lizabeth slept lightly off and on. Dr. Lopez had ordered an overnight stay for observation and scheduled a CAT scan procedure in the morning to be sure there were no serious injuries. Sometime during the night, she'd been moved into a hospital room shared by an older woman asleep in the other bed. One of the nurses gave her some Tylenol for her seemingly endless headache and the general soreness she felt all over.

Just before dawn, she awakened and was surprised to find Zach sitting in the chair, asleep next to her bed.

He was still in the chair when she awakened several hours later, his dark eyes watching her, his expression full of worry and fatigue. A rough shadow of beard outlined his jaw and his dark hair was mussed, making him look dangerous and even sexier than he usually did. If her lip hadn't hurt, she might have smiled.

Instead, she reached over and caught his hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Good morning." The words came out thick and husky, as if her voice didn't work quite right.

He smiled, but his eyes still looked tired, and it was obvious that he was worried about her. "How are you feeling?"

She managed a smile. "Like I've been run over by a truck."

"You were—three of them, as I recall."

"What about you?"

"A little stiff, is all. It's been a while since I've been in a street fight."

"I think you would have taken care of all three of them if it hadn't been for that pipe."

The edge of his mouth faintly curved. "I would have done my best."

A uniformed nurse came in just then and Zach stood up from his chair. His pants were wrinkled, his shirt torn and spotted with dried blood.

"We need to get those tests underway," the nurse said to him kindly. "You can wait in the room down the hall."

Zach just nodded. Reaching toward where she lay against the pillow, he gently traced a knuckle over her cheek. "I'll be here when you're finished."

Elizabeth just nodded. Her heart was squeezing, reminding her how much she loved him. Telling her that here was a man unlike any she had ever known, would ever know again. He had once said that he loved her. When she thought of the way he had looked at her last night, the worry she had seen in his eyes, she found herself believing it might be true.

But this was Zachary Harcourt, the Lone Wolf, and she thought that even if he loved her it might not be enough.

* * *

Sitting in the small waiting room down the hall from where the CAT scan was being done, Zach thumbed through the pages of a Time magazine, unable to concentrate on the printed words. He couldn't relax until he knew for sure Liz was going to be all right. He tossed the magazine aside and began to pace the near-empty room, his worry mixed with a simmering anger.

What the hell was the matter with Carson? He was bound to be upset about the lawsuit, a petition that asked the court to appoint someone who would agree to the surgery his father so desperately needed. But this kind of response was way out of line.

Damn him!

The fact was, Zach had underestimated his half brother once again. It had never occurred to him that Carson would actually go as far as hiring a pack of thugs to attack them, that he would order his men to physically attack a defenseless woman.

Tamping down a fresh shot of fury, Zach mulled that over and tried to make himself think like his brother. If the surgery was approved and actually succeeded in restoring Fletcher Harcourt's mental capabilities, Carson might no longer be running Harcourt Farms. He would lose the power he coveted so greatly, the prestige in the community that seemed so important. It might even affect his lofty political ambitions.

Whatever his brother's motives, his men could have killed Elizabeth Conners and Zach wasn't about to let that pass.

The doctor was smiling as he approached where Zach stood next to the coffeepot, and seeing that smile, some of his tension eased.

"The tests came out negative," the doctor said. "There doesn't appear to be any unseen damage. We still have some paperwork to complete before she's released. She'll need time to dress and get ready. Why don't you come back in a couple of hours?"

Zach nodded. "All right. Thanks, Doc, for everything."

While Liz was completing the checkout process, Zach went back to her apartment to shower and change, then drove out to Harcourt Farms. Unfortunately, when he pulled up in front of the house that had once been his home, he was met by Les Stiles and two of Les's goons.

Obviously they'd been expecting him.

Zach cracked his car door open into the morning heat and stepped out of the car, and Stiles and his cronies came down off the porch. At first, Zach thought the dark-skinned men flanking Les on each side were the guys who had attacked him last night, but during the brawl, he'd landed a few good punches, and these two didn't have a scratch.

Stiles stepped forward. "Where do you think you're going?" His big, meaty hands were wrapped around a baseball bat.

"I'm here to see my brother. Get out of my way, Stiles."

Stiles didn't move. Beneath his battered straw hat, his eyes looked hard. "You're not welcome here, Zach. Not anymore. Your brother wants you off Harcourt property."

"This property belongs to my father, not Carson—no matter what he believes. I'll come here whenever I damn well please."

"Carson runs this place, and as far as he's concerned, you're trespassing." Stiles moved closer, slapping the bat against the palm of his hand, his men staying abreast of him, one on each side. Both were young, hard-muscled, and itching for a fight. Zach's hands unconsciously fisted, every nerve in his body urging him to give them one.

"You're a troublemaker, Zach," Stiles said. "You always have been. You come here looking for trouble and you're gonna find it."

"You mean like last night?"

Stiles just smiled. "All you have to do is mind your own business. You do that, there won't be a problem."

A muscle bunched in Zach's jaw. He forcibly clamped down on his anger. Stiles was as tough as he looked. Even if Zach took down the other two, odds were, against all three of them, he'd come out the loser. He couldn't help his father or anyone else if he wound up like Liz, in some damned hospital bed.

"You tell Carson anything else happens to Liz Conners, he's gonna answer to me, and hiring all the muscle in the world isn't going to help him." Turning away, Zach stalked back to his car and climbed in, his jaw clenched so hard a stab of pain ran up the back of his neck.

Whatever the hell Carson was trying to do, he wasn't going to succeed.

Zach wasn't going to let him.

* * *

When it was time to leave the hospital, Elizabeth found Zach waiting for her at the end of the hall.

"You ready?" he asked as the nurse wheeled her up in a wheelchair. His hair was still damp from the shower he had taken and he was wearing clean clothes.

"Believe me, I'm more than ready."

His mouth edged up, drawing her attention to the cut on his cheekbone and the bruise along his jaw, reminding her she wasn't the only one who'd been hurt last night. She wanted to reach out and touch him, make sure that he was all right.

Instead, she leaned back in the wheelchair and let him roll her down the hall to the door.

"I stopped in to see Maria," she told him along the way. "She's going home on Wednesday."

He brought the wheelchair to a halt. "She hasn't changed her mind? She's not planning to go back to the house?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "She's staying with Señora Garcia."

"Thank God for that."

"A couple of policemen paid me a visit. I guess they talked to you last night."

"One of them did."

"I assured them you were not the guy who beat me up."

Zach's lips twitched. "Then I guess I don't have to worry about going back to jail."

She cast him a glance. "At least not for that."

Zach actually grinned.

Outside the hospital, he helped her out of the chair and down the wide front steps, then carefully loaded her into his car as if she were made of glass.

"I'm okay, Zach, really."

Zach nodded and continued to fuss over her all the way back home. He carried her into the apartment, settled her on a stack of pillows on the sofa, and insisted she rest for the day.

Elizabeth didn't argue. Her head ached as if someone were playing pool in the back of her skull, and though she had slept some during the night, she was exhausted.

Zach plumped her pillows for the third time since they got home then grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. He made her some soup, using some dry pasta noodles he found in the pantry along with leftover chicken, a meal far better than her usual Campbell's out-of-a-can fare.

As she ate the soup, he sat down in the chair next to the sofa, but he didn't stay seated long. He seemed restless, uneasy. Just watching him made her uneasy, too.

Elizabeth used the tuner to mute the sound on the television show that neither of them was watching and propped herself into a sitting position on the sofa, ignoring the stab of pain that shot into her head.

"You're worried, aren't you? You're thinking about the house and what might be happening to Miguel."

Those intense brown eyes fixed on her face. "Among other things, yes."

"What are we going to do, Zach? Maria's still in the hospital. We can't just stop looking for answers, not after we've gone this far."

"No one said we were going to stop."

"Maybe we should go to the police, tell them our suspicions, see if they'd be willing to help."

"They won't believe us. Even I don't believe it half the time."

"We have to try. We have to find out if Carrie Ann Whitt was murdered in that house. We have to see if we can find her body."

"We can't go to the cops without proof." His gaze grew more intense. "Then again, if Carrie Ann is there and we can find her body—we'll have all the proof we need."

Her eyes widened. "Are you saying we're going to search for her ourselves?"

Zach raked a hand through his wavy dark hair. "I've given this a lot of thought, and I don't see any other way."

"Do you really think we can do this on our own?"

"Maybe I can find us some help."

She sat up a little straighter. "Who are you thinking of?"

"Sam offered," Zach said. "Let's see if he meant it."

* * *

Zach picked up the telephone, began to punch in the numbers to reach Sam Marston out at Teen Vision. As soon as Sam answered, Zach briefly explained what had happened on the way home from the hospital after their visit with Maria.

"Damn, Zach. Is Elizabeth, okay?"

He glanced at her over his shoulder, saw her sitting there propped up on the sofa. Every time he noticed her shattered lip and black eye, he felt a fresh surge of fury at his brother.

"They knocked the hell out of her, Sam. She spent the night at Community, but the doc says in a few days she'll be good as new. The reason I called, I was hoping…If I remember right, you have a friend, a guy who took early retirement from the sheriff's department. I think his name is Donahue?"

"That's right, Ben Donahue. Took a bullet during a robbery at one of the local minimarts. Tall blond guy. You met him out at the farm once or twice. He works with the kids in his spare time."

"Yeah, I remember. Seemed like a decent sort. I was hoping maybe you could get him to listen to what we have to say, maybe go in with us when we dig. Then if we find anything, Donahue can bring in the authorities. The house is in the county. That means it's the sheriff's jurisdiction. Ben's word is bound to hold more weight than mine."

"Won't you be trespassing? I don't think he'd go for that."

"Legally, the farm belongs to my father. Carson's the conservator, which gives him control, but it's a very fine line. If we had more time, I could get some kind of access through the court, but time isn't something we have."

"Carson's a powerful man in San Pico. You sure you want to take him on?"

An image of Liz's battered face returned to mind and his hand tightened around the phone. "I've been butting heads with Carson since I was eight years old. Besides, this isn't about my brother. It's about what's happening in that house. Maria Santiago's lying in a hospital bed because of that place. Her husband has been acting more and more strangely. I have no idea what might happen to him if he stays there much longer. Do you think Donahue might agree to at least hear us out?"

"Ben's a good guy. And I've got to admit this whole thing is damned intriguing. I'll call him, see what he has to say."

"Thanks, Sam." Zach hung up the phone and turned to find Liz smiling at him. There was something in her eyes that made his chest feel tight.

"You're amazing, you know that? I bet you really are an incredible lawyer."

Zach smiled, too. "I'm good. No doubt about it."

"But we don't have time to do this by the book."

"Not if we're worried that something might happen to Miguel."

Liz shifted one of the pillows behind her back. "I'm worried about him, Zach. He's been acting strange for weeks, more so lately. I'm convinced that whatever's in that house has incredible power. And I sure as hell wouldn't want to be living there. When do we do this?"

"Wait a minute! You aren't going—you just had your head bashed in. You've got to take it easy."

She pinned him with a glare. "I'm going. You might as well accept it. There is no way in hell you're keeping me away."

Zach almost smiled. He looked at her and thought how beautiful she looked even with her bruised face and cut lip. If he closed his eyes, he could still see her lying there on that gurney, still recall the way he felt when he thought she might die. Now he knew the gut-wrenching pain he would feel if he lost her.

Better to leave now, before he fell for her any harder, before the pain of losing her became too much to bear.

Zach turned away from those beautiful blue eyes that seemed to look inside him. He felt like running, felt like getting in his car and driving away without looking back. He couldn't. Not yet.

"All right, fine, you can go."

"When?"

"The sooner the better."

* * *

Elizabeth passed the rest of the day sleeping lightly off and on. She was stiff and sore all over, her body battered and bruised. She was taking some sort of pain medication for the soreness but it made her drowsy. She wasn't taking it tomorrow. She had too much work to do.

She looked over at Zach, who got up to pace off and on, restless in a way she'd never seen him. Since he'd brought her home, he'd been even more distant than he had been before. She knew he was worried. She told herself it was nothing more, but deep down she was afraid it had something to do with her.

It was early that evening that Sam Marston phoned the apartment. Elizabeth answered and handed the phone to Zach.

"That's great," he said, nodding though Sam couldn't see. "So we'll talk to him tomorrow evening."

Sam said something else she couldn't hear.

"All right. Thanks, Sam." Zach hung up the phone and Elizabeth waited anxiously to find out what had been said.

"Donahue's agreed to hear us out. He and Sam are coming over at seven o'clock Monday evening. If we can convince him we're not just a couple of kooks, he'll go in with us Tuesday night."

Tuesday night? Elizabeth bit her lip, then winced at the soreness. "You don't think we could go in during the day?"

"If Carson sees us, he'll sic his two-legged rottweilers on us."

"Even with an ex-cop there?"

"I hate to chance it. I'm not sure how far he's willing to go."

Elizabeth sighed. "I don't get this. Why is your brother so dead-set on keeping us away from the house?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's just a power trip. I know he wants that lawsuit dropped. He's got a lot to lose if the surgery works and my father gets well. I knew running the farm was important to him. I never thought he'd put Dad's health second to his own greedy ambition."

"You always seem to give him the benefit of the doubt."

Zach glanced away. "Maybe I keep wishing he would turn out to be different than he is."

"Maybe you keep wishing he was the brother you never really had."

Zach turned toward her. "Whatever happens, we're going to dig Tuesday night."

"With or without Donahue?"

He nodded.

"We've got to talk to Miguel, convince him not to interfere."

"After what happened to his wife, convincing him shouldn't be a problem."

* * *

Elizabeth spent all day Monday at her office. Except for a persistent dull headache and a few aches and pains, she felt passably good. She told Michael and Terry she'd been mugged in the alley behind her house but left out her certainty that Carson Harcourt was responsible for the attack, since she didn't really have any proof.

Both of her friends urged her to go to the police and she told them that she had given a report to a pair of uniformed officers at the hospital. Thinking of the plans she and Zach had for tomorrow night, she figured they both might be speaking to the cops in the near future—whether they wanted to or not.

Refilling her coffee mug, she returned to her office and sat down at her desk. Carol Hickman, the twelve-year-old who thought every date should end in the backseat of some boy's car, showed up right on time. They spent the hour talking, making at least some progress with the young girl's self-esteem, Elizabeth thought, the real heart of the problem.

Next she was scheduled to meet with Emilio Mendoza, head of the Mendoza clan, as part of the family's counseling program.

Over the weekend, Richard Long, she discovered, had been tossed into jail for spousal abuse. He'd been released on bail, but didn't show up for his scheduled Monday morning counseling session. She shouldn't have felt any satisfaction in finding out his wife had finally had the courage to press charges, but she did.

While Elizabeth worked at the office, Zach worked long-distance out of her apartment. He represented a number of clients in the firm's Themoziamine class action suit and he liked to stay in touch with them. He had a list of calls to make, including a couple of conference calls with his partner, Jon Noble, and members of the opposing law firm.

"Plenty to do to keep me busy till ex-deputy Donahue arrives for our meeting tonight," he had told her as he walked her to her car. "Are you sure you're feeling well enough to work? Maybe you ought to stay home another day."

"I'm fine, Zach. Just a little headache. Other than that I'm okay."

He gently touched her cheek, his eyes on her face, then he turned away. "Call me if anything comes up," he said over his shoulder. "I'll see you when you get home."

She started the engine of her car, but didn't drive away until he'd walked back inside the apartment. Something was wrong.

Her stomach knotted at the thought of what it might be.

* * *

She was late getting home that night. The lunch hour had passed and she hadn't had time to eat. With Sam and Ben Donahue arriving at seven they wouldn't have time to cook dinner. Deciding to stop by the Chinese takeout, she pulled into her open parking garage at just before six that night.

Zach was waiting when she walked though the back door, pacing restlessly in front of the kitchen table, his face a mask of worry. His expression relaxed into one of relief, quickly followed by tight lines of anger.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Surprised at his tone, she held the paper bag she carried out to show him. "I stopped to get some Chinese food, something easy for supper since the men will be here at seven."

He took the bag out of her hand and set it down on the kitchen table. "Why the hell didn't you answer your cell phone? I thought…I was afraid…I was worried something had happened to you."

She would have been angry if she hadn't noticed the edge in his voice, the unmistakable trace of fear. He had been frightened, afraid she might have been hurt.

"I'm all right," she said. "I would have called if I'd known you would worry. I don't know how I missed your call. I didn't hear the phone ring."

She slid the strap of her white leather bag off her shoulder and set the purse down on the table. Digging out her cell phone, she flipped it open and checked the dial. "I guess the battery is low."

Zach's gaze found hers, locked and held. She recognized the concern, and something more, something much deeper that made her heart pound with hope. Zach caught her shoulders, drew her against his chest, and very thoroughly kissed her.

"Don't scare me that way again."

Elizabeth went up on her toes and kissed him back. "I won't. I promise."

Zach looked away. He paced over to the window and stared out toward the parking garage. "I don't know, Liz. I don't think I can do this."

"Do what?"

He slowly turned to face her. "Love someone this way. Care this much. It's just not the way I am."

She walked up in front of him, cupped his cheek with her hand. "I think it's exactly the way you are. I think that's what scares you so much."

When Zach made no reply, she kissed him again and he kissed her back. She could feel his hunger, his growing need, feel his heavy arousal pressing urgently against her.

Then the phone rang and the moment was lost.

Zach gave her a last long glance, then turned and walked over to pick up the phone. Apparently it was Sam, calling to confirm their meeting. Elizabeth busied herself setting out the Chinese food she had bought for the two of them, though she was no longer hungry.

Instead, she thought of Zach and the uncertainty in his voice, and fear of losing him made her stomach churn.

She was in love with him. She believed that he loved her. The question remained, did it matter? And how bad would it hurt if he chose to return to his solitary existence instead of choosing a life with her?

* * *

True to his word, Sam Marston arrived with Ben Donahue at seven o'clock. Zach shook hands with both men and Sam introduced Elizabeth to Ben.

"Why don't we go into the kitchen?" Elizabeth suggested. "There's a table we can use, and we can all have something cold to drink."

"Sam's told me a little about your situation," Donahue said as they made their way into the kitchen and Elizabeth poured frosty glasses of iced tea and set them down on the table in front of the men.

Ben opted for a beer, twisting the top off a Bud Lite Elizabeth gave him, then taking a long, refreshing swallow.

"I gotta say this all sounds completely insane," he said, "but I have to admit, I'm intrigued." He was tall, lean, blond and fair, a good-looking guy in his mid-thirties, single, according to Sam.

Ben had only been in San Pico for about three years, two before he'd been injured on the job and forced to retire, which, Zach had earlier proclaimed, was probably the reason he'd agreed to talk to them.

"He doesn't know much about me or my brother. So far, he's still got an open mind."

Which Donahue proved by listening to the wildest tale any two people ever told. Together Elizabeth and Zach explained, step by step, how they had come to the conclusion that nine-year-old Carrie Ann Whitt might be buried under the little yellow house at Harcourt Farms.

"We worked backward," Zach told him. "We figured, if there really was a ghost like Maria Santiago claimed—which, of course, neither of us actually believed—it must be someone who had died in the house. In this case a little girl, since that was the vision Maria described."

"We didn't find any children who had died," Elizabeth put in, "but we found out that thirty-some years ago, a married couple who had lived in the old house that existed on the very same spot had murdered a little girl up in Fresno a couple of years after they moved away."

"It was a really brutal murder," Zach added, "and both the husband and wife were convicted. In fact, the guy was executed for the crime."

"Wow…"

Elizabeth took a drink of her iced tea. "Unfortunately, the little girl in Fresno—Holly Ives—didn't match the description of the ghost in the house on the farm and of course Holly was killed a hundred miles away."

"But you still thought you were onto something," Ben said.

"Exactly." Zach took a drink from his tall, frosty glass. "After reading about the pair and talking to some of the people involved in the case, we got to thinking that maybe someone as evil as these two—maybe they had killed before. Maybe they killed another little girl while they were here in San Pico."

Donahue leaned forward in his chair. "A serial couple?"

"The cops we talked to all agreed they were likely candidates, but they were never able to link them to any other murders in the valley."

"Still, you figured it was worth checking out."

Zach nodded. "I hired a private detective named Ian Murphy to canvas the L.A. basin. We figured if they kidnapped another child and she wasn't from the valley, the next closest place was L.A."

Ben set his beer bottle down on the table. "Don't tell me Murphy actually found a victim who matched the description of the ghost?"

"Incredible, isn't it? And the girl disappeared during the years the Martinez couple lived in the house."

"I can't believe this."

Zach leaned back in his chair. "Who the hell in his right mind would?"

Elizabeth stared into Ben's face. "I saw her, too, Ben—just like Maria Santiago. The ghost of a little girl."

Ben held up a hand. "Okay, okay. At this point you assume your ghost really was this little girl who went missing in L.A. What'd you do next?"

"We talked to the detective who worked on the abduction," Zach told him. "He's retired now, a guy named Danny McKay. McKay remembered Carrie Ann Whitt. He even recalled what she was wearing the day she disappeared."

"Good memory. So what did she have on?"

"A party dress," Elizabeth answered. "A pink pinafore, just like the one the little girl who appeared in the house was wearing. You see, the day she disappeared was Carrie Ann's birthday. That's why he remembered."

Donahue pushed up from his chair, beer bottle in hand. "This is nuts."

"You're telling us?" Elizabeth said.

"There are things going on in that house," Zach continued. "Dangerous things. We need to find out if she's there, if that's what all this is about."

"Why are you so convinced you'll find her there? Even if these people actually murdered the girl, they could have buried her anywhere around here."

"True enough." Zach finished his iced tea and set the glass back down on the table. "But the Martinezes buried Holly Ives in the basement of their house in Fresno. So…"

"Jesus!"

"Exactly," Zach said. "Holly was tortured, raped and strangled. It was a terrible, brutal murder, the kind of violent death that, according to what we've been reading, might result in the spirit remaining in the house."

"But you said yourself Holly wasn't killed in San Pico."

"No, but we think Carrie Ann Whitt might have been," Elizabeth said. "That's why we need your help."

Ben sank back down in his chair. The knuckles wrapped around his beer bottle looked pale. "Who the hell would believe a wild-ass story like this?"

"I don't even believe it," Zach grumbled.

Elizabeth reached over and touched Ben's hand. "We have to find out if it's true, Ben."

He looked at her and then at Zach. "Crazy as it sounds, I'm beginning to see why you think it might be."

"So you'll help us?"

"Like Sam said, you sure can't go to the police. Which means you got no choice but to look for her yourself."

"No choice at all," Zach said.

Ben began a slow grin. "In that case, I guess we're going to have to dig."

Sam grinned, too.

The corner of Zach's lips barely lifted.

Elizabeth thought of the little blond girl who looked like an angel and what might have happened to her and didn't smile at all.