Silent Surrender. Rita Herron
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lack of clarity of sounds, the static breaks, the trouble her brain might have processing the information she heard. “In short, she could have misinterpreted something she’d heard and confused it with dreams. And frankly, I’m not sure she’s stable. Just look at her past.”
Adam gritted his teeth at the implication. “I want to see Denise’s office.”
Bradford shook his head. “I can’t let you in there. All research is confidential.”
“The hell with confidential! Don’t you get it? My sister’s missing!”
“That’s what you say. I believe she’s on vacation as she told me. Therefore, I have no reason to even consider authorizing your request.”
“Because you’re hiding something.”
“No.” Bradford pulled Adam’s hand away, then straightened his lab coat. “Because you’re chasing something that isn’t there, and I’m protecting valuable research.”
Adam realized they’d reached a standstill. He’d have to get a warrant and come back. But he wouldn’t give up until he found some answers. He carried enough guilt over Pamela’s death.
He had to do everything he could to find Denise. And to protect Sarah.
A FEW MINUTES LATER, Adam stared in shock at his sister’s apartment. The place had been ransacked.
Just yesterday it had been neat as a pin, but today magazines and clothes and papers littered the floor as if a tornado had swept through, overturning furniture and creating havoc.
What had the intruder been looking for?
He catalogued the details himself before dialing for a crime team, grimacing at the way the intruder had smeared ketchup and food all over the kitchen. Whoever had done it had wanted them to believe they were vandals.
But Denise’s desk had been torn apart, the computer discs were out of place—petty thieves and kids could care less about office files. Although the intruder pilfered her jewelry box, they hadn’t stolen the stereo and TV, so the motive hadn’t been robbery. Of course, someone could have driven by and scared off the culprit before he’d stolen everything he wanted. Or he might have used robbery as a cover-up for something else.
Denise’s estranged husband, Russell, a marine biologist at the center, had been bitter when she’d filed for divorce. Would he do such a thing for revenge? Did she have a boyfriend? No, Denise wouldn’t date before her divorce was final. Besides, she was a workaholic, and a social life was the last on her list of priorities.
Women were such targets—anyone could have developed a fixation on her and kidnapped her for their own devious means. Sarah Cutter’s porcelain face flashed in his mind; she was so vulnerable.
But Denise was the one in trouble. And her co-workers weren’t talking. He had to force them into giving him some answers. A knot of anxiety tightened his chest as Sarah’s face flashed in his mind again. If she was the link to finding Denise, and whoever had Denise knew she’d been helping him, they might go after Sarah.
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