Кей Хупер - Hiding in the Shadows

But she didn't remember being frightened or hurt by anyone, much less a husband.

Though that would explain several small scars she had found on her body, she realized.

Trying to concentrate, she said, "So you don't know much about my past?"

"We try to live in the present here. You may have talked more to the others, but this is considered a temporary shelter, and we have a fairly high turnover rate. I'm afraid there aren't many still here who'd know you. Andrea and Katie, maybe Eve. I can't think of anyone else."

"I suppose you wouldn't consider giving me the names and current addresses of any of the women I might have confided in months ago?"

"Against the rules. I'm sorry, Faith."

"No, I understand." She said. "If I could talk to the women who did know me, I'd be very grateful. But I also wanted to ask you about Dinah Leighton."

Karen's thin face tightened. "God, that's just awful, her disappearing like that. When it first happened we all wondered about that guy she was involved with — but then we would, wouldn't we? Not exactly an unbiased group here."

It was the first time it had occurred to Faith that Kane might have been suspected of involvement in Dinah's disappearance. Slowly, she said, "Did the police think he might have ... hurt her?"

"The usual speculation from the media, as I recall, but I don't believe the police ever considered him a serious suspect. According to the newspapers, his movements were pretty well accounted for during the time they think she vanished, and nobody could offer even the whisper of a motive why he might have wanted to get rid of her. She wasn't afraid of him; I knew that and so did everyone else."

"How did you know?"

"She didn't have that look in her eyes." Karen's smile was a little sad. "the one we all see in the mirror and recognize instantly in another abused woman. The one you don't have anymore."

That startled her. "I don't?"

"It's how I knew you really had lost your memory. You don't remember being hurt, Faith. You don't remember the fear, the humiliation, the shame. You don't remember cowering the way we've all cowered while a man used his strength and his rage as weapons."

Faith had another realization — that there were some things in her past she hoped she never remembered. But before she could comment, Karen continued.

"Dinah had never experienced that either. And though she didn't talk much about Kane Macgregor, what she did say was pretty clear evidence that she cared about him."

Faith wanted to stay on that subject, but she knew all too well hers was a personal curiosity, that it wouldn't help them to find Dinah. And they had to find Dinah, they had to.

Soon. Before it was too late.

"How well do you know Dinah?" she asked, consciously using the present tense.

The director considered the question. "In some ways, I knew... know her quite well. In other ways, I'm not so sure. She was intelligent, compassionate, unusually generous. She was easy to confide in and kept other people's secrets as well as she kept her own. But I couldn't tell you anything about her past, or about what she did or where she went when she wasn't here." Karen paused. "She came here to do a story on the shelter months ago, and after her job was done she kept coming, volunteering her time, donating money. She met you here."

Faith stiffened. "She did?"

"Yeah. And it was very unusual, the way you took to each other right off. An instant bond. I remember that first day, you sat on the front steps and talked for hours. I asked you about it later, and you said that for the first time in your life you were beginning to believe in reincarnation, because Dinah must have been very close to you at some point in your existence, and yet you two had never met before. You said she was the only person you could ever remember trusting instantly and totally."

Faith thought about that for a moment. "Was I... did I claim to be psychic in any way?"

Karen's eyebrows shot up. "You never did to me. You were always very down-to-earth, even laughed at yourself for considering that reincarnation might be possible."

"What about Dinah?"

"Never heard anything like that from her, either."

Which, Faith thought, meant nothing. Dinah had clearly kept the "sections" of her life separate as far as she was able. What Faith was still unsure of was which section of Dinah's life she had belonged in: the humanitarian section where a shelter held abused women whom Dinah had clearly felt sympathy for, or the work section where there had been a story that might have endangered them both.

"Did she spend much time here right before she disappeared?" she asked finally.

"No, we hadn't seen her in weeks. In fact, we hadn't seen her until just after your accident, when she came to tell us what had happened. We wanted to send flowers or visit, but she discouraged us from doing either."

"She did?"

Karen nodded. "Said you were In a coma and the doctor thought more visitors wouldn't be advisable, that she'd keep us informed. She came by a few times, and then ... we never saw her again. Things got hectic here, the way they usually do, and ... time passed."

And Faith had been forgotten. She understood that, even though it caused her a pang, and managed a smile.

"I'm sorry, Faith. You and I weren't close, but I should have been a better friend."

"Don't worry about it. One good thing about having no memory is that the slings and arrows hardly hurt at all. Karen, may I see those women who might have talked to me?"

"Katie's the only one here today, I'm afraid. That's her trying to play the piano. Her mother, Andrea, made the mistake of letting her ex get too close a couple of days ago, and now she's in the hospital. As for Eve, she's out of town visiting relatives. Should be back any day now, though."

Faith was getting used to disappointment. She listened for a moment to the distant, inexpert piano notes. "I gather Katie is a child. How old?"

"Seven, though she seems older." Karen's sad smile returned. "They all grow up too fast in this house. But you can talk to her. She always liked you, as I recall."

"How about Dinah? Did Katie like her?"

"Very much."

The little girl was alone in what appeared to be a communal music-and-games room. She wore white pants and a Barbe T-shirt, and her long blond hair was held back from her face with pink plastic clips.

She was more than a little doll-like herself. She was also extremely grave, accepting without a blink Karen's explanation that Faith had been sick and doesn't remember things as well as she wants to.

Faith felt momentarily deserted when Karen left her with the little girl, then sat down on the bench beside her and said, "Hey, kiddo. What're you playing?"

Katie frowned, wide blue eyes gazing at Faith for a long silent time before she looked back down at the keys and tapped middle C twice. "I can't play much. 'Chopsticks,' but I don't like that. Some of 'Beautiful Dreamer.' You haven't been here to teach me anything new."

The last was said with a careful absence of accusation.

"I'm sorry about that, Katie." Without thinking about it, Faith put her fingers on the keys and began playing a few notes. "Would you like to learn this? It's called 'Moonlight Sonata.' Isn't it pretty?"

Music.

Something else she hadn't remembered knowing until now.

Katie cocked her head, listening critically. "It sounds sad."

Faith stopped playing. "So it does. I'd forgotten that too, I guess. We'll just have to find something else I can teach you. I'll bring some music with me next time, okay?"

"You said you would." Again, the little girl's voice was neutral, the noncommittal tone of someone who had learned early that the wrong words, the wrong inflection, could incite violence.