“I guess not. But—”
They were in the bedroom, and Dinah turned to her suddenly. “Faith, you have to wake up.”
“But I want to talk to you.”
“Listen to me. You have to wake up.”
“But—”
“Faith, someone’s trying to get in your window.”
ELEVEN
Faith opened her eyes and was instantly wide awake. The music from the living room had ceased, and the apartment was filled with a predawn quiet that was peculiarly heavy.
Almost still. Almost, but not quite, silent.
Something was scratching at one of the bedroom windows.
Someone.
Feeling her heart thudding against her ribs, Faith turned her head slowly on the pillow and stared across the room. She could make out the dark square of the window against the pale walls, but the drapes made it impossible for her to see anything else.
We’re on the fifth floor, and there’s no balcony.
A sudden, distinct click from the window made her stop worrying about how someone could be out there.
Obviously, someone was. And it was unlikely to be a friendly visit.
Moving as quietly as possible, Faith pushed back the covers and slid from the bed. She worked her way cautiously across the room, her eyes fixed on the window, terrified she’d see the drapes move and a black-gloved hand reach in. She eased open the door and slipped through, leaving it ajar. Only then did she watch where she was going as she hurried to the living room.
The room was dark except for the low fire burning in the gas fireplace, but Kane was still awake. He sat in a chair, slumped, his unseeing gaze fixed on the flames, and Faith had to say his name twice before he stirred and looked at her.
“What is it?” he asked, terribly polite. He didn’t seem at all surprised to see her standing there shivering in a sheer green nightgown.
“Kane—”
“You should go back to bed. It’s late.”
She glanced over her shoulder toward the bedroom, wondering only then why she hadn’t knocked on Bishop’s door and awakened the agent, who probably had a gun. And who was not locked away in some private hell of grief, unreachable and untouchable. Keeping her voice low, she said, “Someone’s trying to get in my window.”
Strange how calm she sounded, when her every sense seemed to be quivering in alarm.
“You were dreaming,” he said.
I certainly was. But Faith wasn’t about to tell him about that. “Kane, someone is trying to get in. I swear to you, I didn’t dream this. I didn’t imagine it. Someone is outside the window trying to get in. I could hear him.”
Kane rose and moved unhurriedly toward the hallway. He had, either deliberately or unconsciously, chosen the route that would take him past her at the greatest possible distance, but Faith told herself that didn’t matter. Not now. Not until she could think about it.
“Be careful,” she urged.
He paused and looked back at her with lifeless eyes. “There’s no one out there, Faith. There are two security guards posted front and back of the building. And we’re on the fifth floor.”
Steadily, she said, “Someone is out there. Please be careful.” This time she made no attempt to lower her voice, even raised it. She hoped she woke Bishop, hoped the intruder had his head inside the window and heard her. She was far less concerned with catching whoever it was than in making sure Kane didn’t walk uncaringly into a bullet.
He shook his head and took a step into the hallway.
The force of the explosion knocked him back into the living room; he landed almost at her feet.
“The only real point in the bomb’s favor is that the blast was contained pretty much in the bedroom.” Detective Nolan, in charge of the bomb squad, continued to describe the explosion. “Not much fire to speak of and actually very little structural damage. In fact, even though it blew the hall door almost into the living room, it didn’t even breach the closet door. Your bed’s only a memory though, I’m afraid.”
Richardson, who had arrived with Nolan, didn’t wait for Kane to respond. “So it was a focused blast?” He was bright-eyed despite the early hour, and only the colorful hem of pajama bottoms visible under his pants indicated he’d been pulled from his own bed by Kane’s phone call.
For some reason, Faith was surprised the detective wore pajamas.
“Oh, very focused,” Nolan answered. “I’d say the guy knew he would catch his target in bed, and aimed to get just that.”
“Why?” Richardson demanded. “Wouldn’t it have been more certain if he’d tried to gut the entire room?”
“Maybe, but if Mr. MacGregor and Miss Parker are right about how little time passed between the time he gained entry and the explosion—”
“It couldn’t have been more than a minute or two,” Faith insisted. “I don’t think he’d gotten the window open when I slipped out of the room, or just barely.”
Nolan nodded. “Then I’d say he had two problems to consider in planning. First, to deliver the device quietly and carefully enough so his target didn’t awaken before it could go off, and second to get his ass back up the rope to the roof before it blew.”
“He definitely came down from the roof?” Bishop asked.
Richardson said, “One of my people found a rope mark on the edge of the roof, and it looks like the rope was fastened to a pipe up there. In fact, we found a smear of blood on a rusty bolt, so I’d say the guy cut or scraped himself because he was in such a hurry to get the rope unfastened. The roof access door was open, so we’re pretty sure he got out through that service stairwell. Probably the same way he got up to the roof.”
Bishop nodded.
Nolan resumed his report. “From what we found, the explosive looks like a fairly simple sort with a plain burning fuse, a short one. I’d guess he made a little bomb rather than a big one so he’d still be able to get to the roof if it blew prematurely, as homemade bombs frequently do. Anything more powerful and he ran the risk it would have taken him out as well.”
“Amateur night,” Bishop muttered.
Nolan nodded again, this time enthusiastically. “I’d say. No timer, nothing fancy. A bit of dynamite in some kind of metal container to concentrate the blast is my guess. I have to say, the M.O. doesn’t match up with any of our known arsonists or weekend bombers, and since he kept it simple I’m betting we won’t be able to trace him through what’s left of the bomb. Maybe we’ll get lucky and pick up a fingerprint—”
“He wore gloves,” Faith murmured.
Richardson turned to her. “I thought you never saw him.”
“I didn’t. Not really, I mean.” She avoided Nolan’s interested stare and shrugged at Richardson. “You know.”
A look of enlightenment dawned. “Ah. Another of your dreams?”
“Something like that. I think he wore gloves. Black gloves. That he was dressed all in black.”
“They mostly are,” Nolan said practically. “At night, I mean. Helps them disappear.”
Richardson asked, “When will you know for sure if this bastard is in our files?”
“Probably by afternoon. Nothing much going on right now, so I can give this priority.”
“Thanks.” As soon as Nolan left, Richardson looked at Kane. “Dandy idea, your reward,” he said sourly.
Kane returned the stare but said nothing. He had said very little since the police and fire department had arrived, and hardly more before that. Picking himself up from the floor, asking Faith if she was all right, making sure Bishop was okay, calling the police—he had done it all as if by rote and without visible emotion.
Faith said, “That couldn’t be the cause, surely? I mean so quickly? Besides, how could the bomber have known I was in that particular bedroom?”
“Maybe he didn’t,” Richardson suggested. “Maybe the intent was to remove Kane—and the threat of that reward. I doubt his estate would have paid it.”
That hadn’t occurred to Faith. She looked at Kane,
sitting so still and silent, his face pale, and she swallowed hard. She felt very cold suddenly. The blanket he had found for her before the police came was around her shoulders, and she drew it a bit tighter.
Bishop said, “Either way, I’d like to know where those expensive security guards were.”
“Out cold. Neither one remembers a damned thing before all the lights went out. And the regular building night security guard was at his station off the lobby watching an infomercial with his feet up, so there’s no luck there.”
Kane said, “So this guy was good enough to take out two experienced security guards without raising an alarm, good enough to rappel down from the roof and climb back up again, and good enough to gain access through a bedroom window wired with a security system without setting it off. But rather than use a gun or something high-tech, he just tossed a pipe bomb in through the window?”
Faith was surprised. She hadn’t been sure Kane had been aware of what was going on around him, much less what had been said.
“That makes no more sense than the rest,” Richardson said. “And the problem as I see it is knowing where to focus our attention. Was Dinah on to something big and all this is the result? Did she and Faith step in something nasty while they were poking into corners? Did Faith bring trouble with her when she came to Atlanta? Which is it?”
“Maybe all three,” Kane replied.
“Shit.” It wasn’t said in disbelief, but weariness and frustration. Richardson shook his head. “I need more than four hours of sleep to think about this. In the meantime, Kane, are you planning to stay here? I know there was hardly any damage outside that one bedroom, but—”
“This is probably the safest place we could be now,” Kane answered calmly. “Especially once I hire a few more guards—this time with dogs—to surround the building very visibly. And a new security company to close up all the goddamned holes in the electronic security net. If we have to live in a fortress until we get to the bottom of this and find Dinah’s killers, so be it.”
Faith looked at him but said nothing.
Richardson was clearly not pleased, but he didn’t argue. “I can step up patrols in the area. The mayor frowns on bombs and so does the chief. But I want all of you to be careful. Damned careful. If the bomber was after Kane to stop that reward, he’s obviously panicked and moving fast enough to be careless. And if he was after Faith, failure to get her may just make him more desperate.”
“We’ll be careful,” Kane said.
Nobody in the room believed he meant it.
“Shit,” Richardson said again, unhappily this time.
Bishop’s cell phone rang, and he retreated to his bedroom to answer it.
“I won’t seal the room,” Richardson said, “but I’m asking you to stay out of there as much as possible until the damage is repaired. The fire department covered the hole in the wall with heavy-duty plastic to keep out the worst of the weather, and we believe the floor is safe enough, but don’t waste any time getting a crew in there, Kane.”
“No. I won’t.”
Richardson looked at him restlessly, seemed about to say something else, then swore. “Hell. I’m going. Call me if anything—and I mean anything—else happens. Understand?”
Kane nodded.
When the detective had gone, Kane said formally, “We’ll have to see what’s salvageable in the way of clothing for both of us. The closet is mostly intact, and I think the chest of drawers as well. Some things may have to be cleaned, but since there was virtually no fire, we probably won’t have to worry about everything smelling of smoke.”
Faith wasn’t looking forward to going back into that blackened shell of a room, but said steadily, “I’ll do that if you like. Go through everything and see what has to be sent to the cleaners, what’s usable.”
“Thank you.”
She wondered how long she’d be able to bear his politeness.
Bishop came back into the room, drawing their attention easily. He was scowling, an expression made more savage by the scar on his face and so unusual for him it was almost shocking.
“What’s up?” Kane asked.
“It looks like I am,” his friend replied tersely. “Back up to Quantico.”
“Your breaking case?”
“Just broke wide open.”
“Then go. And good luck.”
“I don’t like leaving, Kane—not with all this going on.”
“We’ll be fine. I’ll ring this place with security, so don’t worry about us. We’ll be safe and sound here.”
“Listen to Richardson. Don’t make yourself a bigger target than you already have.”
“Noted. Go pack, Noah.”
It seemed for a moment that Bishop had more to say, but finally he shook his head and went to pack.
When they were alone once again, Faith took a long breath and said, “So he’s not infallible. I had wondered about that.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Sure you do. But if you have to have it spelled out—I mean that this time Bishop’s famous bullshit detector failed him. Or does it work only when he touches somebody? Anyway, he believed you.”
“And you don’t.”
“No. I don’t. I think you have no intention of sitting here surrounded by security while other people look for answers. You intend to find out who killed Dinah, even if that means standing in the line of fire.”
His voice remote, Kane said, “You’ll be safe here, I promise you that. No more bombs. No more intruders. You can move your things into the spare bedroom, stay there until we get the other room repaired. No one will hurt you, Faith.”
Too late.
But all she said was, “So you expect me to stay in a nice, safe cocoon while you go after them alone? That is not going to happen, Kane.”
“No?”
“No.”
He shook his head. “Don’t try to fight me on this, Faith. I’ll win.”
She drew a breath. “My memory may be nothing but shadows, my legs may be shaky, and I may scare easily these days—but I have just as much right as you to go looking for the people who destroyed my life.”
She rose to her feet, holding the blanket tightly around her, and added, “I’ll get changed and see what can be salvaged in the bedroom.”
She passed Bishop in the hall, and Kane heard her bid him a simple farewell. The agent came into the living room carrying his luggage.
“I always forget how quickly you pack,” Kane commented.
“Years of experience. I’ve called a cab, so I should be on my way shortly. I’ll check in with Richardson to keep abreast of the investigation. But if I am stuck at Quantico or elsewhere longer than I expect, I’ll still fly down for the funeral or memorial service.”
Kane didn’t want to think about that. “I’ll let you know. When it’s set, I mean.”
“Good.” Betraying an unusual restiveness, Bishop said, “I wouldn’t leave if it were anything else. You know that.”
“I know that. You’ve been looking a long time, God knows. Maybe this time …”
“Maybe. And maybe it’ll be another dead end.” He let out a short laugh.
Conscious of all his own regrets, Kane said abruptly, “Don’t give up. Don’t stop looking, Noah.”
“I’m the ruthless, coldhearted bastard of a federal agent, remember? I’ll use anything and anyone I have to in order to achieve my ends.”
Kane was silent for a moment, then said, “That still rankles after all these years? From what you told me, she was so distraught she would have said anything right then. You were the closest target, so you got the blame.”
“I deserved the blame.”
“You were doing your job.”
“No.” Bishop looked at him with a hard sheen in his eyes. “I went way beyond doing my job.”
“You were trying to stop a killer.”
“And instead, I allowed him to kill again.”
“Allowed him? Noah—”
&nb
sp; “Never mind. It’s the past, dead and buried. I don’t know why the hell I brought it up. Right now, I’m worried about the present.” Bishop hesitated, reluctant to interfere but unable not to. “You can say it’s none of my business, but I would have to be blind and stupid not to notice how things are between you and Faith. And I’m neither.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Kane heard the echo of his earlier denial to Faith, and wondered if everything he felt was branded on his forehead like neon. “And you’re right. It’s none of your business.”
Bishop was no more warned off than Faith had been. “She got under your skin—and you’re angry at her for making you betray Dinah.”
“You’re full of shit.”
Bishop smiled. “Am I? Maybe about some things, but not this. All I’m saying is that you can’t beat up yourself or Faith because of what you feel, especially now. I can’t believe Dinah would consider it a betrayal that the friend she tried so hard to help might find a place for herself in your life.”
“There’s no question of that.”
“No?”
“No. I don’t feel anything for her. Not anything like that. She’s just … a tool I can use to help me find out who killed Dinah. Nothing more.”
Deliberately, Bishop said, “It’s hell having a guilty conscience, isn’t it?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Noah.”
“I’m sure you’d like to think so.”
“Leave it alone, all right? Just—leave it alone.” Kane didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to think about it. And most of all, he didn’t want to have Noah’s probing spider sense focused on him.
“I can’t do that, Kane. It goes against the grain with me to walk away and let a friend tear himself to pieces just because he’s human. And that’s all it is, you know. You’re human. Dinah’s gone. She’s been gone for weeks, and if you’re honest with yourself you’ll have to admit that deep down inside you knew she wasn’t coming back.”
“Just shut up, all right?”
“It’s the truth and you know it. You gave up on Dinah, Kane, even though you kept going through the motions, kept telling yourself it wasn’t true. But it is true. She’s gone, and even while you were searching for her, another woman got under your skin.”