Part 12 (1/2)
Carson wasn't going to help, she thought as the engine roared to life. But that didn't mean she couldn't find a way around him. Carson wasn't the only Harcourt who had a say in what happened at Harcourt Farms. She decided she would phone Sam Marston and get Zach's number in L.A. The notion of calling Zach sat like a stone in her stomach, but she had to find out what was happening in the house and somehow put a stop to it.
It was Thursday before Elizabeth managed to get hold of Zach. Their last conversation hadn't ended that pleasantly, but in truth, she had overreacted at the news of his involvement with Lisa. It was, after all, only lunch. And he had apologized, rather sincerely, she thought.
Still, she wasn't sure quite how to approach him. As she dialed the number for n.o.ble, Goldman and Harcourt that Sam had given her, she decided her best strategy would be to use Carson's refusal as leverage to gain his brother's agreement to help.
She almost smiled. They wanted to play games. Well, she could play a few herself.
The operator pa.s.sed her through to Zach's office and a moment later, she heard his deep voice on the line.
”Liz? I can't believe this is really you.”
”I need to talk to you, Zach.”
”Something earthshaking must have happened for you to be calling me here.” She heard the s.h.i.+ft in his voice. ”It isn't Raul? Something hasn't happened to the boy?”
”No, it's nothing like that. Well, at least this only indirectly concerns Raul. It's about Maria about the Santiago's house.”
”My G.o.d, don't tell me you actually saw a ghost!”
She laughed. ”No, of course not. But ”
”Go on.”
”But something odd did happen that night. Something very odd. And more than a little bit frightening.” She had his attention now. Sensing victory might lie ahead, she went on to tell him about the noises and the smell, the terrible cold and her difficulty breathing.
”One thing is fairly certainI don't think Maria is suffering from anxiety. I don't think what's happening has anything to do with a ghost, but there is definitely something wrong with that house.”
She told him how she had gone to see Carson to try to find out if there was a problem with the construction or maybe something else, but he had refused to allow her to bring anyone in to examine the place.
”He was adamant about it,” she said, hoping to goad him in the direction she wanted. ”I don't understand it.” She paused. ”Of course, there is always the possibility he was just paying me back for having lunch with you.”
She could feel the sudden tension on the line. As a game strategy, she had just scored one big point.
”I'm not sure how I can help, but I'll be up there tomorrow afternoon.” He cleared his throat. ”What do you say we have dinner and discuss it?”
Her hand tightened on the phone. Score one for his side. ”I don't think that's a good idea.”
”I'm not seeing Lisa anymore. I told you that and I meant it.”
”I believe you, but”
”If you're afraid Carson will object”
”I don't give a d.a.m.n about Carson.”
She could almost see him smile. ”I like hearing those words. So we're on for supper?”
If it were anyone else, she would agree, but this was Zachary Harcourt. And if they went to The Ranch House again, the gossip would be all over town. ”I don't know, I ”
”We'll drive over to Mason. No one will have to know you're out with the town bad boy.”
She found herself smiling. He was certainly that. ”All right, we'll have dinner. What time?”
”I'll pick you up at seven.”
She gave him the address to her apartment and hung up the phone, feeling as if she had lost the first skirmish. Still, she was determined to win the war. Tomorrow she would find a way to convince Zach Harcourt to help her uncover the answers to the problems in the house.
Twelve.
Zach knocked on her apartment door promptly at seven o'clock. Apparently that was another thing they had in commonthey were both punctual people.
In concession to the hundred-degree heat, typical for this time of year, Elizabeth wore an apricot sundress with a slim skirt, wide straps and a wide, matching belt, along with a pair of white, high-heeled, open-toed sandals. As she pulled the brush one more time through her shoulder-length, dark auburn hair, she told herself the extra care she had taken with her appearance had nothing to do with Zachary Harcourt.
”Looks like you're ready,” he said from her doorstep, looking cool and attractive in a short-sleeved pale blue s.h.i.+rt and lightweight tan slacks. His gaze went over her from head to foot, the gold in his eyes heating up in a slightly different way than it had before.
She a.s.sessed that look. ”Depends on what I'm getting ready for.”
Zach laughed. ”Not much more than dinner, I don't imagine.”
Reaching down, she plucked her white leather bag off the coffee table, slung the gold chain over her shoulder and started for the door.
”Nice car,” she said as they reached the end of the sidewalk, admiring the flashy black BMW convertible pulled up at the curb.
”Thought I'd drive this instead of the Jeep, since I'm trying to impress you. Is it working?” He held open the pa.s.senger door and she slid into the black leather seat, which was still cool from the air-conditioning.
”I like nice cars, so yes. Especially since you were wise enough to leave the top up.”
”I wanted to impress you, not fry you alive.” Zach closed her door, rounded the car and slid in behind the wheel.
”So how many cars do you have?” she asked as the engine roared to life.
”Just two. I've got a Harley, though, and I just bought a thirty-foot sailboat.”
One of her eyebrows arched. ”Well, you know what they saythe difference between men and boys is the price of their toys.”
”Ouch.”
They drove along the two-lane highway toward Mason, a slightly bigger farming town thirty miles away. He glanced over at her. ”I like the things money can buy, I freely admit it. But I'm not driven to own them like some people are.”
She thought about the money he'd donated to Teen Vision and figured maybe that was true. He could have bought a lot more toys if he had kept the money for himself.
”I like nice things, too,” she agreed, ”but not enough to sacrifice my happiness for them.”
For several seconds, he looked her way. ”You're talking about your marriage.”
”Brian always wanted the best. Expensive cars, designer clothes. He wanted me to have them, too. He was generous that way, though I think he was mostly motivated by the image he wanted to project.”