Кей Хупер - Hiding in the Shadows

But Kane's voice was neutral when he said, "Do you mind that he's checking into your background?"

Faith took the time to chew a bite of toast, then shook her head. "Why should I mind? Maybe he can even find out enough to answer a few of my questions."

"Such as?"

"Such as ... why there are no photographs in my apartment and almost no evidence of my past."

"Some people don't like clutter. Even the clutter of ... visible memories. Maybe it's only that."

"Wouldn't that be ironic," she said. "If I'd kept out of my life the one thing that might help me remember my life."

She drew a breath and looked at him steadily. "I'm twenty-eight years old, and there should be evidence of that life. Signs that... that I lived those years. Photographs. A high school yearbook. A sweater my mother knit for me. But there's nothing like that there. It's as if I came from nowhere eighteen months ago when I moved into that apartment."

"Everybody comes from somewhere, Faith. But maybe you chose to walk away from your past for some reason. People do. Go to a new place, start over."

She toyed with the handle of her coffee cup, aware that the gesture betrayed her uneasiness but unable to stop herself.

"Maybe that's true. But what could have been so bad that I had to wipe out my past before I could start over?"

It was Bishop, coming to the kitchen at that moment, who replied to her question. "My guess would be murder."

"Amnesia?"

"According to her file, yeah." He scowled at a passerby, sending him on his way without stopping to wait for the phone, then he continued his conversation. "I got a look at the shrink's report. Seems her whole life is a blank, not just the days or weeks before she rammed her car into that embankment."

"Is it temporary or permanent?"

"Beats the hell out of me. And them, apparently. The gist of it is that nobody knows whether she'll ever regain her memory. She could get it all back, some of it — or none of it. And there's no telling how long it might take. She could wake up tomorrow remembering every detail."

"Or it could take years."

"That's what they say." He waited out several minutes of silence, then said, "I don't like it."

"No. Neither do I."

"So?"

"So where is she now?"

He swore. "I don't know." There was a pause, and then, "I told you to check out her apartment last night."

"I did. She wasn't there."

"And?"

"And I got pissed."

In all her imaginings, Faith had not thought of murder, and a chill raised gooseflesh over her body.

"What?" She groped desperately in the darkness of her mind, but there was absolutely nothing, no memory, no knowledge at all. Nothing but the terrifying possibility that she had done something horrible.

Bishop continued to speak as if reciting items on a list. "A little over two years ago, you were living in Seattle with your mother and younger sister. Your sister was still in high school, your mother worked in a library, and you worked as a receptionist at a construction company during the day and waited tables at night." He paused. "I don't have all the details, and I won't until I go up to Quantico and get access to the records. But the facts are simple."

"What facts?" she asked unsteadily.

There might have been a softening of Bishop's steely gaze, but it was difficult to tell. "I'm sorry. Your mother and sister were murdered, and the house was burned to the ground."

Faith felt shock, but it was distant, impersonal, little more than dismay. She could not conjure even a fleeting image of this mother or sister, and the grief that should still have been strong in her was totally absent.

It was Kane who asked quietly, "Who was responsible?"

"The case is still open, that's all I can tell you."

Bishop looked at his friend. "And the file is restricted, maybe because it's an ongoing Bureau investigation, something like that."

"Could Faith be a protected witness?"

"Not likely. If that were the case, I would have been warned off the moment I tried to access her file."

She cleared her throat. "Could I... was I a suspect?"

"According to the Seattle P D., which I called after running into that restricted file, you had an alibi. You were waiting tables in a busy restaurant, in full view of dozens of people, when the murders were committed and the house burned. But the police refused to tell me anything else. It seems their file is off-limits as well."

Kane looked at Faith. "So two years ago, the people closest to you were murdered. No arrests, no convictions. A few months later, you came to Atlanta and started over."

Faith tried to think. "Which would explain the lack of some things in my apartment. Photographs, old clothing. If the house I lived in burned to the ground, I could have lost everything."

Kane frowned at Bishop.

"My imagination is probably working overtime trying to figure out how two unsolved murders in Seattle could connect to a traffic accident and a disappearance here in Atlanta two years later. But ... here's Faith. One very real connections"

"Until we have the details," Bishop said, "there's no way to know if there's any other connection."

"And we get the details only if you go to Quantico."

"We have a chance of getting them if I go to Quantico. My clearance might not be high enough, depending on why the file was restricted."

"Weren't you going to have to go back tomorrow anyway? Something about this new unit of yours?"

"I don't have much choice, I'm afraid. And I don't know when I'll be able to get back." He paused. "If I thought there was anything I could do here that you couldn't do just as well or better..."

"You wouldn't leave. I know that."

Bishop went to pour himself some coffee, and Faith was glad their attention had shifted away from her. She needed time to try to cope with the shock of knowing her family had been murdered.

"I'm not too crazy about leaving here just now," Bishop said. "With no solid evidence surfacing, the search for Dinah was going along pretty much according to standard operating procedure, with very little progress and no real surprises." He looked at Faith. "And then you came out of a coma and walked out of that hospital."

Kane frowned again. "Meaning?"

"Meaning the balance has been upset, the status quo disturbed. if anybody is paying attention, now would be the time I'd expect them to make a move."

Faith was puzzled. "You mean ... whoever has Dinah would have to change the plans because of me?"

"If you figure into this at all — yes. Think about it. If you are or were a threat to someone, that coma kept you safely out of the picture. The fact that you're up and about again has to give them pause. Even if they find out that your memory is gone, chances are they won't feel secure enough to just ignore you. Not for long, at any rate."

"My apartment was probably searched," Faith said slowly. "Maybe they found whatever it is they were looking for."

Then a sudden memory made her look at Kane. "Does Dinah have a laptop?"

"Yes. Her briefcase was missing when her jeep was found abandoned near her office, though, and she always carries the laptop in it."

Faith hesitated. "According to what she told the lawyer, she also had my laptop. Did you ever see it?"

Kane didn't have to think long. "No. I mean, I never pay particular attention when she uses it, so I suppose it could have been yours. But I never saw two of them. And we didn't find one in her apartment when we went through the place after she disappeared. No disks either."

Bishop said to Faith, "I don't suppose you have any idea of what was on yours?"

"No. All I know is that I hadn't had it long before the accident."

"Another dead end." Kane sighed. "Last night I thought we had a lead, but now it looks even more murky than before."