Riptide

Both detectives were out of there in under five seconds, Detective Gordon leading the way, Morales on her heels, looking both apologetic and scared.

Becca just shook her head, back and forth, back and forth. “They didn’t even want to know anything about him. Don’t they have to believe me now that Dick McCallum was murdered, too?”

“One would think,” Adam said, his eyes narrowed, still looking at the now-empty doorway. “New York’s finest aren’t shining in this particular instance. Now, not to worry, Becca.”

“I think Detective Gordon needs to be pulled off this case,” Thomas said. “For whatever reason, she made up her mind about you early on and is now refusing to be objective. I’ll make a call.”

“I want to leave this place, Adam. I want to go far away, forever.”

“I’m sorry, Becca, but there’s not going to be any forever yet,” Thomas said. “Krimakov got what he wanted. I’m out in the open now. The problem is that you still are, too. Now I’m going to make that call.” Thomas walked out of the hospital room, his head down, deep in thought, as he pulled out his cell phone.

The Feds arrived forty-five minutes later.

The first man into the room came to a fast stop and stared. He cleared his throat. He straightened his dark blue tie. He looked as if he wished his wing tips were shinier. “Mr. Matlock, sir, we didn’t know you were involved, we had no idea, didn’t know she was related to you—”

“No, of course you didn’t, Mr. Hawley. Do come in, gentlemen, and meet my daughter.”

He leaned over her and lightly touched his fingertips to her cheek. “Becca, here are two guys who want to talk to you, not batter you like the NYPD detectives, just talk a bit. You tell them when you’re tired and don’t want to talk anymore, okay?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice so thin Adam swore she was fading away right before his eyes. If he hadn’t been worried sick, Adam would have enjoyed watching Thomas turn his power onto the FBI guys, but he didn’t. Now Adam wondered how Thomas knew Tellie Hawley, a longtime FBI guy who had a reputation for eating crooks for breakfast. He never cut anyone any slack. He was sometimes very scary, sometimes a rogue, admired by his contemporaries and occasionally distressing to his superiors.

“Hey, Adam,” Hawley said. “I guess I’ll find out soon enough why you’re here. Where’s Savich?”

“He and Sherlock will be in a bit later.” Adam nodded then to Scratch Cobb, a tough-looking little man who wore elevator shoes that brought him up to Adam’s chin. He got his nickname years before, when it was said that he scratched and scratched until he found the answers in a high-profile case. “Scratch, good to see you again. How’s tricks?”

“Tricks is good, Adam. How’s it going, my boy?”

“I’m surviving.” Adam took Becca’s hand and lightly squeezed it. He leaned close and whispered in her ear, “The guy standing to the left has hemorrhoids. The big one with the mean eyes, Hawley, will want to cross the line, but he doesn’t dare try it, not with your dad here. Actually, he has five dogs and they rule his house. Now, go get ’em, tiger.”

If she were a tiger, she thought, she was a very pathetic one, not worthy of the name, but still—She smiled, she actually smiled. “Hello, gentlemen,” she said, and her voice wasn’t as paper-thin now. “You wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes,” Hawley said, stepping forward. Adam didn’t move, just smiled a feral smile at him that could make a person’s teeth fall out.

“Adam, I’m not going to bite her. I’m a good guy. I work for the U-nited States government. You don’t have to stand guard.”

“I’m supposed to be protecting the lady, Tellie. The thing is, I screwed up, and the bad guy got her, drugged her, and dumped her right in front of One Police Plaza.”

Hawley nodded, then said, “Okay, so you’re not going to budge.” Hawley continued smoothly, coming one step closer, watching Adam from the corner of his eye. “This guy who kidnapped you and drugged you and put you out of his car, who is he?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Hawley. If I did, I would have announced it to the world via CNN. You know that I reported his stalking me, calling me, threatening to kill the governor. It started in Albany and he followed me to New York. Then he killed that old woman in front of the Metropolitan Museum.”

“Yes,” Tellie Hawley said, and he shifted from his left foot to his right. “But what we want to know is who this guy is, why he tried to kill the governor. We need to know why and how you’re involved in all this—”