Catherine Coulter - Riptide

He was pressing his cheek against her hair, squeezing her so tightly Adam thought he’d crush her damned ribs. Adam wanted to pull him off and give him one good shot in the jaw.

Becca slowly pulled away. He was afraid for her, she knew that, and she didn’t want to hurt him. Her voice was very gentle when she said, “You do understand, don’t you, Tyler?”

“Yeah, I do, but I just want to help.” Then he lightly traced his fingertips over her cheek. “I’ve known you for a long time, Becca. I want to help. This is a real creepy business.”

“You’re telling me.” She managed something of a laugh, which was closer to a cry, really.

Tyler said when Savich came back to the entryway, “Thank you for taking care of Sam.” He lifted Sam into his arms and squeezed him nearly as hard as he’d squeezed Becca. “Sam, I’m sorry I lost my temper with Adam. I didn’t mean to frighten you. You okay?”

Sam nodded. “I heard you yelling.”

“I know,” Tyler said, kissing Sam’s temple. “You’re not used to that, are you? Everyone loses his temper sometimes. I’m sorry I did it and sorry you were close by. Now, you and I need to go over to Goose’s Hardware and get some washers for the bathroom faucet. Would you like to do that?”

Sam nodded. He looked relieved. Tyler hugged him again.

“What’s the name of the street Goose’s Hardware is on?” Savich asked as he looked at his wife rubbing her knuckles, an eyebrow arched.

“West Hemlock,” Tyler said. “It’s the main street.”

When Tyler McBride finally left, Adam turned to see Sherlock and Savich speaking quietly. Adam said, “Are you guys going to stay here?”

“That’s probably best,” Savich said. “First thing, we’re going to put a tap on this phone. Sherlock said we should bring our goodies. She’s right a lot of the time.” Savich picked up what looked like a very small aluminum suitcase. “This is a dual redundant tape. We’re going to set it right beside the phone recorder. Now, I’m going to patch it into the phone line via the recorder starting switch. Okay, now let’s plug that puppy in between the phone and the outlet in the wall.”

“Goodness,” Becca said. “That’s quite a gadget.”

“Yeah,” Adam said. “You can get it at RadioShack for about twenty bucks.”

“The recorder will start when the phone rings,” Savich said.

“Now for the slammer,” Sherlock said. She pulled out a small case that looked about the size of a laptop. “See this, Becca? It’s an LED-light-emitting diode. When our boy calls his number, the name and address of the person who’s registered as the phone owner will appear here on this green screen. It’s like the automatic phone display for 911.”

“All done, Sherlock?” Savich said, then nodded when she pressed a couple of buttons. “Good. Now I’m going to go meet with the guys, set up a surveillance schedule, tell them about the tap and the trace.”

“Fine,” said Adam. “I’m coming with you. I want to meet them. I don’t want anyone shot by accident. Also, we need to start tracking down our boy. He’s somewhere close.”

“Three of the guys are already on that. They’re checking all the gas stations within fifty miles, all the bed-and-breakfasts, motels, inns. They’ve already gotten a list of every single guy between the ages of twenty and fifty who arrived in Bangor and Portland within the past three days.”

Sherlock yawned. “Becca and I will guard the fort. You guys be careful. Hey, a nap sounds good, what with all the excitement. Is there another usable bedroom in this grandiose monstrosity?”

The men got back to Jacob Marley’s house two hours later. It was dark, nearly nine o’clock in the evening. The house was lit up from top to bottom, all the outdoor lights on as well. The newly stained front door both looked and smelled great.

Sherlock was drinking coffee in the living room, studying a file she’d brought with her from Washington. The shades were drawn tight, which was smart. Becca wasn’t anywhere around. They’d already checked with Perkins. There had been no phone calls.

Adam found Becca in her bedroom. She was lying flat on her back in the middle of the bed, her hands crossed over her stomach. Her eyes were closed but he knew she wasn’t asleep. Her shoulders were locked stiff.

“Becca? You okay?”

“Yeah.”

She felt the bed give when he sat down beside her. “What do you want? Go away. I don’t want to have to look at your pretty face. Has anyone seen him?”

“I don’t have a pretty face. It’s Savich who’s got the pretty face. No, there’s no sign of him yet, just that blood in the woods we found. The guys took samples to be analyzed.”

She cracked her left eye open. “Did everything go all right? Were all the men there? Have they found anything out yet?”

“Yes, all six of them are here, each of them well trained. I know four of them, even worked with a couple of them in the past, so that’s good. They’re all top-notch. It’s just a matter of time until we track him down. All of us have favors owed. We’ll call them all in if necessary. You know, the reason I was here was to protect you from the cops and the Feebs because we knew they couldn’t protect you from the stalker. But things have changed now. The guy’s here and there’s just no choice. We’ve got to get him or you’ll never be safe.”

“Who is this Thomas, Adam? He must be very powerful to be able to have all this guy power up here for one insignificant person, namely me.”

“You’re not insignificant.” He sounded too harsh, too intense, and he clamped his teeth together. “Look, don’t worry about Thomas. He’s doing what he’s got to do. Now, why are you up here, lying down?” He paused a moment. She was dull-eyed, pale again, and it worried him. He looked at his fingernails and said, “But first things first. I’m getting hungry. Any ideas for dinner? It’s nearly nine o’clock. It’s nearly time to go to bed. Oh yeah, that was a good idea to have all the lights on.”

She opened both eyes then and stared up at him. “ Sherlock did that. Now let me get this straight. You’re worried about food? Now?”

He nodded. He’d distracted her. Her eyes were narrowed on his face, her lips were seamed into a thin line. Good.

“Of course I’m hungry. What about dinner?”

“Well then,” she said, rolling to the other side of the bed to stand and streaking her hands through her hair, “let me get my little self downstairs and see what I can whip together.”

She stalked out of the bedroom, Adam on her heels, grinning at the back of her head. She was keeping it together. Being pissed was good. He was pleased and inordinately relieved. He was afraid, though, that being an asshole was a bit too easy for him. He noticed again that the tilt of her head was just like her father’s.

“So,” Sherlock said some thirty minutes later at the kitchen table after she’d chewed a bite of tuna salad that Savich had whipped up, “this Tyler McBride seems hung up on you, Becca, and he’s wildly jealous of Adam. Could he be a problem?”

“He already is a problem,” Adam said, waving a dill pickle. “The guy attacked me. I wasn’t doing a single thing and he attacked me.”

“You held back from hurting him,” Sherlock said. “That was smart. Mr. McBride is not only very afraid for Becca, he also feels threatened because another male showed up. It’s strange. Here he knows that Becca’s in trouble. You’d think that the more folks to help, the better.”

It was just the way he should have felt the entire time, Adam thought. Bottom line, just like Tyler, he’d felt threatened. And the women knew it.

“I’m glad you didn’t hit Savich,” Sherlock said, seeing quite clearly what he was thinking. “I would have done more than clip you on the jaw if you had, Adam.” She then gave him a sunny smile, raised the plate, and said, “Anyone want another tuna sandwich?”