Riptide

looked at Becca, then said, "Nah, forget about us talking
    to him again. Sam probably doesn't have all that much more to tell
    us that would be useful. It's done and over. Please don't tell the
    sheriff about it. We're leaving right now. I guess whatever it was
    Krimakov wanted, he got."
    "But what the hell did he want?"
    "I don't know, Tyler," Becca said. She kissed Sam's cheek. "He's
    a very brave little boy."
    "Will you come back to see him again?"
    "Yes," she said. "I will. I promise. We just have to get all this business
    resolved first."
    When Tyler was out the front door, Adam said suddenly, "Hold
    it right there, Becca. Your back. With all the excitement, I forgot
    about your back. He shot you with something. Let me see."

But there wasn't much to see. A bit of blood, a small hole, nothing
    more. "Why did he do this?"
    "I don't know," Becca said to him over her shoulder, "but I
    promise I feel just fine. Here's the dart he shot into my shoulder.
    You see the rolled paper around it."
    Adam unrolled the paper, frowned as he read it. "The bastard.
    What is he thinking? What is his plan? I hate this. He's controlling
    us. All we're doing is reacting to what he initiates. Damnation."
    "I know. But we'll turn it around. Come on, Adam, let's get out
    of here. I'm very relieved that Sheriff Gaffney hasn't found his way
    here yet. Where is my father? Sherlock and Savich?"
    "Sherlock went back to Washington with the handwriting samples.
    Your father, Savich, Hawley, and Cobb are waiting for us. I'll
    tell them to meet us at the airport; we're out of here."
    They were driving away in her rented Toyota when she thought
    she saw Sheriff Gaffney's car in the distance. She stomped down on
    the gas.
    She looked over at Adam's profile. He looked pissed and very
    tired. Not physically tired, but a defeated tired. She understood because
    she felt the same way.
    Nothing made any sense. He'd gotten her here, he'd shot her
    with a dart in the shoulder, and delivered Sam. Nothing else.
    Where was Krimakov? What in God's name was he planning to
    do now?

    Dr. Ned Breaker, a physician whose son Savich had gotten back
    safely after a kidnapping some years before, was waiting at Thomas's
    house when they arrived.
    All the men shook hands, Savich thanking him for coming. "She
    refused to go to a hospital."

"No one you work with ever does," Dr. Breaker said.
    "This is Becca, Thomas's daughter. She's your patient, Ned."
    "Dr. Breaker," she said, "I'm really okay, nothing's wrong. Adam
    already checked me out."
    Adam said, "And now it's time for the real doctor to step up and
    have a look at the wound in your shoulder. We have no idea what
    was on that shaft that Krimakov shot into you. Be quiet, Becca, and
    do as you're told, for once."
    She'd honestly forgotten about her shoulder. It didn't hurt.
    Adam had washed it with soap and water and put a Band-Aid over
    it. She was frowning when Thomas said, "Please, Becca."
    "All right then." She took off her sweater and lifted her hair out
    of the way.
    "Come into the light," Dr. Breaker said. She felt his fingers on
    the wound, gently pressing, pushing the flesh together, perhaps to
    see if any liquid or poison or God knew what came out. Finally, he
    said, "This is very strange. You were actually shot with this dart in
    the parking lot of a gym?"
    "That's it."
    She felt his fingers probe the area again, then he stepped away.
    "I'm going to take some blood, make sure there's nothing bad going
    on inside you. It looks fine, just a shallow puncture wound.
    Why'd he do it?"
    "I think it might have just been to deliver a note to us," Savich
    said. "There was a note wrapped around the shaft."
    "I see. Interesting mail delivery service this guy has. Well, better
    to be careful." He took a sample of her blood, then left, saying that
    he'd have results for them in two hours.
    "A very good man to have as a friend," Savich said. "I wonder,
    though, how many more favors he'll believe he owes me."

Thomas said to Savich, but his eyes were on his daughter, "You
    got his kid back for him. He'll believe he owes you forever."
    It was nearly one o'clock in the morning when Dr. Breaker
    called. Thomas took the call, looked very relieved as he listened.
    He was smiling when he turned to Becca and Adam. "Everything's
    okay. Nothing there but your beautiful normal stuff, Becca. He
    said not to worry."
    Becca had rather hoped there might be something, nothing terminal,
    naturally, but something. Otherwise, they