Кей Хупер - Hiding in the Shadows

"I don't believe in coincidence," Bishop said. "Somewhere in all this there's a single thread, one fact or occurrence that ties everything together and makes sense of all of it."

"Even the murders of my mother and sister?" Faith asked.

"That might have been the beginning of it," he answered. "Everything that's happened since could date back to two people being murdered in Seattle two years ago. Or they might turn out to be — pardon the expression — incidental to everything else, important in this instance only because they were the catalyst that brought you to Atlanta."

Faith was beginning to get a headache. She wondered how a mind so empty of anything useful could feel so crowded with questions and facts.

"First things first," Kane said, watching her. "We need to get you to your apartment so you can pack a bag."

Bishop opened his mouth to say something, then apparently thought better of it, and said instead, "It's Sunday, so there won't be much traffic."

Faith occupied herself with trying to figure out what was on Bishop's mind, an exercise which at least kept her thoughts focused on something specific during the trip to her apartment. The answer didn't occur to her until they got out of Kane's car at her budding and she saw the agent and Kane look around them with an attention that was far from casual.

Somebody could be watching this place . That's what he thinks. Maybe my cab last night was impossible to follow in Saturday-evening traffic, so they might not know where I went. There might have been o connection between me and Kane until today.

Have I put him in danger by going to him, by being with him? Was I the one who put Dinah in danger?

They went into the building and up to Faith's apartment, meeting no one along the way. The door was closed, but Faith was suddenly even more uneasy than she had been. It was an actual physical sensation, as if something cold had brushed against her skin.

"What?" Kane asked, reading her body language.

"I... Its nothing. Nothing I can explain." She dug into her shoulder bag and produced the door key.

Kane took it from her. "Then it's probably best if we're careful. You wait out here."

Faith stepped to the side of the door, and watched as the two men unlocked and opened it very cautiously and slipped inside the apartment.

She was conscious of her heart pounding, of a sick queasiness she recognized as fear, and silently called herself a coward. It did no good to remind herself that she had every right to be frightened, adrift in a life she didn't remember, a life that held the potential of danger.

It seemed hours before Kane reappeared in the doorway. "It's clear," he said. "But someone's been here."

With that warning, Faith braced herself for the chaos waiting inside her apartment.

This time, the search had been far more vicious and destructive. Sofa cushions were cut open, the stuffing bulging half out of them. Prints were torn off the walls and from their frames, the glass broken. Shelves were pulled away from the walls, tables overturned. In the kitchen, the cabinet doors were open, the counters and sink littered with boxes and cans, and both the refrigerator and the freezer had been searched. In the bedroom, her clothing lay heaped on the floor, along With the bedding. The mattress had been slashed open.

Faith stood looking at the mess, her skin crawling with the sensation of having been violated.

"I should call the police," she said.

Kane and Bishop exchanged glances, then Kane said, "I have a friend in the department. Let me call him. I think we'll be better off if we can avoid a media circus."

When Faith looked at him, he added, "So far, there's no public connection between you and me, or even you and Dinah. I say we keep it that way as long as possible."

Faith agreed, even as she asked herself if she was deferring to Kane because he was right, or because it was easier to let him make the decisions. I don't even know that about myself. Not even that.

Kane's police detective friend was Guy Richardson, a tall, beefy man with thinning brown hair and deceptively mild brown eyes. He arrived with a disinterested police photographer who took pictures of the apartment, spoke briefly and quietly to Kane — filling him — in on the lack of progress in the search for Dinah, perhaps? — and then looked around the place thoroughly before asking Faith if she knew for sure if anything had been taken.

Faith had already thought about that and was able to offer an answer.

"As far as I can tell, nothing that was here when I left yesterday evening is missing."

They were sitting at the small kitchen table, and her hands were tightly clasped before her.

"Kane explained about the amnesia. So you have no idea why your apartment was searched twice in the last few weeks?"

"No."

"I looked at the report of the previous break-in. Your neighbors were questioned, but no one saw a stranger hanging around or heard anything suspicious. There was no sign of forced entry, but an open window was found."

He paused.

"This time, there was no open window and the lock was picked. Which tells me a pro got in here, and he did it without leaving much evidence. I can dust for prints, but I'd bet my pension he wore gloves."

There didn't seem to be anything to say, so Faith remained silent, her gaze flickering from her clasped hands to the men around the table.

Kane said, "Assuming he didn't find what he was looking for, do you think he'll be back?"

"The man is very serious about his work," Richardson said." "Whatever he wants is important, either because he was hired to find it or because he wants it badly himself. My guess is that he won't stop looking."

"Then Faith isn't safe here."

Richardson agreed. "I'd advise her to stay somewhere else until we get this figured out."

Faith couldn't help wondering if Kane had asked his friend to make that statement — then chided herself for being so suspicious. Still, she had to protest.

"But after searching twice, he must know that whatever he's looking for isn't here."

Richardson didn't hesitate. "I'm sure he does. But what he doesn't know is whether you have what he's looking for in your possession or have hidden it somewhere outside this apartment."

Bishop spoke then, his voice cool. "There is another possibility. This second break-in might have been less a search and more a tactic used to intimidate. His aim could be to frighten Faith enough that she either leads him to what he's looking for, or is too afraid to make use of it herself.

"But what is it he's looking for?" Faith asked feeling more desperate than she wanted to admit. "I don't know. I don't remember. Was it something I took from him? Something I found? Something given to me for safekeeping?"

Slowly, Kane said, "Whatever it is, we don't even have a clue as to its size. The way this apartment was turned upside down, it could be anything from papers or a computer disk all the way up to something as big as a bread box."

"Computer disk." Faith looked at Kane. "If Dinah got my laptop just after the accident, then it wasn't here the first time the apartment was searched. Could that be it?"

"Sure it could. But unless you hid backups of your data somewhere safe — and unless you remember where they are — we have no way of knowing for sure."

"And," Richardson pointed out, "if he was looking for a computer he didn't find here, he'll figure you have it with you or stashed someplace."

"So you're a target," Kane finished.

Faith was aware of that queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach once again. Fear.

"Until I get my memory back? What if I never do? The doctors say I may never remember the days or even weeks right before the accident."