Scent of Roses (14 page)

She wondered if Zach could hear it. She cast a glance toward the living room and saw that he was sitting up very straight on the sofa. He could hear it, too, she thought with some relief. At least, she wasn't imagining things.

Her pulse beat a little faster as the air thickened even more. She could see Zach on the sofa, his head cocked toward another, different sound rising in the distance, the eerie wail of a train whistle, screaming into the blackness of the night. She could hear the ding, ding, ding of the warning bell at the crossing, then the locomotive roaring down the track through the cotton fields on the other side of the highway.

The track crossed the road just north of the house and the place shuddered as the train drew near. But the tracks had been abandoned for years. She wasn't even sure the rails were still there.

A chill swept through her as Zach turned to look out the window, but Elizabeth's attention swung in another direction. Something cold had crept into the bedroom, something so dense and chilling she couldn't seem to move. She sat frozen on the bed, her heart beating as if it were trying to escape through her ribs. Something was there—she could feel it— and an icy fear began to well inside her. The dense air made it hard to breathe, hard to think, and her mind seemed cloudy, her thoughts far away.

A faint sound reached her, a voice so soft, the words so faintly spoken, she couldn't be sure she had heard them.

“I…want…my…mama. Please…I want…my…mama.”

Her heart clutched, speeded up even more. The chill was pervasive now, filling the room, stretching into every corner. Her gaze went to Zach who perched on the edge of the sofa, completely alert, waiting to see what would happen next. The atmosphere in the bedroom shifted. The chill remained, but with it now came the cloying scent of roses.

The smell was unbearably heavy, dense and putrid, a sickening odor that made the bile rise in her throat.

“Mama..? Mama are you there? Please…I want my mama.”

The fear inside her swelled. Her gaze shot to the living room in search of Zach and it must have shone in her eyes. She saw him get to his feet and start moving toward the open bedroom door. Then something caught her eye. A faint, translucent light began to appear at the foot of the bed, a wavering, eerie glow barely visible in the room. But Elizabeth was certain it was there, and a strangled sound of fear came from her throat.

Zach stood in the doorway, his feet braced apart, and the minute he heard the sound, he started toward her, his strides long and angry.

“That's it! That's enough!” Storming into the bedroom, he came straight to the bed, sat down on the edge and pulled her into his arms.

“Oh, God, Zach!”

“Easy, baby, it's over. Everything's all right. You're safe now.” He glanced around the room, searching every corner. “Whatever it was is gone.”

She trembled wildly and Zach's arms tightened around her. Burying her face against his shoulder, she started to cry. The tears were coming and she wasn't exactly sure why. She just knew she would be forever grateful that he was there with her tonight.

“Hush,” he said softly. Reaching over, he turned on the lamp on the bedside table, the soft glow warming the room, dispelling the last of her fear. “It's over.”

Elizabeth swallowed and nodded, dragged in a shaky breath of air. “I'm sorry. I don't…don't know what happened. I didn't mean to fall apart that way.”

“Don't be sorry. That was the scariest thing I've ever seen.”

She closed her eyes, took another calming breath and swung her legs to the edge of the bed, fighting to compose herself.

“Stay here,” Zach said. “I want to check outside. I'll only be gone a minute.” He headed for the front door, turning on a lamp as he passed, and left to make a search of the perimeter of the house. A minute seemed like an hour. Again and again, her mind kept replaying the terrifying sounds and the awful smell, the whisper of a little girl's voice. When Zach returned a few minutes later, Elizabeth met him at the front door.

“I checked outside.” He walked back inside the living room and closed the door. Elizabeth looked at the closed portal longingly, wishing it were time to leave.

“I looked under the house, checked the garage. Nothing. You know how to get into the attic?”

“Probably through one of the closets.” She went in to look for an opening in the Santiago's bedroom closet while Zach went to search the second bedroom.

“It's in here!” he called out. She followed him in, the room lit by the ceiling light he'd turned on, watched him shove back the attic cover in the closet and haul himself up with those impressive biceps of his.

“See anything up there?”

“Not a damned thing but a lot of dust.” He lowered himself back down and dropped to the floor, brushing off his hands.

“Okay, you didn't find anything,” she said as they returned to the living room, “but you did hear the noises and feel the cold. You noticed the smell, right?”

He nodded. “I heard the train too.”

“That didn't happen before.”

He tipped his head toward the window. “There's an abandoned track just down the road, but it hasn't been used for years. And there's no warning bell, Liz. The line was completely dismantled.”

She fought down a shiver. “I know. I hope to God you didn't see a train when you looked out the window.”

The edge of his mouth tipped up. “No train. But I sure as hell heard one.”

A fresh chill moved along her spine. “Did you see the light at the foot of the bed?”

“I thought I saw something. I'm not sure what it was.”

“Whatever it was, it was eerie. And there was something else, Zach. I heard this voice. It was very faint, so I don't think you would have noticed, but I'm sure I heard it. It sounded like a little girl.”

“That's what Maria claims she heard. What did the voice have to say?”

“She said, ‘I want my mama. Please…I want my mama.' It sounded like she was about to cry.”

Zach caught her hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Maybe this is some kind of elaborate hoax, but I don't think so.”

“Then you believe…you think the house is haunted?”

“I don't know what to believe. But the only way we're going to figure this out is to start thinking outside the box. Either something in the house is affecting our minds…or the things that are happening are real.”

“How do we find out which it is?”

“Since we haven't found any kind of foreign substance or anything that might affect our brains, let's assume this is all really happening. I'll do some more research. If there really is a ghost, we need to find out who it is.”

“Oh, my God, I never thought of that.” She shook her head. “Of course, my experience with this kind of thing is sorely limited.”

“Maria thinks she saw a little girl. You both heard a little girl's voice. We need to find out if a child died in the house.”

It was a chilling thought, and yet Zach was right. They had to start thinking outside the box. “The house is only four years old. Something like that should be easy enough to find out. I'll have Maria ask around. I'm sure a number of the workers have been here that long.”

“Sounds like a good place to start,” he said.

“What do you think I should tell Maria about tonight?”

“Tell her we're still working on figuring things out. And tell her whatever happens, not to spend the night here alone.”

Ignoring a feeling of unease, Elizabeth turned to survey her surroundings. The living room was quiet, everything in its place. Lamplight shined through the open bedroom door and the window air conditioner hummed away. The house felt completely normal again, not the least bit frightening. Still…

“Do you think we need to stay here the rest of the night?”

“Stay? Are you kidding?” Zach gripped her hand and started tugging her toward the door. “Not on your life.”

Elizabeth smiled and pulled away. “Give me a minute to straighten the bedroom and turn off the lights and we'll leave.”

Zach nodded, started refilling the grocery bag with the goodies he had brought while Elizabeth straightened the quilt on the bed. A few minutes later they had locked the front door and were standing outside the house, looking back at it.

“It's a cute little house,” she said, surveying the yellow stucco walls with the sparkling white trim.

“Yeah, it's great—unless you try to sleep in there.”

Zach walked her over to the car. “I'll call you if I find out anything useful.”

“I'll do the same.”

He started to turn away, but Elizabeth caught his arm. “I owe you an apology, Zach. I'm glad you were here tonight. I don't know what I'd have done if I'd been here alone.”

He ran a finger along her cheek. “You're pretty damned tough, lady. You probably would have been just fine, but I'm glad I was here just the same.”

He bent his head and very softly kissed her. “I know you're probably right about us. But, God, I wish you weren't.”

So do I,
Elizabeth thought as she slid into the seat of her car and Zach closed the door. She ignored the little pinch in her heart as she started the engine and drove away. Zach's BMW followed her protectively all the way back to her apartment.

He didn't drive away until she was safely inside.

Elizabeth told herself she was glad he hadn't asked to come in.

K
nowing Maria would be worried, Elizabeth phoned her at Mrs. Garcia's after church on Sunday morning. Maria had given her the number and it was obvious she had been waiting for the call.

“
Dios mio,
I have been so worried! Are you all right?” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Did you see the ghost?”

“I'm fine, and no, I didn't see her. I think I heard her, though. At least I heard something.”
To say the least.
But she didn't want to frighten Maria any more than she was already. “It sounded like a little girl.”

“
Sí,
that is her!”

“I want you to do me a favor. I want you to ask around, find out if sometime before you moved in a child died in the house. If there is a ghost—and I'm not saying there is—we need to find out who she is.”

“
Sí, sí,
I will try to find out what I can. Thank you, Elizabeth. Thank you so much.”

“We'll figure this out, Maria. Try not to worry.”

“I will call you.” Maria hung up the phone and Elizabeth sighed. The wheels were in motion. Surely something would turn up.

It was late in the afternoon when Zach called. She clamped down on the little thrill she felt at the sound of his voice.

“I'm out at Teen Vision. I've been using one of their computers to access the Internet.”

“Find anything interesting?”

“You won't believe the stuff I've found.”

She adjusted the phone against her ear. “What kind of stuff?”

“Well, I thought I'd start with the basics. I went to Google and typed in
ghosts.
There are over two million sites on the Internet that deal with ghosts. On one site alone, fifteen hundred people have sent in stories of personal encounters they supposedly had with one or more ghosts.”

“I figured there'd be a lot of information on the subject. Still, it's pretty amazing when you think about it.”

“Yeah. So I guess we aren't the only ones crazy enough to think there might actually be a ghost in that house.”

“Maybe not, but you've got to wonder if any of those stories are really true.”

“I'm sure some of them are purely fiction. But the quantity alone is staggering. And most of these people actually believe they saw something supernatural.”

“What about ghost hunters? Did you see anything about them on the Net?”

“Sure did. When I typed in the words
ghost
and
research,
more than two hundred thousand sites popped up, all sorts of groups involved in researching the existence of ghosts. Listen, I'm going to print some of this stuff and bring it over. We can go over it and figure out our next move.”

“Our?”

“In case you've forgotten, I was in that house with you last night. It's not an evening I'll soon forget. Like it or not, I'm involved in this, too. Besides, the house is on my father's property. I may not be involved in the day-to-day business of running Harcourt Farms, but as long as my dad's still alive, I feel a certain obligation to keep an eye on the place.”

“I can certainly understand that.”

“I've got a couple of things to do here, then I'm on my way.” Zach hung up the phone and a half hour later, she heard his knock at the door. A little frisson of awareness went through her as she turned the knob to let him in and he brushed past her into the living room. No matter how many times she saw him, she couldn't quite get over how handsome he was, or the way his presence seemed to fill a room.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.” He smiled, his dark gaze lingering a moment on her face. She tried to read his thoughts, but his expression was carefully guarded.

He held up a manila folder stuffed with papers. “I pulled this off the Internet. I figured we could go over it, but on my way over here, I remembered you saying you had a computer in the apartment.”

She nodded. “I use the second bedroom for an office.”

He followed her in, heading for the desk in the corner where her computer was set up, checking out her exercise equipment along the way. “No wonder you look so good naked.”

Her gaze flew to his face and she saw that he was grinning.

“Sorry, I couldn't resist. What I meant was, it's obvious you take care of yourself. I think that's really important. I do so much legal work sitting at my desk, I try to get as much exercise as I can. We've got a gym in my office building in Westwood. I try to get in there at least three times a week.”

It shows, she thought, remembering his lean, hard-muscled body when they had been in bed. Her cheeks burned at the memory and Elizabeth glanced away, hoping Zach wouldn't see.

“Why don't you sit at the desk,” he said, “since you're familiar with the machine.” He waited while Elizabeth sat down in the chair, then took a seat in the chair next to hers.

Elizabeth flipped on the computer, moved the mouse to the icon for Internet Explorer, brought up Google.com and typed the word
ghosts
in the search box. A few seconds later, she was staring at pages of Web sites that all dealt with spirit phenomenon.

“Just prowl around a little,” Zach said. “I think you'll find it interesting.”

She started clicking away, a little surprised to discover how many people were seriously involved in the study of hunting ghosts. Apparently, Maria Santiago was just one of millions who believed in spirits. She scrolled down another page, surveying the dozens and dozens of sites, clicking on one that looked interesting now and then.
Shadowlands; Ghosts and Hauntings; History and Hauntings; All about Ghosts; Ghosts Online; Photos of Ghosts and Apparitions.
The list seemed endless.

She clicked on one of the sites that claimed to have actual photos. White spots and eerie distortions—some even looking like transparent faces, but with the way film could be manipulated today, the evidence wasn't convincing. Still, as Zach had said, millions of people seemed to believe ghosts actually existed.

“Check this out.” Leaning over, his hand covered hers on the mouse, moved it up, returned to the search engine, and typed in
ghost research.

Aware of the heat of his touch and the loss she felt when he pulled away, she read the list on the screen in front of her. As he stood behind her, his chest brushed lightly against her shoulder and a tremor of warmth slid into her stomach. Elizabeth ignored it and started to read the sites on the page.

American Ghost Society; Ghost Research Foundation; Ghost-Labs Research Society; Toronto Ghost and Hauntings Research Society; Paranormal Investigative Research and Information Training.
She clicked on one of the groups, skimmed some of the information.

She clicked on another and another. “These people are deadly serious—pardon the pun.”

Zach laughed.

“Look at this. They not only believe in ghosts, they go out and try to prove they really exist.”

“Yeah. And check out the equipment they use.” Zach punched up a site. “Digital cameras, 35mm cameras, video cameras, audio recorders, electromagnetic field detectors, temperature sensing equipment.”

Her eyes widened at the long paragraphs under each item naming the different brands and models of the various equipment available. “Unbelievable.”

“After reading some of this stuff,” Zach said, “believing in ghosts doesn't seem nearly as far-fetched as it did before.”

“I guess not.” But Elizabeth still wasn't convinced. She turned to look at Zach, found his eyes once more on her face. For an instant, she saw the heat, the hunger, then he looked away. She ignored the sudden pounding of her heart and the clutch in her stomach.

“What…what do you think we should do?”

Zach cleared his throat and returned to the business at hand. “Well, according to most of these sites, we need to research the history of the house.”

“Which Maria is trying to help us do.”

“Right. And if a little girl did die there, it would validate Maria's vision and the voice you think you heard.”

“At least we'd have something.”

But when Maria called on Tuesday, she grimly reported that as far as the workers knew, neither a child nor anyone else had ever died in the house.

“Thanks for trying, Maria. You didn't…haven't had any more visits?”

“Not since she came before.”

“That's good to hear. I was thinking, maybe if you told your doctor you were having trouble sleeping, he might give you something that would help.”

“
Sí,
I was thinking that, too. At night I worry that she will come and I am too afraid to sleep.”

“You mustn't get discouraged. I'm still working on this and so is Zachary Harcourt.” Though he was back at work in L.A. “We'll let you know as soon as we find something.”

The moment Maria hung up, Elizabeth dialed Zach's office number. His secretary rang her right through, which made her wonder if Zach had left instructions she be given special treatment. It was ridiculous to hope that he had.

“Sorry to bother you,” she said when she heard his deep voice, “but I thought you'd want to know. Maria called. She says, as near as she can find out, there hasn't been any sort of death in the house, a child or anyone else.”

Zach sighed. “I really didn't think there had been. I haven't spent much time on the farm since I left San Pico, but I figured I would have heard if something like that had happened.”

“So we're back where we started.”

“Not exactly. I didn't want to mention this—not until we heard from Maria. I was hoping the answer might be simpler.”

“What is it?”

“There was another house in the same location before the new one was built. I remember it being there when I was a kid. The place wasn't worth fixing. My dad had it torn down to make room for the new house he wanted to build.”

A shiver raced down her spine. She'd been reading up on ghosts, soaking up information from the sites on the Net. Houses might change. People might change, but for a ghost, time was eternal.

“What you're saying is that a child might have died in the old house. Which means it could have happened years ago.”

“'Fraid so.”

“What's our next move?”

“I've got a couple of ideas. I've been asking around, talking to some people I know. They think I should call someone, an expert on this kind of thing.”

“Who—Ghostbusters?”

“Sort of. There's a woman…a friend of a friend. Her name is Tansy Trevillian. She's got a good reputation, as far as I can tell. She's supposed to be what they call a sensitive.”

“Let me guess…for a nice fat fee, she'll come up and do a séance—talk to the ghosts in the house and tell them to leave.”

He chuckled into the phone. “Actually, all she wants are her expenses, meaning gas and meals. She'll meet us there whenever it's convenient…that is, if you're interested.”

“If she did come, I imagine she would have to come at night.”

“That's what she said.”

“So how do we get rid of Maria and Miguel?”

“Good question. Maybe Maria can come up with something.”

“Maybe. She wants this resolved even more than we do. Will you be coming up this weekend?”

He paused for an instant. “I figured I would.”

“If I can manage to get the two of them out of the house, I'll call and you can set up the meeting with the Trevillian woman.”

“Sounds good. I just hope you don't hold it against me if this turns out to be a crazy idea.”

“Any idea is better than no idea, which is exactly what I have at the moment.”

“Let me know,” Zach said and hung up the phone.

 

After catching a quick bite at Marge's Café, Elizabeth spent a frustrating afternoon of seeing semicooperative patients, including Geraldine Hickman's daughter, who still couldn't quite believe that a date did not automatically include having sex; and the attorney, Richard Long, who was pissed at his wife for some imagined crime and proud of himself for not knocking the crap out of her.

“She never does what I tell her. You can't blame me for getting angry.”

Elizabeth sighed. “Marriage is supposed to be a partnership, Richard. Do you really believe that because you're Jennifer's husband you should have complete control of her life?”

“I pay the bills, don't I? I work my ass off so she can buy expensive clothes and drive around in a fancy car. And does she appreciate it? Hell, no.”

Elizabeth wanted to ask him, if he was so disgusted with his wife, why he didn't just get a divorce? But Jennifer Long was pretty and sexy. Richard didn't want to divorce her—he just wanted her to submit to him, totally and completely. The real question was, why didn't Jennifer divorce Richard? But Elizabeth knew the man had destroyed the woman's self esteem to the point where she didn't believe she could make it on her own.