by Кей Хупер
Faith drew a shaky breath. "Yes, but in my case, I could actually be responsible — directly or indirectly — for the murder of the woman he loves." She used the present tense deliberately.
"You don't know that, Faith."
"That's just it. I don't know. And neither does he."
"Still no luck in remembering, I take it."
"None. And even though we've found out some details of my past, nothing is even vaguely familiar to me."
"So it's still possible that whatever you and Dinah were involved in is something you ... brought with you when you came to Atlanta?"
"More than possible. Something drove me to cross the country and come live in a strange city. I just wish I knew what that was."
"You have no idea at all?"
They've taken everything away from me, Dinah.
Everything.
Faith hesitated, then said, "Apparently, my family was killed, murdered, but I don't know why or by whom. Maybe I came here because of that, but if I did, I still don't remember."
"You have had it rough, haven't you?" Syd's lovely face mirrored the compassion in her voice. "I'm really sorry, Faith. I wish I could help."
"You said it yourself." Faith smiled. "All we can offer is our sympathy when someone else hurts. Thank you for yours."
"If there's anything I can do to help, I will. Don't forget that, Faith."
With absolutely no forethought, Faith heard herself say, "Well, there is one thing. You can tell me if it would be as difficult to rappel down from the roof of this building as I think it would."
Sydney paused in putting a stack of plates in the cabinet to give Faith a startled look, then smiled. "Oh. I suppose Kane told you I used to do some mountain climbing."
As a matter of fact, he had not, but Faith forced herself to nod noncommittally, even as she wondered how she had known. Maybe a lingering memory from Dinah? Or maybe something she had plucked out of the air all on her own? This psychic business was very disconcerting.
"It wouldn't be easy for an amateur," Sydney said in answer to the question. "A sheer wall and pitch darkness, the need for silence. But an experienced climber could handle it without much problem, I'd think."
"I see."
Sydney hung her dish towel very neatly on a bar, turning her attention on the task. "I guess Kane also told you that my husband was killed in a climbing accident. "
"I ... No, he didn't. I'm so sorry, Sydney. If I'd known, I never would have..."
"Don't worry about it. David was killed more than two years ago. It isn't a ... fresh wound anymore. In fact..." She laughed suddenly, a sound that was almost convincing. "Never mind. Why don't we finish up in here and go see if Kane's managed to turn this place into a fortress?"
When they emerged from the kitchen, they found that Kane had concluded his business with the security company and was checking with the answering service that had been taking all calls to his main number since the preceding day. He was over by the piano, portable phone in hand, jotting down notes on a legal pad.
"The media, I guess," Sydney murmured.
Faith thought she was probably right, but when Kane got off the phone, he didn't confirm it. Instead, looking at his sister, he said, "The security company had already sent over more people, and the police have made the media move back away from the building, so you should be able to get out of here without too much trouble."
"I should get to the office," Sydney agreed.
"I appreciate your covering for me, Syd."
"It's no trouble. But you should make a decision on the Ludlow building. Max says his foreman has already gone AWOL, and he's going to have to put the crew back to work on Monday no matter what. Either there or on another project."
Kane frowned. "Jed Norris is missing?"
"Well, Max didn't say missing. I mean, he didn't seem worried, just pissed. Said Jed was steady enough when he was kept busy, but apt to vanish if he had too much time on his hands. What do you want to do about the building, Kane? I've already had a couple of calls from the investment group, and they're not happy work has stopped."
In his mind's eye, Kane saw again those cracks in the foundation, and realized that he was no closer now to figuring out the problem. "Let's get an inspector out there to look it over," he suggested. "Maybe he or she can spot something I missed."
"Okay. I'll make the arrangements. Is there anything else I can do?"
"No, thanks."
"What about you two?" Sydney glanced toward Faith, so still and silent by the fireplace.
"We have plenty to keep us busy," Kane said.
But when his sister had gone and they were alone, he found it difficult to speak to Faith. She seemed far away, and he had the uneasy feeling that one wrong word or gesture would send her completely out of his reach for good.
It reminded him of that last morning with Dinah, when he had weighed each word before speaking it, certain that they were at a dangerous crossroads. He hadn't pushed hard enough then, hadn't been honest about what he was feeling.
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.
CHAPTER 12
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 it 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 duplicating 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. 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.
