“I’m going to The Riptide Independent to see if they need a reporter.”

“Then you’ll be seeing Bernie Bradstreet, he’s the owner and the main contributor. A really nice older guy who has his finger in every pie in this town. He’ll probably be very impressed with you. Hey, it seems like you’re going to stay for a while.”

“Yes, I just might.”

“Ah, maybe I’ll see you later when Sam’s with his aunt Rachel. She’s not really his aunt, she’s just a really good friend and his baby-sitter.”

5

Becca pulled the brush through her brown hair. It was long now, to her shoulders. She pulled it back in a ponytail, then stared at herself in the mirror. She hadn’t worn a ponytail since she was thirteen years old. Then she hadn’t known what evil was. No, don’t think about him. He would never find her. She looked back at herself. The glasses changed her looks quite a bit, as did her darkened eyebrows.

She looked over at her small portable television and knew that during the news they’d soon show another photo of her. They did. It was from her driver’s license. She was grateful they hadn’t gotten a more up-to-date shot. She didn’t much resemble that photo, except maybe on an excruciatingly bad day. With the slight alterations she’d made to her looks just before coming to Riptide, she felt reasonably sure that none of the townspeople would find her out. Only Tyler would make the connection, and she felt she could trust him. Now that her story was being flashed on CNN, she’d have to tell him the truth. She should have told him right away, but she couldn’t, just couldn’t, not then, not at first. Now there was no choice.

But Tyler beat her to the punch. Not fifteen minutes after her story aired, her doorbell rang.

“You lied to me.” It was Tyler. He stood on the front porch, stiff all over, so angry he nearly stuttered.

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry, Tyler. Please come in. I need to throw myself on your mercy.”

She told him the whole story, and was amazed at how relieved she was to confide in him. “I still don’t know why the cops didn’t believe me. But I’m not hiding because of them. I’m hiding because of the madman who’s been terrorizing me. Maybe he wants to kill me now, I don’t know.” She kept shaking her head, saying over and over, “I can’t believe he actually shot the governor. He really shot him.”

“The cops could protect you.” Tyler wasn’t standing so stiffly now, thank God, and his eyes had calmed. Just a minute before they’d been flat and very dark.

“Yes, probably, but they would have to believe I was in danger first. They would have to believe there really was a stalker. There’s the rub.”

Tyler fell silent. He pulled a small wooden carving of a pyramid out of his pants pocket and began fiddling with it. “This isn’t good, Becca.”

“No. Is that Ramses the Second’s tomb?”

“What? Oh this. No, I won it in a geometry competition when I was a senior in high school. You changed your name to Powell.”

“Yes. You’re the only one who knows the truth, about everything. Do you think you can keep it quiet?”

“You’re not married, then?”

She shook her head. “No. Also, I would have run sooner but I couldn’t leave my mother. She was dying of cancer. After she died, there was nothing holding me back.”

“I’m very sorry, Becca. My mom died when I was sixteen. I remember what it was like.”

“Thank you.” She wasn’t going to cry, she wasn’t. She looked toward an ancient humidor that sat in the corner and jumped to her feet. She’d just realized what she’d done. “Oh God, I can’t believe this. I’m a jerk. This is a big mistake. Listen, Tyler, you’ve got to forget all of this. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t want you in harm’s way. And I just thought of Sam. I can’t take a chance on anything happening to him. It’s too risky. Whoever this maniac is, he’ll do anything, I’m convinced of it. Then there’s the cops. I don’t want them to arrest you for keeping quiet about me. I’ll just go somewhere else that isn’t on the map. Jesus, I’m so sorry I spilled my guts to you.”

He stood, taller than she by a good five inches. No more anger in him, just determination. It calmed her. “Forget it. It’s a done deal. I’m now up to my neck in this with you. Don’t worry, Becca. I don’t think they’ll ever find you.” He paused a moment and looked down at the pyramid lying in the palm of his left hand. “Actually, I’ve already told a few folks in town that my old college friend Becca Powell has come to live here. Even if someone thinks you look like this Rebecca Matlock they saw on TV, they won’t make the connection. I’ve already vouched for you, and that makes a difference. Also those glasses really alter your looks. You don’t wear them usually, do you? And your eyes aren’t really brown.”