Hiding in the Shadows (18 page)

“Tea, please.”

When Richardson arrived a few minutes later, Faith answered the detective’s questions with no visible anxiety. Not that there was much she could tell him.

“I saw the cracked mirror first, and thought how odd it was. Then my arm burned suddenly, but it wasn’t until I put my hand over it that I felt the blood. Even then, I didn’t immediately realize I’d been shot. I never heard it.”

“The storm was right overhead,” Kane told his friend. “There was so much noise we couldn’t hear the shot or the bullet going through the window and smashing the mirror.”

Richardson went over to examine the mirror. “It’s gone all the way through and into the wall.” He took down the mirror, then produced a penknife and dug into the Sheetrock. Within a very few minutes, he held a misshapen slug.

Even across the room Kane read Richardson’s expression. “I guess ballistics are out? No chance of tracing it to a particular gun?”

“I can’t even tell what caliber it is, and I doubt the lab will be able to either.” He eyed the distance to the window, then went to examine that as well. Like
the mirror, the windowpane was marred by a small hole surrounded by a web of cracks.

“Too dark to see much now,” he said. “I can come back tomorrow and take a stab at the trajectory, try to figure out where the shooter was. But if he was standing more than a few feet away, he couldn’t have hoped to hit what he was aiming at, not in this weather.”

Kane said, “There’s no fire escape, and we’re on the fifth floor. Unless he was outside on the balcony—which is possible, if doubtful—he couldn’t have been any closer than the apartments on the other side of the courtyard. And that building is a good hundred feet away.”

Richardson studied the distance from the hole in the window to the floor, then compared that with the distance between the hole in the wall and the floor. “Well, he sure as hell didn’t shoot upward from ground level, or down from a higher spot. Do those apartments across the courtyard have balconies?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we’ll look for a vacant or currently unused apartment. I’m willing to bet we’ll find one matching the trajectory of the shot. Somebody sat over there watching this place, and when they saw Miss Parker at the window …”

“But I stood there at least a couple of minutes before I moved away,” Faith protested. “And it wasn’t until then that I was shot.”

“Then he was probably trying to scare you, and just got lucky with the shot.”

“Lucky,” she murmured.

Richardson smiled. “A figure of speech.” He
looked at Kane. “Did you two do anything today that might have gotten somebody’s attention?”

“God knows. We talked to some people.”

“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, and 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 something
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. Everyone …

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 fiancé 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 to provide any useful information or guidance, don’t you realize what a mistake it would be to probe into a potentially dangerous situation filled with unknowns?”

“Which is 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.”

EIGHT

“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.