Part 30 (1/2)
”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 girlI 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 Se”ora 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 Se”ora 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 s.h.i.+rt 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 relations.h.i.+p 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-s.h.i.+rt 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 pus.h.i.+ng seventy, almost completely bald, with spa.r.s.e gray hair around the s.h.i.+ny 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 pa.s.sed 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?”