"Are you so sure that's what it was? All it was?"
"Of course I'm sure. Do you really think I could feel anything else? For her?"
"It's all right to feel, Kane."
"No, it's not all right! God damn you, it's never going to be all right!"
In the hallway, unseen by the two men, Faith crept away, into the bathroom where she had been about to shower. She closed the door and turned on the water to shut out even the distant rumble of Kane's raised voice, and stared at her pale face in the mirror.
Odd. She'd never before realized that pain could be a visible, suffering thing in someone's eyes.
She looked away, then focused on her hands lying tense on the vanity top. Dinah's red nail polish coated her neat oval nails. Nearby was a bottle of Dinah's perfume, which she had so unthinkingly used.
The terrible anger in his voice.
She looked at the blouse and slacks on the hamper, the clean clothing she'd found unharmed in the closet and had meant to wear after her shower, and realized she had no idea whether it was her clothing or Dinah's.
"I'll know if it doesn't fit," she murmured to herself. "Her clothing doesn't fit me. At least there's that."
The horrible revulsion in his voice.
She picked up the bottle of perfume and shut it away in the cabinet of the vanity. Then she began to remove her nail polish. She swiped the cotton ball roughly back and forth against her nails, frantic to get the red color off.
There was a queasiness in the pit of her stomach, and she felt light-headed, dizzy.
"I didn't do it deliberately," she murmured, avoiding the reflection of that stricken woman in the mirror. "I didn't even realize I had..."
Kane sat on the couch with his head in his hands for a long time before he was finally able to look at his friend. "Jesus. I'm sorry," he said.
"Don't be. You needed to let it out."
"Maybe." Kane felt exhausted. "But I didn't need to act like it was all your fault."
"It's nobody's fault."
"I'd really like to blame somebody, Noah." Kane knew his smile was twisted.
"Because you've been lucky enough to find two women you could feel so much for? I'd say fate was smiling on you for that, pal."
Kane linked his fingers together and stared at them. He didn't want to say it, but the words seemed forced up from some wellspring of emotion he had finally tapped. "I can't be in love with her, Noah. I can't. I still love Dinah."
"You'll always love Dinah," Bishop said quietly. "It isn't a betrayal of her memory to also love someone else."
"Then why do I hate myself for it?"
After a moment, Bishop said, "Guilt is easier to feel than acceptance."
"Bastard," Kane said.
"It's true. Dinah's gone. You're still here. And life goes on." He smiled. "Clichés, but also truth. You have to go on with your life. Plan her memorial service, Kane. Try to discover who killed her and see to it they're punished for what they did. Then let her go. Say goodbye."
"I don't know if I can do that."
"You've been letting go of her for weeks now." He watched that truth settle over Kane, saw the slight nod of reluctant agreement, and was satisfied.
The intercom buzzed then, announcing that Bishop's cab had arrived, and Kane got up to see his friend to the door.
"Keep in touch," he said. "Oh, I will. And you do me a favor, okay?"
"I can."
"Take care of yourself. And take care of Faith."
"I'll do my best."
When Bishop had gone, Kane went to the end of the hallway to the bedrooms and listened. He heard the shower and felt a twinge of relief that Faith had been occupied and had missed his tirade.
He really wasn't ready to face her with his tangle of emotions.
They had already abbed at her once or twice.
CHAPTER 11
"I came as soon as I heard about the explosion. Kane, what on earth is going on?" Sydney sounded as shaken as she looked. They had spoken the day before by phone, after the discovery of Dinah's body had hit the news, but Kane had warned her not to come to his apartment because of the media camped outside.
This morning, she came despite that.
"The police are still investigating," he told her. "Guy Richardson thinks whoever killed Dinah wasn't happy when I put a bounty on his head, and tossed a bomb into my bedroom to remove the threat of it."
Sydney frowned. "Didn't you say Faith was sleeping in your room?"
"Yeah. She woke up and heard someone at the window. Otherwise she'd be dead too."
Kane had been listening for Faith but she had not yet emerged from the bedroom.
"Then the bomb could have been meant for her?"
"Could have. But with her memory like Swiss cheese, and no real evidence that she was the intended target, it's just as likely I was."
Sydney sipped her coffee for several minutes.
"Kane, that reward ..."
"What about it?"
"Well, maybe Guy is right. Maybe offering that money put a giant target on your back."
"Then it's accomplishing at least one of my goals — it's making somebody very, very nervous. And nervous men make mistakes, Syd. If he's running around trying to kill me, he's not hiding — and I have a better chance of spotting him."
She looked at him searchingly. "Getting yourself killed won't bring Dinah back."
"I know that. I don't have a death wish, if that's what you're thinking. I'm just trying to flush the bastard out into the open."
"Kane ... I'm so sorry about Dinah. I know I said it yesterday, but I don't think either of us was making much sense, and..."
"I know, Syd." His sister's sympathy was like salt rubbed into a gaping wound, and he felt guilty accepting it from her. He wondered what she'd think of him if she knew that in his heart he'd given up on Dinah weeks ago.
"Will there... Have you thought about a funeral? Made any plans?"
"No, not really. The medical examiner won't release her body until after the autopsy, probably a week or more. She wanted to be cremated, had it in her will, I think. So I guess a memorial service would be better." He heard the detached tone of his voice and wondered if his calm sounded as precarious as it felt.
"I can make the arrangements if you'd like, Kane. You have enough on your plate right now and... and I'd like to do something for Dinah."
His impulse was to accept, but he disliked leaving others to perform the difficult chores he knew he should do himself. "I'll think about it, Syd, thanks. Let's wait a couple of days before we decide anything."
"Probably best," she murmured. "Besides, she may have left specific instructions as to what she wanted. Have you heard from her attorney?"
"No, not yet."
"Are you her executor?"
Kane frowned. "I'd be surprised if I was, since we were involved only about six months before she disappeared. She never said anything about making changes to her will."
"But she didn't have any family still living, did she?"
"No. She had Conrad Masterson, though, and my guess would be that he's her executor, since he handled her money. I know she trusted him."
"Then maybe he'll know what she wanted done."
"Maybe so." More to himself than to her, he said, "I wonder if killers really do show up at the funerals of their victims."
"That's a morbid thought."
He looked at his sister and managed an apologetic smile. "Isn't it. Sorry."
Before Sydney could comment, Faith came into the kitchen. She looked about fifteen years old, with her hair pulled back with a wide elastic headband and wearing faded jeans and a too-large white sweatshirt.