She ran.
It was dark and cold and wet; the rain must have stopped only recently, because water dripped everywhere. The drive was narrow, hardly more than two rutted tracks, and treacherous because of the mud. The woods pressed in toward her on both sides; she had no idea in which direction the lake lay.
She ran.
All she could hear was her heart thundering, her breath rasping in her throat, but Faith was certain he was behind her, gaining on her. Maybe he'd be in the car, maybe he was on foot, but he was behind her, she knew that. More than once she slipped, but miraculously kept her footing well enough to continue moving forward, away from the house.
Something loomed up out of the darkness ahead of her, reaching for her, and for an instant of sheer terror Faith thought one of them had circled around and gotten ahead of her.
"Faith. Jesus, Faith..."
She found herself caught tightly in Kane's arms, so tightly she wasn't sure if it was her heart or his pounding so wildly, and gasped, "Behind me. He's behind me..."
And then everything happened very, very fast.
Kane swung her around so that his large body shielded hers. She heard an engine roar, and bright lights stabbed suddenly through the darkness, pinning her and Kane in the stark glare. She heard the sounds of tires spinning wildly on slippery ground, saw headlights coming drunkenly at them, and then the engine screaming louder, and she saw Kane's arm stretch out, saw something gleaming in his hand.
His first shot made glass shatter, and then there were other guns, other shots, and he was moving, carrying her away from danger as the car careened off the drive and plowed into the trees with a sickening crunch of metal.
The engine screamed again, then gurgled and died.
"It has to be later than midnight," Faith said. "It just has to be. This has been the longest day of my life."
"I wish you'd let me call a doctor," Kane said.
"You heard the EMS medic. I'm fine. No injuries, no shock, not even aftereffects of the chloroform." Faith curled up in the big chair before the fire Kane had lit while she'd been in the shower, and watched him as he stood gazing at the flames.
"Still," he said. "Like you said, it's been a very long day."
"And I should be exhausted. But I'm not." She paused, aware of his silence and the tension between them. "Did you say Bishop was flying down in the morning?"
"Yeah. He would have come tonight, but we were able to find you fairly quickly. Guy already had the information on Conrad's lake house, and I couldn't think of any other place he'd go, so ...
"The cops were shooting too, Kane. It might not have been your bullet that killed Max Sanders."
He turned his head and looked at her. "I hope it was mine."
" Revenge? "
"Justice. Now he'll be rotting in the ground."
She drew a breath. "What about Conrad? They say he might pull through."
"I hope he does," Kane said calmly. "I want him in prison. I want him to spend the rest of his life in a small, bare cell."
"He probably will. Once Richardson sorts through their blackmail box, he's bound to find Conrad's prints on the photographs and papers. He and Max wouldn't have been so desperate to get the box back if they hadn't been positive what was in it could convict them."
Kane shook his head. "All this time, the box was hidden in Haven House."
"The only place I felt really safe," Faith murmured. "I'm sorry, Kane. Sorry I dragged Dinah into this, sorry I didn't tell her that I'd found the box snooping in Conrad's office because I'd seen Max go in there. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to remember."
"Do you remember everything now?"
It was her turn to shake her head. "No, just bits and pieces. But it's a beginning. I guess Dr. Burnett was right — it'll all come back eventually."
Kane returned his gaze to the fire and was silent.
"Now that the story has an ending of sorts," Faith said, "I guess we won't have to worry about reporters following us around."
"It isn't over yet. I still have to arrange a memorial service."
"I ... heard Richardson tell you they'd have the autopsy results in the morning. Then they'll release her body?"
"Yes."
Faith felt a dull ache. Well, what else had she expected? He'd said himself that no one would ever be able to take Dinah's place. And now that it was over, now that he had his puzzle virtually put together and she had the satisfaction of knowing the murderer of her mother and sister was dead, they would go on with their lives.
Their separate lives.
Faith looked down at the floor. Why had she even gotten dressed after her shower and come in here?
Why hadn't she just gone to bed and left him alone?
He obviously wanted to be alone. "I guess ... now that the danger is past, I can go ... home. Back to my apartment."
"I don't want you to go," he said.
She felt her heart skip a beat, but kept her gaze determinedly down. "I know I just moved into your life for a week, and I want you to know I'm grateful. I would have been so frightened on my own, and probably dead by now..."
"I don't want you to go," he repeated slowly.
She had to look up then, and met his gaze with a sensation of being stripped naked of more than her clothing. Even more slowly, In a tone of realization and reluctance and acceptance, he said, "I ... don't ... want you to go."
Don't question. Not yet. Not now.
Faith was on her feet before she realized she was going to move, and he was turning toward her, putting his hands on her shoulders.
"I didn't plan this," she said.
"I know. Neither did I."
"I ... I'm not ... I couldn't stay if it was only because..."
"It isn't."
Faith pulled breath into lungs starving for air. "Are you sure? It's only her red polish, her earrings, but I'm not..."
Kane lowered his head and covered her mouth with his. She heard a broken sound, and realized it came from her, from deep inside where something had let go. She felt the hardness of his body against hers, felt her fingers slide into his hair and her mouth come alive beneath his, and there was something so familiar and intimate and wildly arousing in his touch, his kiss, the strength of his arms around her, that she wanted to cling to him with all her might, all her will.
"You'll stay," he muttered against her lips.
"Yes."
He raised his head and stared down at her, gray eyes molten. He framed her face with his hands, and she could feel them shaking.
Fierce, he said, "I won't be so careful this time, do you understand? I won't bite back what I want to say because I'm afraid it isn't what you want to hear. I won't stop myself from touching you because I'm not sure you want to be touched. And most of all, I won't let you shut me out of the parts of your life that matter to you."
Faith reached up to touch his face. "I love you."
He caught his breath, then kissed her again, his mouth hard now, insistent. He lifted her, carried her from the living room to the bedroom.
She was hardly aware of being set on her feet beside the bed, of helping him pull off her sweater and slide the pants down her legs. She was unbuttoning his shirt, tugging it from his pants, and gasped when his hands pushed aside her bra and held her breasts. Her hands fumbled, but she managed to push his shirt off his shoulders, unfasten his pants. She touched him and heard his indrawn breath, felt the spiraling tension inside both of them wind even tighter. Touching him was necessary; it fed the starving need inside her.
"Ali, God," he muttered, hoarse and desperate. They were on the bed somehow, the covers thrown clothes scattered. The lamp let them see, but their hands saw more, moving everywhere, shaping and fondling and caressing. Lips never more than a whisper apart. Bodies straining to be closer, to merge, to meld. He felt so right to Faith. So right touching her. So right inside her, filling an emptiness she hadn't known was there, claiming that part of her for himself.