by Кей Хупер
She rose and got ready to face the day. And him.
Showered and dressed, she nerved herself to walk out into the living room and say good morning in a steady voice.
Kane stopped playing but didn't move from the bench. "Good morning." His voice was as steady as hers, damp hair and fresh clothing evidence that he had showered recently, but she didn't know whether or not he had slept.
"I guess there's nothing new from Daniels?"
"No. But he should be here any minute."
Faith nodded, then retreated to the kitchen and poured a glass of orange juice. She wasn't particularly thirsty but needed a moment to collect herself.
Something had changed.
She didn't know how it had happened or why, but at some point last night Kane had looked at her, really looked at her. For the first time, she thought, he had seen her clearly as something other than a means to an end. And once he had done that ... No. She would not think about it. But he's thinking about it. He's been thinking about it all night.
She slowly went back out to the living room. "I wish..."
"You wish what?" Kane's voice was almost controlled enough to hide the underlying note of strain.
He doesn't have to hurt like this. Tell him.. Faith tried to concentrate, but the voice had vanished like a soap bubble. Slowly, she said, "I wish I'd had those years of practice Bishop talked about. I wish I could concentrate, or focus, or do whatever it takes to make sense of this."
She set her glass on a nearby table. "I'm sorry, Kane. I wanted to be of some help, but..."
"You have helped, believe me." He got up and stepped around the end of the piano so they faced each other.
"Have I?" She had to ask, even though every instinct warned her she was risking too much too soon. "Or have I just ... complicated the situation? "
Kane took a step closer, as though pulled against his will. His hand lifted to her cheek, but froze before it touched her. Faith was suddenly conscious of her heart thudding, her breathing quickening — and of that suspended hand. Last night at the warehouse she had been unable to touch him because he'd been utterly unreachable. This time, she thought, he stopped just short of touching her because he suspected it would cause him pain.
"I won't," she murmured.
"You won't what?" He took another step, and his hand gently cupped her cheek.
"I won't hurt you." She wanted to close her eyes and press herself to him, to rub herself against him.
She could barely breathe.
"That's a strange thing to say." He sounded puzzled, but his eyes were on her mouth, darkening, growing intent, watching as his thumb brushed across her bottom lip slowly.
"It's important," she whispered, not knowing why it was. "Please believe me. I won't..."
"I don't care," Kane said, and kissed her.
Faith felt herself melt against him, her mouth opening to him, her soul opening to him. For the first time since coming out of the coma, she was completely and joyously sure of who she was and where she belonged.
The doorbell was so loud in the early morning quiet that it jerked them apart.
Kane was frowning a little and his voice was husky when he said, "Probably Tim. I'd better ..."
"Yes, of course," Faith managed to say.
He seemed about to touch her again, then swore under his breath and turned away.
Feeling suspended between joy and disappointment, and an odd sense that she had been a heartbeat away from understanding something that was desperately important, Faith watched him walk to the foyer and open the front door.
For an instant, seeing Bishop and Richardson standing there, she allowed herself to hope.
just for an instant.
Then Bishop spoke, his voice hard with control.
"I'm sorry, Kane. They've found Dinah."
CHAPTER 9
"She wanted to be cremated." Kane stood staring out the apartment window, through the recently installed blinds. "She wasn't claustrophobic in the conventional sense, but she told me once that she'd always had an absolute horror of being trapped in a small space, especially ... underground. I don't know why. Something in her childhood, I suppose."
Richardson watched him the way an expert watched a ticking bomb; without fear, but with the certain knowledge that the next second could bring destruction.
"It'll be a while yet, Kane. The M.E.'s office has had a busy week, and they're backed up. They might get it done in a week, but the lab is so far behind that the toxicology report will take at least three or four."
Just in time for Christmas, Faith thought.
She sat, silent and still, on the couch where she could see Kane. She thought of the refrigerated storage drawers at the morgue and shuddered. Which was worse? she wondered miserably. That chilled waiting, or the stainless steel table and sharp scalpels that would come eventually?
Not that Dinah would be aware of either, of course. She was out of pain now.
"They did a preliminary exam?" Bishop asked in the flat, almost disinterested voice that might have convinced a stranger he felt nothing about the matter.
"The usual one, at the scene," Richardson replied.
"Given where she was found, the M E. says establishing time of death will be even more tricky than usual, but his initial estimate is thirty-six to forty-eight hours, maybe longer."
Dinah's body had been discovered by two city workers searching an abandoned, condemned apartment building for the source of a water leak. They had found the leak in the dark, dank basement, which smelled of mold and ancient earth and the refuse of people who had stopped caring long before they had left the place. There in that grave of a building, where a pipe had rusted through and water gushed out, one of the men, more curious than his partner, had opened a barred door to an airtight space originally constructed as a bomb shelter.
The tiny concrete room hadn't protected Dinah in life, but the cold temperature and dry airless conditions had, in a sense, shielded her, delaying decomposition of the body that had been so maimed and savaged in its final days.
"You'll need a positive identification." Kane turned suddenly from the window, a last flicker of hope showing in his eyes.
Reluctantly, the detective shook his head. "Her prints are on file, and the dental records are good. I checked both myself. It's Dinah, Kane. There's no mistake. "
"I want to see her."
"No," Richardson said. "You don't."
"I..."
Bishop interrupted, deliberately Faith thought, to say, "Is there an obvious cause of death?"
"Didn't find one in the preliminary exam. No gunshot or knife wound, or blow to the head severe enough to kill. The M E. thinks she probably bled to death, partly from internal injuries. Or if she was alive when they put her in that airtight room, she could have... could have suffocated." Richardson paused, cleared his throat, then went on stolidly.
"There was severe bruising of the body, possibly caused by a fall but more likely deliberately inflicted. Broken bones, including several ribs, one of which probably punctured a lung. And both wrists were cut deeply by the wire they used to restrain her."
"Was she raped?" Kane asked, a harsh note creeping into his voice.
"We'll know after the autopsy."
Kane turned back to stare out the window once again. Faith saw Bishop send Richardson a quick, questioning look, saw the detective nod almost imperceptibly, and a wave of sickness washed over her.
Richardson was sure of the rape even if he wasn't willing to tell Kane.
Tim Daniels, who had been silent until then, asked, "Anything where she was found that might help us catch the bastards who did it?"
"Very little at the scene, though we did get a few fibers from her clothing. The forensics tab should be able to tell us more in a day or two, if there's anything to tell. We've got people canvassing the area in case anybody saw or heard anything suspicious in the last few days, but I'm not expecting results. That area is pretty deserted, and anybody who was aroun
d would have been carefully minding his own business."
Faith spoke up for the first time, asking quietly, "What about the dog bites?"
Richardson frowned. "How did you know she'd been bitten by a dog? "
"She dreamed it," Kane said.
Faith winced at the bitter note in his voice but didn't blame him for his hostility. A lot of help her "dreams" had been; last night and even this morning, she had believed Dinah was still alive. She knew only too well her belief had encouraged Kane's, had convinced him they could find Dinah alive if not unharmed.
"What else did you dream?" Richardson asked, with none of the skepticism she'd expected.
"Tell him," Bishop instructed.
So she did, relating as many details of the flashes and dreams as she could recall, including the dog attack. But she didn't mention the voice in her head, which had probably just been her subconscious anyway ...
Richardson looked more grim than before. "So you and Dinah were investigating something on your own, and whatever it was got her killed."
Holding her voice steady, Faith said, "That's what we think. Unfortunately, I can't remember whatever it was. And all I really got from these... these flashes of mine was that whoever had Dinah wanted something they thought she — or we — had."
Then she added, "I think I took whatever it is, but I have no idea what I did with it even where I found it. But it must be important, because they... they tortured Dinah trying to make her tell them where it was."
Kane moved almost convulsively but didn't turn.
Bishop, his gaze on his friend, said to Richardson, "All this has to tie together. Did you find out anything about who took a shot at Faith night before last?"
Was it only then, only night before last? Faith felt as though years had passed.
"The apartment directly across from here is vacant. The door was found unlocked, and there were indications that someone had been using the place at least for a few hours. From that balcony, it would have been a fairly easy shot, even in a storm. Whether they aimed at a lighted window or actually at Faith, I can't say for certain."
"Isn't that supposed to be a security building?"
"Supposed to be. You'd never know it, though. The fire door on the ground floor was unlocked. In fact, the wind from the storm had practically blown it off its hinges. As far as I can tell, anybody could have gotten inside and up to that apartment." Richardson sighed heavily. "And I figure we've got about another hour before the news breaks that Dinah's body was found. We sealed up the scene fairly well, but there were news crews on to it about the time I left. It'll make the noon news, I'd say."
"And we'll have a media circus," Bishop said.
"Bound to." The detective looked at Kane. "That million-dollar bounty caught their interest, and now that there's no chance of earning it..."
Kane turned from the window with more animation than he'd yet shown.
"There's every chance of earning it. I'll pay every dime to anyone who points the way to the men who held Dinah captive." His voice was sharp.
Richardson frowned. "I hope you don't mean to word the announcement that way, Kane. You can't reward someone for just pointing the way. They have to provide concrete evidence we can use in court."
"Evidence leading to the arrest and conviction," Bishop murmured.
"It's my money," Kane said. "I'll promise it to anyone I goddamn please."
Very polite now, Richardson said, "That could be construed as reckless endangerment. These bastards have shown all too clearly they'll do their best to remove anyone who gets in their way. Would you put someone else in the line of fire, Kane?"
Kane didn't reply, and the hard expression on his face didn't change. He said again, "I want to see Dinah. "
"That isn't a good idea."
"I want to see her."
"Kane..."
"Are you going to take me down there, or do I have to call the chief of police?"
Richardson glanced at Bishop, but the agent showed no inclination to protest what was such an obviously bad idea. The detective sighed again.
"Okay, okay, I'll take you. Grab a jacket and we'll go now, before the media camps out on your doorstep."
Kane left the room.
Richardson glared at Bishop. "You were a lot of help."
"He needs to see her."
"Bishop, do you have any idea what she looks like?"
The agent nodded, his expression bleak. "A pretty good idea, yeah. But he needs to see her."
"Shit. Look, call down to the morgue and tell Conners we're on our way. Tell him to... to do what he can to make her look human."
Faith was numb, but not even that could protect her from the horrible image of Dinah's damaged body. A sound of pain escaped her, and she closed her eyes for a moment.
Richardson seemed about to apologize, then threw up his hands and went to meet Kane by the front door.
Kane didn't say goodbye.
After the door closed behind them, the silence stretched for several minutes, then Faith said, "Why didn't you stop him? You could have if you'd tried. Why didn't you?"
Bishop's face was set, the scar down his cheek white and angry looking.
"You heard me. He needs to see her."
"Why? Why does he have to have that horrible memory of her forever?"
"Because her death won't be real to him until he sees her lying lifeless and mangled on a slab," Bishop answered, the words brutal but his voice very soft. "The first stage of grief is denial. Until he gets past that, he can't go on."
Part of Faith understood, but another part wanted to spare Kane. She nodded and tried to think about something else. "Were you nearby when Richardson called you? I didn't think you'd come back to Atlanta yet.
"I hadn't. I was in Tennessee."
When he didn't explain, Faith said, "I guess you caught a fast plane."
"Fast enough."
Faith gave up. "Look, I... I need to go to Haven House. They knew Dinah.They should hear about it from someone before they see it on the news.But I promised Kane I wouldn't go anywhere unescorted, especially after the shooting. Tim, would you..."
"Of course," the private investigator answered.
She looked at Bishop. "When Kane gets back ... I don't think he should be here alone. Do you?"
"No more than he already is," Bishop said bleakly.
Unlike several of the adults in the shelter, Katie didn't cry when Faith told her about Dinah. Instead, the solemn little girl retreated to the music room and began picking her way through one of the songs Faith had brought her to learn.
"Will she be all right?" Faith asked Karen.
"I don't know," the director said wearily. "She wasn't in great shape before, especially since she saw her bastard of a father take a baseball bat to her mother. He was crazy enough this time to go after Andrea in a mall, of all places, so at least he's locked up, but Katie saw more than ever before and she's been awfully quiet since then."
Karen frowned. "She talked more to you when you were here Sunday than she has to anybody else since it happened."
Faith had intended to stay only long enough to break the news about Dinah; she was worried about Kane and wanted to get back to his apartment. But now she was worried about Katie as well and couldn't leave without trying to make sure the little girl was all right.
"Hey, kiddo." She sat down on the bench beside Katie. "Do you like the new music?"
Katie nodded and looked up at Faith gravely. "You didn't forget. Thank you."
"Of course I didn't forget." Faith hesitated. "I thought you might want to talk about Dinah."
"Why? She's dead, that's what you told us."
Faith wasn't deceived by the callous words; she had seen Katie's bottom lip quiver.
"When people die," she said carefully, "we keep them alive inside us. By thinking about them. Talking about them. I just wanted you to know it's okay to do that. You can talk to Karen, and you can talk to me."
Katie looked down a
t the piano as she picked out the first few notes of "Beautiful Dreamer". After a moment, she said, "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course you can, kiddo."
"Can you an you talk to Dinah now? In your head, the way you used to could?"
Out of the mouths of babes.
Oh, God, can I? Can I talk to her?
"No," Faith said, "not that way." It was true? If nothing else was true, at least it was true that nothing was the way it had been before.
"I just wondered," Katie mumbled.
Guessing, Faith said, "Is there something you wanted to tell Dinah? Something you wanted to ask her? Is that it?"
"No. Except.."
"Except what?"
"Nothing. I want to practice now."
Faith watched that little face close up and felt frustrated and anxious. But her instincts told her not to force the issue, so she just said she'd see Katie later and quietly went away.
"I'll keep an eye on her," Karen reassured her in the foyer a few minutes later. "She probably just needs time. And her mama out of the hospital, of course."
"Yeah, I guess." Faith gave her the number at Kane's apartment and said, "Call me if... if there's anything I can do to help."
"Sure. Try not to worry, Faith."
That, Faith thought, was easier said than done. Far easier.
"Of course they caught him coming out of the morgue," Bishop said savagely, watching the TV.
As before, microphones were shoved in front of Kane and questions shouted at him, but this time he wore the look of a man barely conscious of those around him — until one reporter demanded to know how he'd felt upon learning of the brutal murder of his fiancée. Kane gave the reporter a stare of such incredulity that the others were silenced, and into that silence he spoke with cold precision.
"The million-dollar reward I offered for information leading to Dinah's safe return will now be paid to the person or persons providing information that leads me to her killers."
"That's torn it," Bishop said softly.
"Can't Richardson stop him?" Faith asked.
"Obviously not." The detective was speaking urgently into Kane's ear, but he was totally ignored. Kane repeated his offer, allowing the words to fall like separate chips of ice, and only after he was absolutely sure that every reporter had written down or taped his offer did he allow Richardson to hustle him into a car.
