Stealing Shadows - Hiding In The Shadows Part 13

"No, I understand." She said. "If I could talk to the women who did knowme, I'd be very grateful.

But I also wanted to ask you about Dinah Leighton."

Karen's thin face tightened. "G.o.d, that's just awful, her disappearinglike that. When it first happened we all wondered about that guy she wasinvolved with-but then we would, wouldn't we?

Not exactly an unbiased group here."

It was the first time it had occurred to Faith that Kane might have beensuspected of involvement in Dinah's disappearance. Slowly, she said,"Did the police think he might have ... hurt her?"

"The usual speculation from the media, as I recall, but I don't believethe police ever considered him a serious suspect. According to thenewspapers, his movements were pretty well accounted for during the timethey think she vanished, and n.o.body could offer even the whisper of amotive why he might have wanted to get rid of her. She wasn't afraid ofhim; I knew that and so did everyone else."

"How did you know?"

"She didn't have that look in her eyes.- Karen's smile was a little sad."the one we all see in the mirror and recognize instantly in anotherabused woman. The one you don't have anymore.

That startled her. "I don't?"

"It's how I knew you really had lost your memory.

You don't remember being hurt, Faith. You don't remember the fear, thehumiliation, the shame. You don't remember cowering the way we've allcowered while a man used his strength and his rage as weapons."

Faith had another realization-that there were some things in her pastshe hoped she never remembered. But before she could comment, Karencontinued.

"Dinah had never experienced that either. And though she didn't talkmuch about Kane Macgregor, what she did say was pretty clear evidencethat she cared about him."

Faith wanted to stay on that subject, but she knew all too well hers wasa personal curiosity, that it wouldn't help them to find Dinah. And theyhad to find Dinah, they had to.

Soon. Before it was too late.

"How well do you know Dinah?" she asked, consciously using the presenttense.

The director considered the question. "In some ways, I knew-know-herquite well. In other ways, I'm not so sure. She was intelligent,compa.s.sionate, unusually generous. She was easy to confide in and keptother people's secrets as well as she kept her own.

But I couldn't tell you anything about her past, or about what she didor where she went when she wasn't here." Karen paused. "She came here todo a story on the shelter months ago, and after her job was done shekept coming, volunteering her time, donating money. She met you here."

Faith stiffened. "She did?"

"Yeah. And it was very unusual, the way you took to each other rightoff. An instant bond. I remember that first day, you sat on the frontsteps and talked for hours. I asked you about it later, and you saidthat for the first time 'in your life you were beginning to believe inreincarnation, because Dinah must have been very close to you at somepoint in your existence, and yet you two had never met before. You saidshe was the only person you could ever remember trusting instantly andtotally."

Faith thought about that for a moment. "Was I- did I claim to be psychicin any way?"

Karen's eyebrows shot up. "You never did to me.

You were always very down-to-earth, even laughed at yourself forconsidering that reincarnation might be possible."

"What about Dinah?"

"Never heard anything like that from her, either."

Which, Faith thought, meant nothing. Dinah had clearly kept the"sections" of her life separate as far as she was able. What Faith wa.s.still unsure of was which section of Dinah's life she had belonged in:the humanitarian section where a shelter held abused women whom Dinah had clearly felt sympathy for, or the work section where there had been a story that might have endangeredthem both.

'Did she spend much time here right before she disappeared?" she askedfinally.

"No, we hadn't seen her in weeks. In fact, we hadn't seen her until'just after your accident, when she came to tell us what had happened.

We wanted to send flowers or visit, but she discouraged us from doingeither."

"She did?"

Karen nodded. "Said you were In a coma and the doctor thought morevisitors wouldn't be advisable, that she'd keep us informed. She came bya few times, and then ... we never saw her again. Things got hectichere, the way they usually do, and ... time pa.s.sed."

And Faith had been forgotten. She understood that, even though it causedher a pang, and managed a smile."

"I'm sorry, Faith. You and I weren't close, but I should have been abetter friend."

"Don't worry about it. One good thing about have- ing no memory is thatthe slings and arrows hardly hurt at all. Karen, may I see those womenwho might have talked to me?"

"Katie's the only one here today, I'm afraid.

That's her trying to play the piano. Her mother, Andrea, made themistake of letting her ex get too close a couple of days ago, and nowshe's in the hospital. As for Eve, she's out of town visiting relatives.

Should be back any day now, though."

Faith was getting used to disappointment. She listened for a moment tothe distant, inexpert piano notes. "I gather Katie is a child. How old?"

"Seven, though she seems older." Karen's sad smile returned. "They allgrow up too fast in this house.

But you can talk to her. She always liked you, as I recall."

"How about Dinah? Did Katie like her?"

"Very much."

The little girl was alone in what appeared to be a communalmusic-and-games room. She wore white pants and a Barble T-shirt, and herlong blond hair was held back from her face with pink plastic clips.

She was more than a little doll-like herself. She was also extremelygrave, accepting without a blink Karen's explanation that Faith had been"sick and doesn't remember things as well as she wants to."

Faith felt momentarily deserted when Karen left her with the littlegirl, then sat down on the bench beside her and said, "Hey, kiddo.

What're you playing?" Katie frowned, wide blue eyes gazing at Faith fora long silent time before she looked back down at the keys and tappedmiddle C twice. "I can't play much.

'Chopsticks," but I don't like that. Some of 'Beautiful Dreamer." Youhaven't been here to teach me any- thing new." The last was said with acareful absence of accusation.

"I'm sorry about that, Katie." Without thinking about it, Faith put herfingers on the keys and began playing a few notes. "Would you like tolearn this? It's called 'Moonlight Sonata." Isn't it pretty?" Music.

Something else she hadn't remembered knowing until now.

Katie c.o.c.ked her head, listening critically. "It sounds sad."

Faith stopped playing. "So it does. I'd forgotten that too, I guess.

We'll just have to find something else I can teach you. I'll bring some

music with me next time, okay?"

"You said you would." Again, the little girl's voice was neutral, the

noncommittal tone of someone who had learned early that the wrong words, the wrong inflection, could incite violence.

Faith didn't like the way that made her feel, but all she said was, "I

won't forget, Katie."

Katie looked at her. "Where's Dinah?"

Faith hardly knew how to answer. Keeping it Simple, she replied, "I

don't know, Katie."

"Why don't you ask her?" Katie asked reasonably.

"If I don't know where she is, I can't really do that, can I?"

"Just close your eyes and ask her," the child said, a touch of

impatience in her voice now. "You used to. It was a game you two played.

You'd close your eyes and say, 'Dinah, call me," and the phone would ring."

"It would?" Faith said numbly.

"Sure. Don't you remember that?"

"No," Faith said. "I don't remember that."

CHAPTER FIVE.

"You haven't said much since we got back," Kane said.

That was true, but Faith was still unwilling to talk about all she hadlearned at Haven House. She had related only the bare bones-that she andDinah had met there, that both had spent some time there.

She'd told him without emotion that she had been married to an abusive man, was now divorced, and still didn't remember any of it. She hadn'tmentioned the conversation with the sad little girl, the revelation thatshe and Dinah might have been connected more surely than she hadpreviously imagined.

She wasn't sure she believed it herself.

"You haven't said much either." Restlessly, she moved around the livingroom, ending up at the piano in the corner near the French doors, whichopened onto a balcony. It was dark outside, late. Too late to doanything more, to go anywhere or ask questions or get an inch closer tofinding Dinah, and if Faith was maddened by that, she could only guesshow Kane must be feeling.

Then again, he'd been going through this for weeks, and by now must havelearned the futility of driving himself to exhaustion, must have forcedhimself to accept that sleep and food were necessary, that moments ofinactivity had to be endured no matter how desperately he needed to beout searching for Dinah.

"Neither of us had much luck this afternoon," he said. "Guy couldn'ttell me any more about your accident, and n.o.body at the shelter couldtell you any- thing useful."

She sat down on the piano bench and absently picked out a tune with onehand, idly watching her red-polished nails move over the keys. "I hatethis," she murmured. "Not being able to do anything."

Both hands began playing now. The quiet music kept her from hearing theticking of the clock on the nearby wall, but it did nothing to m.u.f.flethe ticking she was conscious of inside herself. The minutes and hourswere slipping past so quickly. So quickly.

After a moment, Kane crossed the room to lean against the side of thepiano. "You play well."

Made aware of what she was doing, Faith suddenly felt awkward anduncertain. Her fingers , struck a series of sour notes, and went still.She laced them together in her lap. "I didn't even know I played at alluntil today. Does Dinah?"

"No." He smiled faintly. "She claims to have a tin ear, says music isjust a lot of noise to her. So I consider it remarkably generous of herthat she usually manages to stay 'in the same room when I practice."

Faith thought that in Dinah's place she would put up with more thannoise if it meant spending time with Kane. But she wasn't the one Inlove with him, she reminded herself. That was Dinah. Dinah's memories ofintimacy she remembered, Dinah's emotions she felt.

Not her own. Of course not her own.

Trying to think about something else, she recalled the afternoon's vividdream. Abruptly, she said, "Isn't it possible that Dinah's disappearancehas little to do with her work or my past, that she was just in thewrong place at the wrong time and got into trouble?"

"Of course it's possible. It's what the police believe, since they'vebeen unable to turn up any evidence to prove otherwise. But I don'tbelieve that. And I don't think you do either."

Faith hesitated. "Did- Was Dinah ever attacked by a dog?" Surprised,Kane said, "Never, as far as I know. In fact, animals were pretty muchcrazy about her.

Why?"

"I-had another dream today. When I took a nap after lunch. How was shedressed the day she vanished? Was she wearing jeans and a blueishsweater?"

"Yes." He straightened, fingers drumming restlessly on the polishedsurface of the piano. "What was the dream, Faith? What did you see?"

"Nothing helpful, that's why I didn't mention it sooner. It was too darkto know where she was. She parked the jeep near a building and-and creptcloser. She was very wary, excited, anxious. Maybe even scared. And thena big dog came out of nowhere and attacked her."

"You're sure she was attacked?"