Elizabeth stood there in the silence, staring at the place he had been. Her heart was hurting. A painful knot burned in her chest. She loved him so much. She had known it was a mistake to get involved with him, but like the moth to the flame, she hadn't been able to resist.

She took a shuddering breath and turned away from the door, ignored the sound of his Jeep firing up, the whine of the engine growing more and more distant as he drove away. It made her ache to think of losing him, losing the special something she had never felt for any other man.

But one thing she had learnedif Zach didn't want her, she didn't want him. She didn't want a man who couldn't totally commit, didn't want someone she couldn't trust to be there when she needed him. She had married a man like that. She was better off by herself.

Still, she wished she could be there tomorrow. There was a chance something might happen during the surgery, and Zach would be devastated if it did. But if Zach didn't want her there, she wasn't about to go where she wasn't wanted. He was pulling away. She told herself it was better it happened now than later.

But she couldn't quite make herself believe it.

With his father carefully strapped into the pa.s.senger seat, the wheelchair loaded in the back, Zach drove straight to the UCLA Medical Center in Westwood. Before Fletcher Harcourt could be admitted, there were forms to fill out, then a number of tests to be completed before the surgery was performed.

Zach had spoken to Sheriff Morgan on Sat.u.r.day about the operation scheduled for Monday morning, and Morgan had agreed to let Zach return to L.A.

"I'll either be at the hospital, my office or my apartment," Zach promised. "And I always carry my cell phone."

"Just make sure you're reachable," Sheriff Morgan said.

Zach didn't blame him for keep close tabs. There were two bodies under the Santiago houseburied over thirty years apart. The fact itself was amazing. That one was a child, the other a large adult male, made the happenstance even stranger. But like Carrie Ann, according to the coroner, the death of the second victim had definitely been a result of foul play.

"There was a bullet hole in the skull," Morgan told him. "There was also a depression in the skull that looks like it came from a blunt instrument."

Zach mulled that over. "So you think maybe someone hit this guy over the head, then finished him off with a bullet?"

"At this point, it's still anyone's guess, but that would be my take."

"Any chance you can narrow the date of death down a little?"

Morgan's silver-blond eyebrows pulled down in suspicion. "Why is that important?"

"The current house wasn't built until four years ago. If I remember right, it was under construction for about eight months. The old house was completely gone by then. The area inside the foundation would have been easy to access and no one would have thought much about it if the ground in the construction site was disturbed. Might have been a good place to hide a body."

"Interesting thought. I'll look into it. When will you be back in San Pico?"

The question made him uneasy. Once his father was stable enough to be moved, he would be transported home by ambulance, but after he got there, Zach would want to be close by for a while. On the other hand, his return to L.A. gave him the perfect opportunity to ease into his break with Elizabeth.

His chest tightened at the thought. It's gotta happen sooner or later, he told himself. It wasn't fair to either one of them to go on this way, as if their relationship might actually turn into something more, might even end up in marriage. He wasn't the type to make that kind of commitment. He'd only been fooling himself. It was time to give her up and get his life back on track.

He recited the litany all the way back to L.A., determined to convince himself, trying to ignore the churning in his stomach.

It was Sunday afternoon. Zach was gone, on his way back to Los Angeles, taking his father with him, and the annual San Pico Rose Festival was in progress.

Though Elizabeth had always looked forward to the yearly event, this year she didn't want to go. Though no one had said as much, she had an odd suspicion that little Carrie Ann Whitt had been murdered during the Rose Festival. It was the only explanation Elizabeth could come up with for the overwhelming rose scent that accompanied the young girl's apparition whenever she appeared.

Though they would probably never know, and even if it weren't true, somehow she simply couldn't bear to go this year. Instead, she spent her day off catching up on paperwork, trying not to think of Zach.

Zach didn't call that night. She didn't think he would.

On Monday she went to the office and tried not to think about the surgery. But she was worried about Fletcher Harcourt, worried the operation might not succeed, worried about what would happen to Zach if the surgery failedor worse. Zach might be able to turn his emotions off and on, but Elizabeth wasn't that way.

Seated behind her desk, she tensed when Terry finally buzzed to announce Zach's call, took a deep breath, and picked up the phone.

"Liz? It's Zach."

"I've been worried. How's it going?"

"Dad's out of surgery. He's in I.C.U. and so far he's doing great." She could hear the relief in his voice. Though he'd never said so, she knew he was terrified that his father would die and he would be to blame.

"That's great news, Zach."

"Doctor Steiner says he isn't out of the woods yet, but the surgery went exactly as planned. They won't know for several weeks how effective it was, but they're hopeful that little by little his motor functions and memory will start to return."

"When will he be able to leave the hospital?"

"Not for at least ten days. Then he'll go back out to Willow Glen until he's fully recovered."

She wanted to ask him if he would be coming back with his dad, but she didn't want to hear the hesitation in his voice. She didn't want to feel the sharp stab of pain that moment would bring.

"Well, I'm really glad everything's going so well," she said with false brightness. "I'll be keeping your dad in my prayers."

There was a long pause on the line. Zach didn't say when he'd see her, didn't tell her he missed her. "Thanks, Liz," he said softly. "I'd appreciate that." He rang off the line and Elizabeth was left with the receiver pressed against her ear.

Her hand trembled as she set the phone back down in its cradle. Her chest was aching and there was a painful lump in her throat.

You have to let him go, she told herself. He didn't want a life with her. He didn't need her. He simply wasn't the kind of man to settle down.

It wasn't as if she hadn't known that from the start, hadn't told herself this was bound to happen with a guy like Zach. Still, she was glad her office door was closed, that she could put her head down on the desk and let go of her tears.

She didn't hear the quiet knock on the door, didn't hear her friend walk in.

"Liz? Oh, honey, come on, don't cry."

Elizabeth's head jerked up. Pet.i.te and red-haired, Gwen Petersen stood on the opposite side of the desk, a worried look on her face.

"Come on," she said. "It can't be that bad. Why don't you tell me what's the matter?"

Elizabeth took a shaky breath and slowly released it, worked to pull herself together. She was glad her visitor was only Gwen and not a client who had somehow gotten past Terry.

"It's nothing you didn't warn me about," she said. "Zach is pushing me away. I think he wants to end our relationship. I let myself get in too deep and now I'm paying the price."

Gwen reached across the desk and caught her hand. "Hey, everyone has a weakness for something sinful. I like Haagen-Dazs ice cream. You're a sucker for tall, dark and handsome."

She managed a smile, pulled a Kleenex out of her drawer and wiped her eyes. "It's not only Zach, it's everything that's been going on. It's just been so crazy lately."

"Yeah, I read about some of it in the newspaper. That's the reason I stopped by. What a story. The paper was pretty vague about the little girl you and Zach found under the house something about she'd been missing for thirty-odd years. I gather the police think the couple who did it killed another child several years later."

"That's pretty much it."

"What about this other thing? The paper said a second body was found in the same location two days later. That's incredible."

"Yeah. Weirder yet, they were murdered more than thirty years apart. Of course, after spending a night in that house, it isn't that hard to believe."

"What do you mean? You think the house itself had something to do with it?"

"A month ago I would have laughed at the notion. Now? I tell you, Gwen, that place is downright evil."

Gwen shivered. "I never believed in ghosts, but what do I know, anyway?"

"They haven't identified the second body. Whoever it is doesn't fit the description of anyone who's been reported missing in the area over the past few years. Sheriff Morgan says there's a chance they'll never find out who it is."

"Sounds like he's been keeping you pretty well informed."

"I'm sure he isn't telling me everything, but I guess he figures Zach and I have a right to know."

"You don't think he suspects Zach, do you? I mean he does have a criminal record and he was raised out there on the farm."

"Zach was living in L.A. when the man was killed. And I doubt that if he really had murdered the man, he would lead the police to the place he had buried the body."

"Good point. Carson's been making all kinds of statements. His picture's all over the front page of the paper."

"Carson's a guy who could turn rotten lemons into lemonade. He's actually making political hay out of this."

Gwen gave her a rea.s.suring smile, reached over and squeezed her hand. "You'll get past this Zach thing. It'll just take a little time."

"I know. I'll recover. I got over Brian and now I'm glad to be rid of him." Only she didn't think she would ever feel that way about Zach. She didn't think she would ever find a man who suited her the way he did, a man who just felt so right.

"Well, I gotta run. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine. Mostly it's just a reaction to all the stuff that's been happening. Thanks for stopping by. You're a good friend, Gwen."

Gwen waved away the words, though they were completely true. "Call me if you get to feeling depressed."

"I will."

"Take care of yourself, Liz."

She nodded, knowing she would. She would get over Zachary Harcourt. Someday.

Just not all that soon.

Thirty-Four.

Fletcher Harcourt was released from the UCLA Medical Center ten days after his surgery. They were the longest days of Zach's life. Though his father was improving daily, Zach was becoming more and more depressed.

Whenever he was in his apartmentthe place he had loved and considered his own personal retreat.i.t now felt empty and cold. He thought of the day he had brought Liz home with him, remembered how she had looked standing in front of the living room window, how he loved having her sleeping next to him in his king-size bed.

Every night he slept alone, aching to have her beside him. In the mornings, he looked for her as he walked into the kitchen, though he knew she couldn't possibly be there. Even in his office, he thought of her, had to forcibly make himself refrain from picking up the phone.

I'm in love with her. Desperate, crazy in love.

And he was coming to believe it was the kind of love that didn't happen to a man more than once.

As the days crept past and as his life resumed its same familiar patterns, he found himself more and more dissatisfied. The women who flirted with him in Mickey's Sports Bar after work held no appeal. He took his new sailboat, Devil May Care, out into the harbor, hoping it would help, but the warm, sunny day only made him wish he had someone to share it with, and not just anyone would do.

Even his work didn't seem as interesting as it had before.

In the days after his return to L.A., he replayed over and over all that had happened in San Pico. He thought of little Carrie Ann Whitt, dead at nine years old, thought of the man who had been murdered and buried under the house, and it occurred to him how very short life could be.

He found himself asking, Do you really want to live the years ahead alone? Before he'd met Liz, the answer would have been yes. He'd been comfortable in his aloneness.

Now he knew what he had been missing.

The thought nagged him, wouldn't leave him be.

Still, the question remained, if he pursued a different sort of life, if he made the one hundred percent commitment it would take, could he keep it?

Searching for an answer, he drove absently around the city, the black BMW eventually turning with almost a mind of its own, onto the off-ramp that would take him to his mother's apartment in Culver City.

He was halfway up the stairs to her second floor apartment when he realized he hadn't brought her a present, as was his routine. Still, he knocked on the door and surprisingly found her there.

"Zachary! Come on in!" Wearing tight black ankle-length stretch pants and a low-cut blouse, clothes that did nothing for her robust figure, she led him into the kitchen where she had a cigarette burning in the ashtray, and they both sat down at the table.

"So how's your father doing?" She frowned. "You're not here because something's happened? He's okay, isn't he?"

"Dad's doing great. He's going to be released in a couple of days."

She reached for her half-burned cigarette, dotted the ashes and took a long drag. "I wasn't all that worried. The old bird's too tough to croak." Zach had called to tell her about the surgery, then kept her posted during the recovery period.

She flicked him a speculative glance. "You didn't bring me any coffee? Not even a box of chocolates? Okay, tell your mama what's wrong."

Zach leaned back heavily in his chair. "You want to know what's wrong? I'm in love, that's what's wrong. I'm in love and it's killing me."

Teresa's black eyebrows shot up, then she laughed, a raspy, deep, cigarette smoker's rumble in her very substantial chest.

"Who's the lucky girl?" she asked. "And why aren't you happy? It's taken you years to find someone." Her dark eyes widened. "Don't tell me she doesn't love you? No woman with half a brain would"

"I don't know if she loves me or not. I haven't asked. I'm tying to end our relationship."

"What? She cheat on you? If she did"

"She didn't cheat. She's not that kind of girl. Liz is special. She's smart and fun to be with. She's loyal and brave. She's s.e.xy as h.e.l.l and I'm crazy about her. But I "