Riptide by Catherine Coulter Page A

idea what you’re talking about.” She waited, just stood there, the knife up and arched, her hand starting to cramp, her muscles starting to protest, staring at him, wondering what to do, wondering ifshe could believe him and knowing she’d be a fool even to consider it.
    He said, “Actually, I do. What I wanted to say was that the media and the press are after you in full force, that’s a fact, but you should be safe here.”
    â€œYou found me.”
    â€œYeah, but I’m so good I occasionally even surprise myself.”
    She raised the knife even higher. She felt the sun warm between her shoulder blades. It was a beautiful day and everything was a mess. He was her guardian angel? Her arm muscles were burning.
    He started to say something more, then stopped. It was the look on her face that kept him quiet. It was like they were both frozen in time and place. Then she surprised the hell out of him. She dropped the knife to the ground and walked straight up to him. She stopped a foot short, looked up at him thoughtfully, then stuck out her hand. He shook hers, bemused, as she said, “If you’re my guardian angel, then get on the phone to the medical examiner’s office in Augusta and find out how long that poor woman who fell out of my basement wall was buried in there.”
    He didn’t release her hand. She was tall. He didn’t have to look down that far. “All right.”
    She snapped her fingers in front of his nose. “Just like that? You’re so powerful you can find out something just that fast?”
    â€œIn this case, yes, I can. You don’t look much like your mother.”
    The hand stiffened, but she didn’t jerk free. She said calmly, “No, I don’t. Mom always told me that I’m the picture of my dad. My dad—his name was Thomas—he died at the very end of the Vietnam war. He was a hero. My mother loved him very much, probably too much.”
    â€œYes,” he said. “I know all about that.”
    â€œHow?”
    â€œIt’s not important right now. Believe me.”
    She didn’t, of course, but she was willing to put it onhold for the moment because she said then, “I saw a really old snapshot of him. He looked so young, so happy. He was very handsome, so tall and straight.” She paused a moment, and he heard the hitch in her voice. “I was too young to remember him when he died, but my mom said he’d seen me born, held me and loved me. And then he left and didn’t come back.”
    â€œI know.”
    She cocked her head to one side, and again she let it go, saying, “When I first saw you in Food Fort, I thought you looked hard, like you didn’t smile very often, like you ate nails and hot salsa for snacks. I thought you could be mean if you had to, maybe even cruel. You still look mean. I can sense that you’re dangerous; actually, I just know it, so don’t even bother trying to deny it. Who are you, really?”
    â€œI’m Adam Carruthers. I told you that at Food Fort. That really is my name. Now, take me to your house and I’ll get on the phone. We won’t find out who the skeleton is, but we’ll find out at least how long she was in that wall. They’ll have to do DNA tests; that takes a while. First things first.”
    He watched her pick up her Coonan and stuff the bullets in her jeans pocket. He picked up her kitchen knife and followed her back to Jacob Marley’s house.
    It took him eleven minutes and two phone calls. When he laid down the phone the second time, he looked over at her and smiled. “It shouldn’t take long.” In no more than three seconds, the phone rang. He motioned her away and picked it up. “Carruthers here.”
    He listened, wrote something down on a sheet of paper. “Thanks a lot, Jarvis, I owe you. Yeah, yeah, you know I always pay up. It just might not be tomorrow. You know how to reach me. Okay,