lizabeth went into the office early Tuesday morning while Zach stayed home and made calls from her apartment. He was growing more and more distant, as though he had never been frightened for her, as though they had never talked about love, as though they were friends and nothing more.

They hadn't made love last night, though she had hoped they would. Zach had hardly touched her since the attack. She told herself he was waiting for her to heal, but she knew it wasn't the truth. He was afraid of his feelings for her.

Afraid of what might happen if he gave in to them.

She was determined to talk to him, to get things out in the open, but couldn't seem to find the right time. When the phone on her desk rang just before noon, she was surprised to hear Zach's deep voice on the line. It rolled over her like a caress, sent her nerve endings into high gear, and she thought again how much she had come to love him.

Lately, she'd had plenty of time to think and whenever she did, she remembered the look on Zach's face when she had opened her eyes in the emergency room and seen him standing there in the room.

He had told her that he loved her. When she thought of that moment, she believed him. She had seen it, written so clearly on his face. He loved her and she loved him.

And in these past few days, she had come to a decision. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself it couldn't work, she wasn't giving up on them.

Not without a fight.

"I just got a call from my office," he said into the phone. "Apparently Dr. Marvin went to see the judge assigned to my father's case. He told the judge it was urgent that Dad's operation take place as soon as possible, that the chances for success went down with every day they waited. The judge has agreed to a hearing Thursday morning."

There was something in his voice, a note of optimism that hadn't been there in days.

"You're smiling, I can tell. What is it?"

"The judge…his name is Hank Alexander. He was my father's best friend."

"Oh, my God." She shifted the phone against her ear. "Isn't he supposed to recuse himself or something, since he knows one of the parties so well?"

"I don't think he will. If he knows my father as well as I think he does, he knows Fletcher Harcourt would want this surgery as much as I want it for him. I think he'll hear the case himself."

"Oh, Zach, I hope so. I really do."

He cleared his throat. "Listen, I've got to go. I'm working on a brief I need to finish. And I've got a couple of things to do before Donahue and Sam show up."

"All right, I'll see you at the apartment."

"Yeah…" he said softly. "I'll see you tonight."

Elizabeth hung up, wondering what she had heard in his voice. Yearning, she thought. Maybe he heard it, too. Maybe he would realize how much he cared and decide their relationship could work. Maybe he would decide he loved her enough to stay.

If he did—if he ever really made that kind of commitment—Elizabeth had come to believe he would keep it. She was convinced he was that kind of man.

Zach wasn't at the apartment when she got home. Elizabeth changed into jeans and a sleeveless white blouse meant for the Salvation Army bag, tied the tails up around her waist, and went into fix herself a glass of iced tea.

Zach arrived a few minutes later, carrying a small paper sack, which he set down of the table beside her glass. "I brought you a sandwich. I didn't think you'd want to cook."

She opened the bag and peered down at the crusty slices of bread.

"Turkey and cheese. I hope that's okay."

She nodded, but she wasn't hungry. Just thinking of the night ahead made her stomach roll. She looked down at the bag. "Where's yours?"

"Not hungry. Maybe I'll catch something later."

She rolled the sack closed and set the sandwich aside. "I think I will, too."

At ten after seven, Ben Donahue arrived. Sam walked in behind him.

"Thanks for coming," Zach said, shaking both men's hands. He led them into the kitchen and Elizabeth poured them a glass of iced tea. She offered Ben a beer but he declined with a grin.

"Tonight I think I'd better have my wits about me."

Sitting around the kitchen table, they talked about the house and the best way to approach the search. Zach showed them a grid he had made on the computer to use as a way of keeping track of their progress and mentioned the access hole on the side where they could go in.

"I bought some lights at Wal-Mart I think will work pretty well. It's going to be dark down there. We'll need as much light as we can get to see what we're doing."

"I've got a couple of short-handled shovels in my car," Ben said.

"We'll have plenty then. I bought some when I got the lights." Zach drained the last of his tea. "Along with a couple of buckets if we need to move the dirt around."

"I brought something I thought might help," Sam said. "A metal detector. I borrowed it from a friend."

"Great," Zach said. "Maybe it'll pick up something useful."

They went over a few last details and by the time they finished, it was getting dark.

"Time to go," Zach said, rolling up the grid he had printed out, wrapping a rubber band around it. "We've got to talk to Miguel before we start digging. I thought about going over there last night, but I didn't want him to have time to change his mind or maybe say something to Carson."

"What if he won't agree?" Ben asked.

Zach's jaw hardened. "He'll agree. I'm not giving him a choice."

* * *

The night was dark, only a fingernail moon, the little house rising up out of an inky blackness. Though it looked no different than a thousand other houses, Elizabeth shivered.

"Maybe he's not home," she said, looking toward the windows of a darkened living room.

"He damned well better be. I called him. I told him we'd be coming over. I told him we needed to talk him."

"He goes to work early. Maybe he's already in bed."

Sam and Ben stood next to them in the driveway. "You think he's in there?" Ben asked. They had all come in Zach's Jeep, which he'd parked next to the garage until they could unload their gear.

"You guys stay here and I'll go see."

"I'll go with you." Heading for the front porch, Elizabeth walked next to Zach up the porch stairs. Zach cast a glance her way, then knocked on the door. Inside the house, Elizabeth heard muttered curses, someone stumbling around inside, moving toward them across the living room, then the porch light went on and the door swung open.

Miguel Santiago stood in the threshold, though for a moment, she didn't recognize him. His clothes were wrinkled and dirty, his black hair a long, tangled nest around his head, and his eyes were hollow and sunken in. In the faint light inside the house, she could see the odd, waxiness of his skin, the way his nostrils flared when he realized who stood on his doorstep.

"Sorry if I woke you," Zach said, stepping protectively in front of her. Seeing the wild look in Miguel's eyes, she was grateful. She backed a little farther away.

"I was not asleep." No, he just looked like he'd been sleeping in his clothes for a couple of days.

"We need to talk to you, Miguel."

"Why?"

Zach moved forward, forcing Miguel back inside the house, flicking on the lamp near the sofa. Elizabeth followed them in, turning off the porch light and closing the door behind them.

"We need to search for something," Zach said. "We've come to do that tonight."

Miguel frowned and shook his head as if he tried to clear his thoughts. "I do not understand."

For the next few minutes, Zach patiently explained about the murder they believed might have taken place in the old house that used to sit on the spot where Miguel's newer house now sat. Zach told them how they had searched and found a child who had disappeared, a little girl who looked like the ghost Maria had seen in the house, and that a couple who lived in the old house might have killed her. He explained that they believed they might find her body buried in the ground underneath.

"Things are happening here, Miguel," Elizabeth said gently. "Things that can't be explained. Surely you have felt these things. Surely you have noticed there is something wrong in here."

Miguel glanced away. "I have never seen a ghost."

"We think she comes to Maria because of the baby," Zach said.

"The ghost is trying to warn her that your baby is in danger," Elizabeth added.

Miguel seemed to be having trouble sorting all of this out.

Elizabeth reached over and caught his hand. "Look at you, Miguel. You aren't yourself lately. You haven't been for some time. You're angry. You've been drinking way too much. It's the house, Miguel. Whatever is here is making you act this way. We have to find a way to stop it. We have to look for the little girl. If we find her, maybe all of this will end."

For the first time, Miguel seemed to understand. "My wife believes there is a ghost. And I am not myself at all." He looked down at his wrinkled, dirty clothes as if seeing them for the first time. "Do what you must."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said.

While Zach went to the door and motioned for the men to unload their gear and move the car out of sight down the road, Elizabeth said a few more quiet words to Miguel.

"Everything is going to be all right, Miguel. We just need to find out the truth."

He nodded, seemed resigned, perhaps even relieved. "How will you do it?"

Zach walked up just then. "We'll go under the house through the access in the side. We've got lights so we can see and shovels to dig. We'll follow a pattern. That way we'll be sure to cover all of the ground. It may take more than one night."

"There is a way in through a hole in the floor of the bedroom closet," he said. "I will show you."

"Great."

They used both entrances, bringing in the lighting gear and a number of long, heavy-duty extension cords. A big piece of cardboard was used to cover the access hole at the side of the house so the lights couldn't be seen. Then they lowered the shovels and buckets and Sam's metal detector through the hole in the floor.

Zach took the grid sheet and dropped down through the access hole beneath the closet floor, followed by Sam and Ben.

"I'm coming with you," Elizabeth said. "I know you have plenty of shovels." Dropping down behind the men, bending over to fit beneath the floor, she picked up one of the shovels. The shorter handle made it lighter, she was happy to see, easier to use.

"You don't have to do this," Zach said. "I kind of figured you could just keep tabs on Miguel."

"I'm fine. I want to help."

He started to argue, but her warning look told him not to.

"Not much headroom under here," Ben grumbled. "Good thing the house isn't very big."

Using his flashlight, Zach panned the area under the house. Being just four years old, its condition wasn't too bad—only a few spiderwebs clinging to the floor joists and a cluster of bugs here and there, scurrying off into the shadows.

Elizabeth pulled up the collar of her blouse and refused to think what else might be lurking in the darkness. "It's damp down here," she said, noticing the moist earth beneath them for the first time. "How can that be?"

Zach shined the flashlight on the garden hose stuck in through the side access. He grinned. In the harsh light and dark shadows, his features were distorted, making him look like a demon.

"I came by early yesterday and started the water while Miguel was at work. Earlier today I moved the hose around so it covered a different area. I just turned it off. I figured the ground would be a whole lot easier to dig."

Ben smiled. "Good thinking."

Sam turned on his metal detector, whose handle barely cleared the floor joists. Bent over, moving crablike, he began to make a sweep of the area under the house.

They had decided to dig down a couple of feet in each grid square, then run the metal detector again in that particular location. If they didn't find anything, and since there wasn't much room to stack the dirt, they would refill the square and dig the next. Sam finished his cursory sweep with the metal detector, turning up a few rusty nails and a quarter that read 1947 in the bank of lights that blazed under the house, then they started to dig.

Trying to decipher the placement of a possible grave, Ben and Sam worked the grid starting in the middle of the southwest quarter of the house, working outward, while Zach and Elizabeth started in the middle on the southeast quarter and did the same.

They'd only been digging for a very few minutes when Miguel jumped down through the opening. "I have decided to help. If there is a body, I will help you find it."

He seemed a little more himself, a little less distracted. He had even combed his wild mane of hair.

"Great." Zach handed him a shovel. "We can use all the help we can get."

And it didn't take long to discover how true those words were. Elizabeth's back ached from working in the awkward bent position and her hands were already getting sore. Zach laid out the grid pattern with string, covering the ground inside the square concrete foundation of the house.

He fanned one of the lights around the perimeter of cement, lighting the area.

"Looks like they actually used the old foundation instead of pouring a new one—at least wherever they could. The old house was a little bigger, though, which means there's a chance the gravesite might actually be outside the existing house. But this would have been the main section for both. For now, let's hope we're in the right place."

Though it was cooler under the house than it was outside, it didn't take long for all of them to break out in a sweat. Moving the damp soil around was extremely hard work, but everyone was determined.

They took a break after an hour, climbing out through the hole in the closet floor, making their way straight to the ice chest filled with soft drinks Elizabeth had fortunately thought to bring.

Gatorade and Diet Cokes, all she'd had in the fridge.

"Man, I'm glad you thought of this," Sam said, guzzling half a bottle of Gatorade, wiping his shaved head with the cold moisture off the bottle. Zach popped the top on a Diet Coke and held the can out to Elizabeth, who took a good long drink and passed it back.

Zach finished the can. "How are your hands holding up?"

She looked down at them and winced, noticing the first sign of blisters. "Not as good as I'd hoped."

"The rest of us all brought gloves. Maybe Miguel has an extra pair around somewhere."

"Sí, I have some gardening gloves that Maria likes to wear. She loves to garden. I will get them for you." There was such a wistful note in the younger man's voice, a lump rose in Elizabeth's throat. This entire family needed help. She prayed that tonight they would get it.

Miguel returned with the gloves and they all went back to work. She and Zach had just cleared another square in the grid—without any luck—when a deep voice reached them from above.

Raul Santiago dropped down through the access hole. "Do not be angry. Pete and I came to help…if Sam says it's okay."

Hunched over, Sam duck-walked forward to where the two boys crouched. "Dammit, how did you know about this?"

"I heard you talking to Zach on the phone. We will go back if that is what you want, but this is my sister's house. We both have strong backs and we would like to help."

Sam sighed, but without any real rancor, and perhaps a hint of relief. It was really hard work. The more help the better.

"I'll call the farm," he said, "tell them you're with me and Zach." Sam passed over his shovel. "Here. You want to work. Get to it."

Raul grinned, making another ugly face in the eerie lights. "Thanks, Sam."

"I'd save my thanks until later," Sam warned as he hoisted himself up through the floor.

Zach took Elizabeth's shovel out of her hand. "Take a break. Let Pete dig for a while."

Pete smiled as he gripped the shovel. He was Raul's best friend, shorter than the beefy young Hispanic, thinner, a wiry youth with dark eyes and friendly smile. His black hair was short, flat on the top and combed upward, not radically, which wasn't allowed at Teen Vision, but neat and stylish.

As the shovel left her fingers, Elizabeth couldn't help an inward sigh of relief. Her hands were hurting and sweat trickled between her breasts. She wasn't used to manual labor. And she could start digging again a little later.

They traded off after that, four men on, working two grid squares, the others resting or getting something cold to drink. When the cold drinks ran out, they switched to water, which tasted delicious after the dirty, backbreaking labor.

By midnight they were all getting discouraged.

They had covered nearly the entire top half of the grid, but found nothing of interest. Each time a grid square was exposed, Sam ran the detector over it, hoping to pick up a clue of some kind. So far, there hadn't been any new sounds, nothing but a few more nails that had worked their way deeper into the soil.

Of all the men, Miguel seemed to be working the hardest. He refused to trade off with anyone and simply continued to dig, working like a madman.

The thought made Elizabeth uneasy. She kept seeing an image of Jack Nicholson in The Shining. Any minute she expected Miguel to grin and leer, "Heeere's Johnnie."

Instead he just kept digging.

"You need to take a break," Zach said to him, having a similar thought.

"Not yet." Miguel tossed out another shovelful of dirt, then plunged his shovel into the ground for another. When the square was complete, Sam ran the metal detector over the dirt and this time picked up a pinging sound from the machine. It came from the far left corner of the square and everyone's attention focused there.

"I'll get the hand rake and trowel." Zach went for the tool, then returned and jumped into the hole. Bending down, he carefully raked the dirt away from whatever it was they had found. It was buried deep. He used the trowel to dig down, then used the rake again. Something clinked. He pulled up a piece of metal, but couldn't make out what it was.

Moving over to the bank of lights, he held it out in his palm. "It looks like some kind of medallion, maybe a military medal of some kind."

"Can you make out the writing?" Sam asked.

"Looks like some other language."

Ben came over to look. "I think it's military, all right. You said the old house was built here during the war."

"That's right."

Whatever it was, it didn't look like a clue to finding the body they were searching for. Setting the rusty old medal aside, tired and discouraged, everyone went back to work.