Hiding in the Shadows (31 page)

“He’ll get over it,” Kane said, referring to Richardson.
“And sooner rather than later if the information we gave him helps him solve a few crimes.”

From the front seat, the bodyguard said, “You folks still want to go by your office, Mr. MacGregor?”

“I know it’s getting late, Sam, but—”

“Don’t mind me or Steve here,” the bodyguard said with a faint gesture toward the driver. “We get time and a half.”

“The office it is, then.” Kane lowered his voice and said to Faith, “Are you sure you don’t mind? I want to pick up the master blueprints for the Ludlow building and see if I can figure out a way to salvage that situation.”

“No problem.” She knew very well that he’d go crazy unless he had something to fix his mind on while the police plodded along trying to gather evidence. “Cochrane will certainly thank you if you can—if the police don’t arrest him for Norris’s murder.”

“Guy didn’t seem too keen to do that just yet,” Kane reminded her. “Aside from having no believable motive, he agreed Cochrane would be too smart to use his own gun and drop it at the scene after wiping all the prints off.”

“I wish they’d get that report on Norris’s fingerprints,” Faith said restlessly. “It’s important, Kane, I know it is.”

“Probably tomorrow, Guy said. He’s checking the system for a match
and
sent them up to Noah for good measure. Assuming Noah’s at Quantico. One of them will call us as soon as anything turns up.”

Faith nodded, but she still felt uneasy. If Norris
had
been involved, why was he dead now? Had Conrad
Masterson killed him? Was Masterson even guilty of anything? And
what
was the thing Dinah was tortured for? Dammit, they still didn’t know!

The storm had passed hours ago, but it was still a cold and wet and miserable night to be out. Even so, the driver circled the offices of MacGregor and Payne out of caution, and both he and Sam were alert as the car pulled into the underground garage.

It was mostly empty, and as safe as electronic security and surveillance cameras could make it, so Faith wasn’t worried as she, Kane, and Sam rode up in the elevator to the fifth floor, where Kane’s office was located.

There was a security guard stationed in the reception area, as there was on every floor, and he reported to Kane that everybody had logged out and all was secure.

“I’ll be right back,” Kane said, digging for his keys as he headed for his office.

“I’ll be here,” Faith said. She began wandering along the hallway looking at photographs and paintings of past MacGregor and Payne projects.

Sam leaned against the desk to chat with the guard, one security person to another. “Nice setup,” he noted.

“Yeah, cost a fortune. This place is about as secure as technology can make it.” Nodding toward Faith as she strolled away, the guard indicated a bank of monitors that showed views of several hallways. “I can track anybody all through the building. Beats me why they’re so hot to protect a bunch of offices, but I get paid to watch, not wonder.”

“I hear that.” Sam looked down the corridor to
find Faith as she neared another hallway, then looked at the monitors. “Which one’s she headed for?”

The guard pointed to a screen. “There. Don’t worry. You can see everything’s fine.”

Kane was just turning to leave his office when his private line rang, and he answered it. “MacGregor.”

“Where the hell’s your cell phone?” Bishop demanded in lieu of a more polite greeting.

Surprised by the ferocity, Kane said, “In my pocket, but the battery’s probably dead. It’s been a long day. What’s up?”

“Where’s Faith?”

“With me. Noah, what is it?”

“Richardson said you were planning to stop by the office, so I took a chance. Those prints he sent up here?”

“Yeah?”

“Belonged to one Jedidiah Sanderson.”

“Then Faith was right. It wasn’t Jed Norris.”

“Let’s say rather that Jed Norris wasn’t who he appeared to be. Sanderson’s prints are on file because he had a record. A few arrests, mostly strong-arm stuff, and going back years. But not in Atlanta.”

Kane drew a breath. “Seattle.”

“Seattle.”

“Then he’s the connection we’ve been looking for?”

“Sanderson was Faith’s boss, Kane. He ran that construction company she worked at, took over when the younger brother who started it was supposedly
killed in a fire. Didn’t do too well with it. He declared bankruptcy not long after Faith’s family was killed, and blew town before anybody could stop him.”

“And came to Atlanta. Okay, but I still don’t see—”

“When I dug into the fire that killed his younger brother, I found an arson investigator who was certain but couldn’t prove the fire had been started deliberately. The insurance money was paid, and it was a lot. But Sanderson never seemed to have any money afterward, just a company he couldn’t keep in the black. I started wondering where the money went. I found a photograph of the younger brother and sent it to Richardson. He recognized it right away. Kane—it’s Max Sanders.”

“Max.” Kane felt curiously suspended, caught between a moment of realization and one of dawning fear.

“Yeah. I have a hunch the younger brother was the corpse Dinah was about to start looking for. She was probably looking at the Seattle end a lot more closely than we’ve been, and she was suspicious of that fire and the insurance money. I don’t know how close she was to the answers, whether she suspected Sanders or was just looking for a connection to Seattle and somehow alerted him. We may never know.”

“Christ.”

“And correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t Max Sanders have a key to the gate at the job site? And official clearance to get into your office building so he can roam wherever he damn well wants?”

Kane swung around to stare at the open door of his office. The fear was clawing at him now. “Jesus.”

“Kane—”

But Kane dropped the phone, the rolled blueprints, and bolted for the door. He reached the hall just as Sam charged past with a worried look on his face. As Kane joined him, he barely took in the bodyguard’s hurried explanation that Faith “should have been visible on the hallway monitor by now.”

They turned the corner together, seeing a long corridor stretching before them. And Faith’s shoulder bag lying on the floor beside the emergency exit that led to the stairwell.

“A mirror,” Sam was saying bitterly, staring up at one of the video cameras. “He used a fucking mirror!”

Kane bent to pick up Faith’s bag, feeling as though something was dragging at him, slowing him down when he needed to be moving fast, so fast, because they had her and the thought of what they’d do to her ripped at his sanity.

“No,” he said clearly. “Not again.”

SIXTEEN

Whatever he’d used to knock her out—chloroform, she supposed—Faith hoped it hadn’t kept her unconscious for long. She couldn’t be certain since there was no clock in the room where she awoke.

It was a powder room. Pedestal sink, toilet, not much else.

Head pounding and nausea churning, Faith got her hands underneath her to push herself up off the cold tile floor, and only then realized she was handcuffed. She managed to sit up, but it was a long while before the dizziness passed enough for her to struggle to her feet.

She tried the door, which was locked, then decided to splash cold water on her face to wash the cobwebs from her mind.

Afterward, she almost wished she hadn’t, because with clarity of mind came terror.

She hadn’t seen who had grabbed her; it had all
happened too fast. But she had no doubt she was in deadly danger. The fact that he had knocked her out rather than killed her told her he wanted something from her. He wanted whatever it was she had taken from him, the elusive thing still lost somewhere in the darkness of her mind.

She would be tortured. Like Dinah.

Faith wanted to pound on the door, to scream and scream, and it took all her strength to keep herself from doing just that.

Don’t be an idiot. And don’t expect the cavalry to come riding to the rescue, either. That only happens in the movies. If you want to live through this, you’ll have to help yourself
.

Faith pressed her ear to the door but heard nothing.

Move, just move. Look for something that might help you get free, get out of here
.

There was no medicine cabinet or linen closet, and not even a picture on the walls to offer her a bit of useful wire.

Remembering suddenly, she worked her cuffed hands around until she was able to dig into the right pocket of her jacket. It was there, a thin, flexible piece of metal.

A lock pick.

It felt familiar in her grasp, and her fingers moved with swift, sure skill that required no thought. Within seconds she was free.

For a fleeting moment, Faith wondered where on earth she had learned such a thing, and why, but there would be time enough later to ponder that.

She hoped.

The locked door was more stubborn than the handcuffs, but she kept working at it.

If this damned thing would stop slipping, I could—There!

She returned the lock pick to her pocket and carefully eased open the door.

She was facing a fairly long hallway that was a solid wall on the other side and on her side boasted only one other room, its open door spilling light. At the end, she thought she could make out stairs leading upward.

She was in a basement.

She heard the voices. There were two of them, angry male voices that were a bit muffled. They came from the other room.

Her first impulse was to run as fast as she could, her instincts urging her to race from danger, to flee while she had the chance. But intellect prevailed. She stood a better chance of escaping if she moved cautiously and silently to slip past that open door unnoticed by the men inside.

Hardly breathing, keeping close to the wall and moving with utmost care, Faith eased down the hall toward the lighted doorway. As she neared it, the voices became distinct.

“…  You must have been out of your mind to hang around MacGregor and Payne all day!”

There was something familiar about that voice, but before she could probe her memory to identify it, the second man spoke.

“At least I was doing something useful! I wasn’t hiding in my nice little lake house praying no one would find me!”

A coldness deeper than anything Faith had ever felt
before washed over her, and the dizziness returned far worse than before, forcing her to lean against the wall and close her eyes, to swallow the sick terror welling up from a dark nightmare place inside her.

She remembered the voice from her painfully violent vision:
Careful! She can’t tell me what I want to know if she’s dead
.

Faith heard her breath catch, and the tiny sound was just enough to free her from the paralysis of sheer terror. It was him. The man who had lurked in the darkness as Dinah was being tortured, who had ordered the one hurting her to break her fingers or something else, anything else, whatever he had to do to make her talk …

And she had sat in Kane’s office with him without recognizing his voice, without realizing that Dinah’s tormentor was talking briskly to Kane about structure and construction materials. Max Sanders.

The need to run was overwhelming, but Faith forced herself to move slowly, one step at a time, down the hall. As she crept nearer, the voices grew louder, more distinct.

“I’ve told you—you’re moving too fast, allowing Kane and the police to panic you. If you’d just been willing to sit tight, to keep your mouth shut—”

“I’m not the one who killed Jed, goddammit! What was that if it wasn’t panic?”

“It was our only option! It has to look like
he
was the one blackmailing Cochrane, and that Cochrane found out and killed him. That’s the only way we’ll distract the police
and
Kane. Once I finish planting evidence for the police to find, it’ll be crystal clear that Jed was the blackmailer. Dinah found out somehow,
and he kidnapped and killed her—in one of Cochrane’s warehouses—intending to pin the blame on Cochrane.”

“He was my brother!”

“He was a fuck-up and we both know it!”

Brother? Jed and Max were brothers?

There was a moment of tense silence inside the room, and Faith edged closer. Were they facing away from the door? Could she slip past without being seen?

“I had to take the heat off us, Max. You’d done a damned fine job of stirring everybody up until we could hardly breathe, until it was only a matter of time before Kane or one of his bloodhounds figured it all out.”

“So I took a chance with the pipe bomb, so what? What was I supposed to do after she hooked up with Kane—ignore it? Sit around like you wanted to, Connie, and wait to see if she got her memory back and spilled everything to Kane?”

Connie. Oh, God … it
is
Conrad
. That realization stabbed through Faith; she knew how this would hurt Kane.

“You could have waited! For Christ’s sake, Max, even an idiot could have realized that every time you went after her and failed, you gave them more reason to look for answers—and more time.”

“Look—”

“No,
you
look. I had to scramble to find evidence to make the story hang together and point away from us. Jed had to be sacrificed. It would have worked, Max. But then you had to blunder in once again, grab the girl from under Kane’s nose. And if you don’t
think he’s turning Atlanta upside down right this minute looking for her—”

“So what? He didn’t find Dinah, did he?”

“You’re a fool,” Conrad said.

Faith risked a quick glance into the room and felt her heart sink. They were facing each other no more than a few feet inside the door, and chances were very good that both men would see her if she darted past.

“I just want the box back, Connie, that’s all.”

“If she remembered where she’d put it or knew where Dinah put it after that accident, don’t you think it would be in the hands of the police by now?”

“She’ll remember quick enough once I get my hands on her. She’ll talk then.”