The FBI Thrillers Collection(659)

“Yes, Sheriff. Thank you.”

“Any time. Well, do give my best to Ms. Matlock.”

“You can be sure that I will, Sheriff.” Adam heard her breathing. She was on the line in the kitchen. She’d listened in, heard everything, hadn’t said a word. His heart was pounding slow, heavy strokes. He was so furious he couldn’t think of anything to say. Then he opened his mouth and shouted into the receiver at the top of his lungs, “BECCA!”

She cleared her throat. “Ah, Adam, I’ve got to go to the hospital now.”

He breathed deeply, got hold of himself, and said, “Not just yet. Bring me my apple. I’ll even give you a bite before I wash your mouth out with soap for those whoppers you told me.”

“Sorry, Adam, the apples aren’t ripe enough. You know Sheriff Gaffney, he exaggerates, really, he—”

“After I wash your mouth out, I’m going to maybe shave your head. Then if I’m still pissed off, I’m going to make you change that green tile in the bathroom, then—”

“I’m outta here, Adam. I love you. Er, I’ll buy ripe apples while I’m out.”

She hung up the phone.

“BECCA!”