Riptide

hoped no neighbors in this
    lovely neighborhood had seen this bizarre action and called the
    cops.
    "I hope you didn't hurt her," Thomas said, right on his heels.
    "She nearly bit my hand off," Adam said.
    "Yeah, but you brought her down."
    "No, that was Sherlock. I just clamped my arms around her."
    "You weren't gentle enough."
    "Damn, Thomas, what did you want me to do, lie down and let
    her stomp on me before she ran another four-minute mile?"

"Yeah, Adam," Agent Hawley said. "She got you good, but it's
    not bleeding. Good straight teeth. Put her down on the couch."
    Thomas covered her with an afghan Allison had given him
    some seven years before. He didn't realize it was quite hot, since
    they'd left the front door wide open and all the cold air had seeped
    out.
    "I was careful," Adam said, but he -was sitting beside her, lightly
    touching her jaw where he'd hit her. "She shouldn't even bruise.
    Listen,Thomas, she was going to run and run until we brought her
    down. She would have fought me until I might have hurt her by
    accident. She wasn't thinking."
    "Yeah, I guess I understand." Thomas raised his eyes to Hawley
    and Cobb. "We're in deep trouble now."
    Becca moaned and opened her eyes. She lurched up only to
    have two hands push her back down, and Adam's voice close to her
    face saying, "If you try anything again, I'm going to lock you in
    your room. If you bite me again, I'll lock you in your closet and
    feed you moldy bread and water."
    Her hair was hanging in her face, her jaw felt swollen and sore,
    and she was so mad she wanted to spit. More than that, she was
    desperate. She was tired of failing. All she'd done since Krimakov
    had come into her life was fail. She raised her head and looked him
    squarely in the eye. "That wasn't funny. Go to hell."
    "No, I won't do that. What I want to do is help you if you'll just
    let me."
    The three hours were up, she knew it. She had to do something.
    She had to do something right this minute. But it didn't matter. It
    was too late. All of them knew now. She said, trying to control her
    misery, her deadening fear, "I've got to call Tyler. I promised to call
    him in three hours. If I don't, I don't know what he'll do, probably
    go to the media. Don't you understand? Krimakov has Sam. He

wants me to come to Riptide, doesn't want me to tell you or Dad.
    Tyler is desperate."
    Adam came down on his knees in front of her. "Becca, look at
    me."
    "I was looking at you. You're trying to lighten things up. You
    can't. You can't help me. Only I can do something here. I don't
    want to look at you. Just because you're stronger, well, never mind
    what you are, Sherlock got me first. It doesn't matter. I've got to
    call Tyler. You can't help."
    "All right." He rose and offered her his hand. A big hand, she
    thought, a strong hand, and she wished she could take it and bite it
    again, then flip him over the back of the sofa.
    "You all right, sweetheart?" Thomas said, handing her a cup of tea.
    Sweetheart? He'd called her sweetheart and it seemed to have
    come out naturally, not a fake endearment. It nearly made her
    cry. No one had ever called her sweetheart before. Her mom had
    always called her honey, or when she was a little girl she'd been
    Muffin.
    She didn't let it touch her. She couldn't, not now at any rate.
    "I've got to call Tyler, tell him that I'm coming right away to Riptide
    and that none of you are coming with me. Do you understand?
    Sam dies if anyone comes with me. No, Adam, just shut up.
    I will not let that little boy die."
    "But that doesn't make any sense," Thomas said slowly. "He
    wants you, that's true, but he wants me more. Why doesn't he want
    both of us to come to Riptide? The package deal he always
    wanted? What's he up to now?"
    Becca said, "I don't know. I agree that it doesn't make any sense
    at all, but that's what he wrote in his note to Tyler. He told Tyler
    how to contact me, and then when I did call,Tyler was to tell me to
    come to Riptide alone. Not to tell either of you or Sam would die."

"Note?" Sherlock said. "What note?"
    "The kidnapping note," Becca said. "Krimakov left it on Sam's
    bed after he took him. Told him exactly what to do, told him that
    if I didn't come, he'd kill Sam, just like Linda Cartwright."
    "It might not even matter now," Sherlock said, "but if we can get
    the note, I'll give it to our handwriting experts. Also, they can
    compare the handwriting to other documents that you have,
    Thomas, with Krimakov's handwriting on