by Кей Хупер
Something loomed up out of the darkness ahead of her, reaching for her, and for an instant of sheer terror Faith thought one of them had circled around and gotten ahead of her.
"Faith. Jesus, Faith..."
She found herself caught tightly in Kane's arms, so tightly she wasn't sure if it was her heart or his pounding so wildly, and gasped, "Behind me. He's behind me..."
And then everything happened very, very fast.
Kane swung her around so that his large body shielded hers. She heard an engine roar, and bright lights stabbed suddenly through the darkness, pinning her and Kane in the stark glare. She heard the sounds of tires spinning wildly on slippery ground, saw headlights coming drunkenly at them, and then the engine screaming louder, and she saw Kane's arm stretch out, saw something gleaming in his hand.
His first shot made glass shatter, and then there were other guns, other shots, and he was moving, carrying her away from danger as the car careened off the drive and plowed into the trees with a sickening crunch of metal.
The engine screamed again, then gurgled and died.
"It has to be later than midnight," Faith said. "It just has to be. This has been the longest day of my life."
"I wish you'd let me call a doctor," Kane said.
"You heard the EMS medic. I'm fine. No injuries, no shock, not even aftereffects of the chloroform." Faith curled up in the big chair before the fire Kane had lit while she'd been in the shower, and watched him as he stood gazing at the flames.
"Still," he said. "Like you said, it's been a very long day."
"And I should be exhausted. But I'm not." She paused, aware of his silence and the tension between them. "Did you say Bishop was flying down in the morning?"
"Yeah. He would have come tonight, but we were able to find you fairly quickly. Guy already had the information on Conrad's lake house, and I couldn't think of any other place he'd go, so ...
"The cops were shooting too, Kane. It might not have been your bullet that killed Max Sanders."
He turned his head and looked at her. "I hope it was mine."
" Revenge? "
"Justice. Now he'll be rotting in the ground."
She drew a breath. "What about Conrad? They say he might pull through."
"I hope he does," Kane said calmly. "I want him in prison. I want him to spend the rest of his life in a small, bare cell."
"He probably will. Once Richardson sorts through their blackmail box, he's bound to find Conrad's prints on the photographs and papers. He and Max wouldn't have been so desperate to get the box back if they hadn't been positive what was in it could convict them."
Kane shook his head. "All this time, the box was hidden in Haven House."
"The only place I felt really safe," Faith murmured. "I'm sorry, Kane. Sorry I dragged Dinah into this, sorry I didn't tell her that I'd found the box snooping in Conrad's office because I'd seen Max go in there. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to remember."
"Do you remember everything now?"
It was her turn to shake her head. "No, just bits and pieces. But it's a beginning. I guess Dr. Burnett was right — it'll all come back eventually."
Kane returned his gaze to the fire and was silent.
"Now that the story has an ending of sorts," Faith said, "I guess we won't have to worry about reporters following us around."
"It isn't over yet. I still have to arrange a memorial service."
"I ... heard Richardson tell you they'd have the autopsy results in the morning. Then they'll release her body?"
"Yes."
Faith felt a dull ache. Well, what else had she expected? He'd said himself that no one would ever be able to take Dinah's place. And now that it was over, now that he had his puzzle virtually put together and she had the satisfaction of knowing the murderer of her mother and sister was dead, they would go on with their lives.
Their separate lives.
Faith looked down at the floor. Why had she even gotten dressed after her shower and come in here?
Why hadn't she just gone to bed and left him alone?
He obviously wanted to be alone. "I guess ... now that the danger is past, I can go ... home. Back to my apartment."
"I don't want you to go," he said.
She felt her heart skip a beat, but kept her gaze determinedly down. "I know I just moved into your life for a week, and I want you to know I'm grateful. I would have been so frightened on my own, and probably dead by now..."
"I don't want you to go," he repeated slowly.
She had to look up then, and met his gaze with a sensation of being stripped naked of more than her clothing. Even more slowly, In a tone of realization and reluctance and acceptance, he said, "I ... don't ... want you to go."
Don't question. Not yet. Not now.
Faith was on her feet before she realized she was going to move, and he was turning toward her, putting his hands on her shoulders.
"I didn't plan this," she said.
"I know. Neither did I."
"I ... I'm not ... I couldn't stay if it was only because..."
"It isn't."
Faith pulled breath into lungs starving for air. "Are you sure? It's only her red polish, her earrings, but I'm not..."
Kane lowered his head and covered her mouth with his. She heard a broken sound, and realized it came from her, from deep inside where something had let go. She felt the hardness of his body against hers, felt her fingers slide into his hair and her mouth come alive beneath his, and there was something so familiar and intimate and wildly arousing in his touch, his kiss, the strength of his arms around her, that she wanted to cling to him with all her might, all her will.
"You'll stay," he muttered against her lips.
"Yes."
He raised his head and stared down at her, gray eyes molten. He framed her face with his hands, and she could feel them shaking.
Fierce, he said, "I won't be so careful this time, do you understand? I won't bite back what I want to say because I'm afraid it isn't what you want to hear. I won't stop myself from touching you because I'm not sure you want to be touched. And most of all, I won't let you shut me out of the parts of your life that matter to you."
Faith reached up to touch his face. "I love you."
He caught his breath, then kissed her again, his mouth hard now, insistent. He lifted her, carried her from the living room to the bedroom.
She was hardly aware of being set on her feet beside the bed, of helping him pull off her sweater and slide the pants down her legs. She was unbuttoning his shirt, tugging it from his pants, and gasped when his hands pushed aside her bra and held her breasts. Her hands fumbled, but she managed to push his shirt off his shoulders, unfasten his pants. She touched him and heard his indrawn breath, felt the spiraling tension inside both of them wind even tighter. Touching him was necessary; it fed the starving need inside her.
"Ali, God," he muttered, hoarse and desperate. They were on the bed somehow, the covers thrown clothes scattered. The lamp let them see, but their hands saw more, moving everywhere, shaping and fondling and caressing. Lips never more than a whisper apart. Bodies straining to be closer, to merge, to meld. He felt so right to Faith. So right touching her. So right inside her, filling an emptiness she hadn't known was there, claiming that part of her for himself.
"I love you," she whispered, and knew she always had.
CHAPTER 16
"So I guess it's all over now," Dinah said.
"I guess so. "
"Puzzle completed, treasure found. Bad guys vanquished."
"You might have been more help," Faith accused.
Dinah smiled. "It had to happen the way it happened. Things do, you know. So don't feel bad."
"About Kane?"
"You love him. I wanted to, but ... I couldn't, not the way he deserved."
Faith was surprised. "Why not?"
"Because I knew what was going to happen to me. I'd known for a long time."
"Couldn't you change it
?"
"No. Like I said. Things have to happen the way they happen. And there was you. I knew as soon as we met that you'd play a part in all of it. I just didn't know how."
"Its my fault, what happened. I'm sorry."
"I'm not."
Faith was surprised. "No? But..."
"When you come to the end, you understand what's really important." Dinah looked at her intently. "You understand."
"But all the pain. The fear. I'm sorry you had to go through that."
"As I said, things have to happen the way they do."
"But I'm sorry you died." Dinah seemed to hesitate, then said, "Something always has to die so that something else can live. You do understand that, don't you?"
Faith began to feel uneasy. "Yes, but ... I remember now, you said once you found the Macguffin, you wouldn't be dead anymore."
"Yes, that's what I said."
"But..."
"I'm not dead, Faith. I never have been, not really. You're the one who's dead."
Faith stared at her, at the odd little smile, the compassionate blue eyes. She reached out instinctively, and froze when Dinah reached out as well. After a moment, Faith forced herself to go on, to stretch her hand slowly toward Dinah's.
When their fingers touched, she felt the cool, smooth surface of a mirror.
Faith opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. She was wide awake, so wide awake that she felt as if she'd never sleep again. Slowly, she turned her head on the pillow and looked at Kane. He slept with the absolute stillness of utter exhaustion, muscles totally relaxed. It was no wonder. This was probably the first decent night's sleep he'd been granted in weeks.
And, of course, they had made love until nearly dawn, again and again, unable to get enough of each other. She thought he had memorized the texture of her skin, and she was certain she would always know him, forever, even In total darkness. Carefully, she eased out from under his arm and sat up on the side of the bed. The clock on the nightstand said it was just after eight-thirty.
She made sure he was covered and still sleeping deeply, then gathered her things and slipped from the bedroom. She took a shower, allowing the hot water to ease the ache of muscles unaccustomed to lovemaking, to all the unusual exertions of the day before, then dressed and went to the kitchen.
His special blend of coffee. She stared at the bag for a moment, then dumped an approximate amount into the filter, poured water into the top chamber, and waited for it to drip through to the pot below. When it was ready, she fixed a cup with her customary load of cream and sugar, then carried it into the living room. She looked at her bare wrist, then grimaced slightly. No watch, ever, because they never wanted to keep running for her. Somebody had told her once that it was the magnetic or electrical field of her body. Faith's body.
The clock on the VCR said quarter after nine. She picked up the phone and called the hospital, asking them to page Dr. Burnett for her. He was there, of course. Even early on Saturday, he was there.
"Faith is anything wrong?" His voice held a bit of an edge and it took her a moment to remember their last meeting.
"There's something I need to ask you," she replied, sweeping his anger aside.
"What is it?"
"Before I came out of the coma, did you believe I would?"
"Faith, I told you how unusual I..."
"You know what I'm asking you."
He was silent for several moments, but her patient waiting seemed to drive him to answer finally. "There are certain criteria we use to determine patient viability. Certain minimum levels of brain activity, for instance..."
"Was I below those minimum levels?"
"Faith, there's no absolute in medicine."
"Was I below the minimum levels?" she repeated steadily. "Was I considered a viable patient with a future?"
"No," he said, then hurried on. "But there was a flicker of brain activity, and I'd told Miss Leighton on her last visit that there was always a chance. I'd seen some remarkable things ... and you were breathing on your own, so of course there was no question of..."
"... of "Nobody was going to unplug anything?" Faith finished, her voice shaky now.
"No, of course not. And Miss Leighton refused to give up hope. She was very upset when she left that last day, but still determined. I've never seen anyone so determined to save another person. If strength of will could have done it, you would have awakened that day. As it was, only a couple of weeks passed before you did." He paused. "It's a shame she never knew she was right."
"Yes. A shame. Thank you, Dr. Burnett."
"Faith ... about what happened the other day..."
"Don't worry about it," she said. "We were all a bit touchy that day." She cradled the receiver gently.
After a moment, she got up and carried her coffee to the piano. She sat on the bench and flexed her fingers, looking at them with a little frown. Then she touched the keys tentatively, one here, one there, not a recognizable tune.
The buzzer sent her quickly to answer the intercom so that the sound wouldn't disturb Kane, and a few minutes later she opened the door to admit Bishop.
"I didn't think you'd be so early," she said. "Kane's still asleep, and I'd rather not wake him."
Bishop eyed her thoughtfully and smiled. "I see."
Faith uttered a soft laugh. "This time, I doubt it. But never mind. There's coffee — mine, I'm afraid, but help yourself or make a fresh pot, whatever suits you."
Bishop watched her retreat to the piano, his smile fading and brows drawing together. "I stopped by the station on my way here," he said, coming farther into the room. "Richardson filled me in. He also ...showed me the results of Dinah's autopsy. Nothing really unexpected. Except..."
"Except time of death," Faith said, pressing a key gently with one finger.
Bishop came to the piano and stared down at her. "Yes."
"She hadn't been dead a few days. She'd been dead a few weeks. About ... four weeks." Slowly, Bishop said, "The coldness of that bomb shelter, the lack of air and humidity — all slowed the rate of decomposition, made it appear she'd died recently. But the autopsy proved otherwise. The M.E. wasn't willing to estimate closer than three to six weeks."
"Four," she said softly. "Just about four."
"Faith..."
"You know, it's the strangest thing." She placed all ten fingers on the ivory keys, then looked up at him. "Just a few days ago, I could do it, but now ... I've forgotten how to play the piano."
Bishop gazed at her silently.
"Isn't that strange? And isn't it strange how I was able to pick those locks last night, when a few days ago I didn't even know that was a lock pick in the pocket of the jacket? Isn't it strange that I keep looking at my wrist as if I should be wearing a watch, when I know I've never been able to? Why I keep using my right hand instead of my left?"
She took her fingers off the keys and held one hand out to him. "How's your bullshit detector?"
Bishop hesitated for only an instant before taking her hand. They stared at each other, her green eyes calm and his silvery ones penetrating, searching.
He sucked in a breath suddenly, and his face whitened. "My God."
Faith drew her hand gently from his. "Isn't it strange," she whispered.
Bishop seemed not to know what to say at first, but finally asked, "Does Kane know?"
"I think ... he wonders. I think he's sensed something. But who could know such a thing? Who could even imagine it to be possible?"
"It's a second chance," Bishop said. "How many of us are granted that?"
She shook her head. "It isn't that simple and you know it."
"It should be that simple."
"Really? And how would you feel? Put yourself in his place. He's getting ready to bury her, Bishop. He's spent weeks grieving, letting go of her because he thought he had to. What am I supposed to say to him now? Never mind?"
Bishop looked at her curiously. "Her?"
Faith's smile twisted. "Put yourself in my pla
ce. Do you really think anything — anybody could ever be the same again? Could ever be what they were before?"
"No. I suppose not."
In the silence of the apartment, they both heard the distant sound of the shower starting, and Bishop said, "I think it would be best if I made myself scarce for a while. I'll go back down to the station, see if there's anything I can do to help Richardson."
"Coward," Faith said with a stab at humor.
Bishop smiled, but his eyes were grave. "It might be ... best ... to wait awhile, you know. Give it some time, allow both of you to adjust."
"No," Faith said. "Not after last night. This time, we have to be honest with each other."
Bishop didn't ask any more questions. He reached over to touch her hand, then said, "I'll be around."
"I know. Thanks."
He got as far as the door before she said his name quietly, and he paused to look back at her. Faith touched an ivory key softly, but she was looking at him. "You'll be going back to Tennessee, too?"
"Yes. Pretty soon, I think. After the first of the year. What will I find there?" he asked slowly.
"Evil. And something else, something you've been searching for for a long time." Bishop took a quickstep toward her, then pulled himself up short. In a very controlled voice, he said, "I don't suppose you can tell me how it all turns out?"
"No," she said, lying. "Just be careful, Bishop."
He was motionless for a moment, then nodded abruptly and left without another word. Faith stared at the door a long time after he'd gone, then got up to freshen her coffee. What was the use of knowing what was going to happen before it did?
Fate seemed to have a stranglehold on events; no matter what she'd done in the past to try to avert tragedy or even disappointment, it always seemed to happen just the way she'd seen it.
"Be very careful, Bishop," she whispered.
When Kane came into the living room a few minutes later, she was sitting on the couch watching a news program on television detailing the exciting events of the previous night.
"I made some lousy coffee," she said, offering him a faint smile.
