Richardson went over to examine the mirror. "It's gone all the way through and into the wall." He took down the mirror, then produced a penknife and dug into the Sheetrock. Win a very few minutes, he held a misshapen slug.
Even across the room Kane read Richardson's expression. "I guess ballistics are out? No chance of tracing it to a particular gun?"
"I can't even tell what caliber it is, and I doubt the lab will be able to either." He eyed the distance to the window, then went to examine that as well. Like the mirror, the windowpane was marred by a small hole surrounded by a web of cracks.
"Too dark to see much now," he said. "I can come back tomorrow and take a stab at the trajectory, try to figure out where the shooter was. But if he was standing more than a few feet away, he couldn't have hoped to hit what he was aiming at, not in this weather." Kane said, "There's no fire escape, and we're on the fifth floor. Unless he was outside on the balcony — which is possible, if doubtful — he couldn't have been any closer than the apartments on the other side of the courtyard. And that building is a good hundred feet away."
Richardson studied the distance from the hole in the window to the floor, then compared that with the distance between the hole in the wall and the floor.
"Well, he sure as hell didn't shoot upward from ground level, or down from a higher spot. Do those apartments across the courtyard have balconies?"
"Yeah."
"Then we'll look for a vacant or currently unused apartment. I'm willing to bet we'll find one matching the trajectory of the shot. Somebody sat over there watching this place, and when they saw Miss Parker at the window..."
"But I stood there at least a couple of minutes before I moved away," Faith protested. "And it wasn't until then that I was shot."
"Then he was probably trying to scare you, and just got lucky with the shot."
"Lucky," she murmured.
Richardson smiled. "A figure of speech." He looked at Kane. "Did you two do anything today that might have gotten somebody's attention?"
"God knows. We talked to some people."
"In other words, you were driving all over Atlanta poking into corners."
"Guy, I'd swear nobody followed us. And as far as I could tell, no one we talked to reacted in any unusual way to our questions." He had filled in the detective on their suppositions and conclusions, and Bishop's discovery about the murder investigation in Seattle.
The detective sighed. "Well, somebody was obviously upset enough to warn you off. Maybe you should pay attention. Get out of Atlanta for a while and let me do the poking around."
"You know I can't do that. But I can hire a couple of security guards to keep a closer eye on this place. And I'll sure as hell have blinds installed on those windows first thing tomorrow."
"Put one of the guards in the garage to keep an eye on your car," Richardson suggested. "And it wouldn't hurt to hire another private cop to follow you whenever you leave and make sure he's the only one doing that."
Kane grimaced slightly, but nodded.
"When's Bishop due back?"
"He isn't. He'll get here when he can, but something' s breaking in a case he's on, so there's no way of knowing."
"Have him call me and fill me in on whatever information he digs up."
Richardson looked at his friend steadily.
"I mean it, Kane. This little stunt, coupled with the break-ins at Miss Parker's apartment, tells me for damn sure that whatever's going on is deadly serious. You get yourself killed, and the paperwork's going to be hell."
"I'll remember that," Kane said dryly.
Richardson put the flattened bullet into a plastic evidence bag. "I'll file a quiet report on this incident. But it's the last time, Kane. Anything else happens, I won't be able to keep it under my hat."
"Understood."
Kane showed the detective out and when he returned to the couch, Faith said, "He seems a good friend. "
"I'm blessed with a few," Kane agreed. He looked at her searchingly. "I know it's a stupid question to ask if you're all right, but I'll ask anyway. Are you?"
She looked so small and still under the blanket, her hair dulled by the low lights of the room and her face ashen.
"I'll be fine."
He looked into her big, shadowed green eyes and saw the fear and pain she was determined to deny.
"Faith..."
"I know I should probably call it a day, go to bed and sleep, but ... I'd really rather not do that just yet."
She drew the blanket tighter around herself, the strain showing now in the tension of her posture, and fixed her gaze on the fire.
"I don't want to be alone right now."
Thinking of her isolated in her limbo of no memory drove him to say, "You aren't alone, Faith. I'm not going anywhere."
"Thank you."
"But my confidence that you'd be safer here with me was obviously misplaced. I'm sorry. Noah was right; I should have taken better precautions from the beginning."
"You had ... other things on your mind."
"That's no excuse. I made your safety my responsibility, and I should have followed through. But tomorrow I'll take those steps I mentioned to guy, make it impossible for anyone to get close or to see inside. I'll make sure we have an escort when we leave here. You'll be safe, I promise."
She nodded, but said, "if I could only remember. We'd be ahead of them then. We'd know what it is they want and why they want it so badly. We'd know who they are. Maybe we'd even know where Dinah is."
"You can't force your memory to return."
"I've been out of the coma now for almost a month. I should be remembering something. Those dreams are only flashes...I don't remember them, not really, I just see them happening. And what do I know about myself? I play the piano, it seems. I'm nervous about storms." She drew a shaky breath. "My mother and sister were horribly murdered, and I can't remember, can't feel anything about it. I married a man who abused me, who terrified me, yet I could pass him tomorrow on the street and never recognize his face."
"Faith..."
"What's my favorite color? My favorite food? Do I like to read? Do I like animals? Flowers? Did I love Tony Ellis before he beat me?"
Kane pulled her into his arms and held her while she cried. He didn't urge her to stop or tell her everything would be all right; crying was obviously some thing she needed to do. Careful of her injury, he wrapped both arms around her, rested his cheek against her soft hair, and just held her.
It was a long time before she finally quieted, before she said in a muffled voice against his chest, "Oh, God, I'm sorry."
"Don't be ridiculous."
She pulled back a little. "I don't usually cry." Then she laughed shakily. "At least, I don't think I do."
"You're entitled. More than entitled." Since his handkerchief had been employed earlier, he used a corner of the blanket to wipe her cheeks.
"And I bet you feel better now, don't you?"
"As a matter of fact, I do."
"Then I count it as a good thing." He brushed a strand of her hair away from her face and smiled at her when she finally met his gaze. His fingers lingered on her face, and he thought how soft and warm her skin was.
He had never before seen eyes that particular shade of green, like seawater. It would be so easy to sink into them and lose himself So easy to think of nothing but the ache of loneliness and longing he felt, to forget everything else... Kane realized he was staring at her mouth, that his hand had moved to cradle the back of her head and was drawing her toward him. And he froze.
Faith blinked as if coming out of a daze, then very slowly pulled away from him and got to her feet. "I think I'll turn in now after all. Good night, Kane."
"Good night." His voice sounded normal, he thought.
He sat there for several minutes staring into the fire. Then he pulled out his wallet and opened the section where he kept photographs.