"Where is this place?" Jack asked.

"In the Hotel La Fonda, so if you end the day on the Plaza, you'll be right there."

Donny served breakfast, which was delicious: pancakes, bacon, and fresh fruit. He had even prepared some soy bacon for me.

"You have the nicest family," I told Jack as we drove across town a half hour later. "I really like Audra and Donny."

"Yeah, they're great. Donny was away at college during my a.s.shole years. It's nice to have one person in the family who doesn't remember what I was like then. I haven't seen him since their wedding last spring."

"Well, it's really great of them to let us stay with them. So, have you ever heard the Taos Hum?" I referred to the low frequency humming sound some people swore they could hear in this area. It was somewhat famous and had even been mentioned on the X-Files.

He laughed. "No. And I don't know of anyone who has. I don't think it's real, querida. Sorry."

"So, you believe in psychics and what was it? Curanderas? But you don't believe in the Taos Hum? Seriously? I'm so disappointed, Jack. This could be a deal-breaker." I tried to look serious.

He chuckled and reached for my hand. "Yeah, well, I personally know several psychics and at least one curandera. I might believe in the Hum if I actually heard it."

"Well, I guess we can still be together. You are a pretty good kisser, after all."

"Pretty good? I can see that you need a reminder in the very near future." He rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand. "If you think I'm only pretty good, you should have an opportunity to reevaluate." He pulled into the driveway of a fairly large adobe-style house.

"Hmm. You could be right."

He blew out his breath. "Well, here we are." He turned to look at me, taking both my hands in his. "Thank you for coming with me, Ally. This is going to kind of suck. Thanks for being here."

My heart melted at his vulnerability. "Of course, Jack. I love you, you know?"

"I know." He smiled and leaned over to kiss me.

We walked up the driveway and Jack used his key to open the door. The house was cool inside and Jack turned lights on as we went. I withheld comment on the bare walls and boxes stacked everywhere; Marcos had apparently done some packing before moving to Albuquerque. I followed Jack down a hallway to a bedroom with a blue wooden J on the door. Inside, although it smelled musty, it looked as though the boy who had lived there had just stepped out; the bed was unmade and dirty clothes were piled on the floor.

"Jesus, it looks just like I left it," he breathed. He walked over and toed the pile of clothes. "That's what I wore the day before I got arrested."

"You haven't been back since?" I whispered.

He shook his head. "No. I went straight to juvenile detention and from there, straight to Manny and Trina's. They packed up some clothes and books for me. Okay, first things first." He went to the closet, kneeled down, pulled back a piece of loose paneling, and retrieved a metal lockbox, which he set on the bed.

"What's that?" I asked.

He sighed heavily. "My stash. I'm really embarra.s.sed about this, Ally. It's one of the reasons I wanted to come in person and pack up my room, rather than letting my dad handle it. He probably wouldn't have found it, and I couldn't leave it here for the next owners. What if some kid found it?"

"G.o.d, Jack. Don't be embarra.s.sed. Not with me." I reached out to touch his arm. "What are you going to do with it?"

"Burn it. Come on." I followed him out of his room to the kitchen, where he stopped to find some matches. He led me through the gla.s.s doors onto the back patio, where he set the box on a table and bent down to turn the dials on the combination lock. It opened after a few tries to reveal baggies full of pills and marijuana, a small bong, and several dirty magazines. "Yeah, I was a real prize, huh?" he asked, running his hands through his hair. He emptied the box into the kiva fireplace at the corner of the patio and dropped a lit match on top of the pile. The magazines caught fire quickly, spreading it to the rest of the drugs and paraphernalia. He found a piece of wood and smashed the bowl of the bong while everything burned. I stepped close to him, put my arm around his waist, and leaned against him. He pulled me close as we watched the vestiges of his misspent youth smoke and smolder. When the flames had burned themselves out and all that remained of his drug/p.o.r.n stash was cinder and gla.s.s fragments, we turned and walked back inside the house to his bedroom.

I started pulling books off the shelf, sorting them into piles while Jack went out to the SUV to get the boxes we had brought. Jack had said he only wanted his books, CDs, and a few other a.s.sorted items; he had grown so much in the past few years he had no need for the clothes that were left. "So, do you want to keep all your Captain Underpants books? It looks like you had the complete series," I asked as he returned.

He laughed, coming over to look at the books I had set aside. "Yeah, I was a big fan back in the day. Let's bring them for Megan." We finished packing the few things from his childhood he wanted to keep in less than an hour. I was distracted by the box of school pictures we found, enjoying seeing Jack from kindergarten through early high school.

"Oh, my gosh, you were an adorable little boy, Jack."

He came to look over my shoulder. "I want to see your school pictures when we get back to Albuquerque. It's only fair, querida. All right, I think we're done here. Let's load these boxes in the SUV." It took only a few minutes and then Jack locked the house back up. He pocketed the key and stood staring at the door for a few seconds.

"Are you okay?" I asked quietly.

"Yeah." He nodded. "It was actually not as bad as I was expecting, but it wasn't my favorite thing, either." He pulled me close. "Thank you for helping me do this, Ally. It means a lot to me." Then he kissed me, a bit fiercely, showing me exactly how much he appreciated my help. "All right," he said as he pulled away. "What do you say we see some of the sights Taos has to offer?"

We spent a glorious, relaxed afternoon sightseeing, driving ten miles north to see the Taos Gorge Bridge, a 564-foot-high suspension bridge spanning the Rio Grande River. We then turned back toward town to visit the Taos pueblo, a thousand-year-old adobe dwelling where people still lived. We returned to town to wander around the plaza until it was time to meet Audra and Donny for dinner. Jack seemed lighter and so relieved to have the unpleasant ch.o.r.e of revisiting his childhood out of the way; I hadn't seen him this carefree for a long time. Or maybe ever.

We had an enjoyable evening with Donny and Audra as they treated us to dinner at the elegant Mosaic restaurant. I went with them to Ma.s.s the next morning and we spent the rest of the day relaxing around the house.

As we drove back to Albuquerque on Monday, I thought about how much I enjoyed traveling with Jack; this trip had cemented our relationship in a new way I was having a hard time understanding. It was different being so alone with him for such an extended time. I may not have understood it, but I liked it an awful lot.

The wedding plans overshadowed everything around the Moran household. Mom and Grams dragged me to a winery in the north valley they had fallen in love with for the ceremony and reception. I gave my stamp of approval, of course, and they seemed happy to include me. I went with them to pick out a dress for my mother and for Grams and myself. Grams was going to give her away and Mom had asked me to be the maid of honor. I will admit to getting a bit teary-eyed when she asked. I got even more teary-eyed, and not in a good way, when I saw some of the choices for bridesmaid dresses.

"As G.o.d is my witness, Mom, I cannot wear something like this," I held up a turtle-p.o.o.p green, off-the-shoulder monstrosity.

She laughed and rifled through another rack. "I was thinking of something a little more like this." She held up a royal blue dress that was sleek and sophisticated. I fell in love on the spot.

"Yes. That one. Please, Mommy," I whimpered.

She laughed and handed it to me to try on. When I modeled it for her and Grams, they both said it was the one. At our third stop, Mom tried on a gown that was perfect: it was ivory and flowed from her shoulders in a Grecian style that flattered her and wouldn't highlight the baby b.u.mp that was sure to be visible by June.

Although the wedding was definitely top priority around our house, Brian and I still had a murder to solve. Sunday afternoon, during a marathon session to pick out invitations, I took pity on Brian, who was overwhelmed by all the wedding plans, and took him out for coffee so we could discuss the case. Mom sputtered a bit about him leaving, but he a.s.sured her he would love whatever invitations she picked out.

"So where are we, Brian? I know you like Scott as a suspect, but do you have any evidence against him?" I asked after we settled in a booth and the waitress had left a pot of coffee.

"Not yet. This case is going to be very difficult to prove because of the time span. I think Scott did it, but I have no way to disprove his alibi. The autopsy came back." He paused to take a sip of his coffee.

"And?"

"Patience, Gra.s.shopper," he said, shuffling papers within the file, finally finding the one he was looking for. "Ashley died from blunt force trauma to the head. Her killer struck her multiple times on the back of the head with some sort of weapon."

I was lost in thought for a moment as I tried to think back to the last dream I had of her, the one in which I saw her reflection in the lens of the sungla.s.ses sitting on her killer's face. Why hadn't I paid attention to the man in the sungla.s.ses? Oh, yeah, because I had been so shocked to see a face other than my own in the reflection. I remember now. It was such a relief to be done with the nightmares; I hadn't had a single one since I gave the book back to Ashley's mom. "Was she raped?"

"There's no way to tell after this amount of time. There was no soft tissue, only skeletal remains, so only injuries that involved bone are left. A fetal skeleton was detected." He hesitated. "I'm sorry, Ally, if this is too much for you. I don't need to share the autopsy results with you," he apologized, mistaking my silence for disgust.

"No, I'm fine." I shook my head. "I can handle it. I feel like I need to, for Ashley. She had to go through it, and she wasn't much older than me."

"Okay. Well, we need to review all the alibis again to see if we can spot any discrepancies. I've gone over them several times, but I could use a fresh pair of eyes. I don't have enough time to devote to this case," he groused. "I'm swamped with more current cases that have better chances of being solved."

"Okay, well, let's hear the alibis."

He opened his notes and walked me through the alibis of everyone connected to the case, starting with Ashley's parents. Both were at work at the time of her disappearance, verified back in 1984. David Moore was also at work, again verified. His wife, Shannon, was in Las Cruces with their two children. The Graves, across the street, were at work, Mrs. Graves arriving home at approximately five-thirty with her youngest son. The oldest son, 12 year old Mark, was at baseball practice until six-o'clock, but unfortunately was not questioned at the time.

"Why didn't they question him?" I asked.

"I have no idea." He threw his hands up. "That's not the first example of shoddy police work I've found in this case. The lack of follow-up on Scott Alder's whereabouts is also very disappointing, and is proving impossible to find thirty years later. He was allegedly at basketball practice, and didn't leave school until at least five o'clock, but we have only his word on that."

"What about other, random people? Weren't there ever any other suspects?"

He handed me another, thicker file folder. "These are all the tips that came in from the tip line set up after Ashley's disappearance."

I flipped through a few pages. "Brian, there must be hundreds of them."

"Yeah, and that represents thousands of hours of police follow-up work, looking into any leads that looked even slightly promising."

"Did anything come from it?" I asked hopefully.

"Not a thing. Sorry, Ally. Scott is really the only viable suspect at this point."

"Just because you don't have a better suspect doesn't mean it's him. I'm telling you, he's innocent," I insisted.

Brian looked at me sternly. "Ally, I wish I could believe that, I really do. I know you like him."

"Please don't arrest him without telling me first, okay? Give us a chance to figure out who really did it. Please, Brian." I wasn't above begging.

He nodded briefly. "I'll try. That's all I can promise. Now, I really need to speak with Mark Graves. I've left messages, but he seems reluctant to get in touch with me for some reason."

"Does he live here in Albuquerque?"

"No. He lives in El Paso. I really don't need another road trip right now," he groaned. "I'm trying to support your mother with all this wedding stuff, and I don't relish another melt-down." We had all been subject to my mother's recent hormone-induced emotional explosions in the last few weeks.

"Definitely not for the faint-hearted," I agreed. "And what about David Moore's kids? Have you managed to track them down, yet?"

"I did speak to his youngest daughter, Karen, a few days ago. She said they moved to California when she was seven, about a year after the disappearance. I haven't talked to the older girl yet."

"Okay, what's our next step?" I asked.

"I'm going to try to get the Graves to contact their son. I'll let you know when I have something."

"What's in the last folder?" I asked as Brian tried to slip it under another.

"Autopsy photos. Personal effects. Nothing you need to see."

I tended to agree with him, but something stopped me. "I think I do, Brian," I said quietly.

"You sure?" I nodded and he silently handed the folder over to me.

The first set of photographs was of the skeletal remains. It wasn't disgusting, like a recent dead body would be, but the starkness of what was left, nothing more than a collection of dark brownish bones, arranged into the semblance of a body, with a skull at the top, was incredibly sad. This collection of discarded bones was all that was left of a once-vibrant 18-year-old with her whole life ahead of her. The skull showed the damage that had caused her death. To the side of the body was another tiny collection of bones: Ashley and Scott's baby. I had expected to be unable to hold back tears when I saw it, but was surprised by the intense anger burning inside my body. Somebody had cut short these two precious lives before they even had a chance to live. I made a silent vow, right there at the table: 'I will find out who killed you and your baby, Ashley. I know it wasn't Scott. I will find out who did this, so you can rest. I swear it.' I know she heard me. She was there with us, just like I dreamed she had been with me ever since I opened her book in the hotel in Galway. I turned to the last set of photographs, her personal effects. The tattered remains of her shoes and clothing were lying beside a crusted pendant on a chain. I had to look closely to be able to tell what it was: a small, silver dolphin. Of course. She had loved the Madeleine L'Engle novel, A Ring of Endless Light. It was all about dolphins.

"Brian, where is this necklace now?"

"In evidence. Why?" he asked.

"Is there any way we could take it to Mrs. Hayes? Could we give it back to her?"

He looked at me with his head tilted for a second. "Yeah, I think we could do that. What's going on in that head of yours?"

I flipped through the pictures again and shook my head. "It's not here. Is this everything that was found near the body?"

"Yes. Why? What are you not seeing?" He reached to take the pictures and look at them.

"Well, it's just that if she disappeared between school and home, she would have had school books and probably a backpack or bag of some kind. She would have a purse or something. Girls always have all sorts of c.r.a.p with them. Where is Ashley's c.r.a.p? Why didn't she have anything with her? Or if she did, where is it?"

Brian looked back and forth between me and the photos before nodding. "s.h.i.t. I can't believe no one thought of that. Good catch, kid. You think her mom will have some information about what Ashley usually carried." He said this last bit as a statement. "I'll find out about the necklace and then we'll go talk to Mrs. Hayes, okay?"

I nodded.

"Let's get back to your mom. I probably need to approve of some wedding invitations and taste cake or something. I'm starting to wish I had insisted on eloping to Vegas," he grumbled.

Now that Tara was with Mat, I was curious to find out who Remy had his eye on. That's the problem with friends pairing up: you want to see everyone happily settled in a couple. I watched him closely, but he didn't seem to be flirting with anyone in particular. Knowing Remy, if he wanted a girl, all he would have to do is crook his finger and one would come running, at least at this school. So, being the intrepid investigator I clearly was, I decided to take things up a notch.

"Remy, Tara and I are hosting a little party this Friday and we want you to come," I said as we met before school.

"Of course, cherie. Tell me when and where. I would not miss it for the world," he said this while kissing my cheeks in greeting, which still made Jack growl. I'm 99.9% sure that's why Remy continued to do it.

"Well, feel free to bring a date," I suggested.

He smirked knowingly. "Well, I'll see what I can do. Do you have any suggestions?"

"No. Isn't there anyone you want to bring? I could, you know, invite her."

"No, mais no. Don't go to any trouble for me." He laughed. "I'll probably come alone."

I looked to Jack for help. He shrugged. "I got Mat and Tara together. You're on your own for this."

"You are seriously taking credit for that? Unbelievable!" He laughed. "Remy, who is it? Come on, tell me," I wheedled. "I could help."

"Do you honestly think a Frenchman needs an American girl's help in getting a date?" he asked, appalled. "No. How about you are surprised on Friday?"

"Fine. If you don't want my help..." I tried to sound offended.

"I really don't, cherie."

I had another appointment to meet with Ca.s.sie that afternoon. She was trying to help me work on my communication methods, specifically my ability to mentally talk with other Seers without touching them. I was now fairly adept at reading what someone was thinking about if I touched them, frequently practicing on Mom and Grams. Jack and Tara were frequent volunteers, as well, but I hesitated to use them because they had no ability to see anything I was thinking. It made me feel weird to use them like that. Plus, the impressions I got from non-psychic-type people were really fuzzy. The person I had the greatest success with was Remy. He and I seemed to have a strong psychic connection, a fact I didn't stress too much as it irritated Jack. Remy was far better at it than I was, perhaps because he was so much older, something I delighted in teasing him about. He was also very good at blocking me out, which annoyed me and kept me from finding out which girl he was interested in. I was currently bugging him about teaching me how to do it better; I still had to concentrate so hard to keep anyone blocked.

Remy had been adamant I not tell anyone besides Jack he was a Seer. He relented and let me tell Tara, but refused to countenance the idea of Grams, Mom, and Ca.s.sie knowing about him. We both had great hopes the two Seer clans could be unified someday, but he wasn't ready to expose himself right now. Our clan believed his clan had kidnapped and stolen the Oracle, which, according to Remy was not true. He said she had run away with her lover, a member of the Gaulish clan. He should know, as the Oracle was his grandmother. He felt it was imperative we keep between ourselves for now the fact the clans had connected. I wasn't sure this was the best idea and thought perhaps Remy was letting his love for spy thrillers interfere with real life.

"All right, Ally, let's get started," Ca.s.sie began briskly, bringing me back to what I was supposed to be doing. "We'll get warmed up by doing some readings with you touching me. Then we'll move apart slowly." Ca.s.sie was also very good at blocking out what she didn't want me to see or what she considered inappropriate, so all I got were some scenes of her shopping and planning for her own wedding, which was coming up about the same time as my mother's. I'd had all I could take of nuptial preparation, so I focused on other, more interesting things in her mind, managing to get through some of her blocking attempts to see her and Gregory, her fiance, kissing. "Okay, that's enough of that. You've obviously been practicing," she said in an irritated manner.

"Sorry. This mind-reading stuff crosses some serious personal boundaries. I'll try to be more careful," I said contritely.