Page 20 of So Lethal

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Sound waves like a low rumbling sound that seems like it’s coming from far away?”

“Might be. That could be how he’s luring them outside. I dismissed it as a possibility at first, but if there’s even a smidgen of truth to the idea that certain sound waves can stimulate hearing in deaf people, then we might have the missing piece of our method.”

“I think it’s worth another conversation with Dr. Crane at the very least,” Michael said.

“Agreed.” She got to her feet. “Come on, Turk. We’re going back.”

The three of them rushed to their car and moved equally as fast back to the clinic in Fremont. Their rental didn’t have police lights or a siren, but Michael demonstrated great prowess maneuvering through traffic, and they were fortunate enough not to encounter any traffic cops on the way.

When they reached the medical center, they found a cluster of staff standing in front of the clinic. Faith saw Kimmy—the receptionist from before—and tapped on her shoulder. Kimmy flinched and stared at Faith in shock.

“Sorry,” Faith said. “I just wanted to know what was going on. Why is everyone outside?”

Kimmy sighed and wiped tears from her eyes before replying, “Dr. Crane closed the clinic. He let us all go.”

Faith’s blood ran cold. “What? Just now?”

“Two hours ago, right after you guys left.” She cast an accusing gaze at Faith. “What did you say to him?”

Faith didn't reply. She pushed past Kimmy and worked her way through the crowd to the front door. The building was dark, and a padlock secured the door handles. A typed memo taped to the door bore the simple message: EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY, THE AUDITORY RESEARCH CENTER IS PERMANENTLY CLOSED.

A hand tapped Faith’s shoulder. She turned around to see an angry nurse ask, “Excuse me, we haven’t been paid yet. Dr. Crane owes us our wages through the end of this pay period.”

“You’ll have to file a complaint with your local district court,” Faith replied. “That’s not what I’m here for.”

She left before the irate nurse could reply. Michael and Turk followed her back to the car, their expressions as grim as Faith’s.

“Put an APB out on him,” Faith said. “Make sure it goes to the entire Bay Area and California Highway Patrol. Airport police too at SFO, SJO, and Oakland.”

“I’ll make sure the All Points Bulletin gets to All Points,” Michael replied.

“Not in the mood right now,” Faith snapped, getting into her seat and slamming the door.

She wasn’t entirely sure about Crane before, but now she had no doubt. They had spooked their killer, and now he was getting away.

CHAPTER NINE

Sarah Martinez struggled to remember the sign for hope. She thought for a second, then smiled sheepishly and spelled the word out instead.

“That’s wonderful!” the support group host said.

She signed it as well, but Sarah understood because of the exaggerated movements of her mouth, not the sign. Like she was talking to a five-year-old and not a thirty-three-year-old MA who owned an advertising business.

“It’s important to never lose hope,” the host continued. “It’s also important to remember that being deaf is not a disability. You can still have a normal life!”

Oh yeah, Sarah thought bitterly. It’s perfectly normal to never be able to listen to music again. It’s just fine to not understand my sister when she speaks to me. And hey, it’s okay that literally no one knows what the fuck I’m saying because there are twelve people on Earth who understand sign language and I’m not one of them. Just peachy-keen.

A few other people “spoke.” Sarah picked up a word or two here and there but didn’t understand anything until the host flapped her lips like a cartoon character after every single share. She made sure to smile and clap and give sympathetic nods when she saw others doing it, but inwardly, she was seething.

This wasn’t fair. Maybe it was fine for people who were born without hearing. They didn’t know what they were missing. But Sarah was born normal, and she couldn’t stand knowing that she’d never be normal again. You weren’t supposed to say that deaf people weren’t normal, but you know what? They weren’t. She was normal, and now she wasn’t normal, and it wasn’t goddamned fair.

She managed to control herself long enough to get through the meeting. She even managed to make small talk with a few of the others when it was over. Very small talk. No one here knew anything more complicated than, “Hi, How are you? I’m good. It’s a beautiful day. See you next time!”

But she pushed through it. It wasn’t anyone else’s fault that she got a strep infection in both ears that left masses of scar tissue where her eardrums should be. That was just a shitty thing that happened to her. There was no need to be rude.

This would be her last meeting, though. The support group wasn’t helping at all. She was tired of hearing people tell her to be brave and have hope and realize that she could still live a normal life. None of it was true. If other people could convince themselves of that lie, then good for them, but Sarah wasn’t one of those people.

She reached the parking lot and pulled her keys from her pocket. Her key fob had a function that started the engine before she entered the car. She liked it because it would run the air conditioning or heater for a few seconds before she stepped inside.

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