Silent Surrender

by Rita Herron

  “What do you have?”

  “Found out some interesting info on Russell Harley. It seems he got into some financial trouble a while back, overextended himself when he bought that house and boat.”

  “So?”

  “So, Denise had a big life-insurance policy. Guess who she named as the benefactor?”

  “Russell.” Adam cursed. “Dammit, Clay, she never took his name off the policy?”

  “Afraid not. She was probably so busy working she never even gave it a thought.”

  “So, how much was it worth?”

  “A million.”

  Adam rubbed the front of his head where a headache started to pulse. First Gates, then the center, now Russell—he didn’t know which way to turn. He felt as if he were spinning his wheels in quicksand.

  “So that would provide him with motivation?”

  “And he had security clearance so he could go anywhere on the facility he wanted.”

  “He also had access to Denise’s files. Hell, he might be the very one selling her research to the Germans.”

  Clay hesitated. “Could be. Tell me about his boat.”

  “He called it the Windjammer. It’s at the Grist Mill Marina.”

  The same marina where he was meeting Burgess tonight, Adam thought. Another coincidence?

  “Did you check it out?”

  “I’m getting a search warrant now.”

  “Good.” Adam explained about reporter’s call and asked Clay to meet him at midnight for backup.

  “On the other hand,” Clay added, “one of the lab techs at the center said Gates was agitated the last couple of weeks. According to her, Gates liked Denise, but he was worried she might be getting back with her husband.”

  “Shit.” Adam slammed a fist on the bed.

  “She also said Russell refused to sign the final divorce papers, that he was holding out, hoping for a reconciliation.”

  Or wanting to make sure the insurance claim was legal. Dammit, he should have seen this coming.

  “Thinking Denise might go back to her husband might have been enough to set Gates off,” Clay speculated. “The old if I can’t have you no one else will mentality.”

  “And if it failed, he might have gone off the deep end and killed himself.”

  And her, too.

  Gates or Russell—both had motive and opportunity.

  Adam just prayed Burgess knew the answer. And that she was still alive when they found her.

  SARAH STARED at the boats docked at the near-deserted marina, praying they would find Denise. And when Adam found her, she wanted to be there to meet her.

  Or to comfort Adam if he found her body instead.

  Adam parked in front of the Grist Mill Saloon at the marina, cutting off the engine so that the sound sputtered in the quiet of the night. Water lapped at the edges of the dock, the whisper of an evening breeze stirred the leaves and the smells of salt water and fish wafted around her, seemingly calm.

  But Adam’s labored breath cut to the bone.

  The past three hours had dragged by, each moment filled with escalating tension. Adam obviously didn’t believe her godfather and suspected Sol knew more than he was telling. Then again, he’d relayed the information his partner had given him about Russell and Donny Gates, so he was keeping an open mind.

  Suspecting everyone.

  The clock read 11:55.

  Five more minutes until they met Robey Burgess.

  “He said to meet him at the slip where the Bluebird was docked. Wait here.”

  Sarah grabbed his hand, indicating she wanted to go with him.

  Adam nodded as he scanned the area. Only two boats had lights on, the others appeared vacant. It was too early for summer vacation and spring break. They crossed the sidewalk silently, bore to the right and walked onto the wooden dock. The planks sounded hollow beneath their feet, the water slapping the bank below them. Sarah held Adam’s hand, still favoring her right foot. Stars shimmered along the edge of the water, and the occasional sound of a fish splashing broke the silence.

  Down past three sport cruisers and a houseboat the Bluebird sat on the right. It was a thirty-six-foot speedboat.

  Sarah fr at the strong odor of sea, and something else…garbage maybe?

  Adam threw his hand back to stop her, and Sarah gasped.

  A man’s body floated in the water, one foot caught on the anchor of the boat, blood swirling around him.

  Suddenly the sound of a gunshot split the air, and Adam dove, knocking her down to the hard wooden dock beneath them.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Adam rolled to the edge of the dock onto the boat, covering Sarah’s body with his, then yanked his gun from his holster and looked around. Where the hell had the shots come from? One of the other boats? Down the dock? And where was Clay?

  It was so damn dark he couldn’t see anything but the shadows flittering along the bank and the row of boats. The boat rocked with the lull of the water, echoing in the silence, but he couldn’t distinguish any other sounds, except Sarah’s quick breathing. Finally, he gave himself a second to check her. “Are you okay?”

  Her blue eyes stared at him, wide and frightened, but she nodded. Relief surged through him.

  He rose slightly on his knees to search for the shooter, but another shot pinged through the air and he ducked, plastering his body to Sarah’s again to shield her. Seconds later, footsteps pounded in the distance, and a small dark car geared up and screeched from the parking lot. He jumped up and ran down the dock, but the car disappeared in the dust. Afraid to leave Sarah alone, he grabbed his cell phone to call for backup, then jogged back down the dock to her.

  She was sitting with her knees up, backed into the corner of the front of the boat, her eyes wide as she stared at the dead man’s body floating in the water. Adam wanted to comfort her, but seconds later, Clay appeared. Minutes later, a team of investigators had arrived.

  Robey Burgess’s name would make the paper the next morning, Adam thought, only this time his name would be in the headlines instead of a byline. And Adam might not ever find out what Burgess had known about his sister.

  SARAH WATCHED in horror as the crime scene investigators taped off the area. She hadn’t liked the sleazy reporter, but she hadn’t wanted him dead. And to see his bloody body floating in the inlet brought the threat to her own life too close to home.

  Other cops searched for the killer on the surrounding boats, while Adam oversaw police go through Burgess’s pockets after they’d finally lifted him from the water. She knew he hoped to find some notebook or name that Burgess had planned to pass on to Adam, and she felt his frustration when he came up empty.

  “We can’t be certain that Burgess was killed because he was meeting you,” an officer named Turner argued. “He wrote for the tabloids. He probably ticked off a lot of people over the years.”

  Adam cursed. “I know what I know. Burgess’s death only confirms that whoever has my sister is worried we’re going to find her and figure out their plan.”

  “ Gates?”

  “I’m not convinced Gates killed her,” Adam said gruffly. “Burgess was meeting me with information about Denise, so someone must have killed Burgess to silence him.”

  “But Turner has a point,” Clay conceded. “Burgess had a lot of enemies. And you’ve been stirring up bad publicity for that research center. You might have ticked off someone, so we could be talking about two different things here, maybe two different motives and unrelated crimes.”

  Adam obviously wasn’t buying it, but Sarah wondered if there might be truth in the policeman’s speculations. If this German company was on the verge of making the deal with CIRP and someone at the center was worried she or Adam would ruin the deal, it might be reason to kill them.

  Sol had been upset when she’d asked questions about her father….

  Adam turned to Clay. “I’m not ruling out any possibilities now. But I intend to search Burgess’s home and office right away. Surely he
left backup files on the stories he’s been working on.”

  “Will do.”

  “There’s one more place here I have to check.”

  Clay cocked his head to the side. “Russell’s boat?”

  “Yeah. I’m going to the Windjammer now, then to Burgess’s place.”

  Sarah stood. Wherever Adam went, she was going, too.

  ADAM DIDN’T WANT to believe that his own brother-in-law might be responsible for his sister’s disappearance and that he had been misleading them, but he’d been a cop too damn long not to follow every lead. In murder cases, statistics proved the spouse was to blame.

  He prayed this time statistics were wrong.

  Sarah touched his arm lightly, and he read the questions in her eyes, so he explained about Denise’s insurance policy.

  Horror darkened her eyes, then a quiet understanding passed between them so subtly that Adam felt his chest constrict. He’d never shared that kind of silent communication with anyone before. It was almost as if she felt his pain, as if the two of them together made one.

  “I have to check out his boat,” he said, ignoring the disturbing thought of being tied to Sarah forever. Hadn’t he learned from Pamela’s death that getting sidetracked cost lives? He never wanted that to happen to Sarah.

  The Windjammer sat in the last slip to the right, a sixty-foot yacht that must have cost his brother-in-law a small fortune. Adam paused on the dock, his heartbeat accelerating.

  The boat had been boarded up for the winter or at least in preparation for bad weather.

  Or since Russell had stashed a body onboard?

  But if he’d killed Denise, he most likely wouldn’t have kept her body—he would have dumped it into the ocean. A shudder gripped him.

  He’d check with the guard to see when Russell had last been up to the boat. But now, he had to get inside. He removed the protective tarp from the cockpit, and moved onto the deck.

  His pulse clamored as he finally opened the door and peered inside. Darkness hung in the interior and a musty stale scent permeated the air as if the boat hadn’t been used for a long time. Careful to keep Sarah behind him, Adam turned on his flashlight and scanned the cabin. Empty. He searched both the master stateroom and the two side berths.

  “No sign of anything.” Adam exhaled, not knowing whether to be relieved or more worried. “I know it’s late and you’ve got to be exhausted, Sarah. Do you want me to take you to a hotel somewhere while I go to Burgess’s?”

  Sarah shook her head, gesturing that she wanted to go with him.

  Adam stroked her cheek, his fingers tracing along her soft skin as if the touch could somehow take away his pain. He had to keep going, he had to keep believing he would find his sister. “Then let’s go to Robey Burgess’s place and see what we find there. I want to search it before the killer does.”

  SARAH SHIVERED with exhaustion as they entered the reporter’s small, dingy apartment. Dust covered the outdated furniture in the one-room efficiency, and cigarette burns and stains dotted the rust-colored carpet. Adam switched on a lamp on the scarred end table.

  “Burgess obviously wasn’t a neatnick.” Adam indicated the mountain of laundry piled on the sofa and the newspapers scattered on the floor.

  Or a health nut, either, Sarah surmised, noting the pizza boxes and fast-food wrappers overflowing the trash in the corner of the dingy kitchen nook.

  “I’m going to search his desk. If you want, you can rest on the sofa.”

  Sarah frowned, wishing she could help, but not knowing what to do. She sank into the faded plaid recliner and closed her eyes. Her foot ached and her ears were ringing from the gunshots fired at them earlier. Images and sounds bombarded her—the sight of the man’s dead body floating in the water, the sharp ping of the bullets, the low sound of Denise’s voice crying out in the night….

  ADAM YANKED OPEN the drawers of Burgess’s desk, not surprised to find a jumble of office supplies, sticky notes and files that seemed to have no order. Frustrated, he sat down and began to sort through them, tossing outdated files and clippings from the tabloids. Finally, he came across one marked CIRP. Inside, he found articles dating back to the beginning of the center’s opening, photographs of all the companies and the dates they’d been brought into the research center, articles on Simms’s death, a faded yellow clipping about Sarah’s father. He read the article, shuddering when he thought of all Sarah had to cope with in her young life. Yet Sarah had fought not to be dependent.

  He stared at a photo of the explosion. A storm raged around them as Santenelli carried Sarah to safety amidst the blaze. The horror and fear on the man’s face was obvious as he clutched the five-year-old child in his arms. Adam’s lungs hurt as he let out a breath. She’d been so tiny, so damn young.

  Another article fell from the pile and he skimmed it, his eyes narrowing at the title. “Charles Cutter Thought To Be Alive. Ex-navy lieutenant and renowned scientist, Charles Cutter is thought to have absconded with cutting-edge technology after killing his wife and faking his own death. FBI agent Trevor Donovan believes Cutter sold the technology to the Russians and is now in hiding.”

  Adam scrubbed a hand over his face. Had Sarah seen the article?

  Obviously, Burgess suspected something might be going on at the center or he wouldn’t have all this information. He booted up Burgess’s computer and searched through the file manager, his chest tight. If Sarah’s father was alive and had been hiding all these years, could he be responsible for all this trouble? How would she feel to learn he was alive, that he’d deserted her? Could Santenelli know where her father was hiding? Had he been protecting her from her father all these years? Or had he been protecting Charles Cutter?

  The ramifications complicated everything.

  He had to find out what else Burgess had discovered, if he’d already been working on a slant to his story. A few minutes later, he’d scanned the computer, but he found nothing on the research center.

  Not one single file.

  Odd. Maybe Burgess had kept the information on a disk for safety. He stood and rummaged through the drawers. Nothing. Frustrated, he searched the apartment, frantically clawing through his closet, but still came up empty.

  Behind him, a squeaking sound broke through the silence. He glanced at the door. Someone was trying to open it.

  SARAH HAD FALLEN into a restless sleep. But she jerked awake when Adam grabbed her and pulled her to the floor. He pushed her head down with his hand, forcing her to crouch behind the sofa, sending panic skittering up her spine.

  Someone was turning the doorknob, opening the door.

  Adam pulled his gun. Sarah’s heart stopped when a tall man stepped inside.

  Chapter Twenty

  The overhead light flickered on and a woman followed the man. “I heard someone in here,” the woman said in a high-pitched voice.

  Bright light flickered off the metal of a security guard’s gun. He had to be at least sixty, Sarah thought. The woman who stood beside him wore her gray hair in a bun, wielding her cane out for protection.

  Adam stood slowly but kept his hand on Sarah’s back, holding her down. “Relax, folks, Savannah Police Department.” Adam’s badge flickered in the light and the woman gasped.

  “What are you doing in here?” the guard asked, his deep voice trying for bravado but failing.

  “I’m here on an official investigation. Sir, please put your weapon away.”

  The guard’s hand shook as he dropped the weapon to his side. Adam stuffed his gun in his holster, and pull Sarah up beside him.

  “Oh, my.” The woman’s hand fluttered to her chest.

  “It’s okay, ma’am,” Adam said in a quiet voice. “Are you the owner of the apartments?”

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t mean to frighten you, ma’am. I would have asked you to let me in, but it was so late I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  “Mind telling us what this is all about?” The man recovered enough to steady his voic
e.

  “I’m afraid your tenant, Mr. Burgess, was killed tonight. I’m looking for clues as to who might have murdered him.”

  The old lady swayed and the guard caught her. Adam helped her to a chair. Sarah hurried to retrieve her a glass of water. A few minutes later, when they were fairly certain they didn’t have to call 911, and they’d learned that the woman’s name was Elsie Clemmens and the guard’s, Herman Porter, Adam continued.

  “I think Mr. Burgess might have been killed because of a story he was working on, so I need to go through his files.”

  “Oh, dear.” Elsie fluttered her hand again. “He was afraid something might happen to him.”

  “What do you mean?” Adam asked.

  Elsie’s age-spotted hand tapped at her chin. “The other day he came to me and—and he seemed distracted.” She stood, wobbling on thin knobby legs. “He gave me a package to hold.”

  “What kind of package?”

  “I don’t know what was in it,” Elsie said, looking agitated. “But he said if anything ever happened to him, I should give it to the police.”

  “Can you get it for me now?”

  The old lady nodded, and allowed Herman to help her to the door. It seemed like forever to Sarah before they returned. When they did, Adam tore open the plain manila envelope.

  “Computer disks,” he said calmly. “These must be the files I’ve been looking for.”

  Sarah prayed they told them where to find Denise.

  IT WAS NEARLY midnight when they made it to Sarah’s, but Adam’s heart raced as he opened the files. Sarah read over his shoulder as he scanned the notes Burgess had made regarding the research center, articles about the center, photographs of the buildings and several scientists. Articles about the explosion that had killed Sarah’s parents, a description of the thunderstorm that had rocked the area that same night, flooding areas. Interviews with the psychologist who had treated Sarah after the explosion describing what she had seen that night through crude childhood drawings.