didn't stir.
She was leaning against the tree trunk, her right hand in her lap.
She was holding the Coonan, its polished silver stock gleaming
from the slashes of sun through the tree branches.
Had he seen that flash of silver? He didn't know how he could
have, yet he'd known she was there. Why couldn't he have had this
marvelous intuition before he'd scared himself spitless?
He came down on his haunches. He looked at her, wondering
what had made her come out here. He saw dried tear streaks down
her cheeks. Everything had gotten to be too much for her, and no
wonder. She looked pale, too thin. He looked at her fingers curled
around the trigger of the Coonan, at her nails, short and ragged.
He touched his fingertips to her cheek. Her flesh was soft to the
touch. He lightly stroked her cheek. Then, slowly, he shook her
shoulder.
"Becca. Come on, wake up."
She came awake instantly at the sound of a man's voice, the Cooan
up and ready to fire. She heard him curse, then felt the gun fly
out of her hand. Her wrist was instantly numb. "Not again."
"Shit, you nearly shot me."
It was Adam. She looked up at him and smiled. "I thought it was
him. Sorry."
His heart began to slow. He eased down beside her. "What's up?"
"What time is it?"
"Nearly four o'clock in the afternoon and I couldn't find you
and I nearly lost my mind trying to figure out where you were. You
scared me, Becca. I thought he'd taken you."
"No, I'm here. I'm sorry. I didn't think. So how'd you find me?"
He shrugged. He didn't want to tell her that he just knew very
suddenly exactly where she was. He would sound nuts. She didn't
need anyone else around her sounding nuts.
"How long will my wrist be numb this time?"
"Not more than five minutes. Don't whine. Did you expect me
to let you shoot me?"
"No, I guess not."
"You look tired. Better if you'd taken a nap in your bed than
come out here to snore beneath the tree. It just might, not be all
that safe." That was one of the best understatements out of his
mouth yet.
"Why? The only one who was ever lurking outside here was
you, and you're not lurking out here anymore. You've moved right
into the house." She sighed. "I don't know why I came out here. I
just couldn't stand to stay in the house alone anymore."
He said again,"You scared me, Becca. Please don't take off again
without leaving me a note."
She looked up at him, her face so pale now it was nearly as white
as winter sleet, and said in a dead voice, "He's found me. He called."
"He?" But he knew. Oh yeah, the stalker had found her and he
hated it, had dreaded it, but he'd known it would happen. This guy
was good. Too good. He had contacts. Whoever he was, he knew
people, knew how to use them to get what he wanted. Adam was
sure he'd been on her the minute she'd left New York. Still, it surprised
him. More than that it scared him to his soul. He hated that
surge of fear, deep and corroding. He could almost smell the
flames. The fire was coming closer.
"All right, so he called. Get a grip." He stopped, grinned at her.
"Oh yeah, I'm talking to myself, not you. Now, what did he say?
Did he tell you how he found you? Did he say anything that would
help us pinpoint him?"
He'd said "us." She had felt utterly frozen inside, then he'd said
"us." Slowly, she began to feel a shift deep inside her. She wasn't
alone anymore.
She looked up at him and smiled. "I'm glad you're here, Adam."
"Yeah," he said. "Me, too."
"Even though you're gay?"
He looked at her mouth, then jumped fast to his feet. A man did
better when temptation wasn't one inch from his face. He looked
down at her, then offered his hand. "Yeah, right. Now come on
back to the house. I want you to write down everything you can
remember him saying. Okay?"
She got a look on her face that was hard and cold and determined.
Good, he thought, she wasn't going to lie down and let this
guy kick her like a dog.
"Let's do it, Adam."
They walked side by side up
She was leaning against the tree trunk, her right hand in her lap.
She was holding the Coonan, its polished silver stock gleaming
from the slashes of sun through the tree branches.
Had he seen that flash of silver? He didn't know how he could
have, yet he'd known she was there. Why couldn't he have had this
marvelous intuition before he'd scared himself spitless?
He came down on his haunches. He looked at her, wondering
what had made her come out here. He saw dried tear streaks down
her cheeks. Everything had gotten to be too much for her, and no
wonder. She looked pale, too thin. He looked at her fingers curled
around the trigger of the Coonan, at her nails, short and ragged.
He touched his fingertips to her cheek. Her flesh was soft to the
touch. He lightly stroked her cheek. Then, slowly, he shook her
shoulder.
"Becca. Come on, wake up."
She came awake instantly at the sound of a man's voice, the Cooan
up and ready to fire. She heard him curse, then felt the gun fly
out of her hand. Her wrist was instantly numb. "Not again."
"Shit, you nearly shot me."
It was Adam. She looked up at him and smiled. "I thought it was
him. Sorry."
His heart began to slow. He eased down beside her. "What's up?"
"What time is it?"
"Nearly four o'clock in the afternoon and I couldn't find you
and I nearly lost my mind trying to figure out where you were. You
scared me, Becca. I thought he'd taken you."
"No, I'm here. I'm sorry. I didn't think. So how'd you find me?"
He shrugged. He didn't want to tell her that he just knew very
suddenly exactly where she was. He would sound nuts. She didn't
need anyone else around her sounding nuts.
"How long will my wrist be numb this time?"
"Not more than five minutes. Don't whine. Did you expect me
to let you shoot me?"
"No, I guess not."
"You look tired. Better if you'd taken a nap in your bed than
come out here to snore beneath the tree. It just might, not be all
that safe." That was one of the best understatements out of his
mouth yet.
"Why? The only one who was ever lurking outside here was
you, and you're not lurking out here anymore. You've moved right
into the house." She sighed. "I don't know why I came out here. I
just couldn't stand to stay in the house alone anymore."
He said again,"You scared me, Becca. Please don't take off again
without leaving me a note."
She looked up at him, her face so pale now it was nearly as white
as winter sleet, and said in a dead voice, "He's found me. He called."
"He?" But he knew. Oh yeah, the stalker had found her and he
hated it, had dreaded it, but he'd known it would happen. This guy
was good. Too good. He had contacts. Whoever he was, he knew
people, knew how to use them to get what he wanted. Adam was
sure he'd been on her the minute she'd left New York. Still, it surprised
him. More than that it scared him to his soul. He hated that
surge of fear, deep and corroding. He could almost smell the
flames. The fire was coming closer.
"All right, so he called. Get a grip." He stopped, grinned at her.
"Oh yeah, I'm talking to myself, not you. Now, what did he say?
Did he tell you how he found you? Did he say anything that would
help us pinpoint him?"
He'd said "us." She had felt utterly frozen inside, then he'd said
"us." Slowly, she began to feel a shift deep inside her. She wasn't
alone anymore.
She looked up at him and smiled. "I'm glad you're here, Adam."
"Yeah," he said. "Me, too."
"Even though you're gay?"
He looked at her mouth, then jumped fast to his feet. A man did
better when temptation wasn't one inch from his face. He looked
down at her, then offered his hand. "Yeah, right. Now come on
back to the house. I want you to write down everything you can
remember him saying. Okay?"
She got a look on her face that was hard and cold and determined.
Good, he thought, she wasn't going to lie down and let this
guy kick her like a dog.
"Let's do it, Adam."
They walked side by side up
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