Кей Хупер - Hiding in the Shadows

Kane was pacing.

Faith wasn't sure he was ready to talk, but she needed to. "There's something bothering me."

It was, on the face of it, an absurd thing to say, but Kane merely sat down in the chair across from her and said calmly, "Something in particular? What is it?"

"When I had the... the dream about Dinah being attacked by that dog, she didn't seem sure where she was. Something about the address being vague, and maybe not even being in the right part of the city."

"So how come she didn't know that place backed up to the building site?"

"That's part of it. And what if she was there to meet someone? What if whoever it was took advantage of an unused warehouse, and the only connection to the Cochranes is that building?"

"Cheerful thought," Kane said sourly.

"But possible."

"Oh, yeah, it's possible."

"And if it's true?"

"Then we're back to square one. Unless that building has some tangible connection to whoever held Dinah there ... But we don't know it's true, not yet."

He gazed at her broodingly, glad she was there because being alone tonight would have been unbearable. At least when he listened to her voice his imagination couldn't recreate Dinah's cries of pain. At least when he looked at her, he no longer saw stained concrete.

"You haven't told me everything," he said abruptly. "You were upset yesterday when you came back from Haven House, for one thing. For another, I've gotten the feeling more than once that you could have offered more details about Dinah."

She hesitated, biting her bottom lip, then said, "Not details you need to hear. Not details that would help us find her."

Kane closed his eyes briefly. "Is she alive, Faith?"

She hesitated for a moment. "Sometimes I ... think I hear her voice in my head. But I'm not sure. I was told by somebody at Haven House that I seemed to be psychic with Dinah, that we clicked somehow from the moment we met."

"Then..."

Faith shook her head. "If it is her voice I'm hearing, she can't or won't tell me where she is — and I can't control what I hear, can't ask her questions or demand answers. It doesn't seem to work that way, no matter what I try. It just ... comes when it comes. At odd moments, when I least expect it. A voice in my head I'm not even sure isn't my own."

A slight laugh that held no humor was forced from Kane. "That jibes with what Noah's told me. He says concentration and years of practice help but that few psychics are able to do more than open a door. What comes through, and how, is almost always a jumble and is seldom helpful in any real sense. As if even the subconscious can't cope with those extra senses and has to translate using symbolism and imagery. He says if ever a psychic is born who can control his or her abilities a hundred percent, the whole world will change. "

"I'm sorry, Kane. Maybe we could try something that might help me concentrate more or focus. Hypnosis ..."

"Noah says psychics can't be hypnotized."

After a moment, Faith said, "I guess he'd know."

"Yeah. He'd know." Kane paused. "You learned something else at Haven House, didn't you, Faith?"

Tell him.

She swallowed. "It's nothing that would help..."

"Something about Dinah? What is it?"

Tell him.

Faith couldn't see how the knowledge would help Kane. She was afraid it might even hurt him more, but heard herself say reluctantly, "I have no way of knowing if it's true, but someone at the shelter who spent a lot of time with Dinah is convinced she believed she didn't have a future."

"What?"

"Eve could be wrong, Kane. It was just her impression, based on a lot of little things. A remark here and there, a fleeting expression. She thought Dinah was always aware of time, that she had some sense of it running out. For her."

He got up abruptly and moved toward the dark fireplace. He stood there for a moment, frowning, then bent and turned on the gas logs as though he felt a sudden chill.

"That ... would explain a lot," he murmured.

"What do you mean?"

"I always thought — always felt — there was a reason why she never wanted to make plans beyond the next weekend."

"But if you were engaged ..."

His smile was twisted. "We weren't. I just said that to the press because ... because I wanted it to be true, I suppose. But Dinah and I hadn't come close to that kind of commitment. I was hesitating over suggesting that we move in together, not because she was too independent but because I had the feeling it was a corner she just wasn't ready to turn. "

"Bishop said she was precognitive."

Kane nodded slowly.

"Then maybe she did see her future. Or at least see enough to believe it wasn't wise of her to make longterm plans. Maybe that's why she moved so fast after my accident, why she was so careful to set things up quickly even though she knew I might be in the coma a long time."

"Maybe." Kane drew a breath. "But even if she did see her future, even if she believed she was running out of time, she could have been wrong, Faith. Psychics get it wrong all the time, even the best of them. She could still be alive."

Yes.

"I don't..." He shook his head. "I still don't feel her."

"I'm sorry."

"I almost envy you that voice in your head. At least you can tell yourself it's a connection, whether you really believe it is or not. At least you can tell yourself you have a piece of her."

"It's nothing to envy, believe me."

"Isn't it?"

"No. I don't have a piece of her, Kane. I don't even have a piece of me."

There was something forlorn in her voice, and not for the first time he had a sense of how hard this was for her. It was his turn to say, "I'm sorry."

Faith shook her head but didn't otherwise reply, and when she looked past him, the reflection of the fire made her eyes look vividly alive.

Green eyes, not blue. Red hair instead of blond. Slender fragility instead of athletic grace.

The intelligence was much the same, the occasional dry humor, but physically... Realizing where his thoughts had wandered, Kane felt a shock. He stared at Faith, conscious of his heart beating faster, of an emotion that was part longing and part guilt, and something else he dared not examine too closely.

"Kane?" She was looking back at him, puzzlement turning into awareness.

One of her hands began to lift as if to reach out to him, but then she clasped both of them tightly together in her lap. The neat red nails gleamed darkly.

Red nails.

Kane turned from the fireplace and from her, crossed the room to the piano, and sat down on the bench.

"Don't let me keep you up." His voice was much harsher than he had intended.

He had played no more than a few quiet notes when Faith rose from the couch with a murmured good-night and retreated to the bedroom. Kane continued to play but wholly by rote. He wanted to go after her.

But he couldn't.

He couldn't.

... Faith woke to bright morning sunlight slanting through the drapes and the sound of the piano being played softly. She had left her bedroom door ajar for no reason she wanted to explain to herself, and each time she had awakened in the night she had heard the quiet notes. She wondered if he even realized he had played the same song over and over again.

She rose and got ready to face the day. And him.

Showered and dressed, she nerved herself to walk out into the living room and say good morning in a steady voice.

Kane stopped playing but didn't move from the bench. "Good morning." His voice was as steady as hers, damp hair and fresh clothing evidence that he had showered recently, but she didn't know whether or not he had slept.

"I guess there's nothing new from Daniels?"

"No. But he should be here any minute."

Faith nodded, then retreated to the kitchen and poured a glass of orange juice. She wasn't particularly thirsty but needed a moment to collect herself.