lizabeth left the hospital sometime after two in the morning. Zach followed her back to her apartment to be sure she got home safely, but didn't come in. She had asked him if he needed a place to sleep, but he said he had called ahead and reserved a room at the Holiday Inn.

She wished she weren't so disappointed. More than anything, after the terrifying events of the night, she wanted to fall asleep in Zach's arms, to feel safe and secure, at least for a while. Perhaps he would have liked that, too.

But until they both knew what they wanted, until they could deal with their feelings, whatever they were, staying apart seemed the wisest course.

The clock in the kitchen read ten o'clock when the doorbell rang and Zach arrived at her apartment the following morning.

"Murphy called," he said as he walked into the living room. "I figured you'd want to know what he had to say and there are some things we need to discuss."

"I'm glad you came." She just wished she weren't quite as glad as she was. "The coffee's on. You want a cup?"

"Sounds great." Following her into the kitchen, he sat down at the table while she poured him a mug of rich dark coffee. She placed the mug in front of him on the table, then sat down in a chair across from him.

"So what did Murphy have to say?"

"I told him we'd spoken to the police in Fresno and also the cops here in San Pico. Since the authorities don't believe the victim came from anywhere in the valley, he's been working his way south. He talked to the police in Santa Clarita then the authorities in the San Fernando Valley. He's using the description of the little girl Maria says she saw, the same one you gave me last night."

"Does he know we're looking for a ghost?"

Zach shook his head. "I saved that little surprise for later. I figured he might not turn up anything and if he didn't, it would probably be better if he never knew."

"But you said he called this morning."

Zach nodded. "About an hour ago." He took a sip of his coffee and gave up a sigh. "Yesterday, Ian spoke to a friend of his in the FBI. Over the years, he's been involved in a number of missing person cases. I guess he's made some useful contacts. His friend spent the afternoon searching FBI cold case files, looking for children reported kidnapped in the years between 1967 and 1971."

"When the Martinezes lived in the old gray house."

"Exactly. It took a while, but believe it or not, the guy came up with the name of a missing child who fits the description. Murphy took the information and cross-checked it with a disappearance that was reported in the L.A. Times, the story of a little girl who went missing in September of 1969, blond, blue-eyed, nine years old. He hasn't got much of anything else—except that she was abducted right out of her own front yard."

"Oh, God."

"Yeah. Sounds a little like what happened to Holly Ives, doesn't it? Young girl taken brazenly in the middle of the day? Murphy doesn't know if this is the girl we're looking for, but he wants us to talk to one of the LAPD detectives who worked the case back then. He's retired now, living in the San Fernando Valley. I thought we'd drive by the hospital and check on Maria, then head down to L.A."

Her pulse was racing. This was the first real break they'd had, the chance, at last, to find some answers. After last night, she was desperate for an explanation—any explanation—no matter how far-fetched it might seem.

"What about Miguel?"

"If he's back in town, we'll talk to him before we leave. Oh, and pack an overnight bag. Ian says we may be able to speak to the girl's parents, the mother, at any rate. She's working today, but she's usually home on Sundays."

Elizabeth nodded and headed for the bedroom. She packed a toothbrush and her cosmetics bag, a comb, hairbrush and a change of clothes. She didn't let her thoughts dwell on the notion that the trip might require an overnight stay. Zach had spent last night in a motel room; she could certainly do the same. And she knew he wouldn't press her to do something she didn't want to do.

They left the apartment half an hour later in Zach's black convertible.

"I wanted to get here in a hurry" was his explanation for driving the car instead of his Jeep. "The BMW's faster."

Which seemed to be true as he sped through town on the way to the hospital. As the car leaped away from a stoplight, Elizabeth happened to notice the dark green pickup behind them that she had seen before.

"I know that car." Glancing behind them only once, she fixed her eyes on the road ahead. "I think it's following us."

"The pickup?"

"Yes. I've seen it twice before."

Zach frowned as he looked in the mirror. "When?"

"He was back there the day I went to the newspaper office, so I drove on past the building. I went back to my office and walked over a little while later."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just figured it was one of Carson's people trying to figure out what we were up to. I didn't really think it was important."

"Maybe it isn't, but I don't like it." They pulled into the hospital parking lot and the pickup drove past. Zach watched until the truck disappeared out of sight. "Big guy in a cowboy hat. Might be Les Stiles, my brother's number one flunkie. We'll keep an eye out for him from now on."

They went into the hospital and spent a few minutes with Maria, who looked a little better than she had last night. But the doctor wanted her to rest so the nurse urged them to leave. Miguel was standing outside the door when they left the room.

Zach saw him and his jaw went hard. "We need to talk," he said darkly.

Miguel just nodded. He looked haggard, older than his twenty-nine years. His eyes were bloodshot, his face a little puffy, and Elizabeth wondered if might be suffering from a hangover.

Since the waiting room down the hall was full, Zach led the three of them out of the building. It was already heating up outside, which seemed to match Zach's mood. He didn't mince words with the handsome Hispanic.

"Your wife nearly died last night."

Miguel swallowed. "I know. I came home as soon as I got word."

"You mean as soon as you got home from the bar," Zach said.

Miguel glanced away.

"What's going on, Miguel?" Elizabeth asked. "You've never been much of a drinker. Lately it seems you're getting drunk all the time. If something's wrong, maybe we can help."

He shoved back his straight black hair. It was unwashed and overly long, as if it hadn't been cut for some time. "I do not know what is wrong. Lately I just feel restless, you know? Maybe because of the baby. I get angry. I don't know why. Sometimes I just have to get away."

"Are you and Maria having problems?"

He shook his head. "I love my wife. I have loved her from the first time I saw her."

"What about the baby? How do you feel about having a child?"

"I want this baby. Already I love it. Maria lost a baby last year. Both of us want this one. I cannot wait to be a father."

"If that's the case," Zach put in, "then you won't try to stop Maria from moving out of the house."

Miguel stiffened. "What are you talking about?"

"She's frightened, Miguel," Elizabeth said. "I know you don't believe in ghosts, but I was there in the house last night. I saw the little girl—I saw the terrifying things that happened in that room. Maria can't stay there. She almost died. She will if she doesn't leave."

Miguel said nothing for the longest time. When he looked up there were tears in his eyes. "I am sorry. I will find her a place to stay."

"She can stay with me."

He shook his head. "She needs to be with her own kind. She can stay with Señora Lopez. She and her husband live in one of the other houses. They have an extra room and no kids. That way I will be close by if Maria needs me."

Elizabeth mulled that over, thinking it was a compromise Maria could probably live with. She cast a glance at Zach, whose jaw looked iron hard. He made a slight nod of his head.

"All right," Elizabeth said. "Once she's released from the hospital and out of danger, she can stay with Señora Lopez. But I want your word, Miguel. You won't do anything to upset her. And you'll stop drinking the way you have been."

He swallowed again, glanced away. "I give you my word."

"Thank you."

With Maria's immediate problems resolved and their bags in the trunk, they left the hospital and set off down the highway. Driving through Santa Clarita, they stopped at Red Lobster for lunch, then drove on down to Van Nuys, where the detective lived who had worked on the case of the missing child.

Ian Murphy had made the appointment for three o'clock and they drove up in front of the small tract house in a subdivision just off the freeway with a few minutes to spare.

"You ready?" Zach asked as he unsnapped his seat belt. He was casually dressed in slacks, a short-sleeved shirt and loafers, and wearing his guarded expression. He had been all morning, and yet, again and again she could feel his eyes on her, the gold in them glittering like sparks that could blaze out of control any minute.

Elizabeth felt the same banked heat whenever she looked at him. She'd been attracted to Zach from the start. Knowing their relationship couldn't possibly work didn't change that. She wanted him, and it was obvious he wanted her.

Still, their first priority was Maria. Zach opened her car door onto an L.A. day far more pleasant than the one in San Pico. He helped her out on the sidewalk and they started toward the front door. A tall man in loose-fitting jeans and a faded old L.A. Rams T-shirt stepped out on the porch before they reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Zachary Harcourt?"

"That's right." Zach guided her up the steps. "And this is Elizabeth Conners."

"Liz," she corrected though she didn't know why, and extended a hand.

"I'm Danny McKay." McKay shook her hand and then Zach's. "I used to be a detective with the LAPD. I've been retired for almost eight years. Come on in." McKay looked to be pushing seventy, almost completely bald, with sparse gray hair around the shiny dome of his head. He held the screen door open and they walked past him into a living room with a white brick fireplace at one end.

"My wife passed away four years ago," McKay explained. "Place always looked real good when she was alive. I try, but I just can't seem to keep it the way she did." The house was built in the sixties, redone maybe late eighties. The light green carpet had begun to fade and the matching sofa and chair looked worn.

"We're just happy you took the time to see us," Zach said, all of them sitting down across from each other, Elizabeth next to Zach on the sofa.

"No problem. I don't get that many visitors these days. You want some coffee or something? I think there's some iced tea in the refrigerator."

Elizabeth glanced at Zach. "We're fine, thanks." She eased forward on the sofa. "What can you tell us about the missing girl, Mr. McKay?"

"It's just Danny. And I remember that case very well. I guess 'cause she was such a pretty little thing. Can't tell you much about it, though. That child just seemed to disappear."

Zach leaned forward. "According to what Ian said, she was taken right out of her own front yard."

McKay nodded, sunlight gleaming on his bald head. "Broke her parents' heart. 'Specially the mother. Only child, you know. Mother really loved that little girl."

Elizabeth felt a chill. According to Maria, the little girl had cried for her mother. I want my mama, she had pleaded.

"The papers said she was nine years old," Zach said, "with blond hair and blue eyes. From what Murphy told me, there wasn't much beyond that in the case reports. The files were thirty-six years old. Pages were missing. They didn't have everything on computer the way they do now."

"Unfortunately, that's true. It's a lot easier to track that kind of thing these days. And with the Amber Alerts and all the news on TV, we've got a better chance of stopping the abductor before it's too late."

"Any chance you remember what she was wearing the day she disappeared?" Zach asked.

"Crazy as it seems, I do. That day was her birthday, you see. She turned nine years old that day. The party was in full swing, the kids all out in the backyard. But according to her mother, her dog started barking—a little Pekingese—and Carrie ran after him, out to the front yard."

"Carrie?" Elizabeth asked.

"That was her name. Carrie Ann Whitt."

Elizabeth swallowed.

"Go on," Zach urged.

"At any rate, Carrie ran after the dog and I guess so much was going in the backyard with the party and all, no one missed her for a while. By the time, they did, Carrie Ann was gone."

Elizabeth didn't say anything more. Her throat was hurting. In the eye of her mind, she could see the little girl playing with her friends, all dressed up for her birthday party. The vision changed to the child at the foot of the bed dressed in her pretty pink pinafore, her blond hair freshly washed and gleaming. The ache in her throat grew more painful.

"Nobody saw anything?" Zach asked. "There weren't any witnesses?"

"When we were canvassing the area later that day, someone said they saw an old beat-up blue car in the neighborhood around the time Carrie Ann disappeared. But they couldn't give us the license plate number or anything more than a vague description of the vehicle."

"How many people were in it?" Zach asked.

"Two."

A muscle clenched in Zach's jaw.

"You don't seem surprised," the detective said, his eyes on Zach's face. "You see it in the files?"

He shook his head. "I haven't seen the files." Zach shot a glance at Elizabeth. "It's a long story."

"Yeah, well, I'd like to hear it."

Zach sighed. "All right. But before we start, maybe we'd better have that glass of iced tea."