Silent Surrender

by Rita Herron

  A small bookcase to the side held an assortment of true-crime books. A collection of model cars occupied the second shelf. Had Adam kept them from childhood? Did they hold some sentimental value?

  Then a small stack of poetry books, and a song-writing book caught her eye. Did Adam Black, the tough cop who seemed to stand so alone, have a soft spot for poetry? Did he write his own songs? Curious, she picked up the book and thumbed through it, astonished even more when a few loose sheets of paper fell from the book. She couldn’t help herself— she unfolded them, her heart squeezing at the scribbled phrases, the crossed-out lines, the beautiful words.

  Silent cries of anguish

  Silent cries of hurt

  Were all wrapped up inside

  In the words that no one heard.

  Her fingers tightened around the edges of the pages, the words playing over in her mind. She could almost hear Adam singing them in his husky voice.

  Silent cries—could the song possibly be about her?

  If he hadn’t meant them to be, they certainly fit, she realized. She’d never thought about it, but she had been crying silent tears since she was five.

  Not bothering to speak or cry out loud because she’d screamed out for help that horrible night of the explosion, because her screams hadn’t mattered. Her parents had died anyway.

  A drawer closing in the other room broke through her troubling thoughts. Not wanting to get caught snooping, she quickly stuffed the papers back inside the book and placed it on the shelf. A photograph of Adam’s family drew her eye. Adam must have been about fourteen when the picture was taken—even as a teen, he was tall and muscular, yet he had that lean adolescent stature and a look of innocence that was missing today. Denise looked about ten—she was petite with a perky nose and a smile that showed crooked teeth. His father wasn’t as tall, and wore a faded shirt and jeans, his mother was slender with the same dark hair and eyes. Her breath caught when she noticed a white cane in his mother’s hands—his mother had been blind. Odd, Adam had never mentioned it. Could it be one reason he was drawn to her? Did he feel sorry for her because he understood the problems his mother faced having a handicap?

  Disturbed by the thought, she studied the other photo. Denise had been dressed in a cap and gown, holding a doctoral degree. Adam obviously had such a loving family, much more normal than hers, so why would he not want a family of his own as an adult?

  Denise’s cries rang in her head again. “Help me, please, help me.”

  Sarah shuddered, and clutched the picture. We’re trying to find you, Denise. Just hold on a little while longer.

  ADAM WONDERED what Sarah thought about his dingy little apartment, and hated that he cared. Normally he wouldn’t give it a second thought. Was she comparing it to the mansion she’d grown up in? To her homey town house with her cat and her cozy fireplace? Would she see h for the low-paid cop he really was? The man who owed so much in loans he’d taken out for Denise’s school that he couldn’t afford a better place?

  He stuffed clothes in a duffel, then shrugged off the matter, telling himself it was better she saw him for himself instead of envisioning some kind of knight in shining armor. Tossing the bag over his shoulder, he strode to the den, surprised to find Sarah holding his guitar on her lap, lightly strumming the strings. She glanced up in embarrassment when she noticed him in the doorway.

  Then suddenly she pushed it toward him, silently asking him to play.

  “I—I’m not very good,” he said, uncomfortable playing for an audience, even an audience of one. Somehow it seemed too intimate, as if he’d be revealing too much about himself. “Besides, we need to get going.”

  She caught his hand, her lips mouthing the word please, and his heart felt an odd pang.

  “Please.” She handed him a note. “I dreamed of hearing beautiful sounds like laughter and music when I received the implant. So far, I’ve heard more unpleasant sounds than pleasant ones.”

  How could he deny her such a heartfelt request?

  He parked himself on the sofa beside her, feeling awkward and too damn exposed as he began to strum. She curled her legs up beside her, her floral skirt billowing around bare ankles as she gazed at him. First, he simply tuned the guitar, watching as her eyes drifted shut and her body slowly swayed to the sound. She was so damn beautiful he found himself mesmerized by the way her lips parted, and the subtle smile that lifted the corner of her lips.

  Without realizing he was doing it, he began to play Eric Clapton’s “Tears in Heaven.” The words flowed from him as he sang them in his low baritone, reminding him of the day he had sung the ballad at his parents’ funeral. Sarah wiped at moisture in the corner of her eye, but her tender smile voiced her approval. He finished the last verse, a peace washing over him that he hadn’t felt in a while. As if she understood the song held a special meaning for him, she picked up one of the model cars from the bookshelf and raised her brow in question.

  “My dad and I used to work on them together. It was kind of a hobby.”

  She smiled, studying the small plastic Corvette.

  “He was a mechanic,” he found himself telling her. “Dad loved cars, Mom loved Dad. They were poor but they seemed happy.”

  Her gaze met his, compassion in her eyes once again, but this time he saw something else. Envy that his parents had loved each other? Knowing the things he did about her father now, the past must haunt her.

  “They died in a car crash right after my seventeenth birthday.” He paused, then continued, unable to stand the silence. “Denise was only thirteen.” He put the guitar aside, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I guess if there was anything good about it, at least they died together.”

  Sarah reached out and covered his hand with hers, heat spearing through him at her touch. She released his hand, wrote another note and handed him the pad again. “So you took care of Denise?”

  He surprised at himself for spilling his life story. “It was tough going at first. Unfortunately Dad wasn’t rich, but he had a little money put aside for us to live on. But Denise was so smart. And she’d always dreamed of being a doctor.”

  “So you put her through school? Did you take out loans?”

  He nodded, growing more uncomfortable. But she lifted his hand between hers, then pressed it to her lips and kissed his palm. He gazed into her blue eyes, his body churning with emotions and the desire to take her all over again. To make her his, then and there.

  Maybe forever.

  The shrill sound of the phone jolted him from the shocking thought. He swallowed, then released her hand, and answered the phone, glad for the interruption.

  “Detective Black, this is Robey Burgess. We met before.”

  Adam froze, one hand on the edge of the table as he listened.

  “I’ve got some information I think you might be interested in.”

  “What do you want, Burgess?”

  “Meet me at the marina tonight.”

  “Look, if you know something just spit it out.”

  “I can’t, not over the phone.” Burgess lowered his voice. “I have something to show you. Something that will tell you where you can find your sister.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “What do we do now?” Sarah wrote.

  “I guess we find out what information he has. Or what he thinks he has.”

  Sarah checked her watch. They had several hours until midnight. “Let’s go talk to Sol.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I know you have questions about the center and Dr. Bradford didn’t answer them. Maybe Sol will.”

  Adam lowered himself down beside her on the sofa, and touched her cheek with his finger. “Sarah, I realize you love him even though he hurt you last night.”

  Sarah squeezed his hand, then wrote. “I do love him, and I don’t think he would hurt your sister, Adam. You don’t know him like I do. He took me in and raised me like a daughter.”

  “I understand that.”

  “We have to fi
nd Denise, and if Sol knows something, then we need to talk to him.”

  “Okay, but I’ll get him to meet us at your place. I want to talk to him on neutral turf.”

  Sarah nodded, and listened silently as Adam called her godfather. He was supposedly out, so Adam left a message for him to meet them at Sarah’s, then phoned Denise’s ex-husband as they drove off in Adam’s car. Earlier, he’d asked Russell to find out if the German company visiting the center was looking at Denise’s research or if any other companies or scientists interested. Hopefully, being on the inside would enable Russell to get the information Adam couldn’t. Clay was supposed to be checking any competitors that might exist. He’d also asked him to have someone pull up all the information on Sarah’s father they could find. “Any news on that research company?”

  “Lips are sealed tighter around here than a nuclear plant,” Russell said. “Have you learned anything else about that psycho Gates?”

  “’Fraid not. If he didn’t abduct Denise and someone at the center did, do you have any idea where they might have taken her? Some hidden labs?”

  “Maybe. I’ve never been to the facility on Nighthawk Island. That takes special clearance.” Russell sighed. “And I know there’s a couple of buildings they’re renovating on Whistlestop but they’re not open yet.”

  “They could be hiding her in any of those places,” Adam said.

  “I do know this. Sol Santenelli oversees everything that goes on at the center. The other founder, Hughes, is the silent partner, but Santenelli is a control freak. Has his eye on every company that joins the research park.”

  Adam stole a glance at Sarah, his chest tightening. Seconds later, they arrived at Sarah’s and found Sol Santenelli waiting on the doorstep. Adam told Russell to keep searching, and hung up, although Adam still wasn’t convinced he could trust the man. What if he had led him astray by planting suspicions about the research company? Then again, why go to the trouble with Gates already under scrutiny?

  Unless Russell knew Gates hadn’t killed Denise. The only way he could know that was if he knew her kidnapper or if he had killed her himself.

  SARAH SHIVERED at the look of fury on her godfather’s face when he saw Adam help her out of the car.

  “Sarah, darling, are you all right?” Fury turned to concern when Sol swept her into his arms. “I’ve been out of my mind with worry over you.”

  Sarah stiffened in his embrace, confused even more by the true anguish in his eyes. Still, she couldn’t shake the fear and hurt she’d felt when he’d slapped her.

  “God, honey, when they called and said my Honda had been involved in an accident—”

  “It wasn’t an accident,” Adam said sharply.

  Sol’s legs buckled slightly, and he leaned on his cane. “What do you mean?”

  “Someone intentionally hit Sarah and ran her off the embankment. A few more seconds and she might not have crawled out of the car alive.”

  “Good God, do you know who did it? Was it the same person who broke into her place?”

  “We don’t know yet,” Adam said curtly.

  Sol swiped perspiration off his face. “Sarah, when I realized you’d left and taken the Honda, I went crazy. I’ve been calling and calling you. I was so afraid you were hurt, and that you were so angry you wouldn’t see me

  “I’m fine, Sol,” Sarah signed, unable to stay angry when Sol looked so utterly tortured.

  He pressed a kiss to her cheek, touching the spot where he had hit her, his bottom lip quivering.

  “I have to ask you some questions,” Adam said.

  “I don’t understand,” Sol snapped. “Why aren’t you trying to find this maniac who tried to kill my goddaughter?”

  “I am,” Adam said. “I think the threats on her life have to do with my sister’s disappearance.”

  Sarah dropped her hands from Sol’s and signed, “Let’s go inside. I’ll make some coffee and we can talk.”

  Her godfather didn’t look pleased, but he followed them inside. A few minutes later, they sat in the den with coffee.

  “Tell me about this German company coming in to town.” Adam braced his elbows on his knees leaning forward in an intimidating move. “I want to know what they’re here to buy, how their visit relates to my sister’s work and what the hell you’ve done with her.”

  ADAM STEELED HIMSELF when Sarah flinched. She obviously hadn’t planned on his accusing her godfather of being directly involved in Denise’s abduction, but if Santenelli had the power Adam thought he did, he most likely had dirty hands.

  “The company’s interest is confidential. The Germans aren’t interested in your sister’s research. In fact, I didn’t even know the details of your sister’s work until we met and you raised suspicions about her. Then I started checking around.” Santenelli paused, sipping his coffee calmly.

  Adam ground his teeth. “Listen, Santenelli, I have reason to believe Jerome Simms was murdered because of an announcement he was about to make regarding his work. One week after his death, your company sold a product for a hefty amount. My guess is that it was Simms’s work.”

  “You’re guessing, Detective Black. You have no proof because there is none. And the papers said that research assistant killed your sister because he was infatuated with her.”

  “The evidence is inconclusive.” Adam prayed he hadn’t gone off on a tangent here, that he was looking for something that didn’t exist because he wanted to believe Denise was still alive.

  Santenelli began to pace, ranting about the wonderful research the center sponsored. “Do you know we’re close to finding a cure for AIDS, and we have a compound ready for trial studies which might wipe out breast cancer completely?” He wiped at a bead of sweat on his forehead. “We’re in the business of furthering science, not killing our scientists to steal their work! What good would that do us?” Sol turned to Sarah, his expression pleading. “Tell him, Sarah. You’ve seen how hard I’ve worked to get this center off the ground, you know how dedicated I am to medical science, how closely we’ve screened the companies and scientists who come to work here.”

  “Yeah, my sister was thrilled when she was hired on,” Adam said in a voice, “I just wonder if her dedication got her killed.”

  SARAH WAS GRATEFUL when Adam finally excused himself to phone Clay. The tension between her godfather and Adam had been almost unbearable.

  Besides, she wanted to talk to Sol alone. She had to get up the nerve to ask about her father again.

  But Sol interrupted her before she had a chance. “Sarah, honey, what’s going on with you and this detective?”

  “Nothing,” Sarah signed. “I’m simply trying to help him find his sister, and he’s trying to protect me.”

  “Is that all he’s doing?” Fatherly concern tinged Sol’s voice. Sarah had always relied on visual clues to determine underlying meanings. She’d never realized how much the inflection of a person’s voice could suggest their feelings.

  She nodded. Business was all Adam would let there be.

  “I saw the way he was looking at you, Sarah. Like a man, not like a police officer.”

  Sarah couldn’t fight a small smile. “He is a man, Sol. But don’t worry. I can take care of myself.”

  Sol rubbed a freckled hand over his eyes, looking tired. “I don’t know. I’m worried about you. And if you think there’s a future with this cop, you’re wrong. You deserve better, honey. Do you know what kind of salary they make?”

  “I don’t care about money,” Sarah signed.

  “So, you are involved?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Just look what’s happened already. Being tied up with this man has almost gotten you killed.”

  “It’s not his fault his sister is missing.”

  “It’s not yours, either,” Sol said, his voice harsh. “And you don’t owe this man anything.”

  “You’re wrong, Sol,” Sarah signed. “I owe him my life. You’re forgetting about the man who attacked me right her
e in my apartment.” She took a deep breath for courage. “Dr. Bradford implied that Adam’s sister might have run off with the research to sell it herself.”

  Sol’s gray eyes flickered with interest. “That’s always a possibility.”

  “Adam is convinced it’s not true, and I don’t think so, either,” Sarah signed. “But it made me wonder about Dad. Is there any way the charges that were brought against him were false?”

  Weariness pulled at the age lines on her godfather’s face. “Honey, I want to tell you that it’s possible, but—” Sol’s voice cracked “—the investigators found very convincing evidence.”

  Sarah wound her fingers together in her lap, fighting disappointment.

  “Now, try to forget about all that. It happened years ago. Focus on your fu

  “I can’t do that until we find Adam’s sister,” Sarah signed.

  Sol’s face blanched while Denise’s frightened voice replayed itself in Sarah’s mind. She pressed her hands over her ears, the low sound of voices crackling in and out. Was it Denise? She’d never forget that cry, or the anguish in Adam’s eyes when he’d sung “Tears in Heaven” earlier. She sensed his grief and worry, had felt it as if it were a tangible part of herself. He’d sang it at his parents’ funeral. She prayed he didn’t have to sing it at his sister’s as well.

  ADAM STOOD in the alcove of the kitchen dialing Clay’s number, his jaw clenching at the direction of Sol Santenelli’s conversation. Santenelli was right— he couldn’t give Sarah the kind of life she deserved. His job was dangerous, his salary paltry and his romance skills nonexistent.

  Then why did it bother him so much that she hadn’t argued with Santenelli about him? From the one-sided conversation, it sounded as if she’d denied a personal involvement.

  That was what he wanted, wasn’t it?

  Clay answered the line. “Black, I’ve been trying to reach you.”