Scent of Roses (26 page)

As the hours slipped past, even curled up beside him, Elizabeth couldn't fall asleep. Her thoughts kept shifting from Zach and her love for him to Maria and the fear she felt for her friends.

Miguel still lived in the house. What unseen danger did he face?

She wondered what they might discover tomorrow during the meeting Ian Murphy had arranged with Carrie Whitt's mother. And if they learned something important, what should they do with the information? Lying there in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling, Elizabeth thought of the little girl who had appeared at the foot of Maria's bed, warning her of the danger in the house.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and prayed nothing terrible would happen before they got back.

 

The home Paula Whitt Simmons lived in with her second husband was much like the one owned by Detective McKay, a San Fernando Valley tract house, this one in a subdivision of small, boxy stucco houses in Sherman Oaks. Paula, now sixty-five years old, had been twenty-nine when her nine-year-old daughter, Carrie Ann, disappeared.

“It was a terrible time,” she said as they sat at the kitchen table drinking lukewarm cups of coffee. “It seemed like it would never end, and instead of getting better it got worse.” Paula Simmons had short gray hair and the wrinkled face of a much older woman. As she lit up her third cigarette in the short time since their arrival, Elizabeth understood why.

“How did it get worse?” Zach asked.

“My first husband left me eighteen months after Carrie Ann disappeared.”

“I'm sorry.” Elizabeth thought how hard it must have been to lose both a daughter and a husband.

“The divorce wasn't his fault. I couldn't seem to pull myself together. George wanted a wife and all I could be was a grieving mother.”

“Divorce is fairly common when the loss of a child occurs in a family,” Elizabeth told her.

“I read that later, in one of those self-help books. Didn't do much good by then. Lucky for me, eight years after Carrie Ann disappeared, I met Marty. He helped me get on with my life.”

“Some people aren't that lucky,” Elizabeth said.

Paula nodded and took a long draw on her half-smoked cigarette. Some of the ashes fell onto the table and Elizabeth realized the woman's hand was shaking.

“If this is too hard—”

“It's all right. It happened a long time ago. I've had two girls with Marty. Raising them helped me come to terms with what happened to Carrie Ann.”

“And what do you think that was?” Zach asked gently.

“I think my little girl is dead. I think some monster took her away from me and killed her.”

Elizabeth ignored the tightening in her chest and the shiver that slipped down her spine. “Can you tell us a little about her?”

For the next half hour, Paula Simmons talked about the child she had lost. She told them how pretty she was, how people said she looked just like an angel. How smart she was, that she was in the gifted children's program at school.

“She loved children,” Paula said. “Especially babies. She wanted a little sister or brother so badly.”

Elizabeth looked at Zach, whose jaw tightened though his gaze remained fixed on the woman's face.

“What did she call you?” Zach asked. “Did she say Mother or Mommy?”

“She called me ‘Mama.' I guess because I always called my own mother that.” Paula's eyes filled with tears. “I'm sorry. This just brings all of it back.”

Elizabeth had heard enough. She had begun to feel as if she knew the little blue-eyed girl who had been so beloved by her mother, and it made her ache inside to think what might have happened to her.

With a glance at Zach, she shoved back her chair and rose to her feet, and Zach did the same. “We're sorry to have bothered you, Mrs. Simmons. But we really appreciate your help in this.”

Paula made a jerky nod of her head. “On the phone, Mr. Murphy said that you wanted to talk to me about Carrie Ann. I figure you were with the police or something. But you aren't, are you?”

“No, we aren't,” Zach said. “We're just trying to solve a mystery. It may have nothing to do with your daughter. But I promise you, if it does, we'll be sure to let you know.”

“You don't think she might still be alive, do you?”

Elizabeth's chest squeezed hard. “We have no way of knowing for sure, but we don't think so.”

“I don't think so, either,” Paula said. “If she was, I think I'd feel it right here.” She pressed a fist over her heart.

Elizabeth could feel the woman's pain, even after all these years. “I think maybe you would, too,” she said softly, a thick ache swelling in her throat. She and Zach said goodbye, thanking the woman again for taking the time to talk to them.

They left the house and Zach aimed the car toward San Pico. He had decided to drive his Jeep today and as the vehicle rolled along the freeway, Elizabeth thought of Paula Whitt and turned her face to the window, unable to hold back tears, hoping Zach wouldn't see that she was crying. She didn't realize he had pulled off the freeway into the parking lot of a supermarket until her car door opened and Zach hauled her out of the car and straight into his arms.

“It's all right,” he said. “Just let it go.”

Locking her arms around his neck, she started crying in earnest, great heaving sobs that shook her whole body. Zach just held on to her. He didn't speak, didn't try to make her stop, just held her and let her cry. She wished she could stay in his arms forever.

“Better?” he asked as her tears began to ease.

Elizabeth nodded but didn't let him go.

“In time this will all be over and your life can return to normal.”

She dragged in a shaky breath, eased a little away but remained in the circle of his arms. “I'm not sure that's possible anymore. Everything I thought was real has changed.”

He held her a moment more, then let her go. Elizabeth climbed back inside the car and they rode in silence for a while, Zach's gaze focused on the road. They were driving through the mountains, the hills dry and brown, the valley still some distance away.

“That little girl I saw in the house…” Elizabeth said, “it's Carrie Ann, Zach. I know it. Those monsters murdered her and now her spirit is trapped in the house. She's been trying to protect Maria, trying to save the baby. We have to find out where she is, Zach. We have to set her free.” Her eyes welled again and she glanced away.

“We'll find her,” Zach said gruffly.

“We need to dig…” She swallowed. “We need to dig under the house. The Martinezes buried Holly Ives in the basement. If they murdered Carrie Ann, there's a chance they disposed of her body the same way. Since the new house is built where the old one stood before…”

“I know. It's the logical assumption.” He released a tired breath. “If Carrie Ann
was
murdered, that might explain why her spirit's still there, even if her body isn't. There are acres of open fields around the house. They could have buried her anywhere.”

She swallowed. “I suppose that's true, but I still think we should look under the house.”

“So do I.”

She turned in her seat. “Maybe after Carson hears what we've found out, he'll let us search.”

“I doubt it. Not without a warrant.”

“Can we get one?”

“I'm not real popular in San Pico, and even if I were, I doubt any judge is going to sign a warrant based on the appearance of a ghost.”

“Then we're stuck with having to go to Carson.”

“I guess.”

“But you don't think it will do any good.”

“My brother can be a real bastard at times. He's determined in this, so, no, I don't think it will do any good.”

“Then let's talk to the police.”

Zach cast her a glance. “Maybe we should just get a couple of shovels.”

Elizabeth didn't smile. “Maybe we should.”

T
hey reached San Pico as the sun was just setting Sunday night. Zach drove the car directly to the hospital to check on Maria.

They found her propped against a stack of pillows, looking a little less pale, a little stronger, even with her belly a huge mound beneath the white sheet and some kind of drip running into her arm. Still, Zach could read the young woman's exhaustion, see her worry in the purple smudges beneath her eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Liz asked as she approached the bed.

Maria managed to smile. “I am much better. Miguel says I will be able to go home in a couple of days.” She looked over at Zach. “It is good to see you, Señor Harcourt. Did you find out anything about the ghost?”

“We may have.” Zach glanced at Liz, not quite certain how much he should say, worried that he might upset Maria. He decided to leave out as much as he could, yet try to reassure her that they were moving forward to solve the problem. “We think the child you saw may be a little girl named Carrie Ann Whitt. She disappeared from her parents' home in September of 1969.”

“Did she die in the house?”

“There's a chance she died in the old house that used to be there before. We don't know yet for certain. In the meantime, Miguel says you're going to stay with Señora Lopez until the baby comes.”

She nodded.

“I think that's a good idea,” Liz said, holding on to her hand. “I told Miguel you're welcome to stay at my apartment if you'd rather.”

“I want to stay close to my husband and my home.”

“I can understand that.” Elizabeth managed a smile. “In the meantime, we're going to keep working to figure things out.”

They talked a while longer, Maria a little more relaxed, since she wouldn't be returning to the house. As they left the room, Zach spotted Miguel walking down the corridor, carrying a foam cup of coffee in his hand. He looked even more haggard than he had the last time they had seen him—his hair standing up in places, his clothes wrinkled. He saw them and came to a stop outside the door.

“They are keeping her a few more days,” he said. “Then she will be able to go home.” His eyes were red and they darted nervously back and forth between Zach and Liz.

Liz gave him a smile. “Maria looks much better.”

“
Sí,
I think so, too. The doctor says she is going to be fine.”

“And she will be.” Zach's words held a note of warning. “As long as you keep her away from the house.”

“She does not wish to stay there…not until after the baby comes.”

Probably not even then, Zach figured, thinking of Carrie Ann and the murderers who had once lived in the house.

Miguel returned to Maria's room, and Zach saw Raul walking toward them down the hall, striding along beside Sam Marston, who waved a greeting.

“Hey, Zach!”

“Good to see you, Sam. You, too, Raul.” Raul shook his hand and so did Sam.

The boy tipped his head respectfully. “Hello, Ms. Conners.” The earring was gone from his ear, though the tattoo below it remained, along with the one of a skull on the back of his hand.

Elizabeth gave him a smile. “Hello, Raul.”

“My sister…she is going to be okay. And she is moving out of the house.”

“We know,” Zach said. “We're damned glad to hear it.”

Raul just nodded. “Thank you both for all you have done.”

“This isn't over yet, Raul. But we're hoping it soon will be. In the meantime, you keep up the good work you're doing at Teen Vision.”

Sam slapped a hand on the strapping youth's shoulder. “He's doing great, just one more exam and he'll have his GED. Passed the last four with flying colors.”

“That's terrific, Raul,” Liz said.

He flushed a little at the praise, tilted his head toward the door to his sister's room. “I better go in.”

“You go ahead,” Sam said. “I'll wait for you out here.”

Raul disappeared into Maria's room, and Zach turned to Sam. “I imagine you've heard about Maria's ghost.”

“Raul told me his sister says there's one in her house. Says she's seen it.”

“I know it's hard to believe,” Liz told him, “but I saw it, too, Sam.” She went on to tell him about the night she and Zach had spent in the house, then the night she had seen the ghostly apparition of the little girl in her party dress and the events that had wound up putting Maria Santiago in the hospital.

Sam scratched his hairless head. “That's a pretty incredible story.”

“Totally unbelievable,” Zach agreed. “Which means there's no way we can get a warrant to dig under the house.”

“No kidding. You don't think Carson will give you permission?”

“Not likely.”

Sam glanced both ways down the hall to be sure no one could hear. “Maybe you should just go under the house and start digging, see what turns up.”

“So far that appears to be our only option,” Liz said.

“I hate to do it,” Zach said. “I don't like the idea of digging up a possible forensic site without someone in authority being present.”

“So what will you do?”

“I'm not sure. Carson has control of the farm, but technically the property belongs to my father. I could probably gain legal access through the courts, but after what happened to Maria, time is a major problem. We don't want anything bad happening to her husband.”

“You don't actually think he might be in danger.”

Elizabeth looked at Sam. “You weren't there, Sam. Whatever is happening in that house, the forces unleashed are incredible. No one should have to stay in an evil place like that.”

Sam ran a hand over his shiny dome. “This all sounds pretty far-fetched, you know.”

“Never were truer words spoken,” Zach said.

Sam flashed a grin. “Let me know if there's anything I can do to help.”

 

It was dark by the time they drove out of the hospital parking lot. Both of them were tired from the exhausting weekend and fighting the Sunday night L.A. traffic all the way back to the San Joaquin Valley.

“I've got to go into the office for a while in the morning,” Liz said. “I've got three appointments and a bunch of paperwork to do. I can probably take the afternoon off. Maybe we can figure out where to go from here.”

Zach just nodded. Whatever they decided, two people telling the same insane story had to be better than one. He could just imagine the look on Sgt. Drury's face if they told him they were after a warrant to search for the body of a ghost. Smiling at the thought, Zach turned the corner onto Cherry Avenue, then drove down the alley into one of the guest parking spaces behind Liz's building.

“Are you spending the night?” Liz asked, her pretty blue eyes on his face.

His gaze moved over the fullness of her breasts and a shot of lust slid into his groin. He couldn't remember wanting a woman the way he did Liz. “You all right with that?”

She gave him a tentative smile. “I must be. I'm already starting to miss you and you haven't even left.”

He returned the smile, knowing exactly what she meant. When he was without her, he felt as if something were missing. It was a feeling he had never known before. He hadn't forgotten the comment he had made when they were in bed. He was in love with her. He knew that for certain.

He just wasn't sure what to do about it. And he wasn't sure the feeling was returned.

Parking the Jeep in one of the empty spaces in the near-empty lot behind her apartment, he helped Liz out of the car then went to the back, lifted the rear door, and grabbed their bags. As he closed the door, he noticed the big overhead light that usually lit the parking spaces had burned out. He would have ignored it, except for the faint tickle of awareness raising the hair on the nape of his neck.

“Let's go,” he said and started walking, crossing the empty parking lot in as little time as possible, herding Liz ahead of him. The sixth sense he had developed as a punk who ran in bad company was kicking in big time, and he had learned way back then to trust it.

They had almost made it past the tenants' parking garage when the shadowy figure of a man stepped out in front of them. He was dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt, dark-skinned, average height, a woman's nylon stocking pulled over his head. Liz gave a startled gasp as a second man, his appearance much the same, fell in behind them, and another appeared from out of nowhere to join the other two.

Everything happened at once. The first man swung a punch. Zach ducked, then swung a blow that connected with his assailant's jaw, knocking him backward, at the same time kicking out at the second man, slamming his foot hard into the man's left knee. The man went down, sprawling onto the walkway.

“Run!” Zach shouted to Liz, then turned to see her swinging her white leather bag like a shotput at the third man's head. The blow smashed into his temple, careening him backward several paces.

“Bitch!” the man roared in a heavy Spanish accent, rushing toward her. Zach drove forward to intervene, but the first man hit him a crushing blow to the jaw that knocked him sideways. From the corner of his eye, he saw Liz's attacker grab the front of her blouse and jerk her toward him, saw him slap her roughly across the face.

Fury engulfed him. With a guttural growl, he charged his opponent, driving him backward into the side of the tenants' garage so hard his head snapped back, crashing into the wall and knocking him unconscious. Turning to fight the tallest of the three, he threw a hard punch to the man's face, and a shower of blood erupted from his nose. Zach kicked him in the stomach, doubling him over, then whirled toward the man attacking Liz.

He never saw the length of pipe swinging toward the back of his head, never heard Elizabeth's scream. Instead, a wall of pain hit him, driving him to his knees, and darkness whirled at the edge of his vision. He saw Liz struggling, heard her shout his name and tried to reach her. Instead, a deep black pit opened up and swallowed him, and the world around him disappeared.

 

Night sounds roused him: the distant whine of a car, the breeze rattling the leaves on the trees next to the building. He stirred and groaned as his memory returned and he saw that Elizabeth leaned over him. Her blouse was ripped open, her slacks streaked with dirt, and there was blood on her face.

“Zach! Zach! Are you all right?”

He groaned again and sat up on the cement walkway holding the side of his head against the pounding in his temple. “I'm all right.” He looked up at her, reached out and touched her face, came away with a smear of blood on his fingers.

“What about you?” He rolled to his feet and a wave of dizziness hit him. Fighting to steady himself, he reached a shaky hand into his pants pocket to pull out his cell phone. “You're bleeding. I'm calling an ambulance.”

“I—I'm all right, just…just shaken up a little. Oh, Zach. Those three men—I think your brother must have sent them.”

He stiffened, swayed at a fresh round of dizziness. “What are you talking about?”

“One of them said…” She swallowed. “He said this was only a warning. He said we had better stay out of other people's business. If we didn't…this was only a sample of what would…what would happen to us.”

Then she passed out cold, and Zach caught her up in his arms.

 

Zach drove to the hospital like a madman, squealing the tires around corners, roaring through intersections, ignoring stop signs, picking up a police car in the process, which turned on its siren, commanding him to stop.

He didn't, of course. For the second time in the past few days, he felt frantic, desperate in a way he hadn't been in years.

First Maria, now Liz.

He tilted the mirror to look at the woman lying unconscious in the backseat of his car. Outlined in the moonlight, her face looked deathly pale, and his heart squeezed hard. He pressed down on the accelerator and the Jeep squealed around a corner. If Carson was responsible…

He clamped down on the thought. From what Liz said, it couldn't be anyone else. The three men were all Hispanic. Migratory workers, no doubt, men Carson could pay and send on their way and no one would ever miss them. He wondered at his brother's motive. Surely the lawsuit he had begun wasn't enough to warrant this kind of response.

Behind him, the police siren roared. Zach spotted the two-story brick building up ahead, San Pico Community Hospital, and his heartbeat quickened. He had used his cell to phone ahead, told them what had happened, and that he was bringing in an unconscious woman. Two men in white coats were waiting as he drove up in front of the emergency entrance, jammed on his brakes, shoved the car into Park and threw open the door.

One of the attendants was already opening the back door on the opposite side.