Кей Хупер - Hiding in the Shadows

Faith suddenly remembered what Bishop had said about Dinah. She was precognitive, able to ... tune in to future events, to predict the turn of a card or the throw of dice.

Had Dinah seen her own future?

The sky darkened early with a November storm, one of those weather systems that seemed to circle a place, thunder rumbling and lightning flashing, warning while it decided if it wanted to strike.

Kane wondered if it was an omen, and tried not to let himself believe that. But it was hard not to. The night and the storm had closed in, cutting him off and making it impossible for him to be out doing something, anything, that might help him find Dinah. He hated the night.

It was impossible to sit still. He had learned weeks ago that when he was barred from doing anything to help Dinah, he had to keep himself busy with mundane activities. It kept him grounded. Kept him sane.

At least, he hoped it did.

He dug into the freezer for one of the homemade meals that were occasional weekend projects for him.

Dinah had teased him that he went on cooking lags on weekends only because he wanted to make her look bad, but the truth was that there was a streak of practicality in his nature and a strong sense of self-reliance, and he regularly practiced the skill of cooking just as he regularly practiced his other skills.

Because one never knew when such things would come in handy. It was after seven, and the storm was rumbling closer, when Faith emerged from the bedroom. She had retreated there soon after they returned from the shelter, obviously upset by what she had learned there, although she had told Kane it was "nothing useful."

He suspected she had discovered more details of her own past and personality, but even so it bothered him that she hadn't wanted to discuss it. In the weeks since Dinah had vanished, he had begun to realize just how much of herself she had been unable or unwilling to share with him. That, coupled with his deepening sense of loss, his increasing feeling that Dinah was slipping further and further away from him, made him want to hold on even tighter to the only connection to her he had left: Faith.

"Are you sure you don't want me to move into the guest room now that Bishop's gone?" she asked abruptly, obviously speaking more to fill the silence than for any other reason.

"I'm sure." He didn't offer a reason, not wanting to admit that either bed was useless to him anyway, since he spent his nights pacing the floor until exhaustion finally drove him to close his eyes for an hour or two.

Faith shrugged. "Something smells good."

"Irish stew. My own version, anyway." A boom of thunder interrupted him, and he waited it out before adding, "Perfect night for it, I thought."

"Isn't it a little late in the year for this kind of ?" Faith wondered, automatically the plates and silverware he had stacked on the counter and going to set the table. She was just as restless and edgy as he was, a fact he had noticed before now.

"Maybe, but it's not so unusual. According to the weather reports, it'll probably storm all night."

Great.

He checked the bread baking in the oven, then looked across the room at her. "Do storms bother you?"

"Just a bit. More if there's wind."

"Dinah's just the same," he said, keeping his tone casual. "A feline trait, she calls it. Never having owned a cat, I have no idea what she means by that."

"I do. Means we hate change and low-pressure ems."

Thunder boomed suddenly, and Faith jumped. "Damn," she murmured a little sheepishly.

"You're wound pretty tight," Kane noted.

"I'll be all right once the storm actually arrives. It's all this rumbling around beforehand that gets on my nerves. The table's set. Can I do anything else?"

"You can pour the wine. I'll have this ready in just a few minutes."

It wasn't until they were sitting at the table with the meal before them that Faith finally said, with obviously forced nonchalance, "Did you hear from Bishop about that restricted file?"

Kane nodded slowly.

"I can see from your face I'm not going to like it. Let me guess. My abusive ex had something to do with the murder of my family?"

"Is that a guess?" he asked.

"Educated. I've been talking to the women at the shelter, remember. Been hearing a lot about violent men. So I had to wonder about the violent man in my past."

She paused and seemed to brace herself. "Did he kill my mother and sister?"

"He was — and is — suspected. But the police haven't found any evidence, Faith, and he not only passed a couple of lie detector tests but also told the same story under some kind of experimental truth serum."

"Truth serum?"

"Noah said to forget we heard that."

She smiled, but it was an effort. "Okay, so what story did he tell?"

"He claims that after you left him in L A. — where you two had lived for the ten months of your marriage — he didn't hear from you again until he was served with divorce papers. At which point he says he got calmly on a plane for Seattle, intending to talk to you about the situation. He also says he checked into a hotel in Seattle, called your mother's house, and learned that you were working. So he says he stayed at the hotel and didn't have a clue what had happened until the police rousted him out of bed the next morning."

"The police, on the other hand, believe that blind rage overcame him when he was served with the papers. That even though phone records show he did call your mother's house, he could have driven out there, still enraged, killed your mother and sister, and burned the house to the ground. There wasn't much forensic evidence, nothing to say who'd done it, but Tony Ellis had motive and no real alibi, so..."

"Tony Ellis. Is that his name?"

Kane heard in her voice a loss he could barely comprehend. At least he knew what he had lost; Faith was almost hourly discovering bits and pieces of her life, good and horrible, that had vanished from her mind.

"Is it his name?" she repeated steadily.

"Yes. I'm sorry, Faith."

She shook her head and looked down at her plate for a moment, then slowly shifted her fork from her right hand to her left.

"I'm glad I don't remember him," she said almost absently. "But I'm still confused about why that file is restricted."

"Ellis is an FBI agent."

She looked up swiftly. "Ali. Now it makes more sense. Covering for one of their own?"

"That was apparently your view. But it really does appear that there was no evidence to arrest him. Or even for the FBI to fire him, for that matter. They demoted him, and he's under close observation in L A., something he's well aware of, apparently. From everything Noah could gather, he's been behaving himself for the last eighteen months."

"I told someone at the shelter that I had medical evidence that could ruin his career."

"Yes. Hospital records showing broken bones and severe bruising." Kane held his voice even and steady, but it took effort. "You turned it over to the police in Seattle. But when they couldn't prosecute him for the murders, you apparently decided that rather than let them prosecute for assault against you, you'd use the evidence to pressure him into signing the divorce papers and getting out of your life for good."

Faith shook her head. "And then what? I crossed the country just to make sure?"

"Maybe."

And maybe not.

Once again, Faith was unsure if that was her voice, her question — or someone else's.

She tried to think, to concentrate. "I was angry. I wanted ... justice. That's what Dinah said to me, that we had to have proof that would stand up in court or I wouldn't get my justice. But as far as we can tell, up until the accident, everything that happened to me happened before I came to Atlanta. It has to connect, though, it just has to. Whatever Dinah and I were investigating here has to connect to my life before."