Кей Хупер - Hiding in the Shadows

He really wasn't ready to face her with his tangle of emotions.

They had already abbed at her once or twice.

"I came as soon as I heard about the explosion. Kane, what on earth is going on?" Sydney sounded as shaken as she looked. They had spoken the day before by phone, after the discovery of Dinah's body had hit the news, but Kane had warned her not to come to his apartment because of the media camped outside.

This morning, she came despite that.

"The police are still investigating," he told her. "Guy Richardson thinks whoever killed Dinah wasn't happy when I put a bounty on his head, and tossed a bomb into my bedroom to remove the threat of it."

Sydney frowned. "Didn't you say Faith was sleeping in your room?"

"Yeah. She woke up and heard someone at the window. Otherwise she'd be dead too."

Kane had been listening for Faith but she had not yet emerged from the bedroom.

"Then the bomb could have been meant for her?"

"Could have. But with her memory like Swiss cheese, and no real evidence that she was the intended target, it's just as likely I was."

Sydney sipped her coffee for several minutes.

"Kane, that reward ..."

"What about it?"

"Well, maybe Guy is right. Maybe offering that money put a giant target on your back."

"Then it's accomplishing at least one of my goals — it's making somebody very, very nervous. And nervous men make mistakes, Syd. If he's running around trying to kill me, he's not hiding — and I have a better chance of spotting him."

She looked at him searchingly. "Getting yourself killed won't bring Dinah back."

"I know that. I don't have a death wish, if that's what you're thinking. I'm just trying to flush the bastard out into the open."

"Kane ... I'm so sorry about Dinah. I know I said it yesterday, but I don't think either of us was making much sense, and..."

"I know, Syd." His sister's sympathy was like salt rubbed into a gaping wound, and he felt guilty accepting it from her. He wondered what she'd think of him if she knew that in his heart he'd given up on Dinah weeks ago.

"Will there... Have you thought about a funeral? Made any plans?"

"No, not really. The medical examiner won't release her body until after the autopsy, probably a week or more. She wanted to be cremated, had it in her will, I think. So I guess a memorial service would be better." He heard the detached tone of his voice and wondered if his calm sounded as precarious as it felt.

"I can make the arrangements if you'd like, Kane. You have enough on your plate right now and... and I'd like to do something for Dinah."

His impulse was to accept, but he disliked leaving others to perform the difficult chores he knew he should do himself. "I'll think about it, Syd, thanks. Let's wait a couple of days before we decide anything."

"Probably best," she murmured. "Besides, she may have left specific instructions as to what she wanted. Have you heard from her attorney?"

"No, not yet."

"Are you her executor?"

Kane frowned. "I'd be surprised if I was, since we were involved only about six months before she disappeared. She never said anything about making changes to her will."

"But she didn't have any family still living, did she?"

"No. She had Conrad Masterson, though, and my guess would be that he's her executor, since he handled her money. I know she trusted him."

"Then maybe he'll know what she wanted done."

"Maybe so." More to himself than to her, he said, "I wonder if killers really do show up at the funerals of their victims."

"That's a morbid thought."

He looked at his sister and managed an apologetic smile. "Isn't it. Sorry."

Before Sydney could comment, Faith came into the kitchen. She looked about fifteen years old, with her hair pulled back with a wide elastic headband and wearing faded jeans and a too-large white sweatshirt.

No makeup at all, and Kane noticed immediately that she'd removed the red nail polish.

Even more than young, she looked ... exposed.

Completely vulnerable, stripped of even the few defenses she had managed to erect since waking up with her past a blank page.

"Hi," she said, her voice more subdued than Kane had yet heard it, her gaze fixed on his sister.

"Hello, Faith."

Kane didn't try to approach her, but poured a cup of coffee for her and pushed it across the work island toward her.

She kept her eyes fixed on the cup as she dumped sugar and cream in it, then carried it to the table and sat down across from Sydney.

"I hear you had a close call last night," Sydney said.

Faith's pale lips moved in an imitation smile. "Close enough. If he hadn't made a noise or two getting the window open ..."

"But you didn't see who it was?"

"No."

"So it really could have been Kane the guy was after."

"I suppose so. Detective Richardson seems to think it's possible."

"Kane, I hope you mean to increase security around here. Those guards of yours have their hands full with the media outside."

"I'm calling the security company right after breakfast. A dozen more men and a couple of dogs on each shift ought to do the job."

Faith sent him a quick glance. "Won't the other tenants in the building object?"

It was Sydney who replied. "Probably not. Kane's their landlord."

Faith hadn't realized he owned the building. Or perhaps the entire complex.

He said, "I doubt they'd say much anyway if the object is to keep them safer."

Faith thought he had a point.

After breakfast, Faith and Sydney shared the cleaning chores while Kane got on the phone to his security company. They ignored the dishwasher by tacit consent, both needing to be occupied by the simple physical actions of washing, drying, and putting away the dishes. It wasn't until the women were alone together that Sydney asked a quiet question.

"How is he doing, really?"

Faith didn't know how to answer that except by being honest. "He hasn't said much to me. I think ... he talked to Bishop."

"They've been friends a long time. If anyone could help.."

Faith wondered if anyone could, but all she said was, "I don't know what to say to him."

Sydney leaned a hip against the counter and kept her gaze on the plate she was drying. The delicate charm bracelet she wore tinkled softly.

"There isn't much you can say, I guess. Me either. All we can do is sympathize with someone else's pain. And be here, in case he needs us."

Faith drew a shaky breath. "Yes, but in my case, I could actually be responsible — directly or indirectly — for the murder of the woman he loves." She used the present tense deliberately.

"You don't know that, Faith."

"That's just it. I don't know. And neither does he."

"Still no luck in remembering, I take it."

"None. And even though we've found out some details of my past, nothing is even vaguely familiar to me."

"So it's still possible that whatever you and Dinah were involved in is something you ... brought with you when you came to Atlanta?"

"More than possible. Something drove me to cross the country and come live in a strange city. I just wish I knew what that was."

"You have no idea at all?"

They've taken everything away from me, Dinah.

Everything.

Faith hesitated, then said, "Apparently, my family was killed, murdered, but I don't know why or by whom. Maybe I came here because of that, but if I did, I still don't remember."

"You have had it rough, haven't you?" Syd's lovely face mirrored the compassion in her voice. "I'm really sorry, Faith. I wish I could help."

"You said it yourself." Faith smiled. "All we can offer is our sympathy when someone else hurts. Thank you for yours."

"If there's anything I can do to help, I will. Don't forget that, Faith."