Riptide

“I know you. You’ve been on TV, on every channel.”

“Yes. May I please come in now?”

“That’ll be ten dollars. What are you doing here?”

She opened her wallet and pulled out a twenty. “I’m here to pick up my workout clothes.” He didn’t even look up. She watched him for what seemed like forever as he got her a ten in change. He pressed a buzzer and she went through the turnstile.

The room was large, filled with machines and free weights and mirrors. The lights were very bright, nearly blinding. A radio played loud rock, booming out from the overhead speakers. There were lots of young people here tonight, thus the raucous music. There were at least thirty people throughout the big room. Upstairs were all the aerobic machines. She heard talk, music, groans, the harsh movement of the machines, nothing else.

What was she to do?

She walked back to the women’s locker room. There were three women inside, in various stages of undress. No one paid her any attention. Nothing there.

She walked out of the dressing room, and this time she walked slowly, roaming through the big room, looking at all the men. Many of them were young, but there were some older ones as well, all of them different one from the other—fat, thin, in shape, paunchy. So many different sorts of men, all there on this night, working away. Not one of them approached her.

What to do?

A couple of young guys were horsing around, doing fake hits, laughing, insulting each other. One of them accidentally backed into the arm of an old chest machine. The big weighted arms weren’t clicked in to a setting. When the young guy hit it, it swung out and hit her squarely on her upper right arm. She stumbled into a big Nautilus machine and lost her balance. She went down.

“Oh shit. I’m sorry. You all right?”

He was helping her up, rubbing her shoulder, her arm, looking at her now with a young male’s natural sexual interest. “Hey, talk to me. You okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“I haven’t seen you here before. You new in town?”

“Yes, sort of.”

He was lightly touching her arm now, as if assuring himself that she was okay, and she tried to smile at him, assure him that she was just fine. The other young man came up on the other side, vying with the first for her attention.

“Hey, I’m Steve. Would you like to go have a drink with me? I figure I owe you since I knocked you on your butt.”

“Or maybe you’d like to go with both of us? I’m Troy.”

“No, thank you, guys. I absolve you of all guilt. I have to leave now.”

She finally managed to get away from them. She turned once and saw them looking after her, smiling, waving, looking really pleased with themselves now that she’d looked back at them.

Neither of them was more than twenty-five, she thought. Well-built boys. She was twenty-seven. She felt ancient.

Finally, because she couldn’t think of anything else to do, she went through the turnstile at the front of the gym. The young guy who’d let her in wasn’t there. No one was there. She felt a ripple of alarm. Where had the kid gone? Maybe a shower. Yeah, that was it. He’d really been sweating.

She thought she saw a shadow just outside the front door. It was one of the good guys, she thought, it had to be.

Where was Krimakov? He’d said she’d know what to do. He was wrong.

She walked slowly back to the Toyota. The lights weren’t bright in this part of the lot and that was why she’d elected to park here. She hadn’t wanted to park close by other cars, hadn’t wanted to take the risk of Krimakov hurting anyone else. Now she wished she hadn’t because no one seemed to be about.

She reached out her hand to the door handle. Suddenly, without warning, she felt a sharp sting in the back of her left shoulder. She gasped, whirled around, but there was nothing, no one. Just the dim light from the lights overhead. No movement. Nothing. She felt herself slipping. That was odd—she was falling, but slowly, just sort of sliding down against the door of her car.

27

“No,” she said into her wristband. “Nobody move. I’m all right. I don’t see him. Don’t move. Something struck me in the left shoulder, but I’m okay. Stay where you are until he comes out.”

She sat on the concrete, the unforgiving hard roughness against her bare legs. She put her head back, listened to her heart pounding, did nothing, unable to do anything. She wanted to cry out but she didn’t, she couldn’t, Sam’s life was at stake, and if she did cry out, she knew Adam would come running. She couldn’t allow that. What had he done to her? What kind of drug had he shot into her back? Had he killed her? Would she die here in the concrete parking lot at the gym?