Riptide

impossible that he was here, there was just no
    way. Maybe she was dead, too, and had seen what she wanted to
    see. Dead. It wasn't bad, truly it wasn't. She heard a sound, like a
    wounded animal. It had come from her, she realized, but then there
    was nothing at all.
    When she awoke, it was dark in her room except for a small
    bedside lamp that was turned to its lowest setting. The small hospital
    room was filled with shadows and quiet voices. There were needles
    in both of her arms connected to bags of liquid beside both
    sides of her bed. There were two men sitting in chairs next to the

window, in low conversation. One was Adam. The other was her
    father--oh yes, she believed him now, perhaps even understood a
    bit--and he'd called her his darling girl. She blinked several times.
    He didn't fade back into her mind. He remained exactly where he
    was. She saw him very clearly now, and she could do nothing but
    stare, breathe him in, settle his face, his features, his expressions, into
    her mind. He used his hands while he spoke to Adam, just like she
    did when she was trying to make a point, to convince someone to
    come around to her way of thinking. He was her father.
    She cleared her throat and said, "I know I'm not dead because I
    would kill for some water. And I don't believe that if someone is
    dead, she's particularly thirsty. May I please have some water?"
    Adam was on his feet in an instant. When he bent the straw into
    her mouth, she closed her eyes in bliss. She drank nearly the entire
    glass. She was panting when she finished. "Oh goodness, that was
    delicious."
    He didn't straighten, just placed one large hand on either side of
    her face on that hard hospital pillow. He was studying her face, her
    eyes. "You okay?"
    "Yes. I realize I'm not dead, so you must be real. I remember
    you told me that he threw me out of the car. Is there anything bad
    wrong with me?"
    "No, nothing bad. When he shoved you out of the car yesterday
    right there at Police Plaza, you were still wearing your nightgown.
    You got a lot of scrapes, a bruised elbow, but that's it. Now it's just
    a matter of getting the drug out of your system. They pumped your
    stomach. Nobody seems to know what the drug was, but it was
    potent. You should be just about clear of it now." He had to close
    his eyes a moment. He'd never been so afraid in his life, never. But
    she would live. She would be fine. He said, "Do the scrapes hurt?
    Would you like a couple of aspirin?"

"No, I'm all right." She licked her lips, looked over into the
    shadows, clutched his hand, and whispered, "Adam, he really is my
    father, isn't he? That story he told me, it's the truth? It happened that way?"
    "Yes, all of it is true. His name is Thomas Matlock. He never
    died, Becca. There is probably a whole lot more to tell you--"
    "Yes," Thomas said, "a lot more. So many stories to tell you
    about your mother, Becca."
    "My mom said I had dreamy eyes. You do, too. I have your eyes."
    Thomas smiled and his eyes twinkled. "Yes, I guess maybe you
    do have my eyes."
    Adam said, stroking his chin,"I'm not sure about that. The thing
    is, Becca, I've never before looked at his eyes in quite the same way
    I look at yours."
    Suddenly, all her attention was on Adam. She said, "Why not?"
    "Because--"Adam stopped dead in his tracks. She was actually
    coming on to him, teasing him. He loved it. He cleared his throat.
    "Now's not the time. We'll talk about that later, you can count
    on it. Now, are you up to telling us about this guy who took you?"
    "You mean Krimakov."
    Yes.
    "Just a moment, Adam. Sir, you sent Adam to protect me, didn't
    you?"
    "Yes, he did, but I screwed up, big-time."
    Becca said, "Sorry, Adam, but you can't take all the credit. What
    that monster did was very clever. None of us would have ever
    guessed that he came back to the house while we were out looking
    for him. How'd he get me out of the house without being seen?"
    "Sherlock figured that one out really fast. Also he knocked out
    Chuck and tied him up. That's how he escaped with you." He saw
    the worry in her eyes and quickly added, "He's okay---just a

headache for a while. I'm sorry, Becca, so sorry. Did he hurt you?"
    God, it hurt to say it, but he did: "Did he rape you?"
    "No. He licked my face. I told him not to do it again because it
    was creepy. That made him really mad, but you see, that drug he
    shot into me, it also calmed me, made me all loose, so when I woke
    up that first time I wasn't afraid of him.