Кей Хупер - Hiding in the Shadows

Faith didn't like the way that made her feel, but all she said was, "I won't forget, Katie."

Katie looked at her. "Where's Dinah?"

Faith hardly knew how to answer. Keeping it simple, she replied, "I don't know, Katie."

"Why don't you ask her?" Katie asked reasonably.

"If I don't know where she is, I can't really do that, can I?"

"Just close your eyes and ask her," the child said, a touch of impatience in her voice now. "You used to. It was a game you two played. You'd close your eyes and say, "Dinah, call me," and the phone would ring."

"It would?" Faith said numbly.

"Sure. Don't you remember that?"

"No," Faith said. "I don't remember that."

"You haven't said much since we got back," Kane said.

That was true, but Faith was still unwilling to talk about all she had learned at Haven House. She had related only the bare bones — that she and Dinah had met there, that both had spent some time there.

She'd told him without emotion that she had been married to an abusive man, was now divorced, and still didn't remember any of it. She hadn't mentioned the conversation with the sad little girl, the revelation that she and Dinah might have been connected more surely than she had previously imagined.

She wasn't sure she believed it herself.

"You haven't said much either."

Restlessly, she moved around the living room, ending up at the piano in the corner near the French doors, which opened onto a balcony. It was dark outside, late. Too late to do anything more, to go anywhere or ask questions or get an inch closer to finding Dinah, and if Faith was maddened by that, she could only guess how Kane must be feeling.

Then again, he'd been going through this for weeks, and by now must have learned the futility of driving himself to exhaustion, must have forced himself to accept that sleep and food were necessary, that moments of inactivity had to be endured no matter how desperately he needed to be out searching for Dinah.

"Neither of us had much luck this afternoon," he said. "Guy couldn't tell me any more about your accident, and nobody at the shelter could tell you anything useful."

She sat down on the piano bench and absently picked out a tune with one hand, idly watching her red-polished nails move over the keys. "I hate this," she murmured. "Not being able to do anything."

Both hands began playing now. The quiet music kept her from hearing the ticking of the clock on the nearby wall, but it did nothing to muffle the ticking she was conscious of inside herself. The minutes and hours were slipping past so quickly. So quickly.

After a moment, Kane crossed the room to lean against the side of the piano. "You play well."

Made aware of what she was doing, Faith suddenly felt awkward and uncertain. Her fingers, struck a series of sour notes, and went still.

She laced them together in her lap. "I didn't even know I played at all until today. Does Dinah?"

"No." He smiled faintly. "She claims to have a tin ear, says music is just a lot of noise to her. So I consider it remarkably generous of her that she usually manages to stay in the same room when I practice."

Faith thought that in Dinah's place she would put up with more than noise if it meant spending time with Kane. But she wasn't the one in love with him, she reminded herself. That was Dinah. Dinah's memories of intimacy she remembered, Dinah's emotions she felt. Not her own. Of course not her own.

Trying to think about something else, she recalled the afternoon's vivid dream. Abruptly, she said, "Isn't it possible that Dinah's disappearance has little to do with her work or my past, that she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and got into trouble?"

"Of course it's possible. It's what the police believe, since they've been unable to turn up any evidence to prove otherwise. But I don't believe that. And I don't think you do either."

Faith hesitated. "Did... Was Dinah ever attacked by a dog?"

Surprised, Kane said, "Never, as far as I know. In fact, animals were pretty much crazy about her. Why?"

"I... had another dream today. When I took a nap after lunch. How was she dressed the day she vanished? Was she wearing jeans and a blueish sweater?"

"Yes." He straightened, fingers drumming restlessly on the polished surface of the piano. "What was the dream, Faith? What did you see?"

"Nothing helpful, that's why I didn't mention it sooner. It was too dark to know where she was. She parked the jeep near a building and... and crept closer. She was very wary, excited, anxious. Maybe even scared. And then a big dog came out of nowhere and attacked her."

"You're sure she was attacked?"

Faith remembered the hot breath of the animal, the tearing teeth and the way its claws had raked her flesh, and swallowed hard. "I'm sure."

His expression was grim. "Yesterday you were sure she was being tortured."

"Kane, all these ... memories, these flashes from Dinah's life and experiences, are out of sequence. I can't tell what the proper order is supposed to be, if something happened weeks or months ago-ester-day. But I think it was the night she disappeared because I'm certain she was attacked, and you would have known about it if it had happened before that night. I think the attack was a part of whatever led us to her disappearance."

"And the torture?" He bit out the words.

"I still believe she is... was being tortured. I believe her captors want some kind of information from her that she isn't willing to give them."

"How can you know that? How can you?"

She didn't flinch from the rough demand, but it took all her resolution to meet his haunted eyes.

"I don't know how, not really. They told me at the shelter that Dinah and I seemed like sisters from the moment we first met, that we were instantly and maybe inexplicably close. And I can't explain that any more than I can explain any of the strange things I've experienced since I came out of the coma. But I know, I'm absolutely convinced, that what I'm seeing in these flashes is real. Somehow, there's a connection between me and Dinah, a tangible bond that exists."

"Then why can't you tell me where she is?"

"... don't know. I'm sorry."

"Have you tried?" Kane leaned toward her across the piano, his voice intense. "Have you made any attempt to reach her directly?"

Katie's blithe assertion that she could do just that rose in her mind, but Faith shied away from it. What if she tried and failed? What if the attempt somehow severed the tenuous connection she knew existed?

"Faith?"

She felt trapped, cornered by his force, his need to reach Dinah.

"I don't know how," she whispered.

"There must be a way. Concentrate, Faith. Close your eyes and think about Dinah."

She didn't want to. With her eyes closed, the blank darkness of her mind was far more frightening, and in gazing into that was not something she willingly faced. But Kane had asked of her, demanded it of it her, and she couldn't refuse him.

So she closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on Dinah, made herself think of nothing except the question of where Dinah was. Nothing else.

"Nothing ... There's no proof," Dinah said.

"Then we'll have to get proof," Faith retorted. She chewed on a thumbnail for a moment. "But carefully. These guys play for keeps, Dinah. "

"You don't have to tell me that. If what we suspect is true, they've already killed to protect their secret. They won't hesitate to kill again. "

"Oh, it's true all right. I'm positive of that. So we need insurance, something we can use for bargaining power if we find ourselves in a corner"

"Faith ..." Dinah hesitated, but only briefly.

"Look, I know how much you've lost. I know how angry you are..."

"No, you don't. You don't know." Her voice was harsh, clipped. "They took everything away from me, Dinah. Everything. And they got away with it. The god damned bastards got away with it."