Riptide

break in the kitchen, drinking coffee. Then Thomas
    took them to his office to see some of his high-tech goodies. Then

they went back to the living room. It was then that Agent Cobb said to Becca, "May we try one more time to put you under?"
    She agreed. What else could she do?
    This time, though, Agent Cobb handed her a small white pill.
    "It's a Valium, to help relax you, to keep you from focusing on
    something else that might be holding you back. Nothing more
    than that. You game?"
    She took the Valium.
    And ten minutes later, when Agent Cobb said, "Are you completely
    relaxed now, Becca?" she answered in an easy, light voice,
    "Yes, I am."
    "You're aware of everything going on here?"
    "Yes, Adam is over there staring at me as if he'd like to wrap me
    into a very small package and hide me inside his coat pocket."
    "What is your father doing?"
    "It's still hard for me to think of him as my father. He was dead
    for so very long, you know."
    "Yes, I know. But he's here now, with you."
    "Yes. He's sitting there wondering if he should let you continue
    with this. He's afraid for me. I don't know why. This can't hurt me."
    "No, it can't."
    "She's right," Thomas said. "But I'll deal with it. Continue,
    Agent Cobb."
    Agent Cobb smiled and patted her hand. "Now, Becca, let's go
    back to that night when you awoke to that prick in your arm."
    She moaned, then jerked.
    "It's all right," Agent Cobb said quickly. "Listen to me now. He's
    not here. It's okay, you're safe."
    "No, it's not okay. He'll kill him. I know he'll kill him. What am
    I going to do? It's all my fault. He'll kill him!"

Just a slight pause, then Agent Cobb said, "You mean that he'll
    kill you, Becca? You're afraid that he injected some long-waiting
    poison in your arm?"
    "Oh no. He'll kill him. I've got to do something. Oh God."
    "Do you mean he'll kill your father?"
    "No, no. It's Sam. He's got Sam." And then she started crying,
    deep, tearing sobs that jerked her wide awake. "Oh, no," she said,
    staring at all the appalled faces. "Oh, no."
    "It's all right, Becca," Agent Cobb said. "You'll be just fine now."
    Thomas said very slowly, "So that's what McBride had to say to
    you. Krimakov kidnapped Sam and had McBride call the director
    to find you and have you call him."
    "No," she said. "No. I don't know what you're talking about."
    Valium, she thought. She'd just killed Sam, just killed her father,
    God knew who else, all because of one damned Valium.
    Adam was on his feet. "Where's your address book? I'm going to
    call McBride, find out what the hell's going on here."
    "No," she said, jumping up to grab his arm. "No, you can't,
    Adam."
    "Why the hell not?"

Chapter 25

    The room was dead silent.
    "No, you can't have my address book."
    "Fine. I'll call information." Adam walked toward the phone.
    "We've got to know exactly what's going on here."
    Becca didn't say another word. She ran out of the living room,
    grabbed her purse from the table in the entryway, and made for the
    front door.
    "Becca! Dammit, come back here!"
    She heard Adam yelling but didn't pay any attention. She heard
    her father's voice, then Special Agent Cobb's voice. She didn't slow.
    She was out on the narrow front porch before Adam reached the
    entryway.
    She heard all of them shouting at her, running after her, but she
    knew she had to get away. No one else was going to die. Not Sam.
    Not her father. She had to stop it. She didn't know how she was
    going to do it yet, but she would think of something. She should
    have thought of something before--maybe even been a bit on the
    subtle side. Yes, you fool, you should have just calmly left the living
    room, pretending to go upstairs or go to the bathroom, whatever.
    But no, she'd lost it--here she was running away with people chasing
    her, FBI agents everywhere. But that didn't matter, either. She
    had no choice. If she could prevent it, no one else was going to die.
    She ran.

    There were no sidewalks in this very nice neighborhood, just

big lawns, thick curbs, and the road. She hit the road. She was fast,
    always had been since she was on the track team in high school.
    She put her head down, turned off all the voices, and ran. She felt
    the breath pumping in and out of her lungs, felt herself filling with
    energy, with power, expanding, moving faster, faster. Her feet in
    Nikes -were unbeatable.
    She ran right into Sherlock. Both women went down.
    Becca was on her feet in an instant. "Sorry, but I've got to go."
    "Stop