Stealing Shadows - Hiding In The Shadows Part 2

He couldn't remember Dinah being so late before without calling. Andeven if her cell phone did have a dead battery, there were pay phones,weren't there?

All over the city, there were pay phones.

Kane called her office and got her voice mail. ; he left a brief messageasking her to call him if she came in or checked before coming home. Shenever carried a pager, so his options were limited.

All he could do was wait.

By eleven he was going often to the front window to look searchingly outat the busy streets. By mid- night he was pacing the floor.

He only just stopped himself from calling her boss.

He reminded himself that Dinah was a grown woman, no fool, and able totake care of herself. She would certainly be unhappy with him if hepushed the panic b.u.t.ton when she was 'just tied up with some-thing andhad forgotten to phone.

He told himself that several times.

The streets outside got quieter and grew s.h.i.+ny in the streetlightsbecause it had started to rain.

It got later.

And later.

And Dinah never came.

She opened her eyes abruptly, as though waking from a nightmare,conscious of her heart pounding and the sound of her quick, shallowbreathing in the other- wise silent room. She couldn't remember thedream, but her shaking body and runaway pulse told her it had been a badone. She closed her eyes and for several minutes concentrated only onclimbing down.

Gradually, her heart slowed and her breathing steadied. Okay. Okay. Thatwas better. Much better.

She didn't like being scared.

She opened her eyes and looked at the ceiling.

Gradually a niggling awareness of something being different made herturn her head slowly on the pillow so that she could look around the room.

It wasn't her room.

Her other senses began waking up then. She heard the m.u.f.fled, distantsounds of activity just beyond the closed door. She smelled sickness andmedicine, the distinct odors of people and machines and starch. Shenoted the Spartan quality of the room she was in, the hospital bed shewas lying on-and the IV dripping into her arm. All of that told her shewas 'in a hospital.

Why?

It took a surprising effort to raise her head and look down at herself;her neck felt stiff, and a rush of nausea made her swallow hard. But sheforced herself to look, to make sure all of her was there.

Both arms. Both legs. Nothing in a cast. Her feet moved when she willedthem to. Not paralyzed, then.

Good.

With an effort, she raised the arm not hooked to the IV until she couldsee her hand. It was unnervingly small, not childlike but ... fragile.

The short nails were ragged and looked bitten, and the skin was milkypale. She turned it slowly and stared at the palms, the pads of herfingers. No calluses, but there was a slight roughness to her skin thattold her she was accustomed to work.

Afraid of what she might find, she touched her face with light, probingfingers. The bones seemed prominent, and the skin felt soft and smooth.There was no evidence of an injury until she reached her right temple.There, a square adhesive bandage and a faint soreness underneath it toldher she'd suffered some kind of cut.

But not a bad one, she thought, and certainly not a big one. The bandagewas small, two or three square inches.

Beyond the bandage, she found her hair limp and oily, which told her ithadn't been washed recently. She pulled at a strand and was surprisedthat it was long enough for her to see. It was mostly straight, withonly a hint of curl. And it was red. A dark, dull red.

Now why did that surprise her?

For the first time, she let herself become aware of what had beencrawling in her subconscious, a cold and growing fear she dared notname. She realized - she was lying perfectly still now, her arms at hersides, her hands clenched into fists, staring at the ceiling as if shewould find the answers there.

She was only slightly injured, so why was she there? Because she wasill? What was wrong with her?

Why did her body feel so appallingly weak?

in And far, far worse, why couldn't she remember- "Oh, my G.o.d."

The nurse in the doorway came a few steps into the room, moving slowly,her eyes wide with surprise.

Then professionalism took over, and she swallowed and said brightly, ifa bit unsteadily, "You-you're awake. We were ... beginning to wonderabout you, Fa-Miss. Parker." Parker.

-I'll get the doctor."

She lay there waiting, not daring to think about the fact that shehadn't known her own name, and still didn't beyond that unfamiliarsurname. It seemed an eternity that she waited, while cold and wordless terrors clawed through her mind and churned in her stomach, before adoctor appeared. He was tall, on the thin side, with a sensitive mouthand very brilliant, very dark eyes.

"So you're finally awake." His voice was deep and warm, his smilefriendly. He grasped her wrist lightly as he stood by the bed, discreetly taking her pulse.

"Can you tell me your name?" She wet her lips and said huskily,"Parker." Her voice sounded rusty and unused, and her throat feltscratchy.

He didn't look surprised; likely the nurse had confessed that she hadprovided that information. "What about your first name?"

She tried not to cry out in fear. "No. No, I-I don't remember that."

"Do you remember what happened to you? - "No."

"How about telling me what year this is?"

She concentrated, fought down that icy, crawling panic. There wasnothing in her mind but blankness, a dark emptiness that frightened heralmost beyond words. No sense of ident.i.ty or knowledge. Nothing.

Nothing.

"I don't remember."

"Well, try not to worry about it," he said soothingly. "A traumaticevent frequently results in amnesia, but it's seldom permanent. Thingswill probably start to come back to you now that you're awake."

"Who are you?" she asked, because it was the least troubling questionshe could think of.

'My name is Dr. Burnett, Nick Burnett. I've been your doctor since youwere admitted. Your name is Faith Parker."

Faith Parker. It didn't stir even the slightest sense of familiarity.

"Is ... is it?"

He smiled gently. "Yes. You're twenty-eight years old, single, and inpretty good shape physically, though you could stand to gain a fewpounds." He paused, then went on in a calm tone completely withoutjudgment. -You were involved in a single- car accident, which the policeblame on the fact that you'd had a few drinks on top of prescriptionmuscle relaxants. The combination made you plow your car into anembankment." She might have been listening to a description of someoneelse, for all the memory it stirred.

The doctor continued. "It also turned out to be highly toxic to yoursystem. You appear to be unusually sensitive to alcohol, and that, alongwith the drug, put you into a coma. However, aside from the gash on yourhead, which we've kept covered to minimize scarring, and a few bruisedribs, which have already healed, you're fine."

There were so many questions swirling through her mind that she could grab only one at random.

"Was-was anyone else hurt in the accident?"

"No. You were alone in the car, and all you hit was the embankment."

Something he'd said a minute ago tugged at her.

"You said ... my ribs had healed by now. How long have I been here?"

"Six weeks."

She was shocked. "So long? But ..." She wasn't sure what she wanted toask, but her anxiety was growing with every new fact.

"Let's try sitting up a bit, shall we?" Not waiting for her response, heused a control to raise the head of the bed a few inches. When she closed her eyes, he stopped the movement. "The dizziness should pa.s.s ina minute."

She opened her eyes slowly, finding that he was right. But there waslittle Satisfaction in that, with all the questions and worriesoverwhelming her. And panic. A deep, terrifying panic. "Doctor, I can'tI have insurance, and if I don't, I don't know how I'll pay for sixweeks in a hospital. I don't even know what address to give thecabdriver when I go-go home."

"Listen to me, Faith." His voice was gentle.

"There's no reason for you to worry, especially not about money. Yourmedical insurance from work hadn't started yet, but arrangements havealready been made to pay your hospital bill in full. And I understandthat a trust fund has been set up for you when you leave here. Thereshould be plenty of money, certainly enough to live on for severalmonths while you get your life back in order."

That astonis.h.i.+ng information made her panic recede somewhat, but she wasbewildered. "A trust fund? Set up for me? But who would do that?"

"A friend of yours. A good friend. She came to visit you twice a weekuntil-" Something 'indefinable crossed his face and then vanished, andhe went on quickly. "She wanted to make certain you got the best of careand had no worries when you left here."

"But why? The accident obviously wasn't her fault, since I was alone ...

@ Unless this friend had encouraged her to drink or hadn't taken her carkeys away when she had gotten drunk?

"I couldn't tell you why, Faith. Except that she was obviously concernedabout you."

Faith felt a rush of pain that she couldn't remember so good a friend.

"What's her name?"

"Dinah Leighton."

It meant no more to Faith than her own name.

Dr. Burnett was watching her carefully. "We have the address of yourapartment, which I understand is waiting for your return. Miss. Leightonseemed less certain that you would want to go back to your oh, apartmenti believe is one of the reasons she made it possible for you to have thetime to look around, perhaps even return to school or do somethingyou've always wanted to do."

She felt tears p.r.i.c.kle and burn. "Something I've always wanted to do.

Except I can't remember any- thing I've always wanted to do. Or anythingI've done. Or even what I look like ... "

He grasped her hand and held it strongly. "It will come back to you,Faith. You may never remember the hours immediately preceding andfollowing the accident, but most of the rest will return in time.

Coma does funny things to the body and the mind."

She sniffed, and tried to concentrate, to hold on to facts and avoidthinking of missing memories. "What kinds of things?"

Still holding her hand, he drew a visitor's chair to the bed and satdown. "To the body, what you'd expect after a traumatic accident andweeks of inactivity. Muscle weakness. Unstable blood pressure.

Dizziness and digestive upset from lying p.r.o.ne and having no solid food.

But all those difficulties should disappear once you've been up andabout for a few days, eating regular meals and exercising."

"What about ... the mind? What other kinds of problems can be caused bycoma?" The possibilities lurking in her imagination were terrifying.

What if she never regained her memory? What if she found herself unableto do the normal things people did every day, simple things likeb.u.t.toning a s.h.i.+rt or reading a book? What if whatever skills andknowledge she'd needed in her work were gone forever and she was leftwith no way to earn a living?

"Sometimes things we don't completely under- stand," the doctorconfessed. "Personality changes are common. Habits and mannerisms aresometimes different. The emotions can be volatile or, conversely, bland.

You may find yourself getting confused at times, even after your memoryreturns, and panic attacks are more likely than not."

She swallowed. "Great."

Dr. Burnett smiled. "On the other hand, you may suffer no aftereffectswhatsoever. You're perfectly lucid, and we've done our best to reducemuscle atrophy and other potential problems. Physical therapy should beminimal, I'd say. Once your memory returns, you may well find yourselfas good as ever."

He sounded so confident that Faith let herself believe him, because thealternative was unbearable.

Trying not to think about that, she asked, 'What about family? Do I haveany family?"

"Miss Leighton told us you have no family in Atlanta. There was asister, I understand, but I believe both she and your parents werekilled some years ago."

Faith wished she felt something about that. "And I'm single. Do I-Is there-" "I'm sure you must have dated," he said kindly, "but evidently there wasno one special, at least not 'in the last few months. You've had no malevisitors, no cards or letters, and only Miss. Leighton sent flowers, asfar as I'm aware."

So she was alone, but for this remarkably good friend.

She felt alone, and considerably frightened.

He saw it. "Everything seems overwhelming right now, I know. it's too

much to process, too much to deal with. But you have time, Faith.

There's no need to push yourself, and no reason to worry. Take it step by step."

She drew a breath. "All right. What's the first step? "