
    course, she didn't. She trotted right up to the house and stuck out
    her hand for him to help her through the window.
    "Only if you stay hidden in here while I check the rest of the
    house."
    "I promise. Pull me up, hurry. I don't like this, Adam. She was
    alone here. I know he's done something bad."
    A lone owl hooted fifty feet away, from the safety of the woods
    and a tall tree. The moon glistened down on her face. Adam pulled
    her over the ledge and she swung her legs to the floor.

She watched him walk toward the closet door, listen intently,
    then jerk it open. Nothing. Then she watched him walk to the
    closed bedroom door, staying to the side, never directly facing the
    door. He slowly turned the knob, then smashed the door open,
    sending it banging back, and stepped into the hallway, his pistol up.
    Then he was gone. She stood there shaking, wishing she wasn't, listening
    to that owl, loud and clear, sounding from the forest.
    Where was he? Time passed as slowly as it did in the dentist's office.
    Maybe even slower.
    Finally, she heard him shout, "Becca, go back out the window
    and tell Savich it's okay for everyone to come in. He's not here."
    "No, I want to come out--"
    "Out the window, Becca. Please."
    When he was sure she was outside, Adam stepped out onto the
    sagging front porch with its scarred and peeling railing and said,
    "He's gone. Savich, come here a moment. The rest of you just stay
    outside and keep watch, okay?"
    "Yeah, we'll keep watch, but this is nuts," Tommy said and pulled
    out his pipe. "No one moved after we got here and we converged
    on the place not ten minutes after you called, Adam."
    Savich said slowly,