by Kay Hooper
And I never saw her again. Except cold and mangled on a slab in the morgue.
Kane pushed that terrible image from his mind.
“I’ve made arrangements to have the bedroom repaired,” he said finally, standing in the center of the room with his hands in his pockets as he watched her. “It’ll take several days. The work crew should be here anytime to get started. It’ll be pretty noisy in here, I’m afraid. So we should probably go somewhere else for the rest of the day.”
She looked at him, finally. “What did you have in mind? Jordan Cochrane?”
Even the name made rage churn inside him like bile, but Kane was able to keep his voice level. “Not today. I called his office and his home. He’s out of town on a business trip. Expected back in a day or two.”
Establishing his alibi? Faith wondered. “How long has he been gone?”
“A week. They said. But we can check into that.”
Faith knew that the last thing he wanted was to find Jordan Cochrane blameless. Kane wanted to blame someone for Dinah’s death.
“And in the meantime?” she asked.
“In the meantime, we both need to get out of here for a few hours. I need to go out to the construction site, for one thing, meet with the inspector. And don’t you have a physical-therapy appointment?”
“Oh. Yes.” It was Thursday. She’d forgotten.
“What time is your appointment?”
Faith looked at her bare wrist, frowned, then looked at the clock on the VCR. Nearly ten. She couldn’t believe how much had happened during this eternal morning.
“It’s at eleven-thirty, I think.”
“Okay. Why don’t we plan to leave at eleven? That’ll give security enough time to figure out a plan to get us out of here unnoticed. As soon as the crew gets here, I’ll put them to work. Until then, we sort through what was left undamaged by the explosion.”
“All right,” Faith said.
It was nearly one by the time Faith completed her therapy, showered, and dressed. As usual, the treatment energized her, and she hoped that tonight she’d be able to sleep deeply and dreamlessly.
But she wasn’t counting on it.
“Faith.”
Just outside the physical-therapy rooms, Faith turned to see Dr. Burnett coming down the hall toward her with a smile. Beyond him, she saw Kane rise from the chair where he had waited for her. Near the elevators, the new bodyguard who had accompanied them today leaned against a wall, seemingly relaxed but entirely watchful. He was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, and Faith wondered where he carried his gun.
“Faith?”
She smiled at Burnett. “Hi. What are you doing up on this floor?”
“Checking up on my star patient.” The words were light, but his gaze was intent, concerned.
“I’m fine. Even though Tracy tortured me as usual.”
“She called me while you were in the shower.”
Faith sighed. “I see. And told you what? That I couldn’t lift the weight I was able to lift last week? That I lasted only ten minutes on the stair climber?”
“That you’d lost five pounds. Faith, if you aren’t taking care of yourself, you’re going to wind up right back in here. Is that what you want?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then start taking better care of yourself. I can’t stand by and watch you lose all the ground you’ve gained.”
“Bullying your former patient, Doctor?” Kane’s voice held a distinct warning.
He had walked over and was now standing close to her, and Faith felt trapped, hemmed in between the two tall men. She could feel their dislike of each other as clearly as if it were written on them in neon.
Burnett’s face tightened, but he returned Kane’s stare without backing down. “I care what happens to her, Mr. MacGregor. Do you?”
“Of course.”
“Indeed? And yet you drag her into a dangerous situation where she’s shot at, nearly killed by a bomb according to the news—”
“She’ll be safe from now on. I’ve made certain of that.”
“By bringing armed guards into her life? By shutting her away so those who care about her can’t even reach her? I tried calling yesterday, and—”
“A service is taking calls.” There was a hard sheen to Kane’s eyes, an edge to his voice. “To weed out those from the media since Dinah’s body was found. Surely you understand that, Doctor?”
“I left a message, Mr. MacGregor. Which Faith clearly never received.”
Faith looked up at Kane. He hadn’t mentioned a message for her, and she had to wonder why.
“It’s been a busy morning,” was Kane’s only reply.
“I imagine so,” Dr. Burnett said. “It’s been all over the news about that reward you offered. You’ve got the whole city stirred up. That’s what all this is really about, isn’t it, Mr. MacGregor? All you’re thinking about is finding the people who killed your fiancée, isn’t that true? Nothing else matters to you. And you’ll drag Faith along with you, wherever the search takes you, whatever the danger—”
It was suddenly too much, and Faith, feeling smothered, cut him off. “Enough. Doctor, nobody dragged me into this situation—except the people who tried to destroy my life.”
“Faith—”
“No. No more. I realize I’m your pet project. I also realize that I appear somewhat frail at the moment. But you’re making a very big mistake if you imagine I’m nothing more than a doll with no mind of my own. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” She shifted her gaze to Kane and lifted her chin. “It’s time I started doing that.”
She brushed past them both and walked toward the elevators, leaving them staring after her.
THIRTEEN
Kane caught up with her at the elevators, but since the bodyguard joined them, he didn’t say anything to her.
As for Faith, she realized with some surprise that she was angry—and that it felt good.
She was angry at Dr. Burnett for seeing her always as walking wounded in need of his professional advice and concern, angry at Kane for leaping to her defense as if he also believed her in need of his protection, and angry at herself most of all for having apathetically accepted the attitudes from both men.
Maybe her legs were a bit shaky these days, maybe her memory was as blank as a mime’s face, and maybe she was an emotional mess. But she was also a grown woman who’d had the guts to leave an abusive husband, travel three thousand miles across the country alone, and start her life over again.
It was a realization to hold on to.
Their car and driver were waiting for them, and even though the bodyguard got into the front, leaving Faith and Kane alone in the backseat, there was no partition to give them any privacy.
So Faith kept her voice low and even indifferent when she asked, “When do you have to meet the inspector?”
“Three o’clock.”
She felt him looking at her but didn’t turn her head to meet his gaze.
He drew an audible breath. “Faith, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Burnett’s message when I called the service this morning.”
“All right. You’re sorry.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Of course I believe you. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Faith—”
“If we have time, would you mind going by my apartment today or tomorrow? I want to get my watch.” She looked down at her bare wrist. “I didn’t even realize I wasn’t wearing it until this morning. I suppose I forgot to get it the other day when I packed up my things.”
“Of course we’ll have time.”
“Thank you.” Her tone was polite.
Kane glanced at the two men in the front seat and resisted an urge to swear. For this kind of security and safety, privacy had to be sacrificed—and he didn’t like it. He also didn’t like feeling so raw and touchy; he knew all too well that he had overreacted with Burnett, and in so doing had upset Faith.
But the
truth was that he was raw, his emotions too close to the surface and all too easily touched. Most of all, he was angry. Angry at Burnett for his possessive attitude toward Faith. Angry at Faith for getting under his skin. Angry at Dinah for getting herself killed.
“Do you want me to apologize for what I said to Burnett, is that it?” he demanded.
Faith blinked at the anger in his voice, but otherwise remained unruffled. “If you feel you were wrong, say so. But don’t do it just to placate me.”
For a dizzy moment he wondered if she had any idea how much like Dinah she’d sounded. Dinah, who had hated false repentance and always refused to accept a careless I’m sorry, even to pour oil on troubled waters. She had always preferred an honest fight to fake peace, no matter what is cost her.
Slowly, he said, “I don’t feel I was wrong, except maybe in presuming that you needed me to interfere. I will apologize for that.”
“Thank you. I can fight my own battles, you know.”
“You didn’t seem to want to fight Burnett.”
“Dr. Burnett,” she said with great deliberation, “helped me get back on my feet after I came out of the coma. I’ll always be grateful to him for that.”
“It was his job, Faith.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“Is he?”
Faith was silent for a moment, then said, “I’m his patient, nothing more. Not that it’s any of your business.”
Kane knew she was right. It was none of his business. Absolutely none of his business.
Casting about for something casual to say, he asked, “Did you bring your apartment keys with you? If so, we can drop by on our way out to the construction site.”
“I think so.” She opened her shoulder bag and checked inside. He heard the clink of keys and then saw her frown.
“What?”
She drew out a folded piece of paper and opened it slowly. Her face went blank as she read whatever was written there, and he saw her fingers tremble.
“Faith?”
She looked at him, and for an instant he thought she was going to crumple the paper or tear it to pieces. Then she held it out to him.
It was half a sheet torn carelessly from a notebook, and the single handwritten sentence on it sprawled across the page as if the author had been in a hurry.
Faith, look in my apartment inside the book.
“It isn’t my writing,” Faith said.
The words blurred before Kane’s eyes. “No. It’s Dinah’s.”
She didn’t want to go into Dinah’s apartment. Beside her, Kane was still and silent, and she was vividly conscious of his anger and disbelief.
He didn’t believe she had never seen the note before or that it had not been in her bag a few days before. Nor did he believe she hadn’t written it herself, somehow aping Dinah’s handwriting well enough to fool his incredulous eyes.
He didn’t believe, because any other explanation chipped away at his sanity. And he was angry with her because … what? Because he thought she was playing with his emotions, mocking his grief?
Faith didn’t know what she believed. All she knew was that the note had not been in her bag before today and that she had not written it herself in some inexplicable attempt to deceive Kane—or anyone else. She knew Dinah hadn’t written it, because Dinah was dead.
And she knew one last thing, one final stark fact she was absolutely certain of: Wherever the note had come from, the message it contained was from Dinah.
She knew that.
Kane said, “If it takes longer than … If it looks like I’ll be late in meeting the inspector, I’ll call and have him wait.” He sounded calm, but she thought it was a precarious calm.
He’s angry at everybody because she’s gone. And now this has to happen. And I make a handy target for his anger.
She didn’t blame him for what he felt, but there was an anger in Faith as well, and she didn’t know how much longer she could handle it in silence.
When they reached Dinah’s apartment building, the driver went around the block once so they could make certain no media lurked in the area. But since no crime had been committed there, since her apartment was empty and her neighbors had long since stopped responding to questions from the press, the journalists who had camped out there in the days just after Dinah’s disappearance had finally gone away.
Even so, the bodyguard insisted on going with them up to the third floor, insisted on checking the apartment door carefully with a little electronic gadget he carried, and, after Kane had disarmed the security system, insisted he go in first to make certain there was no danger. It was, after all, what Kane was paying him for.
Faith was grateful for the few minutes allowed her before she had to go inside.
“Do you know if I’ve … ever been here before?” she asked Kane, after the bodyguard closed the door, leaving them alone.
“She never mentioned it.”
Angry. He’s so angry.
Faith didn’t say anything else. She felt Kane’s gaze on her.
The bodyguard came out and said they could enter.
Faith walked slowly into the living room and looked around. The apartment smelled of lemon; Kane had told her that he’d had a cleaning service come in every week, just as Dinah had, but it had been vacant for many weeks and there was an air of emptiness about it.
Faith shivered and wrapped her arms about herself as she tried to remain detached and study the room. Plenty of natural light, spacious. The furniture was high quality, the wood pieces gleaming with lemon oil and the upholstery constructed of expensive material, but the appearance was casual, the cushions overstuffed and comfortable.
The neatness contributed to the empty feel, with accent pillows placed precisely, and magazines on the stone-topped coffee table aligned exactly, and no clutter anywhere.
Looking around, she was sure that she had been here before, and more than once. I know there are two bedrooms and a bathroom. And even though I can’t see it from here, there’s a clock near the kitchen table, and the dish towels have apples on them. And she loves plants, but hers are silk because she forgets to water the real ones and they die.…
Shaking off the odd sensations, Faith walked over to a wall between two large windows where a bookcase was filled to bursting.
… Inside the book.
Which book? There must have been a hundred on this set of shelves alone, and she didn’t have to look down the hallway toward the bedrooms to know that it was lined with bookshelves just as filled as these were.
Conscious of Kane behind her, Faith reached up to a shelf and began running a finger along the spines of the books, stopping on each just long enough to read the titles.
“What are you looking for?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t you?”
She looked back over her shoulder at him. “No, I don’t know. I have no idea which book she—which book the note meant. Do you?”
“The note was directed to you,” he answered implacably.
“Okay, fine. Why don’t you go on to your appointment with the inspector? Leave the guard outside and take the driver with you. I’ll stay here and look through these books.”
His mouth tightened. “I’m not leaving you alone.”
“I’m not alone. The guard can stay.”
“It’ll take hours to go through all her books,” Kane said roughly.
“Then I’ll stay here for hours.”
“Goddammit, Faith, you know Dinah didn’t write that note!”
She didn’t flinch. “I don’t know who wrote it. But I am absolutely positive the message is from Dinah.”
“Dinah is dead.”
“Yes.” Faith made herself go on in the calmest voice she could manage. “And I’ve known things about her all along, Kane. The flashes of those scenes with you. The dog attacking her. That room in the Cochrane warehouse where they—where they hurt her. And the sound of water near where she was found. I knew all of tha
t, saw it or heard it or felt it. And I’m telling you now that the message in the note is from Dinah.”
“Are you channeling the dead now, Faith?”
“I’m just telling you what I know. There is something in one of these books, something Dinah wants me to find. I have to look for it.”
Kane stared at her for a long while, then swore and reached for his cell phone. “All right. I’ll reschedule with the inspector for tomorrow.”
He stepped away to use the phone, and Faith didn’t try to talk him out of it. She knew he still didn’t believe her about the note, but at least now he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.
Faith turned back to the bookshelves and began scanning the titles again. She really had no idea what she was looking for. All the books were novels, ranging from mystery, romance, and science fiction to blockbuster best-sellers and literary fiction.
If nothing else, Dinah had certainly ranged widely in her reading.
Faith plucked a few titles off the shelves and flipped through them, feeling helpless and frustrated. Which book? How could she possibly guess what might be important?
“We’ll have to go through them one by one,” Kane said behind her. “Check every book. That is—if you really don’t know what we’re supposed to find.”
“I really don’t know,” she said.
He let out a short breath that sounded impatient. “Okay. You start in here, and I’ll take the hallway.”
“She had a lot of books,” Faith murmured.
“There’s another wall of shelves in her bedroom,” Kane said, then turned and went into the hall.
An awful lot of books.
More than an hour later, Faith had taken down, searched, and replaced on their shelves nearly half the books, without finding anything out of the ordinary. A few bookmarks. A years-old grocery list. Theater ticket stubs.
She sat on the floor, her legs out before her, touching her toes and stretching her sore muscles gingerly. She was tired. And she was frustrated.
Dammit, Dinah, where is it? Where do I look?
She didn’t know. And if it had been Dinah trying to help her find some necessary clue, she was being silent and unhelpful now.
