Kane allowed some of the rage inside him to boil over. He was on his feet before he realized he had moved, hands clenched into fists, so desperate to strike out it was a sick pain in his gut. “What the hell’s wrong with you? Christ, Noah, Dinah’s barely cold! She’s lying on a slab in the morgue, hurt in so many god-awful ways I could hardly recognize her as the woman I loved. Her final days were spent in a hell of agony I can’t even imagine, and when those bastards were finished with her, they shut her away in her worst nightmare, leaving her to die alone and terrified, to bleed to death or smother in the dark grave of that tiny room beneath the ground.”
“We don’t know for sure she died in that room. Maybe she never suffered that final terror,” Bishop said quietly.
Kane barely heard him. His voice rose, anguished, as he asked the contemptuous questions that had been whispering in the back of his mind for days now. “What kind of man do you think I am? Do you think it’s so easy for me to forget her, to just push her aside because a fresh new piece walks in the door? Do you think any other woman could take Dinah’s place? That I could ever feel for anyone else a tenth of what I felt for her?”
“Kane—”
“I loved her. Do you understand that? I loved her.”
“I know.”
“I wake up every goddamned night aching inside because she’s not here. Because she hasn’t been here in so long. I hate myself because I gave up on her even before they found her body, even before I knew she was gone. I’m furious at her because she kept so much of herself out of my reach, furious at myself because I wasn’t able to reach her. And now—now I’ll never be able to. She’s gone. She’s gone.”
“And Faith?”
“Faith?” A hard laugh escaped his lips. “I thought she was a connection to Dinah. That’s all. For a while, I even thought—even believed—that some part of Dinah was alive in her, had rubbed off on her somehow. I’d see her find Dinah’s nail polish without really looking for it, as if she knew just where Dinah kept it, see her eat the same things Dinah did in just the same way. I’d smell Dinah’s perfume on her, hear her use the same phrases, the same tone of voice, turn her head the same way … and I let myself believe Dinah wasn’t really gone.”
“Are you so sure that’s what it was? All it was?”
“Of course I’m sure. Do you really think I could feel anything else? For her?”
“It’s all right to feel, Kane.”
“No, it’s not all right! God damn you, it’s never going to be all right!”
In the hallway, unseen by the two men, Faith crept away, into the bathroom where she had been about to shower. She closed the door and turned on the water to shut out even the distant rumble of Kane’s raised voice, and stared at her pale face in the mirror.
Odd. She’d never before realized that pain could be a visible, suffering thing in someone’s eyes.
She looked away, then focused on her hands lying tense on the vanity top. Dinah’s red nail polish coated her neat oval nails. Nearby was a bottle of Dinah’s perfume, which she had so unthinkingly used.
The terrible anger in his voice.
She looked at the blouse and slacks on the hamper, the clean clothing she’d found unharmed in the closet and had meant to wear after her shower, and realized she had no idea whether it was her clothing or Dinah’s.
“I’ll know if it doesn’t fit,” she murmured to herself. “Her clothing doesn’t fit me. At least there’s that.”
The horrible revulsion in his voice.
She picked up the bottle of perfume and shut it away in the cabinet of the vanity. Then she began to remove her nail polish. She swiped the cotton ball roughly back and forth against her nails, frantic to get the red color off.
There was a queasiness in the pit of her stomach, and she felt light-headed, dizzy.
“I didn’t do it deliberately,” she murmured, avoiding the reflection of that stricken woman in the mirror. “I didn’t even realize I had.…”
• • •
Kane sat on the couch with his head in his hands for a long time before he was finally able to look at his friend. “Jesus. I’m sorry,” he said.
“Don’t be. You needed to let it out.”
“Maybe.” Kane felt exhausted. “But I didn’t need to act like it was all your fault.”
“It’s nobody’s fault.”
“I’d really like to blame somebody, Noah.” Kane knew his smile was twisted.
“Because you’ve been lucky enough to find two women you could feel so much for? I’d say fate was smiling on you for that, pal.”
Kane linked his fingers together and stared at them. He didn’t want to say it, but the words seemed forced up from some wellspring of emotion he had finally tapped. “I can’t be in love with her, Noah. I can’t. I still love Dinah.”
“You’ll always love Dinah,” Bishop said quietly. “It isn’t a betrayal of her memory to also love someone else.”
“Then why do I hate myself for it?”
After a moment, Bishop said, “Guilt is easier to feel than acceptance.”
“Bastard,” Kane said.
“It’s true. Dinah’s gone. You’re still here. And life goes on.” He smiled. “Clichés, but also truth. You have to go on with your life. Plan her memorial service, Kane. Try to discover who killed her and see to it they’re punished for what they did. Then let her go. Say goodbye.”
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
“You’ve been letting go of her for weeks now.” He watched that truth settle over Kane, saw the slight nod of reluctant agreement, and was satisfied.
The intercom buzzed then, announcing that Bishop’s cab had arrived, and Kane got up to see his friend to the door. “Keep in touch,” he said.
“Oh, I will. And you do me a favor, okay?”
“If I can.”
“Take care of yourself. And take care of Faith.”
“I’ll do my best.”
When Bishop had gone, Kane went to the end of the hallway to the bedrooms and listened. He heard the shower and felt a twinge of relief that Faith had been occupied and had missed his tirade.
He really wasn’t ready to face her with his tangle of emotions.
They had already jabbed at her once or twice.
TWELVE
“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?” Sydney’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.”
With absolutely no forethought, Faith heard herself say, “Well, there is one thing. You can tell me if it would be as difficult to rappel down from the roof of this building as I think it would.”
Sydney paused in putting a stack of plates in the cabinet to give Faith a startled look, then smiled. “Oh. I suppose Kane told you I used to do some mountain climbing.”
As a matter of fact, he had not, but Faith forced herself to nod noncommittally, even as she wondered how she had known. Maybe a lingering memory from Dinah? Or maybe something she had plucked out of the ether all on her own? This psychic business was very disconcerting.
“It wouldn’t be easy for an amateur,” Sydney said in answer to the question. “A sheer wall and pitch darkness, the need for silence. But an experienced climber could handle it without much problem, I’d think.”
“I see.”
Sydney hung her dish towel very neatly on a bar, fixing her attention on the task. “I guess Kane also told you that my husband was killed in a climbing accident.”
“I—No, he didn’t. I’m so sorry, Sydney. If I’d known, I never would have—”
“Don’t worry about it. David was killed more than two years ago. It isn’t a … fresh wound anymore. In fact—” She laughed suddenly, a sound that was almost convincing. “Never mind. Why don’t we finish up in here and go see if Kane’s managed to turn this place into a fortress?”
When they emerged from the kitchen, they found that Kane had concluded his business with the security company and was checking with the answering service that had been taking all calls to his main number since
the preceding day. He was over by the piano, portable phone in hand, jotting down notes on a legal pad.
“The media, I guess,” Sydney murmured.
Faith thought she was probably right, but when Kane got off the phone, he didn’t confirm it. Instead, looking at his sister, he said, “The security company had already sent over more people, and the police have made the media move back away from the building, so you should be able to get out of here without too much trouble.”
“I should get to the office,” Sydney agreed.
“I appreciate your covering for me, Syd.”
“It’s no trouble. But you should make a decision on the Ludlow building. Max says his foreman has already gone AWOL, and he’s going to have to put the crew back to work on Monday no matter what. Either there or on another project.”
Kane frowned. “Jed Norris is missing?”
“Well, Max didn’t say missing. I mean, he didn’t seem worried, just pissed. Said Jed was steady enough when he was kept busy, but apt to vanish if he had too much time on his hands. What do you want to do about the building, Kane? I’ve already had a couple of calls from the investment group, and they’re not happy work has stopped.”
In his mind’s eye, Kane saw again those cracks in the foundation, and realized that he was no closer now to figuring out the problem. “Let’s get an inspector out there to look it over,” he suggested. “Maybe he or she can spot something I missed.”
“Okay. I’ll make the arrangements. Is there anything else I can do?”
“No, thanks.”
“What about you two?” Sydney glanced toward Faith, so still and silent by the fireplace.
“We have plenty to keep us busy,” Kane said.
But when his sister had gone and they were alone, he found it difficult to speak to Faith. She seemed faraway, and he had the uneasy feeling that one wrong word or gesture would send her completely out of his reach for good.
It reminded him of that last morning with Dinah, when he had weighed each word before speaking it, certain that they were at a dangerous crossroads. He hadn’t pushed hard enough then, hadn’t been honest about what he was feeling.