Hiding in the Shadows tbscus-2

by Кей Хупер

"In other words, you were driving all over Atlanta poking into corners."

  "Guy, I'd swear nobody followed us. And as far as I could tell, no one we talked to reacted in any unusual way to our questions." He had filled in the detective on their suppositions and conclusions, and Bishop's discovery about the murder investigation in Seattle.

  The detective sighed. "Well, somebody was obviously upset enough to warn you off. Maybe you should pay attention. Get out of Atlanta for a while and let me do the poking around."

  "You know I can't do that. But I can hire a couple of security guards to keep a closer eye on this place. And I'll sure as hell have blinds installed on those windows first thing tomorrow."

  "Put one of the guards in the garage to keep an eye on your car," Richardson suggested. "And it wouldn't hurt to hire another private cop to follow you whenever you leave and make sure he's the only one doing that."

  Kane grimaced slightly, but nodded.

  "When's Bishop due back?"

  "He isn't. He'll get here when he can, but something' s breaking in a case he's on, so there's no way of knowing."

  "Have him call me and fill me in on whatever information he digs up."

  Richardson looked at his friend steadily.

  "I mean it, Kane. This little stunt, coupled with the break-ins at Miss Parker's apartment, tells me for damn sure that whatever's going on is deadly serious. You get yourself killed, and the paperwork's going to be hell."

  "I'll remember that," Kane said dryly.

  Richardson put the flattened bullet into a plastic evidence bag. "I'll file a quiet report on this incident. But it's the last time, Kane. Anything else happens, I won't be able to keep it under my hat."

  "Understood."

  Kane showed the detective out and when he returned to the couch, Faith said, "He seems a good friend. "

  "I'm blessed with a few," Kane agreed. He looked at her searchingly. "I know it's a stupid question to ask if you're all right, but I'll ask anyway. Are you?"

  She looked so small and still under the blanket, her hair dulled by the low lights of the room and her face ashen.

  "I'll be fine."

  He looked into her big, shadowed green eyes and saw the fear and pain she was determined to deny.

  "Faith..."

  "I know I should probably call it a day, go to bed and sleep, but ... I'd really rather not do that just yet."

  She drew the blanket tighter around herself, the strain showing now in the tension of her posture, and fixed her gaze on the fire.

  "I don't want to be alone right now."

  Thinking of her isolated in her limbo of no memory drove him to say, "You aren't alone, Faith. I'm not going anywhere."

  "Thank you."

  "But my confidence that you'd be safer here with me was obviously misplaced. I'm sorry. Noah was right; I should have taken better precautions from the beginning."

  "You had ... other things on your mind."

  "That's no excuse. I made your safety my responsibility, and I should have followed through. But tomorrow I'll take those steps I mentioned to guy, make it impossible for anyone to get close or to see inside. I'll make sure we have an escort when we leave here. You'll be safe, I promise."

  She nodded, but said, "if I could only remember. We'd be ahead of them then. We'd know what it is they want and why they want it so badly. We'd know who they are. Maybe we'd even know where Dinah is."

  "You can't force your memory to return."

  "I've been out of the coma now for almost a month. I should be remembering something. Those dreams are only flashes...I don't remember them, not really, I just see them happening. And what do I know about myself? I play the piano, it seems. I'm nervous about storms." She drew a shaky breath. "My mother and sister were horribly murdered, and I can't remember, can't feel anything about it. I married a man who abused me, who terrified me, yet I could pass him tomorrow on the street and never recognize his face."

  "Faith..."

  "What's my favorite color? My favorite food? Do I like to read? Do I like animals? Flowers? Did I love Tony Ellis before he beat me?"

  Kane pulled her into his arms and held her while she cried. He didn't urge her to stop or tell her everything would be all right; crying was obviously some thing she needed to do. Careful of her injury, he wrapped both arms around her, rested his cheek against her soft hair, and just held her.

  It was a long time before she finally quieted, before she said in a muffled voice against his chest, "Oh, God, I'm sorry."

  "Don't be ridiculous."

  She pulled back a little. "I don't usually cry." Then she laughed shakily. "At least, I don't think I do."

  "You're entitled. More than entitled." Since his handkerchief had been employed earlier, he used a corner of the blanket to wipe her cheeks.

  "And I bet you feel better now, don't you?"

  "As a matter of fact, I do."

  "Then I count it as a good thing." He brushed a strand of her hair away from her face and smiled at her when she finally met his gaze. His fingers lingered on her face, and he thought how soft and warm her skin was.

  He had never before seen eyes that particular shade of green, like seawater. It would be so easy to sink into them and lose himself So easy to think of nothing but the ache of loneliness and longing he felt, to forget everything else... Kane realized he was staring at her mouth, that his hand had moved to cradle the back of her head and was drawing her toward him. And he froze.

  Faith blinked as if coming out of a daze, then very slowly pulled away from him and got to her feet. "I think I'll turn in now after all. Good night, Kane."

  "Good night." His voice sounded normal, he thought.

  He sat there for several minutes staring into the fire. Then he pulled out his wallet and opened the section where he kept photographs.

  She hated posing for pictures and always had, so this was a candid shot.

  He had surprised her at the beach, catching her in a brief yellow two-piece that showed her splendid body to advantage. The click of the shutter had just missed her scowl; his own glee at finally capturing her on film after several frustrated attempts had amused her, and she had laughed, giving him a wonderful picture.

  It was the only picture of Dinah he had.

  "Come back to me," he murmured. "Come back before..."

  He didn't finish the sentence. Even to himself.

  "There's no sign of infection," Dr. Burnett said as he finished rebandaging Faith's wound, "so the shot's just a precaution. In the meantime..."

  Faith smiled at him as she pulled down the loose sleeve of her sweater.

  "I know. Don't stand in front of any more windows."

  Burnett washed and dried his hands at the small sink in the examination room, then nodded at the nurse, who left silently. When they were alone, he said, "Faith, what's going on? A gunshot wound?"

  She wasn't certain how much she should tell him, and with the new tension between her and Kane, she hadn't felt able to seek his advice before they had parted just a few minutes before, he to question the remaining staff members, she to check in with Burnett and get her arm examined. Going on the theory that the least said would probably be best, she replied, "The police are investigating."

  "You have no idea why someone shot at you?"

  Lightly, she said, "It was the middle of a storm and at night, and for all I know whoever it was never even aimed the gun, much less aimed it at me. It was probably a fluke. Just a fluke."

  Burnett looked unconvinced, but nodded and changed the subject. "So how are you doing otherwise? I called your apartment over the weekend but didn't get an answer."

  "I'm ... staying somewhere else." Before he could question that, she went on quickly, "And I'm fine. I get tired a bit too easily, but that's all."

  "No headaches? Dizziness?"

  "No, nothing like that." Sometimes I hear the sounds of water rushing, just inside my head, you understand, but that's probably nothing at all to worry about ...

 
"Any unusual muscle weakness or numbness anywhere?"

  "No."

  Burnett nodded again and studied her soberly.

  "Any memories come back?"

  "Not really." Faith shrugged, wincing when she felt a twinge of pain in her arm. "More knowledge. I found out I play the piano, for instance. I ... found out some things about my past, my life before I came to Atlanta, but not through remembering. Sometimes I have dreams that might be memory, but it doesn't feel that way."

  He frowned. "Faith, I'd like you to talk to Dr. Wilson again."

  Wilson was the psychologist on staff.

  Faith said, "But she told me last time to expect odd dreams and flashes of knowledge. She said it could go on for months, even years, until my conscious mind felt more stable and ... grounded in day-to-day experiences. Until I built new memories."

  "I still think you should talk to her again."

  Giving in, at least to all appearances, Faith nodded. "Okay, I'll make an appointment."

  "Good." Burnett's frown still lingered. "I was a bit surprised to see you come in today with Kane MacGregor."

  "Oh? Why? Dinah is my friend, after all."

  "I know that. And I know you feel you need to hold on to that connection to the past, but..."

  Quietly, Faith said, "Dr. Burnett, my friend is missing. I don't remember my life before the accident, but the one thing I have clear evidence of is Dinah's friendship. If there's anything I can do to help her... her fiancée find her, then I'll do it."

  "Without your memory, how can you help?"

  Well, Doctor, it seems I'm tapped in to Dinah's mind somehow, hearing her voice — maybe — and sometimes I get to watch her being tortured ...

  Faith sighed. "There isn't much I can do, granted. But we ... we think Dinah may have vanished because she was investigating something dangerous, something I got her involved in."

  "Something dangerous? Faith, without your memory any useful information or guidance, to provide don't you realize what a mistake it would be to probe into a potentially dangerous situation filled with unknowns?"

  "That's why I came in today with Kane. I'm in good hands, Dr. Burnett, I promise you."

  His gaze flicked to her bandaged arm. "Are you?"

  "I told you, the shot was a fluke."

  "And if it wasn't?"

  "If it wasn't ... I'll stay away from windows from now on."

  Burnett drew a breath and spoke in a carefully neutral tone of voice. "Faith, it's quite obvious that Kane Macgregor would do anything and everything in his power to find Dinah Leighton. After so many weeks with no sign of her, he must be getting desperate. Desperate enough to be less mindful of his methods than the results he might obtain."

  "What are you saying?"

  "I'm saying that you aren't his priority, Faith. You aren't his first concern. Dinah Leighton is."

  "I realize that," she said steadily.

  "Do you? And do you also realize that he might well be willing to sacrifice your safety or even you if that means finding out what happened to Dinah?"

  "Yes," Faith replied. "Yes, I also realize that."

  CHAPTER 7

  "I need to go by the office for a few minutes," Kane said as they left the hospital.

  Faith thought he kept talking, thought he was explaining something about a call he'd received about a problem on a job site, but she could no longer hear him. The sounds of rushing water drowned out his words. She stared straight ahead through the windshield, trying not to flinch away from what she heard even though the force of it was almost overwhelming.

  And it wasn't just the sound. Panic was crawling around in her head; the sense of being smothered, of not having enough room, not nearly enough room, paralyzed her. The musty smell of damp earth was so strong she kept her breathing shallow, trying desperately not to inhale that moldy dampness, and she had the eerie certainty that if she looked down at herself she'd find her clothing wet, her skin dripping.

  I am wide awake. So why does this feel like a nightmare?

  Gradually, so gradually that at first Faith hardly noticed, darkness closed around her. She could see nothing. Feel nothing except the sense of heaviness all around her, of walls too close to bear. She was trapped, helpless. The awful smell grew stronger, so much so that she had the urge to cough to get it out of her throat. And now there was a new sound added to the rushing water. A clicking. No — a clinking. Metal on metal? Not rhythmic but erratic, weak, uncertain ...

  If I can just get this loose ... if I can get my hands free before they come back ...

  Oh, damn, why won't my fingers work? It's so dark. I hate the dark. I hate this place. Why did they have to put me here? There's no room, no air to breathe. Too close, the walls are too close, the ceiling ... I've got to get out of here before I ... before they ... Why is this so hard? Why can't I...

  "Faith?"

  Why can't I move? If there was just a little light. Just a little more room to move. If I only had more time. If only it didn't hurt so much...

  "Faith!"

  She came back to herself with an abruptness.

  Light flooded her vision, and the sudden cessation of the sounds of rushing water made the quiet of the car seem almost deafening.

  And the familiar voice that had been in her head, its vibrant personality still incredibly strong despite distance and despair and suffering, was gone as though it had never been there.

  "Faith, for God's sake..."

  She blinked at Kane, realizing that he was holding her shoulders and was shaking her. Her arm ached dully beneath his grip, but it was nothing compared to the agony that had been in her mind.

  "I'm all right," she murmured.

  His fingers tightened painfully, then released her.

  "You want to tell me what in hell happened? One minute we were talking, and the next you were so far away I couldn't reach you."

  Faith realized that he had stopped the car, that they were in an underground parking garage.

  "I ... I'm not quite sure what happened," she said.

  "Tell me what you are sure of."

  She was still too dazed to attempt any prevarication, so she told him.

  "I ... It was Dinah. Her voice in my head. She was trying to get loose, to escape."

  Kane reached out again, this time putting a hand over both of hers where they twisted together in her lap. "Where is she, Faith?"

  "I don't know. It's dark and damp and smells musty, like dirt — and all I could hear was the sound of rushing water."

  "Water?"

  "Yes. Like a waterfall, or water coming out of a pipe at high pressure. Just water. Just water and darkness and that awful smell ... "

  "Right here is where we ran into the problem." Max Sanders, owner of the Mayfair Construction Company, jabbed a stubby finger at the blueprints spread out on Kane's drafting table. "Without some kind of correction, and fast, this wall's coming down, Kane. There are already cracks in the foundation."

  Kane frowned. "Let's see the materials list again."

  "Jed swears It's a design flaw rather than construction or materials."

  "He would."

  The foreman always did.

  "Not that I agree with him." Sanders produced the materials list. "But I've looked the stuff over, and it's just what you insisted on, the best quality and well above code."

  "So why is the foundation cracking?" Kane mused.

  "Exactly. I honestly don't believe the crew picked up, Kane." Sanders darted a quick, apologetic glance at Faith.

  Kane could have told him that she wasn't listening and so wouldn't be offended by the language. She was sitting on the sofa on the far side of the room with a magazine open on her lap, but as far as he could see she hadn't turned a page in more than twenty minutes. She had retreated into herself not long after they had arrived.

  He didn't blame her. What she had experienced had upset him, and he'd gotten it second-hand. Or third-hand.

  Was it Dinah? Was she trapped somewhere, badly hur
t and trying desperately to reach out?

  But where? Where? So god damned maddening to know she was out there somewhere and still, after all these weeks, have no clue where to look for her ...

  "So if it isn't materials or workmanship," Sanders said, "then what? I'm not questioning your design, Kane, but maybe there's something neither of us could have foreseen. A fault in the ground, maybe, or something underneath the foundation that's causing uneven support."

  Kane forced his attention back to the job, as difficult as that was. He went over the materials list carefully, then studied the blueprints again.

  "Until last night, we hadn't had any heavy rain in weeks. The geological survey said we're building on a solid clay base, with no gas pockets or ground water to undermine the foundation."

  "We had to dig deeper than planned for the foundation," Sanders reminded him.

  "True." Kane opened a file and looked over the report from the geologist. "But the ground should have been checked out far below that level. I still don't see .."

  "What?" Sanders demanded quickly when Kane obviously did see something in the report that bothered him. "Have you found something?"

  Kane looked at him blankly for an instant, then shook off the abstraction and said, "According to this, there should be no problems directly beneath the building. But there are also reports of springs and artesian wells in the general area, and both have caused problems in other buildings."

  "But if the ground under ours is okay, would it be affected?"

  "No, I took the water into account early on in designing the building."

  Kane shook his head. "Let me work on the problem, Max. I'd rather find the cause than just design a quick-fix patch to shore up that wall."

  Sanders nodded but was clearly unhappy. "It's your design. But my crew can't do squat until we get this taken care of, and I can't afford to have them sitting around scratching their balls for days. If it looks like this is going to take a while, I'll have to put them to work on another job, Kane."

  "I'll let you know something by tomorrow, Max. Don't worry. I'm no more eager than you are to delay work on the building."

  "I hear that."

  Kane saw Sanders to the door, and when it had closed behind him, Faith said quietly, "Springs and artesian wells. That's what caught your attention, isn't it?"