THE SEARCH

CHAPTER 1

"Were you?" Bishop asked.

Kane, concentrating on driving, spared him only a quick glance. "Was I what? Engaged to Dinah?"

"Yeah."

"Unofficially."

Bishop thought about that for several beats. "Does unofficially engaged mean it was all in your mind or all in hers?"

Kane felt a flicker of grim amusement. "You have to have everything spelled out, don't you, Noah?"

"Just trying to understand."

"Then I guess I'd have to say it was all in my mind. I hadn't asked her yet."

"But you were going to?"

It was Kane's turn to think, and when he answered it was with a weary sigh. "Hell, I don't know. I think so. I mean, I hadn't planned to, but it was in the back of my mind that's where we'd end up. At least ..."

"Until just before she disappeared?"

Kane nodded. "It's like I told you. Everything was fine. Then she got preoccupied, I assumed by whatever story she was working on. Then there was the accident her friend was in, and she seemed to get even more distant and distracted."

"And she never told you what she was working on?"

"Goddammit, Noah, you know Dinah. She's always been like a clam when it comes to a work in progress. With that amazing memory of hers, she never needs notes. And sure, a story absorbs her, sometimes makes her oblivious to most things. But this time it had gone on long enough to bother me. So I tried to get her to talk about it that last morning, to tell me what she was investigating. She told me practically nothing and ended up mad at me to boot."

"Stop feeling guilty," Bishop said. "You couldn't have known she'd disappear that day."

Since guilt was only a small part of what Kane was feeling, he was able to shrug without commitment.

Bishop looked at him thoughtfully. "And you're sure, absolutely sure, that wherever she went, it wasn't willingly?"

"Absolutely positive. And even if I'm wrong about that, she would never stay away this long without letting me know where she is. If she could get to a phone, she'd call me."

Bishop was silent for a couple of miles, then said, "We're reasonably sure that nothing in her personal life would have driven somebody to snatch her."

It wasn't a question, but Kane answered anyway.

"Nothing I can imagine. When her father died a few years ago, he was the last of her family, I told you that. Or at least the last she knew of. He left her a huge portfolio of stocks and other investments, but she just turned the management of everything over to someone and more or less ignored the money, as far as I could see."

"You said both you and the police talked to her financial consultant?"

"Sure, early on. Easy enough for me, since he manages my money as well. He said Dinah's business affairs were perfectly in order, that she wasn't being blackmailed or pressured in any way as far as he knew. No large, unexplained deposits or withdrawals to or from any of her accounts. Nothing. Not a single god damned breadcrumb to follow."

"Still," Bishop said, "maybe it'd be worthwhile to talk to him one more time. Money tends to be at the root of most bad things one way or another. He might know something no one else could tell us, especially now that he's had plenty of time to think about.

By this point, Kane wasn't willing to discount anything, even going over familiar ground a second time.

Dinah had been missing for more than a month, and so far the investigation had led nowhere.

Noah Bishop, special agent for the FBI, had come into the picture only the day before, when he'd arrived in Atlanta. He had been out of the country, whether on Bureau business or his own, Kane hadn't asked. He wasn't formally a part of the investigation, but both his badge and his manner meant that when he asked questions, even of cops jealous of the' territory, he usually got answers.

Kane and he had been good friends since college, when they'd competed in track-and-field events, and had been roommates in their junior and senior years.

Their career choices had taken them in different directions after graduation, but Noah always found a long weekend every few months to visit Atlanta.

He had managed three of those visits after Kane had become involved with Dinah, so he had known her fairly well. And since she had been characteristically curious about the FBI and Noah's very specialized abilities and knowledge, and he had a high regard for investigative journalists with integrity and strong ethics, they had found much to talk about.

So, he was almost as upset over her disappearance as Kane was, but only the white of the scar down his left cheek bore witness to that emotion.

Otherwise, he appeared completely calm and in control, his voice steady and sometimes filled with a dry humor, his powerful body relaxed, pale sentry eyes watchful as always but tranquil.

Kane wasn't fooled.

In response to Bishop's statement, he said, "Okay, we'll talk to Conrad Masterson. I'll call him tonight. In the meantime, there must be something else we can do."

"Between you, the cops, and your private investigator, I'd say everything that could be done has been." As if ticking off the facts on his fingers, Bishop said, "Her movements that last day have been traced as much as possible and every potential lead followed. Everyone she's known to have talked to that last week has been questioned at least once. You've kept a fire burning under the police. Your P I. has been dogging every step of the investigation and working his own contacts. You've spent days in Dinah's office going through ten years' worth of files, and weeks running down information on anyone she might have pissed off in the course of doing a story. You've talked to her financial manager, her co-workers, and her boss. You've talked to neighbors in her apartment building. You've searched her apartment. You've offered a million-dollar reward for information."

Kane braced himself.

Quietly, reluctantly, Bishop said, "Unless something new comes to light ... Jesus, Kane. I'm sorry as hell — but the trail is looking awfully god damned cold."

Kane hadn't wanted to admit that to himself. Not today, when Bishop had kept him from lunging across the desk of a police lieutenant and choking the man.

Not yesterday, when the last of Dinah's known rues had proved to be in prison on the fifth year of a ten-year sentence.

Not the day before that, or the days and weeks before that, when useless information had piled up and leads dwindled and hope dissolved.

"I know," he said. "I know."

Conrad Masterson had always amused Kane. He was average in appearance — average height, average weight, an average bald spot atop his head. He didn't care how he dressed, which explained his badly cut suit, and wasn't impressed by impressive surroundings which was why his small office was filled with aged furniture and worn rugs and smelled vaguely like a wet dog. Or two.

He had no charm, tended to stutter when he got excited (always about a new stock or other investment opportunity), and had been known to arrive at the office wearing different colored socks and unsure where he'd parked his car. But what he lacked in common sense and personal style, Conrad more than made up in financial brilliance. In the investment community, it was well known that he made money for all his clients, handled their business with scrupulous honesty, and was the absolute soul of discretion.

Blinking behind his thick glasses, Conrad said miserably, "I want to help, Kane. You know I do. And if I thought there was anything, anything at all, in Dinah's financial dealings that might help find her, I would have said so to you or the police long before now."

"But you won't show us her file?" It was Bishop who asked, his voice level.

"I can't do that. As long as there's no proof otherwise, I have to assume she could walk in that door any minute. And given that, I have to keep her files confidential. I can't give you details — I just can't. And the judge agreed with me when the police tried to get a warrant, Kane, you know she did. Unless you or the police come up with information that indicates Dinah's disappearance was somehow connected to her financial deal, my hands are tied."

His "Legally tied," Kane noted.

"I have to protect my clients' privacy."

Kane drew a breath and tried to remain patient, knowing only too well that he would want his own affairs treated exactly the same way.

"Okay, Conrad. But think. Surely you can tell us if there was anything unusual, say in the last few months. You've had time to think about it."

"Yes, but ... unusual how? Dinah left her investments to me for the most part, you know that, Kane. Occasionally she sold stocks against my advice for quick cash, usually because she was trying to help somebody."

"What do you mean?" Bishop interrupted.

Conrad considered the question and whether he would be breaching confidentiality, then decided to answer frankly. "Just that. She'd do a story on a home for battered women, and then call me to sell some stock so she could give them fifty thousand to remodel or hire a better lawyer, something like that. She'd do a story on a poor congregation losing its church, and right away pour tens of thousands into their rebuilding fund."

He said with wistful fondness. "I could always tell. She'd have that note in her voice when she called, so determined you could call it hell-bent, and I'd know she'd found another wounded soul or bird with a broken wing. She's given millions over the years. Even before her father died, she used most of the income from her trust fund to help others."

Kane swallowed. "I ... never knew that. She never said anything about it."

"No, she wouldn't have. It wasn't something she talked about. She once told me that her father had taught her a lesson she'd never forgotten at you helped people without shouting about it, because just the act of helping them made you and your own life better. She believed that. She lived up to that."

Bishop glanced at Kane, then said coolly to Conrad, "With that in mind, don't you think she'd want you to help us find her? So she can help more people, if nothing else. The trail is cold, Mr. Masterson. And she's been missing for five weeks."

Conrad bit his bottom lip. "I wish I could help, Agent Bishop. You have no idea how much. But..."

"Had she come to you recently and asked you to sell stocks without any explanation, or without an explanation you considered reasonable?"

"No. She always had a reason, and, after all, it's her money. She's free to spend it however she pleases. Usually, it was her stories and learning about somebody in need that started it for her. Something that got her passionate and made her get involved."

Bishop frowned. "Did she talk about her stories to you before they were written, Mr. Masterson?"

That question surprised Kane; it was not one he would have thought to ask. But the investment manager's answer surprised him even more.

"Sometimes," Conrad said, clearly unaware of having said anything remarkable. "She'd come in here and talk, and days or weeks later I'd read one of her articles and there'd be the things she told me about."

"How about recently?"

It was Masterson's turn to frown. "Let's see. She told me about that murder out in Buckhead about six months ago."

Both Kane and Bishop nodded; that article and its outcome had already been thoroughly checked out.

"And a few weeks after that she was talking about that political scandal she covered, all those goings — on in the lieutenant governor's mansion." Kane said, "Like all good scandals, ended with a miserable whimper instead of a bang."

Bishop lifted a brow at him, and Kane explained. "They paid the girl off and she suddenly remembered it was somebody else with his pants down around his ankles. Then she decided she'd rather live elsewhere, and moved out to California."

He looked back at Conrad. "But that was more or less just reporting, and everybody knew what was going on. What else did she talk about?"

Conrad pursed his lips in thought for a moment, then an arrested expression crossed his face.

"What?" Kane demanded instantly.

"Well ... let's see, it must have been around the first of August or thereabouts when she came in looking really upset. Said she felt rotten and the heat made it worse. It was terribly hot that day, just dreadful. I asked her what was up, and she said she'd just stumbled across what looked like a really big story. She said ..."

He closed his eyes, the better to concentrate. "She said heads were going to roll, no doubt about that, and what made it worse was that it appeared somebody she liked an awful lot might be involved. I said involved in what, and she shook her head and said it was big, very big. Then she got a look on her face I'd never seen before, sort of cautious and very worried."

He opened his eyes and peered at them. "She wasn't... isn't cautious, you know. Reckless if anything. Always prone to rush without thinking if in somebody's in trouble."

"I know," Kane said.

Bishop looked at him, then at Masterson. "Sounds like it might be political. Did she tell you anything else?"

He brooded. "No, not that day. And I didn't hear from her again for weeks. She called me about a month later, very ... subdued. Said she wanted me to free up half a million."

Bishop blinked. "And you didn't find that request unusual?"

"It wasn't the largest amount she'd needed, if that's what you mean. But it was big enough that I asked her if she was sure she wanted to do that, since it'd mean selling a few things better kept awhile longer. She just said somebody had gotten hurt because of her, and she had to take care of the matter." He shrugged. "I did as she asked, freed up the money, and wired it to her bank. 

Kane frowned. "There was no deposit that size into her account in the last six months."

Dinah's bank had been more cooperative than Conrad in releasing information to the police.

Conrad hesitated, then said, "Well, it wasn't her regular bank. She used another one for this sort of thing. And a lawyer other than her usual one to arrange things, I believe."

"Will you tell us which bank, so we can verify this?" Bishop asked.

After a few moments, Conrad nodded. "I suppose I can do that."

He jotted down the name and address of the bank on a piece of paper.

Bishop took it.

"What about this other lawyer, Conrad? Who was it?" Kane asked.

"I'm afraid I don't know. She just mentioned once that it was sometimes handy to have two attorneys on retainer, one for public stuff and one private."

"And you have no idea exactly what she intended to do with that half million?"

Conrad shook his head. "I never asked how she planned to help this friend of hers. And ... that was the last time I spoke to her."

A few minutes later, driving away from Conrad's office, Bishop said, "You know, it occurs to me that half a million dollars to help a friend is a bit excessive. Didn't you tell me this friend of Dinah's had been in a car accident and has been in a coma since?"

"Yeah." Kane paused, then muttered, "Oh, shit. I should have gone by to see her. Dinah went twice a week, regular as clockwork." His guilt was obvious.

"Isn't she in a coma?"

 "Yes. I looked in on her that first week, when I went to talk to the hospital staff about Dinah's visits. They couldn't tell me or the police much we didn't already know, and Faith Parker

certainly couldn't help. I gather they aren't expecting her to come out of it."

"Then," Bishop said, not uncaring but matter of fact, "she wouldn't know if you visited or not."

"I said something like that to Dinah once," Kane confessed. "And she gave me the oddest look. She didn't say anything — but she didn't have to. I kept my mouth shut about it after that."

Bishop looked at him. "Dinah told Masterson this woman had been hurt because of her. Was that true?"

Kane shook his head. "Only in that she was driving to meet Dinah when it happened. But she felt responsible and nothing I could say made any difference. Said if it hadn't been for her, her friend would never have been driving that afternoon, and so would never have run her car into an embankment."

"She lost control of it?"

"According to the police report. I asked about it as a matter of course, after Dinah disappeared. The police couldn't see a connection, and I couldn't either. Just a common traffic accident, caused by carelessness."

"And she was a good friend?"

"It certainly sounds that way, although I can't remember Dinah ever mentioning her before the accident. Not that it's all that unusual for her to have old friends I've never heard of. Especially if they're work related. "

"And was Faith Parker work related?"

"Dinah was so upset about the accident, I didn't ask too many questions. All I know for sure is that Faith never appeared in any of Dinah's stories, at least not by name." God knew he was familiar with Dinah's backlog of work; he had spent long hours reading and rereading everything she'd written, looking for clues to her disappearance.

"I don't like coincidences," Bishop said grimly. "A friend of Dinah's, possibly someone related to her work, rams her car into an embankment and ends up in a coma, an accident about which Dinah feels excessively guilty — to the tune of half a million dollars. A few weeks later, Dinah herself disappears. Now, there may be absolutely no connection between the two things, as the police believe. But I think we'd better make sure."

"How? If Faith Parker is in a coma, who do we ask?"

"We'll have to look more closely at the police reports of the accident, maybe take a look at the car, too. Talk to her doctors again, the nursing staff again."

"And ask them what?" Kane was baffled.

"According to the staff, Dinah spent her visits in that room talking to her, not to anyone else. And they don't seem to know anything about Faith's background or history."

"Maybe with a different set of questions to ask, we'll get different answers," Bishop assured him' Kane valued Bishop's intuition as much as he did his investigative training—maybe more so. And he was eager to try anything that might help to point them in a new direction.

"It's worth a try," he agreed. "And maybe Dinah's other lawyer can tell us something as well."

"Maybe. At the very least, we can verify that Dinah really was giving money to worthy causes."

Kane frowned. "You think it could be something else?"

"No, but it never hurts to be sure." He smiled slightly as his friend shot him a look.

"Dinah was... is too smart to pay blackmail money even if she had done something to be blackmailed for, which I very much doubt. But it's possible that someone took advantage of her and — she found out about it later, after the money was handed over."

Kane nodded slowly. "Dinah would have been furious, would have wanted to get her money back and punish whoever had deceived her. She wouldn't have been afraid to face up to whoever it was and threaten retaliation, even prosecution. But then..."

He broke off, and Bishop didn't have to hear the words to know how his friend had silently finished that sentence.

In that case, getting Dinah out of the way for some amount of time wouldn't help. Unless she disappeared permanently.

Bishop knew that Kane had been clinging to what was very likely an unrealistic hope. That if she had an unknown enemy, that person had wanted Dinah out of the way only for a while. That she was being held hostage somewhere, undoubtedly furious and bored but safe. That somehow the crisis would be resolved and Dinah would be released unharmed.

Bishop knew better. He didn't want to know it, but he did. Within hours of his arrival in Atlanta, his training and experience told him that it was only a matter of time before Dinah's body was found.

But he wasn't about to offer that cold knowledge to Kane. Stranger things had happened, and there was always a chance, however slim, that Kane was right.

Bishop wouldn't take that away from him.

There was time enough for brutal reality if and when it had to be faced.

In the meantime, investigating possibilities was one way of keeping Kane busy. He needed to feel he was doing something to help the woman he loved. And they had to find out what had happened, whether or not the information could help Dinah now; if she was already dead, somebody had killed her, and that somebody was going to pay for it.

Before the silence could grow too large and become filled with paralyzing thoughts and fears, Bishop said, "I still think blackmail is unlikely, but it's something we need to look into. And the connection between Dinah and this friend of hers. Since the police didn't see a connection and moved on, I doubt they'll look again, especially now."

"Why especially now?"

Bishop shrugged. "I have a feeling they're going to have their hands full now that your reward has been announced."

"You still don't think that was a good idea, do you?"

"I think a million dollars is a hell of a lot of money. And I think there are quite a few people willing to make something up if they think there's a hope in hell of getting that money. It could just muddy the water, Kane."

"Or it could inspire whoever might be holding Dinah to tip the police as to where she can be found."

"Yes, it could. Especially since you worded the statement to make it plain the money would be paid only if Dinah is found alive and well."

Kane changed the subject. "Getting back to the second lawyer, do you think he'll be willing to talk to us?"

"I don't know. He'll be bound by attorney — client privilege, but given Dinah's disappearance, he might be willing to set that aside in her best interests. We won't know until we talk to him. Assuming we can find out who he is."

"Well, until the banks open on Monday, we can't pursue that lead anyway. Which leaves us with Faith Parker. The hospital is on our way. Do you think...?"

Bishop did.

But at the hospital, they encountered an unexpected obstacle.

"She was released two days ago." Dr. Burnett, hunted down for them by a somewhat startled nurse, had an air of weariness about him. But he brightened when he talked about Faith, clearly feeling a proprietary pride in his former patient.

"Released?" Kane stared at him. "When I was here a month or so ago, she was in a coma."

"Yes, she was. But she woke up a little more than three weeks ago."

"Isn't that ... unusual?" Bishop asked.

"Very. I'm writing a paper for the medical journals. It's also unusual that she awakened with minimal aftereffects. No brain damage, good response to physical therapy, she was on her feet and walking within days, and in better emotional shape than most. Even if she did lose her memory."

"Her memory?" Kane felt a crushing disappointment. "She can't remember anything?"

"No, poor thing. Her life before the accident might as well have been wiped clean. All her language skills are intact, she reads and writes, recalls historical events and even current events right up to the time of the accident — but she has no personal memories. She didn't know her name, didn't even know what she looked like."

"Will her memory come back?" Bishop asked.

"Probably. Though it could take years. She suffered a blow to the head, but we're not sure if the amnesia was caused by the physical trauma or something psychological."

"Meaning the loss of memory could be a defense mechanism, a way of protecting herself from memories too distressing to recall?"

The doctor frowned at Bishop. "Perhaps."

After exchanging a quick look with his friend, Kane said to the doctor, "I talked to you when I was here before, about Dinah Leighton. Do you remember?"

"Certainly. A very nice lady, Miss Leighton. As I told you before, she and I talked several times — but only about Miss Parker's condition and prognosis. Miss Leighton was most concerned about her." His face changed, and his brilliant eyes narrowed as they fixed on Kane. "I assume there's been no word?"

Kane shook his head. "Agent Bishop and I are gathering information on our own, trying to piece together what Dinah was doing in the weeks before her disappearance."

By now, the spiel was automatic. Burnett frowned. "I wasn't aware the FBI had been called in."

Smoothly, Bishop said, "We don't always alert the media, Doctor. Working quietly behind the scenes often garners faster results."

"I see. Well then, I assume you'll want to talk to the nursing staff again about Miss Leighton's visits? "

"If you could arrange that, we would be most grateful," Bishop said, all but bowing. "Of course. If you'll wait here, I'll go speak to the floor supervisor and get things started."

"Thank you, Doctor."

Kane looked at Bishop. "You were very polite. Do you dislike him as much as I do?"

"Yes, I believe I do. And I wonder why."

"You shook hands with him — pick up any bad vibes?"

Bishop gave him a look. "None to speak of."

"Then," Kane offered, "it's probably just our natural dislike of human godhood."

"That's an oxymoron."

"No, that's a doctor. I don't like hospitals or doctors as a rule," Kane said, "so maybe that explains my reaction. I couldn't find even a whisper of a reason he might have been involved in Dinah's disappearance. And he appears to have witnesses to his movements that entire last day."

"I didn't seriously suspect him," Bishop said.

Kane sighed and decided not to tell his friend that he had, over these last weeks, suspected virtually everyone he met.

It took them a couple of hours to talk to the staff members who had seen or talked to Dinah. They heard about her friendliness, her quiet charm, her concern for her friend. What they did not hear was any awareness that Dinah had been pursuing a story or any explanation for her excessive guilt over Faith Parker's accident.

No one remembered the name of the lawyer who had come to see Faith, and by then Burnett had finished his shift, so they hadn't been able to ask him.

It was late afternoon when they headed to Kane's apartment.

"Since we didn't get any information," Bishop said reflectively, "we have good reason to go talk to Faith. Amnesia or no amnesia, she can tell us who the lawyer is."

"You sound doubtful of the amnesia," Kane noted.

"I think it's very convenient, that's all."

"Convenient for whom, dammit? Faith could have answered a lot of my questions, but now ..."

"Let's wait until we talk to her before we rule her out as a possibly helpful source."

"And we can talk to the rest of the hospital staff on Monday," Kane said, "and see if they have anything helpful to add. I just have an awful feeling we're going to hear more of the same — lovely opinions of Dinah that don't help us one bit."

"That awful feeling is probably an empty stomach," Bishop said prosaically. "We haven't eaten since breakfast. And there's probably nothing in your apartment."

Kane recognized the attempt to take his mind off things, and smiled.

They settled on take-out Chinese food, and by seven o'clock, were in the process of putting away the leftovers. When the doorbell rang, Kane assumed it was a delivery boy from the grocery store he'd called. But when he went to the door, he found a woman he didn't recognize standing there.

She was just a bit over five feet tall and too slender by at least a dozen pounds, but she was a knockout.

Gleaming dark red hair with golden highlights, luminous pale skin as smooth and without flaw as polished porcelain, full lip — the bottom one currently being worried by small white teeth which with natural color, a straight nose, and big eyes the most unusual shade of green he'd ever seen.

After he silently acknowledged her beauty, he realized she was frightened, and that made him speak more gently than usual.

"Can I help you?" She was staring up at him, an odd series of emotions crossing her face. Disappointment, bewilderment, pain, speculation, frustration, helplessness. She took a step backward.

"No. No, I... I think I have the wrong apartment. I'm sorry I bothered you."

Before she could turn away, he reached out and grasped her arm. It felt very fragile. "Wait. Are you... Do you have any information about Dinah?"

She looked at his hand on her, then up at his face, her own frozen in indecision.

"I don't think so," she whispered.

Kane didn't release her. A sudden memory surfaced in his mind, a memory of a still, slight figure in a hospital bed glimpsed briefly as he'd stood in the doorway. Her thin face was so colorless and immobile that it had appeared to him masklike, an inanimate thing holding no life.

Eerie and ghostly, especially with the nearby machines audibly counting off the beats of her heart to insist, with a machine's irrefutable logic, that she was, in fact, a living creature.

It was almost impossible to recognize that comatose patient in this woman, whose rioting emotions were the very definition of chaotic life.

But suddenly he was sure.

"You're Faith, aren't you? Dinah's friend."

Her eyes searched his face, but whatever she was looking for she apparently didn't find. A little sigh escaped her, and she said, "Yes. I'm Faith."