Bishop said nothing.
Faith finally nodded. "Thank you."
Kane showed her the way to his bedroom, made sure there were clean towels in the connecting bathroom. He invited her to use Dinah's toilet articles but found one of his own shirts for her to sleep in rather than anything of Dinah's; that was an intimacy he didn't think either of them was ready for.
When he returned to the living room, he found Bishop sitting just where they'd left him, his frowning gaze fixed on the spot where Faith had been sitting.
Silently, Kane fixed drinks for them both, then reclaimed his place on the couch. "Do you believe her?" he asked abruptly.
"I don't know. She could have told us what we wanted to hear."
"I didn't want to hear that Dinah's being hurt." Kane's voice was very steady.
"No. But we might have expected something of the sort, if we're honest about it. And it made for a dramatic telling, didn't it? Virtually guaranteed to create an emotional reaction."
"The details about the beach house—there's no way she could have found those out. Except from Dinah." Kane wasn't ready to give up.
"Or from you."
Kane frowned, then realized what his friend meant. "You mean she could have gotten them out of my mind as we were sitting here?"
"If she's psychic, maybe. just because she was able to block me doesn't necessarily mean she can't use her abilities at the same time."
"Another psychic rule?" Kane asked wryly.
"Something like that."
"Okay. I have to admit that's possible. But there has to be a connection between Faith and Dinah, and what happened to both of them. Maybe the threat was against Faith—maybe she was into something dangerous and Dinah just stumbled into the situation.
But Dinah clearly felt responsible for Faith's accident, Noah. She felt guilty enough about it to spend a hell of a lot of money trying to fix things for Faith." Playing devil's advocate, Bishop said, "But she apparently has a history of giving money to people in trouble. So how do we know her guilt was excessive? Maybe Faith merely represented ... one more wounded soul she was trying to help."
"Maybe. But whether Dinah's story got Faith hurt or something in Faith's life became dangerous to Dinah, the answer has to be there, between the two of them. Maybe she won't be able to tell us much, but there are things we can find out. The facts of her accident, for one. What happened to the prescription drug she was supposedly taking and did a doctor actually prescribe it? How did she have a couple of drinks in her just minutes after leaving her job and going to meet Dinah?"
Kane's face was hard with determination. "The police obviously chalked the crash up to a careless, intoxicated driver, so they wouldn't have checked out the details. We can do that. We can do a background check on Faith and find out as much as possible about who she is. We can find out if Faith and Dinah were actually friends, if anyone saw them together or knew about the friendship. We can find out what Faith's job involved, and whether it might have provided Dinah with information she was looking for, a story that might have gotten them both hurt. We can look for facts, Noah."
After a moment, Bishop said, "So you're convinced both Faith and Dinah were gotten out of the way because of a story Dinah was working on."
"It's possible, isn't it?"
"Yes. It's possible."
"Then we have a lead," Kane said, his voice sharp with anticipation.
"We have a lead," Bishop agreed.
CHAPTER 3
it was fairly early when Faith woke up, and she stared around the unfamiliar bedroom with absolutely no idea where she was. The panicked confusion was mercifully brief, but it left her feeling shaky. A feeling she was very familiar with.
That was a sensation. She took a shower, and it wasn't until she was drying her hair with a blow dryer that she realized she had known exactly where it was in the en closet, even though Kane hadn't shown her the night before.
Then, when she became conscious of her actions, the brush in her right hand suddenly felt clumsy and wrong, and she had to transfer it to her left.
"Left-handed," she murmured. "I'm left-handed."
She had been using her left hand consistently since waking up in the hospital. So why had she used her right that morning? It was probably one of the strange little glitches wrought by her coma, and she forced it from her mind. She got dressed, then made up the bed and neatened the room, leaving everything as she had found it. Finally, unable to postpone the moment any longer, she left the bedroom.
Kane was up. He was freshly shaved, his hair damp and his casual clothing unwrinkled. He was moving restlessly around the living room, and she doubted he had slept much if at all.
He paused near a lovely baby grand piano as soon as she appeared in the doorway, his awareness of her instant and his gaze sharp. "Good morning." His voice, a little abrupt, was softened by a quick smile.
"The coffee's hot, and everything's out on the counter. Fruit, bread, cereal. Help yourself."
"Thanks." Faith went into the kitchen and busied herself. She was too aware of him for her peace of mind, especially when he came to the other side of the work island to pick up his coffee cup.
"I hope you slept well," he offered conventionally.
Faith hesitated, then dropped a slice of bread into the toaster and said lightly, "I've slept a lot since coming out of the coma, but I've yet to sleep well. The doctors say it's natural and nothing to worry about."
"Bad dreams?"
"No, not that. just ... feelings. It's hard to let myself go, to trust sleep. I'm afraid I won't wake up, or that when I do, weeks or months will have passed. The doctors assure me that such a thing won't happen, but of course the fear isn't rational, and reassurances don't help much. So, because I'm so afraid of not waking up, I tend to wake up often during the night."
She didn't go on to describe the rushes of panic, the long minutes of calming herself down enough to sleep again.
"That must be hell," Kane said with sympathy.
"No wonder you..." When he broke off, Faith said, "Jump whenever anyone says boo? I Look like hell? Think I'm psychic? Or merely indulge in runaway paranoia?"
"I wasn't going to say anything like that." But instead of explaining, he changed the subject. "Noah and I have been talking, and we think the best thing is for you to stay here at least a few days. We need time to try to find some answers, and until we do that, we won't know if you might be as much danger as in Dinah. So we'll take you to your apartment today and you can pack a bag."
"I can't just take over your bedroom." I can't force myself into your life. I can't do that. I don't belong here. And you belong to Dinah. She concentrated on the tasks of spreading jelly on her toast and not looking at him.
"I told you, I'm not using it much anyway. And I'd feel better if you stayed here for a while, Faith." He paused, then added, "Maybe that break-in at your apartment was just that, a random burglary. But maybe it wasn't. Maybe it had something to do with Dinah and why she's missing. I think you can help me find her."
Faith's restless night had done nothing to settle her emotions or clarify the confusion in her mind, and frustration was obvious in her voice. "How? I can't even help myself. God knows I can't remember anything helpful."
"You might get your memory back, or at least some of it. In fact, you probably will."
"But will it be in time to help Dinah?" she murmured, more to herself than to him. Before he could reply, she asked restlessly, "Where's Bishop?"
"On the phone." Kane paused, then added deliberately, "Checking into your background."