Free Hiding in the Shadows by Kay Hooper Page B

feel how exhausted she was. And her pain … She’s hurting so terribly.…”
    Kane was staring at her with the expression of a man dealt a mortal blow, and she found it easier at that moment to meet Bishop’s clearer—if slightly less human—gaze.
    “That entire scene,” he said, “could have come from some movie or book.”
    Faith shook her head. “It didn’t. You don’t understand. I wasn’t observing. I was there . I was Dinah,was inside her body, her mind and spirit. I felt her pain and her fear and—and her determination.” She lifted her chin and met Bishop’s eyes. “There’s something I’m absolutely sure of. Dinah won’t tell them what they want to know because she’s protecting somebody, or believes she is. It’s more important to her than her own life.”
    “And this is happening now?”
    Her certainty wavered. “I—I’m not sure. There was no way to tell.”
    “A basement, maybe a warehouse. But you have no idea where?”
    “No, I didn’t see anything but that room. And if Dinah knew where she was, it wasn’t something she was thinking about or feeling.” She paused, then said desperately, “I want to help her. You have to believe me about that. I have to try to help Dinah.”
    “Why?” Bishop’s voice was flat.
    Faith felt the burning of tears but refused to shed them before these men. She drew a steadying breath. “Because she’s my friend. Because she did everything in her power to make sure I could get my life back on track when I woke up. And because … she’s all I have.”
    “I suppose,” he said, watching her, “that’s a good reason to want to help find her. And maybe gratitude as well. After all, she did settle half a million dollars on you.”
    Faith shook her head. “Not half a million directly to me. The trust fund she set up is worth a little more than two hundred thousand dollars, according to the lawyer. And there was a fifty-thousand-dollar deposit directly into my checking account. But she arrangedto pay my current debts and the hospital bill, and I have no idea how much that was altogether.”
    “You didn’t have insurance?”
    “Liability on the car, according to the paperwork I found. But no health insurance. I gather I had changed jobs recently, and the new coverage hadn’t begun yet.”
    “Six weeks in a coma,” Bishop mused. “Another three weeks of care and physical therapy. In a good hospital. I’d say that could easily run a quarter million, maybe more.”
    “One of the things I want to ask her,” Faith said, “is why. I don’t understand why she would do such a thing.”
    Kane stirred and spoke, his voice raspy. “Because she felt guilty.”
    “About what? The accident? They told me it was only my car and my fault. No one else was involved. So why would she feel guilty about that?” Faith was relieved to see that he had regained a bit of color and that he no longer looked so stunned.
    “We were wondering the same thing,” he told her.
    Bishop said, “What caused the accident?”
    “Me, apparently.” She tried and failed to smile. “The doctor said it was … a few drinks on top of a prescription muscle relaxant. He said the combination was toxic and that I don’t handle alcohol very well.”
    “Why were you prescribed muscle relaxants?” Kane asked, making a visible effort to be methodical.
    “I don’t remember. Obviously.”
    He frowned. “You didn’t have the prescription bottle with you?”
    Her purse had been with her other things at the hospital.It had contained the usual items—a billfold, a checkbook, a small, unused spiral-ringed notebook, a couple of pens, and a compact and lipstick.
    No prescription bottle of any kind. And there wasn’t one in the apartment.
    Slowly, she said, “Maybe the police took it as evidence.”
    Kane was still frowning. “Alcohol. That isn’t right. Dinah said you were on your way to meet her for drinks after work. But you never made it. And you’d come straight from