Читать книгу Silent Surrender - Rita Herron - Страница 12

Instead of a restful, soothing nap, the voices came to Sarah again. Dull, muffled, breaking in and out, destroying her peace.

“Wh…at are you g…oing to do to me?”

“Just shut u…p, the…”

“No!”

“Re…lax, Doc, it won’t…hurt. It’ll j…ust sting a little.”

Sarah bolted up, sweat-drenched sheets tangled around her legs, her pulse racing, her breath coming in gasps. She had to have been dreaming. How else was it possible for her to hear the same voices in the hospital and here again in her own house? Her house was empty. So where had the voices come from? The doctors had mentioned delayed hearing—was that what was happening? Were these voices a part of the conversation she’d heard in the hospital?

Lightning streaked through the blinds and she fisted the sheets in her hands, fighting her unshakable terror of the storm. Shadows from the starless night hovered about her bedroom, taunting her. Lightning flashed again.

No, not lighting—her apartment lights were blinking signifying someone was at her door. This time a ding sounded in the background.

The doorbell. She’d never heard it before and had assumed when she’d had the apartment customized to fit her needs, they’d disconnected it. Thankfully, the bell emitted a soft musical sound that reminded her of bells ringing, one familiar sound from childhood. She pushed her hair from her face, grabbed a robe and stumbled toward the den, then checked the peephole, expecting to see Sol again. But that big detective, Adam Black, stood on her doorstep, dripping rain from his black hair, his dark face even more intimidating in the shadows with lightning illuminating his hard, sexy features. His eyes were almost as dark as his hair, his cheekbones etched in granite, his shoulders so broad he must have to custom order his clothes. He pounded the door with his fist and she jumped, then finally pulled herself together enough to unlock the door.

“Can I come in?”

She flinched at the harsh set of his jaw as she read his lips. He smelled of rain and wet leather and some earthly scent that reminded her of the woods and sex. Her stomach quivered. Why did the man make her think like that?

He had a black leather jacket slung around his broad shoulders and a pair of well-worn jeans hugged his muscular thighs. Encased in work boots that had seen better days, his feet seemed enormous. He looked as if he should be riding a wild mustang across the prairie.

Or riding a woman in the darkness of her bedroom.

Shaken by her own thoughts, her legs threatened to buckle so she clutched the wall for support.

He seemed oblivious to her reaction. “Look, Miss Cutter, I’m getting soaked. Can I come in?”

A clap of thunder boomed and she jumped, the sound almost as shocking as the tension radiating between them.

He must have realized she was too stunned to move so he pushed his way inside, more gently than she’d imagined, then kicked his boots on the hall rug, brushing his jacket to alleviate the moisture soaking his hair. She stepped inside the kitchen, retrieved a towel and handed it to him. Their hands brushed slightly and heat suffused her, fire curling low in her stomach. His gaze dropped to her cotton robe where it had fallen open at her breasts, revealing the thin nightshirt she’d thrown on to sleep. She belted the robe, a blush rushing up her face. Why did this stranger affect her so? He didn’t like her. And she wasn’t sure she liked him.

He studied her silently as he ran the towel over his head, down his face and long neck. Finally, he handed the towel back to her, a half smile curving his mouth. “I won’t bite, you know.”

She felt like a fool and braced herself for his teasing laughter.

But he didn’t laugh. Instead he kept watching her with those mesmerizing eyes.

“You got any coffee?”

She stared at him, then signed, “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t read sign language,” he said.

Resigned, she silently cursed herself for even trying, and reached for her Palm Pilot. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to ask you some more questions.”

Fury snaked through her. “To make fun of me again?”

He studied her for a long moment, his dark eyes raking over her, lingering on her mouth. Finally he shook his head. “No. I’m sorry about that. I want to hear your story.”

“Why?”

He motioned toward the kitchen and she remembered he’d asked for coffee, so she made a pot, then poured them both a cup, not surprised when he took his black. Her hands trembled when she handed him his mug.

They sat at her small pine table, the room feeling unbearably small with his large body taking up all the space. He seemed to take in the details of her kitchen, the cheery yellow paint and ceramic cats, with a tiny smirk. She tried not to look at his mouth, to wonder what he would look like if those full lips ever really smiled. But even if she hadn’t latched on to his mouth to read his lips, she would have been mesmerized by them. He wrapped his big powerful hands around the yellow coffee mug and she decided he had to be the sexiest, most masculine man she’d ever laid eyes on.

Tigger loped in and rubbed up against him, and he surprised her by reaching down and scratching the tabby’s back. She couldn’t believe her cat had taken to this man. Tigger usually reserved affection for her and her alone. Where was his loyalty?

“Does he go out?”

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?

AN HOUR LATER, Sarah collapsed with exhaustion, praying the detective would find his sister and that she wouldn’t hear the voices again. She couldn’t stand the pain in the woman’s cries.

Then again, if she didn’t hear the woman’s voice, she wouldn’t be able to help her. And she had never backed down from anything in her life. She couldn’t let her fears keep her a prisoner.

She stared at the card the detective had left on the table with his phone number. Without even knowing Adam Black, he pulled at feelings so dormant she thought they’d died completely after her disastrous relationship with her old boyfriend, Kevin.

Maybe she was afraid, she admitted silently, but she didn’t want to see Detective Black again. His eyes and body blazed with anger and attitude, the kind of cold, harsh facade that would hold any woman at arm’s length. He was in control and would want to control everyone around him, especially someone he considered weaker. Someone with a handicap.

But he obviously loved his sister.

She hoped he found her before it was too late.

Determined to banish him from her mind, she turned her thoughts to her normal life. To the school for the deaf where she’d been teaching. Pulling out her plan book, she checked the plans she’d penciled in for the substitute teacher. Her class would take a hike tomorrow to collect items for a nature collage. Then they’d watch a film about the seasons and the rebirth spring promised. Just as she thought she’d have a rebirth when she’d regained her hearing. She’d taken a six-week leave of absence following her surgery to recover and acclimate herself to living in a hearing world.

Now, for some odd reason, she found herself wanting to return to the safety of the silent world she’d always lived in. Back to her teaching job at the school, to her co-workers, who communicated the way she did—with sign language. Back to the safety of knowing she didn’t have to interact with dangerous, sexy men like Adam Black.

Men who made her want to be whole again.