Silent Surrender

Sarah shook her head, biting her lip when he frowned at the cat’s mangled tail. But if the cat’s deformity repulsed him, he didn’t show it.

“Okay, tell me once more about this woman you heard.” He sipped the coffee, his intense gaze trapping hers.

She hesitated at the spark of awareness in his eyes.

“You said you wanted to help this woman?”

“Why?” she wrote. “Do you believe me now?”

“Maybe. Let’s just say I went to the research center and did some checking.”

Sarah sat back in the chair, her breath catching. He’d actually followed up and done what she’d asked. Just when she’d convinced herself everything had been a dream, he’d found something to substantiate her story? “I…a…” She hesitated, trying to think how to word her next question. “Is there a Dr. Harden or Harper who works there?”

“Dr. Harley.”

Oh, God. “And she’s missing?”

Pain darkened his black eyes, the first real emotion she’d seen, other than that simmering sexuality. “I have reason to believe she is.”

Her pulse raced. “Who is she?”

He ran a hand through his hair, raised his head and looked straight into her eyes, a sense of desolation radiating from him. “My sister.”

Adam steeled himself against the sympathy in Sarah Cutter’s cornflower-blue eyes, and the allure of knowing she was half-naked beneath that flimsy robe as he explained briefly about Denise’s sudden vacation.

“Write down everything you remember,” he said gruffly. He sipped his coffee, once again zeroing in on the faint scars on her hands as she wrote.

Basically, her story remained the same as before, offering him little to go on. As had Denise’s journal. He had a few more pages to skim, but so far the portions described very personal feelings about her divorce and her co-workers, with a few notations about apprehension over her research.

“Are you sure you didn’t hear someone mention her name before your surgery, then you dreamed about her afterward?”

“I couldn’t hear before the surgery.”

“But you read lips, right?”

She nodded.

“You might have seen her name on a chart somewhere?”

Her writing became short and jerky. “I didn’t hear anyone mention her name before the surgery and I don’t remember seeing her name anywhere, either. Does she work with hearing implants?”

“No, neurology. Tell me about the implants. You said they were a special prototype?”

“Yes, they’re still in the experimental stages. I had several surgeries when I was young, but there was too much damage to my ear to repair. This implant has a special microchip inside. It’s similar, but even more sophisticated than the cochlear implants and another new one that’s under clinical study called the Vibrant Soundbridge.”

“What are those two?”

“With the Vibrant Soundbridge, an electronic receiver is implanted behind the ear. A wire leads down to an electromagnet that’s attached to one of the middle ear bones. The brain interprets the vibrations as sound. The cochlear ones are electronic systems that send sound-generated impulses directly to the cochlea. Mine is surgically implanted and not visible like most hearing aids.” She paused and glanced at him, and he urged her to continue. “My father worked on the project years ago, but they didn’t have the technology to make it successful. When the Coastal Island Research Park opened the center on Catcall, the project was revamped. I’m the first person to receive this implant. It’s still in the clinical trial stages.”

He let that information sink in. Could there be some element of the hearing implant that allowed her to pick up sounds far away? “If your hearing is more acute, why aren’t you being bombarded by constant noises and voices?”

“I am, but it’s sporadic. The doctor said there may be some residual sounds, even a delayed reaction. Like a stroke patient, my nerves and brain have to learn to work together again.”

He frowned. “What else did you hear? Did my sister call this man’s name?”

She shook her head.

“Did you hear any sounds in the background? Anybody else in the room?”

She pressed her fingers to her temple in thought— either that or she had a headache—then answered no.

“Did he say where he was taking her?”

“No.”

He cursed in frustration and saw her flinch, then forced himself to ask the question he’d been avoiding. “Did he say what he planned to do to her?”

Emotions etched themselves on her face. She’d been affected by the woman’s cries, he realized, then found himself wondering why he believed her now when earlier he’d thought she was a kook. He wished to hell she’d talk, too, instead of scribbling on that damned computer.

Just once he wanted to hear her voice, to see if it sounded low and sexy or if she’d speak in a soft purr or…

He shook the thoughts away, focusing on her writing.

“He didn’t say exactly, only that she should shut up or he would kill her. But…” she hesitated, watched his reaction, as if she were trying to decide whether or not to reveal the details of the woman’s attack.

“Look, don’t hold anything back. If this man has my sister, time might be running out.”

Her gaze remained glued to his mouth as if she were reading his lips, then she wrote, “When I heard them in the hospital, I thought he knocked her unconscious because I heard a thud as if she’d fallen to the floor.”

“Meaning the man might have already killed her.”

“I don’t think so, I heard her moan. Then they argued later.”

“You went back to the hospital?”

“No, I heard them—” she hesitated again “—here at home.”

Was she telling the truth? How was it possible?

She’d read the questions in his eyes. “I was trying to sleep, but I had a bad headache. The rain, the sirens, it’s too much.” She frowned. “Probably the delayed hearing the doctor mentioned. The voices I heard here must have been part of the conversation I overheard at the hospital and I’m just now remembering it.”

He waited, his teeth gritted. “What else?”

“She was begging him not to hurt her. He warned her she’d feel a slight sting, she cried out, then everything went quiet again.”

“He drugged her.” The realization sickened Adam, but at least maybe Denise was still alive. But why would someone kidnap and drug her?

The possibilities raced through his mind. A jealous co-worker at the research center? Her husband who’d been bitter about the separation? Or worse, a stranger who’d been stalking her and planned to do God knew what?