Hiding in the Shadows by Kay Hooper Read Free Book Online

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 it.”
    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 their 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 whitening 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 andworking 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—twice. 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 goddamned 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 enemies 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 gotexcited (always