A Desperate Silence (Dr. Sylvia Strange Book 3) by Sarah Lovett Page B
Authors: Sarah Lovett
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maximum. Where the hell had he been?
Abruptly, a face appeared on the other side of the windshield. Renzo was reaching for a weapon when he realized it was just his own reflection in the glass—but for an instant he'd seen the lean muzzle and the mean fangs of a dog, a yellow shepherd.
To clear his head, he lowered the window for air. As he pulled his arm away from the power button, he saw blood tracing a miniature river over his skin. It had stained his silver bracelet, obscuring the face of the Nahuatl goddess Coatlicue.
He had no memory of cutting himself. He sucked the liquid, drawing solace from its warmth.
W ITH ONE HAND , Sylvia held the portable phone set to her ear; she listened to a low hum and waited while the state police dispatcher tracked down Matt. With the other hand, she searched her kitchen cupboard for something to feed a child.
Serena was seated at the kitchen table, watching every move Sylvia made. Her luminous brown eyes traveled right and left while Sylvia roved anxiously around the small room. Sylvia's free hand settled on a box of Cheerios just as Matt came on the line.
She turned away from the child and spoke in a low voice. "Can you stay at your place tonight? I've got Serena here." She walked out of the kitchen, into the living room—safely out of the child's earshot.
It took a moment for the name to register with Matt. "The kid? Why?"
"She hitched a ride in the back of my truck when I was visiting her foster home, she must have smuggled herself in with the dogs." Quickly, Sylvia related her take on the afternoon's events. "I tried the foster home, but there was no answer, so I left a message on the machine. The husband called me back two minutes ago. The whole family's been out searching the neighborhood."
Matt was silent for several seconds before he said, "You've notified Protective Services?"
"I called the hotline and left a message for the social worker, said I'd meet her first thing tomorrow morning."
"Can't you take the kid back tonight—"
Sylvia cut off Matt's protest with a flood of words. "I'm feeding her, I'll put her to bed, she needs rest. She does not need to spend the night in the back of a cruiser."
Matt sighed. "Just don't start acting like Ripley in Aliens ."
"Hey, the alien's a piece of cake compared to Social Services." Sylvia glanced over her shoulder to make certain she was still out of the child's hearing. "Listen, this kid spilled a quart of milk, a half gallon of juice, a box of cookies—and that's just in the last thirty minutes. We're down to a bowl of Cheerios with chocolate milk. Next she'll probably blow up the house."
As she paced, Sylvia automatically straightened Serena's sweater—the coloring book was still pinned to the inside. She flipped the pages, catching a glimpse of the multicolored drawings, and continued. "Serena will go back to C.P.S. tomorrow. I'm going to recommend she be placed in a private hospital until we can get things sorted out."
She heard Matt blow air softly between his teeth. "It might be better—"
"It would be better if she had a foster home to go to, but she doesn't. This afternoon Nellie Trujillo told me she couldn't handle Serena. Whether I like it or not, I've got a connection with this child. At the moment I'm the only person who does."
The silence lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to alert Sylvia to a problem. Matt said, "I heard something from an old buddy at the A.G. investigations office. Something about your kid."
"She's not my kid," Sylvia corrected him automatically.
"The A.G.'s office got a call from the federales in Juárez. The Mexican cops had a description of a missing child. Apparently, it matches the girl."
Sylvia's muscles went slack. "What will that mean?"
"She
Abruptly, a face appeared on the other side of the windshield. Renzo was reaching for a weapon when he realized it was just his own reflection in the glass—but for an instant he'd seen the lean muzzle and the mean fangs of a dog, a yellow shepherd.
To clear his head, he lowered the window for air. As he pulled his arm away from the power button, he saw blood tracing a miniature river over his skin. It had stained his silver bracelet, obscuring the face of the Nahuatl goddess Coatlicue.
He had no memory of cutting himself. He sucked the liquid, drawing solace from its warmth.
W ITH ONE HAND , Sylvia held the portable phone set to her ear; she listened to a low hum and waited while the state police dispatcher tracked down Matt. With the other hand, she searched her kitchen cupboard for something to feed a child.
Serena was seated at the kitchen table, watching every move Sylvia made. Her luminous brown eyes traveled right and left while Sylvia roved anxiously around the small room. Sylvia's free hand settled on a box of Cheerios just as Matt came on the line.
She turned away from the child and spoke in a low voice. "Can you stay at your place tonight? I've got Serena here." She walked out of the kitchen, into the living room—safely out of the child's earshot.
It took a moment for the name to register with Matt. "The kid? Why?"
"She hitched a ride in the back of my truck when I was visiting her foster home, she must have smuggled herself in with the dogs." Quickly, Sylvia related her take on the afternoon's events. "I tried the foster home, but there was no answer, so I left a message on the machine. The husband called me back two minutes ago. The whole family's been out searching the neighborhood."
Matt was silent for several seconds before he said, "You've notified Protective Services?"
"I called the hotline and left a message for the social worker, said I'd meet her first thing tomorrow morning."
"Can't you take the kid back tonight—"
Sylvia cut off Matt's protest with a flood of words. "I'm feeding her, I'll put her to bed, she needs rest. She does not need to spend the night in the back of a cruiser."
Matt sighed. "Just don't start acting like Ripley in Aliens ."
"Hey, the alien's a piece of cake compared to Social Services." Sylvia glanced over her shoulder to make certain she was still out of the child's hearing. "Listen, this kid spilled a quart of milk, a half gallon of juice, a box of cookies—and that's just in the last thirty minutes. We're down to a bowl of Cheerios with chocolate milk. Next she'll probably blow up the house."
As she paced, Sylvia automatically straightened Serena's sweater—the coloring book was still pinned to the inside. She flipped the pages, catching a glimpse of the multicolored drawings, and continued. "Serena will go back to C.P.S. tomorrow. I'm going to recommend she be placed in a private hospital until we can get things sorted out."
She heard Matt blow air softly between his teeth. "It might be better—"
"It would be better if she had a foster home to go to, but she doesn't. This afternoon Nellie Trujillo told me she couldn't handle Serena. Whether I like it or not, I've got a connection with this child. At the moment I'm the only person who does."
The silence lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to alert Sylvia to a problem. Matt said, "I heard something from an old buddy at the A.G. investigations office. Something about your kid."
"She's not my kid," Sylvia corrected him automatically.
"The A.G.'s office got a call from the federales in Juárez. The Mexican cops had a description of a missing child. Apparently, it matches the girl."
Sylvia's muscles went slack. "What will that mean?"
"She
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