"No. We discovered the fire only moments before we called you. By then it was too late. The flames had already spread through the whole structure."

"The horses?"

Raul shook his head. "The groom lived above the stable. I tried to get in, but the fire blocked the door."

"Anyone else in there?" In the background, the two-way radio chattered.

"Mrs. Thomas ... her son is missing. His car is here, so we know he was home. He could have been in there."

"Let's hope you're wrong," he said gravely and moved off to join his men as high-pressure hoses sprayed water from the pumper onto the flaming structure.

There was a leaden feeling inside Raul as he walked back to Luz, and the tortured look on her face only made it worse. There was nothing he could say, no hope he could give. He wanted to be wrong, but he didn't think he was.

"Where is Rob?" she demanded, but Raul just shook his head. "He could have seen the fire and gotten some of the horses out. Maybe he's taken them into the big paddock." She strained to see into the darkness beyond the outreaching light of the fire. "He could have," she insisted desperately.

"I will look." But he knew it was useless. "Go back to the house with Emma. There is nothing you can do here."

"No! I'm not going anywhere until I find out where my son is!"

In the predawn hours, the firemen searched through the smoldering rubble amid a rising, acrid stench of burned hides and roasted horseflesh. They recovered two badly burned bodies. With one of them, they found the charred remains of a belt and a metal buckle bearing the initials RKT, identifying one of the victims as Rob Kincaid Thomas. The coroner's ambulance took their bodies from the scene. A second search continued for the cause of the fire, while Raul led a shocked and grief-torn Luz to the house.

"It's a mistake. I know it is! Rob can't be dead! He can't!" Wildly she fought against it, not wanting to accept it, not wanting to believe her only son was gone. "It isn't true. It isn't true." Hugging her arms tightly around her, Luz rocked back and forth on the living-room couch, mindless of her surroundings. Something was held in front of her and lifted to her lips, but she turned away.

"Drink this," Raul's voice urged gently.

"I don't want it. I don't want anything," she protested. "I only want Rob. I want my son back."

"Sssh, now, girl." Emma sat down beside her. "It hurts deep, I know. Drink this hot, sweet tea I made you."

Luz took the cup, but simply held it between her cold, cold hands. "Emma, I've got to call Drew. I've got to tell him."

"It's all right, dear. I've already phoned him. He'll be here soon."

"Audra? Mary?" And Emma nodded that she had contacted them as well. Luz stared at the tea. "How am I going to tell Trisha? I don't know what I should say to her ... how I should tell her." She covered her eyes with her hand, feeling the wetness of her own tears. "I don't believe it. He was so happy after winning that game. How did it happen? Why? Why did he have to die?"

"Don't torture yourself with the why of it," Emma comforted her. "It isn't for you to know. It isn't for any of us to know why our loved ones are taken from us."

"He was so young! It isn't fair!" she protested. "He had his whole life ahead of him." The teacup was taken from her hand as she began sobbing uncontrollably. A pair of arms went around her and cradled her. A distant part of her mind knew it was Raul, but mostly she was aware only of her own pain.

Half an hour later, Audra and Mary arrived at the same time. Audra swept into the living room, taking charge. "Emma, I want you to call the police at once. There are reporters outside. This is private property and I want them removed from the premises immediately. I will not have my daughter hara.s.sed by their tactless questions at a time like this."

Mary came to the couch, her eyes red from crying, and embraced her, hugging Luz tightly. "I'm so sorry, Luz." They cried together. Then Raul shifted, leaving the couch to make room for Audra.

"My baby," she said, taking Luz into her arms and pressing her cheek against her forehead. "I prayed that none of you would ever know the pain of losing a child. But you have your family, remember that. Frank and Michael are flying in this afternoon. Don't you worry about anything. We'll take care of all the necessary arrangements."

The doorbell rang. When Luz saw Drew walk into the living room, the numb shock of grief in his expression, she went to meet him, going into his arms. "Our son. Our baby boy. Drew, they say he's dead."

"But what happened?"

"The fire ... we think he went in to get the horses out and ... got trapped." She was haunted by images of Rob trying to get out of the burning building and flames leaping up to block his escape. It made it worse to know the horrible way he must have died.

"My G.o.d." Drew buried his face in her hair, holding her tightly.

Emma carried a tray laden with a complete coffee set into the living room and placed it on the low coffee table. "I have tea brewed in the kitchen if anyone would care for it instead of coffee," she said. Mary poured a cup for herself and one for Audra, but Raul refused any.

"We have to call Trisha, Drew," Luz said, her chin quivering with the effort to hold back her tears while he cried for both of them. "I don't want her finding out about Rob from the newspaper."

"No. No," he agreed in a choking voice, and cleared his throat loudly as he straightened and attempted to stand erect.

The doorbell rang, and this time Raul excused himself from the group to answer it. When he opened the door, the sooty fire marshal hesitantly stepped inside and removed his hat, tucking it under his arm.

"We ... think we've determined the cause of the fire, Mr. Buchanan." He shifted uncomfortably. "I ... uh ... don't want to disturb Mrs. Thomas, but I feel I should talk to her if she's up to seeing me."

Raul knew by the look in the man's eyes what he was going to say, and he wanted to tell him that Luz wouldn't see him. He wanted to spare her this, but he knew he couldn't. "One moment, please." He left the marshal in the foyer and stepped into the living room. "The fire marshal is here, Luz. He would like to speak to you."

"Tell him to come in," Audra instructed.

Raul turned back to the foyer. "The family will see you," he told the man and preceded him into the room.

The marshal hesitated inside the doorway, appearing slightly discomfited by the group confronting him. "As I mentioned to Mr. Buchanan, we believe we've determined the cause of the fire." He paused, but no one prompted him with a question. "We've found evidence that suggests someone was ... uh ... free-basing cocaine in the tack room."

"Cocaine!" The word was shocked from Drew as he turned to look at Luz, who looked as confused and incredulous as he did.

"We found what was left of the pipe they smoke it in, and the canister of ether. It's a highly volatile substance. The slightest spark can set it off. We think that's what happened. Someone was smoking cocaine and there was a ... kind of explosion."

"You think, but you can't be sure," Luz protested. "If you're saying our son-"

"Mrs. Thomas, I'm sorry. The fire started in the tack room. We found your son's body not far from the door. More than likely his clothing caught on fire and he ran. We recovered your groom's body in the rubble of the collapsed second story. All the evidence indicates that it was your son in the tack room. I know it's hard to hear something like that about your own child. It would be for me if it was mine. But it doesn't change the facts."

"No." She turned away from him.

"Who knows about this?" Audra demanded.

"At the moment, myself and one of my officers. I haven't talked to any of the press outside-didn't want to until I'd seen Mrs. Thomas."

"You indicated that you suspect my grandson was smoking cocaine, is that correct?" Audra asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then would it not be accurate to say that smoking was the cause of the fire?" she challenged. "It has been known to cause many stable fires, has it not?"

"Yes, ma'am, it has."

"You do understand that I'm not suggesting you lie about the fire. But the family would greatly appreciate being spared any sordid press coverage of my grandson's death. I believe the tragic consequences of his actions are punishment enough, don't you?"

"I will do everything I can." He removed his hat from under his arm. "Again, my sympathies ... to all of you."

After he'd left, Luz sank into a chair. "I can't believe it," she murmured, slowly shaking her head. "Rob was using cocaine. I never ... suspected. The money," she remembered and looked up at Raul. "Oh, no, was that why he took that ten thousand dollars from the bank? To buy cocaine?"

"Yes."

"Yes! What do you mean-yes?" Drew demanded. "Did you know about this?"

Raul looked at Luz for a long second, then slowly nodded. "Yes. I knew."

"You knew?" Luz pushed out of her chair with an effort and walked to him in a daze. "You knew and didn't tell me?"

"How could I tell you?" he reasoned. "Would you have believed me?"

"I don't know. How can I know now?" she asked brokenly. "Maybe I wouldn't have, but you never gave me the chance! I'm his mother. I had a right to know! If you had told me, I could have done something! I could have stopped him!"

It was a rage that filled her-a rage that Rob hadn't had to die. If she had known, she could have done something to help him. She began to shake with sobs, silent ones at first, then loud tearing sounds in which she repeated Rob's name over and over.

Raul's arms gathered in her shaking body and held her against his own, absorbing her weeping shudders. Dimly she knew it was Raul. "Why? Why didn't you tell me?" she sobbed.

"I am sorry, querida" he murmured against her hair. "I thought it was not my place to interfere. I could not know this would happen. Now I see I was wrong."

"Rob." She wept for her son.

The morning pa.s.sed in a blur of pain and tears. At some point, Audra insisted that Mary take Luz upstairs so that she could dress before people began calling at the house to extend their sympathy. It was arranged for her brother, Frank, to fly to Boston, and inform Trisha of Rob's death and accompany her home. But for Luz, it was a grief that knew no end, that dominated her every conscious minute.

After the funeral, Luz retreated to the privacy of her sitting room, leaving her family downstairs to cope with the mourners. Hating the sun for shining, she closed the drapes across the French doors, then crossed to the drink cart and filled a squat gla.s.s with straight whiskey. The image of Rob's closed casket haunted her, and she couldn't stop those agonizing screams of the trapped horses from echoing in her mind.

When she started to take a drink, her black face-covering veil got in the way. Impatiently, she pulled it back over the pillbox hat, then swallowed half the whiskey in the gla.s.s. It hardly burned at all. She was too numb, the desolation too strong. She topped the gla.s.s and walked over to the sofa. As she sank onto it, all the torment and pain of his needless death closed over her. She couldn't live with it. Tipping the gla.s.s back, she poured more whiskey down her throat. Something had to dull this pain.

She had no idea how long she sat there. Every minute was agony. The sound of the door opening and the invasion of voices from the gathering downstairs stirred her awareness. She looked up as Raul came in and shut the door. Luz had known that sooner or later someone would come up to check on her. Her family rarely left her alone for long, making sure someone stayed with her, although Raul wasn't exactly a member of the family. He belonged without belonging.

"If you would prefer to be alone, I will go into the next room," he offered.

"No." Moving, she walked back to the drink cart and refilled her gla.s.s. She took a long swallow and felt the heat in her throat. Lowering the gla.s.s, she breathed in deeply to sigh, but even the air in the house seemed permeated by the lingering smell of burned wood and flesh. Her hands tightened on the gla.s.s. "I can't stand that smell. I want that charred rubble cleared as soon as possible."

"It has been arranged for the bulldozers to come in the morning." Raul lit a thin cigar and let its aromatic smoke scent the air.

Unconsciously she moved her head from side to side. "I can't believe he's dead. It doesn't seem real." She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. "I keep thinking he's just out on the practice field. Why? Why did he have to the? What did I do wrong?"

The cigar was left to burn in an ashtray as Raul moved to her side and gripped her shoulder. "You must not blame yourself, Luz. You are not responsible for his actions. Rob caused the fire, not you."

She shrugged free of his hands and turned away. "You don't understand." n.o.body did. n.o.body could. She took another drink of the whiskey, then walked back to the sofa and sat woodenly on its cushions. When Trisha walked in, Luz absently studied her pale face and tear-swollen eyes. She could only guess how ravaged by grief her own face was. Hesitantly, Trisha came over to sit beside her and rub a hand on her shoulder.

"It's dark in here. Don't you think you should turn on a light?" she suggested.

"No."

"I know how it must hurt, Luz. Rob was always your favorite." Trisha's voice cracked under the weight of her sorrow. It hurts me too. I keep wondering if there was something I could have done."

A part of her recognized that Trisha was seeking comfort, Luz knew she should pull herself together for her daughter's sake, but she couldn't make the effort. She had lost her son, admittedly her favorite. Trisha couldn't fill the void it left in her life.

"Rob always needed me more than you did. He needed me, and this time I wasn't there." The agony of it washed through her. "If only I had known he was using drugs," she moaned, then remembered a fragment of Trisha's words and wondered, "Did you know, Trisha?"

Avoiding her gaze, Trisha moved uneasily and knotted her fingers together in her lap. "This last summer, I caught Rob smoking in the tack room. He claimed he'd been smoking marijuana. It's the same thing he told Raul." She glanced in the direction of the drink cart where he stood. "Only Raul didn't leave it at that the way I did."

"But why ... why did he use cocaine?" Luz doubled her hand to an impotent fist. "That's what I don't understand. He had everything he possibly could want. What was he trying to escape?"

Agitated, Trisha rose to her feet and moved stiffly away from the sofa, where she had found no consolation. "I don't know. They claim one of the appeals of cocaine is the supreme feeling of confidence it gives-the belief you can accomplish anything." She hugged her arms about her middle, her chin tautly quivering. "Rob was always trying to live up to everybody else's expectations of what a Kincaid should be. That's all he ever heard. That's all we both heard, 'You're a Kincaid,' "he accused, mocking the phrase bitterly. "Poor Rob never thought he was good enough, Probably the only time he did was when he used cocaine." Angry tears filled her eyes as she looked at Luz. "I hate being a Kincaid!" A second later, she bolted from the room in tears.

Stunned and shaken, Luz stared at the door. It couldn't be. Her mind reeled from the things Trisha had said. She drained the gla.s.s, trying to drown them out, then moved stiffly to the drink cart and picked up the whiskey decanter. There were too many tears in her eyes. They blinded her as she tried to fill the gla.s.s, spilling half the liquor on the cart top.

"This will not help you." Raul took the decanter from her shaking hands and set it down, then took her in his arms and held her close.

"It's my fault," she murmured and began sobbing uncontrollably.

Her grief seemed inconsolable. He was sobered by how deeply a mother could love a son and how devastating the loss of a child could be. Nothing seemed to penetrate that wall of pain that imprisoned her, not even his love.

CHAPTER XXIX.

In the week after the funeral, Raul watched a pattern form. Each morning, Luz poured whiskey in her coffee so that she could face the reality of Rob's death and get through another day. There was always a drink in her hand, although she never actually became drunk. She seemed to consume just enough to dull the pain that hollowed her eyes. In that alcoholic haze, she wandered the house or sat for hours in Rob's bedroom.

She ventured outside once that week. After the bulldozers had finished removing all evidence of the burned stable, including the foundations, Luz went to inspect the site and ordered sod to be laid. After that, Raul wasn't able to persuade her to leave the house again.

When Trisha left to return to college, Luz managed to be on hand to tell her goodbye. Raul hoped Trisha's departure would rouse Luz from her grief-stricken stupor and remind her that she had another child, but she seemed not to care whether Trisha stayed or left.

At night, she turned away from his caresses, and recently had begun to reject even the physical comfort of his arms. Every day he watched her sink deeper into mourning. Nothing he said or did seemed to make any difference. He was frustrated, wanting to help and knowing she wouldn't let him in.

For her, everything had come to a standstill since the night of the fire, but Raul couldn't remain in limbo with her. The fire had destroyed more than Rob's life. All Raul's polo equipment and gear had gone up in those flames. Although more than half his ponies had been stabled at the club, a third of his polo string had been killed in the fire. All of it had to be replaced. Polo was still his profession. He had to practice and he had to play.

Still dressed in his boots and breeches, Raul entered the house through the French doors and halted abruptly at the confusion that greeted him. Boxes and tissue paper were scattered about the room. The yardman and his helper stood on stepladders, taking down the Christmas garlands and mistletoe that decked the archways, while Emma removed the brightly colored b.a.l.l.s from the tree and wrapped them in paper to be put away in the boxes.

"What is this?" Raul demanded.

With lips pursed in disapproval, Emma replied, "Luz has decided she isn't having Christmas this year. I am to mail everyone's gift, including Trisha's. Yours are upstairs."

"Where is she?"

"In the sitting room."

Raul went up the steps two at a time and burst into the sitting room, but his impatience died at the sight of Luz curled in a chair wearing her rumpled red kimono and nursing a drink ... and looking tortured. He closed the door quietly and crossed the room to the veranda doors. Reaching behind the drapes, he pulled the cord to open them and flooded the room with light. She shielded her eyes from the glare, then shifted to turn her back to it. Raul dragged a chair over and sat down in front of her, demanding her attention.

"Luz, there is something we must discuss."

"Not now." She took a drink of whiskey, trying to shut him out.