Silent Surrender Page 13

  Information spooled onto the computer screen, dates and names of the scientists involved over the years. He scrolled through the list, pausing when he found an announcement about a new synthetic compound being released that had sold for a huge amount. The announcement had come one week after Simms’s accident. Just as Robey Burgess claimed.

  Was Denise’s research worth killing over? Worry pulled at him. Sarah’s godfather had helped start the foundation—could he know something or be involved? If so, she would be devastated. And Adam would have to expose the company, including her godfather.

  He phoned Clay and updated him. “Check on any competitors researching Alzheimer’s.”

  “All right,” Clay agreed. “The lab came back on that drug Gates used to kill himself—it was insulin.” Adam sighed in frustration. “Hell, anybody could get ahold of that.”

  The bedroom door opened and Sarah emerged, looking beautiful in a dark-blue blouse and jeans. He was hanging up the phone when she limped toward him, the hint of pain in her eyes hitting him in the gut. Adam couldn’t change what had happened yesterday, but he could keep himself from repeating the mistake. Unfortunately, if he found out something to implicate her godfather’s involvement, she would be hurt even more.

  Sarah returned to the table beside him with the morning paper. Her eyes widened when she opened it. Then she thrust it at him. His pulse hammered at the headline.

  “Scandal at CIRP.” The article speculated on Gates’s obsession with Adam’s sister, mentioned the suicide note and the fact that Denise was missing, then implied that Gates had killed her because she’d rejected him.

  “Damn,” Adam mumbled.

  Sarah squeezed his hand, shaken by the story. The last paragraph summarized her godfather’s plans for the center and named a few investors. She gestured toward the computer, and Adam explained briefly what he’d learned.

  She tilted her Palm Pilot toward him. “You think someone at the research center might have killed Denise and Donny to get Denise’s research?”

  “It’s possible. If not, maybe a competitor did.”

  “But why kill Donny Gates?”

  Adam drummed his fingers on the table. “I don’t know. Maybe he really did have an obsession with Denise, or…maybe someone framed him.”

  “Someone would really do that?”

  “Money can be a powerful motivator.” Adam shrugged. “If someone was looking for a scapegoat and they knew Gates had a thing for Denise, they might have used him. Maybe Gates even discovered their plans for Denise, so they had to silence him.”

  But if Denise’s research was incomplete, they might keep her alive to finish it. If so, and the German company planned to meet with them in three days, time was running out. Once they had the research in their hands, the kidnapper would have no reason to keep Denise alive.

  SARAH STARED OUT the window, watching the landscape pass in a blur as they drove to the research center on Catcall Island. She couldn’t believe someone at the center would harm Adam’s sister for her work. But if they had, her godfather Sol couldn’t have known about it. Could he? No, not Sol.

  Sol would never do anything illegal—he’d despised her father for betraying them all and had worried Sarah’s father’s reputation might affect the center when they first opened. Surprisingly, the scientific community admired Santenelli for taking in the traitor’s daughter.

  Her hand rose to touch the bruise on her cheek where he had hit her, her mind spinning. If Sol knew someone was trying to hurt her, he’d stop them. He loved her like she was his own daughter…didn’t he?

  She’d been driving Sol’s car, so the person who’d run her off the road might have been trying to hurt Sol.

  Dear God, she hadn’t thought of that before. Maybe Sol had uncovered something about Denise’s disappearance and the person had really meant to kill Sol.

  She should tell Adam.

  No, she was simply panicking. Adam would find out the truth.

  A few minutes later, Russell Harley escorted them through security. Sarah’s ankle ached, but she ignored the pain, not willing to lean on Adam today. Not after the way he’d pushed her away.

  ADAM HATED SEEING the pain in Sarah’s eyes as she struggled to walk through the center—he knew she’d refused his help because of what had happened between them. But it was better this way, he remind because he couldn’t let himself be distracted. He had to find Denise.

  “This is my office.” Russell led them through a set of metal doors that closed behind them like elevator doors. They had come through the lab, a basic research facility with sterile stainless-steel counters, microscopes and some high-tech instruments Russell had briefly explained. Various chemical smells permeated the room. Russell’s office, which adjoined the lab, consisted of a plain desk piled high with research notes, books jammed haphazardly into a wall bookcase and diagrams of molecular structures on the walls. “You can use my computer to access Denise’s research. I know Denise’s password. I’ll get you into her files.”

  The computer keys clicked away as Russell retrieved the data. Several minutes later, Adam stared at copies of his sister’s notes.

  “She was methodical,” Russell said, a smile on his mouth. “Her attention to detail was one of the things I admired most about her.”

  Adam nodded, thinking how he hadn’t trusted Russell when he’d first called. He’d even wondered if Russell was setting him up. But judging from the concern on his face, Russell must still love Denise. Otherwise, he wouldn’t endanger himself by sneaking into her files. Unless…he’d altered them?

  “Explain these.” Adam pointed to the chemical notations.

  Sarah read over his shoulder while Russell skimmed the summary of the various studies. “Denise was researching a new compound to be given to pregnant women to enhance cognitive growth and prevent mental retardation in high-risk babies at the fetal stage.”

  “Whew, impressive,” Adam mumbled. “But Bradford lied when he said Denise was working on Alzheimer’s research.”

  Sarah squeezed his shoulder and smiled in agreement.

  Russell pulled at his chin. “Probably because this project was highly controversial.”

  “You mean if it fell into the wrong hands, some people might try to use it to alter the genes of healthy babies.”

  “There’s been talk about creating the perfect child.”

  This was definitely monumental, Adam realized, a feeling of trepidation sinking in. The kind of thing dozens of companies and countries might want.

  “According to Denise’s notes, she had one last study, and she was waiting on FDA approval before she could go into clinical trials.”

  “Would a company be interested in the product before clinical trials?”

  “Sure.” Russell removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Foreign governments don’t have the same requirements as the U.S.”

  “So, this German company could be interested in Denise’s research?”

  “It’s possible.” Russell shrugged. “Of course, there’s at least a hundred other projects here they might be coming to talk with CIRP about.”

  Too coincidental. And Adam hated coincidences.

  Sarah pushed a pad paper toward him with a hastily scribbled question. “If she hadn’t completed the study, could they have taken her somewhere to finish it?”

  Adam chewed the inside of his cheek. “It’s possible.”

  Of course, he still didn’t know who had kidnapped her—the Germans? A competitor? One of the scientists at CIRP who was jealous of her work or had gotten greedy? And if it was a co-worker at CIRP, did the center know about the person’s intentions?

  “I HAVE TO TALK to Bradford,” Adam said.

  Russell led the way. “I’d like to hear what he has to say, too.”

  Adam placed a hand on Russell’s chest. “No, Harley, I think it would be better if you stayed out of it.”

  Russell exhaled, worry knitting his brow. “I still care about Denise, Adam.
I want to help find her.”

  “You already have helped. But the less involved you appear, the safer it will be for you.” Russell started to argue, but Adam cut him off. “Just keep your eyes and ears open and let me know if you hear anything else.”

  Russell agreed and Sarah followed Adam to the neighboring building housing Bradford’s office.

  The burly man didn’t appear happy to see them, but he gestured for them to take a seat, then propped himself on the desk edge, his arms folded. “I’m sorry about Denise’s death. She was a top-notch researcher.”

  Adam clenched his hands on his knees. “Why do you say she’s dead?”

  Bradford shifted, putting his weight on his other foot. “I read in the paper that her assistant committed suicide, that he left a note saying he killed her.”

  “He implied it but he never admitted it,” Adam said. “I have reason to believe she’s still alive.”

  Shock ruddied his features. “But—”

  “But what?” Adam’s temper flared. “I know about the big German company coming in three days, to make a deal. I also know that a week after Jerome Simms died, the center announced a big sale.”

  Bradford nervously replied. “That’s just a coincidence.”

  “Listen, Doctor,” Adam snarled, “I deal with the law, and that’s too much coincidence for me.”

  “All right.” Bradford wiped his forehead with a monogrammed handkerchief. “I’ll tell you the truth, but you’re not going to like it.”

  Adam gritted his teeth, stepped back from the man and watched him fall backward into his chair. Bradford took several seconds to calm himself.

  “Spill it, Bradford. Do you know where Denise is?”

  “No.” Bradford held up a hand when Adam started to pounce again. “We think she may have run off with the research.”

  “What? You didn’t mention this earlier?”

  “We were trying to protect her reputation and ours, in case we were mistaken.” Bradford sighed. “And we didn’t want to create a panic with a potential investor coming in.”

  “My sister wouldn’t steal research. Besides, I just saw her files.”

  A vein pulsed in Bradford’s pale forehead, looking as if it might explode. “Who gave you access—”

  “Forget who gave me access, her research was there.”

  “Not all of it,” Bradford said, his voice lethal. “The files she left are incomplete, but Denise had finished the research. We suspect she took the research to another company to sell it herself.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The scenario sounded vaguely familiar, Sarah thought, thinking of the accusations against her father, the ones she’d never thought to question before. Now, she had all kinds of questions.

  “My sister did no such thing,” Adam said in a dark voice. “Denise was…is one of the most dedicated doctors you have. She wouldn’t betray her company, much less sell important research to a competitor without CIRP’s approval. She’d be afraid it might fall into the wrong hands.”

  Bradford planted both hands on his desk. “I told you our suspicions. But with Gates’s suicide, we wondered if he killed her and dumped her body in the ocean.” A long weary sigh rattled out. “Unfortunately, if he did, we’ll never find her or her research.”

  Sarah shuddered at the vivid images his words evoked.

  “If Denise’s discovery is incomplete, why are the Germans coming here in three days to buy it?”

  “They aren’t. They’re here about another project.”

  “What project?”

  “That’s confidential, Detective Black. I’m not about to expose it and risk losing the deal for the center.” He crossed his arms, his lips tight. “But I can assure you it has nothing to do with your sister’s work.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Adam said. “But I will find out the truth, Bradford. And so help me, if you’ve hurt my sister or had anything to do with her disappearance, I’ll hunt you down like a dog and make you wish you’d never seen CIRP.”

  Adam shot Sarah a frustrated look, then stormed out the door. Sarah ached for him, her own nerves on edge.

  As a child, she hadn’t understood the inner workings of big business, only that her father and mother were dead, and that her father was a bad man. She was old enough now to know that sometimes people lied. But so many people had told her the same story. The things they’d accused Denise of hit too close to home. Had her father been the traitor they’d said? Could he have been framed by someone else?

  Maybe she should talk to Sol about Denise. She touched her cheek, remembering his fury. If she went would they have a repeat scene of the night before?

  ANGER RAGED inside Adam. He glanced toward Sarah as they climbed in his car, expecting to see fear and distrust in her eyes, but instead he saw compassion.

  For the first time since he’d met her, he realized what it must have been like for her to grow up hearing her father labeled as a traitor. Just the implication that Denise would do something unethical infuriated him. How had Sarah handled the stigma all these years?

  He knew Denise wouldn’t do anything wrong. And he would prove it. His gut tightened. Even if it meant implicating Sarah’s godfather?

  How would she feel if she discovered the only man who’d been a real father to her was corrupt? Would she hate Adam for slandering her godfather?

  Probably.

  He punched in Clay’s number on his cell phone, not bothering to start the car. “Black here. Did anything turn up on Sarah Cutter’s wreck yesterday?”

  “They found some black paint smudges on the bumper where the other car hit her. We’re running a make on it now.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No leads so far.”

  “What about Gates? Anything new?”

  “I talked to his mother again. She still claims he wouldn’t harm a fly. That he wouldn’t commit suicide.”

  Adam prayed Gates’s mother was right, that Gates hadn’t killed Denise.

  “Oh, and Sol Santenelli called. Apparently he heard about Sarah Cutter’s accident. Santenelli’s pretty freaked. Tell Sarah she should call him.”

  Adam’s gaze found the bruise on her cheek, and anger bolted through him. He wasn’t sure he’d pass the message along. He didn’t want her anywhere near her godfather, not just yet. But did he have the right to keep her from the man who’d raised her?

  “He was really worried?” Adam asked past the lump in his throat.

  “Sounded like it. Is Sarah with you now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “This getting personal, man?”

  Adam wished to hell it wasn’t. But he couldn’t deny the ache that built in his body every time he looked at her. “Don’t worry, partner. Nothing will interfere with the job.”

  “Life is more than work, Black.”

  “Not to me, it’s not.” Adam clenched his jaw. Life had always been about work before. And no matter how much he was starting to care about Sarah Cutter, life would always be about his job.

  SARAH LISTENED silently, uncertain as to the direction of Adam’s conversation. Had Clay asked about her?

  “Mind if wtop by my place so I can pick up a change of clothes?”

  She shook her head as he drove away from the research center.

  “Clay said your godfather freaked about the accident,” Adam said. “Apparently Bernstein talked to him this morning. Santenelli had no idea you’d been in a crash last night.”

  Had it only been one night? Sarah thought. One night since she’d been terrified, and had lain in Adam’s arms, naked and sated from his lovemaking? Feeling closer to him than she’d ever felt to another man before.

  “You want to go by and see him?”

  She shook her head no. She’d wait until she got home, then maybe send him a message via her phone.

  Ten minutes later, they parked in front of a small apartment building in the low-rent side of Savannah. Weeds dotted the sparse grass, a few junky cars filled the parking sp
aces and the paint on the brown wooden building had peeled in layers. Why did Adam live here? Couldn’t he afford a nicer place?

  Sarah was curious. She wanted to know more about him, much more. He acted as if he didn’t need anyone, but sometimes she glimpsed a deep loneliness in his eyes that made her want to reach out to him.

  “It’s not much,” Adam said as if he’d read her mind about his apartment. “But all I need’s a place to crash at night. And I cut a deal with the landlord. Neighborhoods like this like to have a cop around, helps keep crime down.”

  Sarah nodded and opened the door, tensing when Adam rushed around to help her. Her ankle was aching, so she let him help her get out, but then pushed him away to hobble by herself, determined that she would stand on her own two feet, literally and figuratively.

  Determined that he see her as a strong, independent woman, not an imperfect one.

  As soon as they entered his apartment, he pushed aside a stack of laundry on a threadbare sofa and gestured for her to sit, then moved a mismatched foot-stool over to prop up her ankle. She should have enjoyed his attention, but she hated that he saw her as frail.

  “I’ll just grab some clothes and pack a duffel.”

  She grabbed a pad and pencil and wrote, “You don’t have to stay with me. I’ll be fine with the new security system.”

  “I’m not leaving you until this is over, Sarah. There’s no argument on that one.” His dark eyes pinned her. “Besides, I want to talk to Santenelli again. I expect he’ll be waiting for you when we get to your place.”

  She gripped the pencil tightly in her fingers, frowning as he strode to the other room. His absence gave her time to study his apartment. The garage-sale furniture looked ancient, the place devoid of any homey touches. The perfect place for a man who seldom stayed at home.

  An oak entertainment unit held a small TV and CD player, with CDs stacked haphazardly on the coffee table. She rummaged through them, curious about his tastes. Billy Joel, Fleetwood Mac, the Stones, a Shawn Mullins one that she herself loved. A guitar sat propped against the side of the unit. Interesting. She didn’t know Adam played.