Page 44 of Hidden
“Everything is not fine,” he said, keeping his voice too quiet for the women to hear.
Asher didn’t bother denying it. Not only was Chad a trained interrogator, but as the oldest of the ten cousins, he took his duties toward them—as imaginary as they were—seriously.
“Ellie should follow you to HICC,” Asher suggested. “I need to head into work.”
“We need you, too,” Chad said. “Only for a little while,” he added when Asher tossed him a dubious look. “We have some questions about what happened Monday night.”
Asher sighed. “I still need to shower, but I can meet you all there.”
“Or you and Ellie can come in together.”
“I’ve been away from the office for two days. Like I said, I have to go in today. I’ll need to leave as soon as you’re done with me.”
“And Ellie?”
“She’s an adult and can figure out her own schedule. She knows I need to work. And it would bother her if I missed any more days because of her,” he added. And it would. He kind of hated that she’d insist he go into the office today—that she’d put his needs ahead of hers. But not only did he appreciate the way she respected his job, he actually did need to work.
Chad regarded him then finally nodded. “I’ll let her know the plan if you want to head up to get ready.”
Asher set the last dish in the dishwasher. “Thanks, I’d appreciate that.” Yeah, he felt like a coward—or a passive-aggressive dick—for ditching the scene without checking in with Ellie. But Chad would make his excuses in a way that didn’t sound like an excuse. Or so he told himself.
Thirty minutes later, he joined everyone in one of the HICC conference rooms. Guilt hit him in the gut at the look of disappointment Ellie shot him. The worst part was, she had every right to be disappointed. He cared about her enough to sleep with her. And to want to be a part of her life. Which meant he also trusted her, because he didn’t do either of those things without trust. And if that was the case, which it was, then he needed to push his pride aside andtrust her. She’d told him she hadn’t meant her words the way they sounded. As hard as it was, he needed to choose to believe her. To give her a chance to explain.
But now wasn’t the time or place. She sat on one side of the long table with Sabina on one side and Chad on the other. Ava and Leo, two of Sabina’s team members, sat on the other with Dr. JJ Garcia in between. Taking quick stock of the empty seats, he grabbed the one on the other side of Chad, closest to the door.
“Sorry I’m late,” he muttered.
“You’re not,” JJ said. “We’re just getting started. What can you tell me about the device Ash found beside Ellie’s bed?” she asked, her gaze taking in Leo, Ava, and Sabina as she spoke. Sabina nodded to Ava, who walked the psychologist through what he and Ellie had already been told. But in addition, she handed the device over for the doctor to inspect.
“No fingerprints?” JJ asked. Her long blond ponytail fell over her shoulder when she bent her head to examine the small object. As she turned it over in her hands, Asher studied her. He’d always liked the woman. Although, as he sat there, he realized he didn’t know much about her. He knew things he observed, like the fact that she was beyond intelligent, gave off a serious don’t-fuck-with-me vibe, and had a dry—very dry—sense of humor. And he knew she’d been with the FBI. But beyond that, he knew very little. He wondered if she had family or if she was originally from California. And how she’d ended up in Mystery Lake. None of those were relevant to her job. But still, he found his lack of knowledge curious.
“And what were the measurements?” she asked, handing the device back to Ava.
“Emitting four to six hertz per second at between seven and nine decibels,” she answered.
“What does that mean?” Asher asked.
JJ looked at him. Her eyes bounced to Ellie before she answered. “It means low pitch and low volume.”
“How are those different?” Ellie asked.
JJ wagged her head. “In a nutshell, pitch is the frequency of the sound wave, and decibels is the intensity, or volume. You can have high frequency, but if the decibels are low enough, you won’t hear it. And the reverse is mostly true as well. You can have low frequency, but if the decibels are high enough, you’d be able to hear it. Although, in some cases, the decibels needed in order to hear it could damage your eardrum, so I wouldn’t try that at home, kids.”
Asher only vaguely remembered studying this topic in medical school, and he appreciated the primer. But her explanation didn’t address the elephant in the room. The one Ellie’s next question raised.
“Could it be responsible for what’s been happening to me?”
“First, I have one more question,” JJ said. “Chad, has your team found any other devices?”
“They’re there now,” Chad answered. “Nothing so far, but they’ll check in throughout the search.”
JJ nodded. “Okay,” she said on an exhale. “Here’s the short and sweet. The studies are inconclusive and often contradictory, so please keep that in mind. That said, some show that prolonged exposure to low-frequency sound may induce feelings of unease, nausea, paranoia, and depression. Some studies even suggest that it can impact the brain at a cellular level.”
“‘Inducing feelings of’ something seems different, less extreme, than what Ellie experiences,” Asher said.
JJ inclined her head. “I agree. But like I said, the studies aren’t conclusive. Some say it has no impact, and others reach more extreme conclusions. It’s a possible explanation, is all I’m suggesting.”
“What do you think, though?” Ellie pressed, her voice strained with hope. It would be a nice tidy answer if the device caused her episodes.
