Scent of Roses & Season of Strangers

by Kat Martin

  She nodded again, felt the sting of tears and prayed they wouldn’t give her away.

  Zach went into the bedroom and packed his things, then reappeared in the living room. “I’ll call you,” he said as he headed for the door, his leather overnight bag gripped in one dark hand. He reached for the knob, but never touched it. Instead he dropped the bag, turned and walked back to where she stood in front of the sofa. Framing her face between his hands, he bent and very gently kissed her.

  “I’ll be back,” he said. “I’m not letting you give up on us so easily.”

  And then he was gone. Elizabeth sat down on the sofa and took another drink of wine. Maybe if she got good and drunk, she could forget about Zachary Harcourt. Maybe she could think clearly again, as she hadn’t been able to do since she first met him.

  But she didn’t really think all the liquor in San Pico would do her any good. Not when her heart was hurting so badly.

  Not when she had been stupid enough to let herself fall in love with him.

  * * *

  The Westwood offices of Noble, Goldman and Harcourt were hopping. The elaborate conference room with its long mahogany table and dozen high-backed chairs echoed with the sound of rustling papers and the low-pitched conversation of attorneys who represented Themoziamine. Half a dozen staff lawyers were prepared to meet with lawyers for the opposition.

  In the expensively decorated reception room out front, the firm’s usual clients waited on overstuffed sofas reading magazines like Time, Newsweek and Architectural Digest. Business was booming. So much so, the partners were thinking about opening a branch in San Francisco. Jon Noble wanted Zach to run it, since he didn’t have a family to move.

  He had half made up his mind to do it. He loved the Bay Area and it would be a great place for his newly purchased sailboat. Maybe by Christmas he’d be ready to tackle the project.

  At the moment, Zach just wished he were back in San Pico.

  He blew out a breath. Irritated that his thoughts had strayed to Elizabeth again, he concentrated instead on the lawsuit he was preparing against his brother.

  By the morning of the following day, the documents had been prepared and delivered to an attorney in Mason who had been hired to go over to the county courthouse and file them. A local process server had delivered the papers to Carson, who apparently swore a string of blue oaths at the young woman who brought them to his door.

  Things were rolling. He was up to his neck in the business of being a lawyer, just the way he liked it. Last night he’d worked late into the evening, burying himself in work, then got up before sunrise and started all over again. He was determined not to think of Liz and how much he missed her, determined to keep his mind on business.

  It was almost closing time Friday afternoon when he got a call on his cell from Raul.

  “Señor Harcourt…Zach? I am sorry to bother you. I know how busy you are.”

  Zach’s senses went on alert. “It’s all right, Raul. It’s good to hear from you.”

  Raul took a deep breath. Zach could hear the whisper of desperation as he released it into the phone. “It is my sister,” he said simply and Zach’s body tensed.

  According to the teen, last night Raul received permission for a few hours leave from the farm and got an evening pass to have dinner with his sister and her husband.

  Unfortunately, he and Miguel had gotten into a fight.

  “One minute we were talking, the next we were yelling, calling each other names.”

  “Take it easy, Raul. Back up a little and tell me what happened.”

  “I do not know exactly. When I saw my sister, she looked like she was sick or something. Dark circles under her eyes…her face puffy and pale. I told Miguel I was worried about her. I asked if she had been sleeping all right, if she and the baby were okay. Miguel got angry…like I was blaming him or something. Then I asked him about the ghost. I should have kept quiet. I knew he didn’t really believe there was a ghost.”

  “Tell me the rest.”

  “Miguel started shouting at Maria. I thought he was going to hit her. I shoved him away from her and that is how the fight got started.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Sí. It didn’t last long. Miguel stormed out of the house, and a little while later, Maria drove me back to the farm.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She is worried about Miguel. She says he is angry all the time. He yells at her for nothing. He stays out drinking and doesn’t come home until late. It is not like him. He has never been this way before.”

  “Did you talk to her about the ghost?”

  “Yes. She has been taking sleeping pills. Too many, I think. I tried to get her to move out of the house—just until the baby comes—but she will not leave Miguel.”

  Zach raked a hand through his hair. “I’ll call Liz—Ms. Conners. I’ll ask her to speak to Maria, make another try at convincing her to leave.”

  “Thank you, Zach.”

  “I’m glad you called, Raul. From what Sam Marston says, you’re doing great in your studies. You’re a hard worker and you never complain. And you’re great with the other kids. He’s proud of you and so am I.”

  “What about my sister?”

  Zach’s hand tightened around the phone. “If Ms. Conners can’t convince Maria to leave, I’ll come back up and talk to Miguel.”

  “He will not listen. He will just get angry.”

  “Yeah, well, you’d be surprised how convincing I can be.” Zach broke the connection, thinking of Maria and her ghost, and the murdered girl in Fresno. He reached for the phone to call Liz, wishing he weren’t so eager to hear her voice.

  He had told her he needed time. Maybe he did. Mostly he had pulled back because he was afraid. What if Liz ended the relationship? Just the thought made him sick to his stomach. He didn’t know how his feelings for her had grown so deep so fast, but they had.

  He was crazy about her. He had broken his own rule and now he was in very serious trouble. But Liz wasn’t sure of her feelings. Or if she was, she was even more afraid of them than he was.

  He didn’t know what to do. Apparently neither did she. But both of them had something more important to worry about than their own personal problems.

  Taking a deep breath, he leaned back in his chair and dialed Liz’s number.

  * * *

  All of the turmoil Elizabeth had felt when Zach left rushed back with brutal force when she heard his voice on the phone line in her office. She’d been doing her best not to think of him, trying to put her life back into perspective. But working together as they had been for nearly a month, it was almost impossible to do.

  Zach kept the call brief and fairly impersonal, phoning to tell her about the fight between Miguel and Raul, and ask her to speak to Maria. If she heard a wistful note in his voice, it was only that she wanted to hear it so badly.

  She didn’t linger over the call. She knew how she felt about Zach—she was in love with him. But she was realistic enough to know that whatever Zach felt for her would be fleeting. Zach was a loner, a runner, a man who needed no one, and every hour she spent with him would only make losing him harder.

  As soon as she hung up the phone, she dialed Maria’s home number, praying Miguel would still be working in the fields.

  Thankfully, a woman picked up the phone.

  “Maria? It’s Elizabeth. Can you talk?”

  A tight sound came from Maria’s throat. “I am so glad you called.”

  Worry trickled through her. “I would have called sooner. I didn’t want to cause a problem with Miguel. Are you feeling all right? Is everything okay with the baby?”

  “I am tired, is all. I am taking the sleeping pills at night, but no matter how much I sleep, I am tired just the same.”

  “Hav
e you seen the doctor lately?”

  “Sí, just three days ago. I was spotting a little, not much. He said I should stay off my feet, try to get more rest. He said the baby is doing all right.”

  “He was sure about that?”

  “Sí.”

  “Is there a chance we could talk? I mean in person? I’d really like to see you.”

  “I would like to see you, too. I was thinking to call. Miguel is gone two nights. Last night Isabel stayed with me—Isabel Flores. You remember her?”

  “You said once that she was a friend.”

  “That is right. She lives in the big house here on the farm but she is busy a lot.”

  “Did anything happen last night? Did Isabel see the ghost?”

  “No, I do not think so. The little girl…she does not come that often. I have not seen her for a while.”

  “Is Isabel staying with you tonight?”

  “She was going to stay…but Señor Harcourt…he wishes to see her tonight.”

  “Señor Harcourt? Carson Harcourt?”

  “Sí. Isabel is his housekeeper.” There was something in Maria’s voice, something she wasn’t saying. Elizabeth remembered the attractive young Hispanic woman she had noticed several times the night of the party she had attended at Carson’s house. Surely Carson wasn’t involved with the girl. Then again, even if he was, they were both consenting adults.

  Still, Carson was her employer, the man who paid her salary. Elizabeth couldn’t help wondering if Isabel’s duties included more than just taking care of his house.

  “If Isabel can’t stay, would you like to spend the night at my apartment?”

  “Gracias, no. I cannot do that. Miguel might call and if he does, he will be worried if I am not here.”

  Miguel. The thing Elizabeth wanted most to talk to Maria about. “You can’t stay there by yourself.”

  “I was hoping…I thought maybe you might come and stay with me.”

  Elizabeth’s stomach contracted. She knew things Maria didn’t know. The articles she had read rose up in her mind, the sickening descriptions, the way the young girl in Fresno had been raped and tortured. How her body had been mutilated before she had been buried.

  Elizabeth’s mouth went dry. How could she spend another night in the house when she knew the truth about the people who had lived there?

  Not there, she told herself. It was a different house, a completely different time.

  Besides, how could she allow Maria to stay in the house if she were unwilling to do the same?

  “Are you sure you won’t stay with me?” she pressed. “We could make popcorn. I could bring home a video and we could watch it on TV.”

  “Miguel would not like it.”

  Elizabeth sighed, fighting an urge to kick Miguel. “All right, if that’s the way you feel, then I guess I’ll have to come out there.” But sometime soon—whether or not Maria was afraid it might cause trouble—she had to talk to Miguel, somehow convince him that forcing his wife to stay in the house during these last important days of her pregnancy was harmful to her and their baby’s health.

  Relief sounded in Maria’s voice. “You will come. That is good. Maybe you will see the ghost.”

  A shudder rolled down Elizabeth’s spine. Maybe she would. If she did, what would it mean?

  Elizabeth’s chest tightened at the gruesome possibilities.

  * * *

  “I need to see you.”

  “Where are you?” Carson asked Stiles.

  “Ten minutes away.”

  “I’ll be here when you get here.” Carson hung up the phone and a few minutes later, Isabel showed Les Stiles down the hall to his office. Carson thought about the plans he had for the girl that night and gave her a smile of reminder, which she warmly returned.

  His smile slid away as Stiles walked in, hooked his beat-up straw cowboy hat on one of the brass hooks in the row next to the door, then sat down in the chair next to his desk.

  “What is it?” Carson asked.

  “I got a call from a friend this morning…fella named Collins, known him since way back when. A couple of days ago, your brother and the Conners woman made a trip to see the Fresno police. Then Zach went down to talk to the local PD. That’s where Collins works.”

  Carson’s insides tightened. “Zach and Elizabeth went to the police? What the hell’s going on, Les?”

  “According to Collins, they were asking questions about a girl who was murdered in Fresno. Seems like she was killed by a man and woman who lived in the old gray house here on the farm.”

  Carson leaned back in his chair. “For chrissake, those two lived here years ago. What the hell are they digging into something like that for?”

  “You knew about the murder?”

  “Not really, just rumors here and there. It happened just after I was born. The people who did it had been gone from the farm for several years when it happened. I guess there was something in the local paper back then. My grandfather was running the place in those days, but even years later, my dad never talked about it. I don’t think he liked the idea that a couple of murderers had worked here on the farm.”

  “I wonder why Zach’s digging into something like that?”

  Good question. Carson swiveled his chair toward Stiles. “I rarely have any idea what my half brother’s up to, but in this case, I don’t like it. In the spring, I’ll be announcing my intention to run for political office. Having a solid reputation is one of my strong points. Zach would like nothing better than to see my name linked to some long-ago murder that didn’t even happen in San Pico.”

  “Papers would prob’ly be all over it. It sure wouldn’t do you any good.”

  “No, that kind of thing is never good.”

  “You want me to handle it?”

  “I want both of them to stop digging into matters that don’t concern them. Do what you have to in order to make that happen.”

  Stiles just nodded and shoved his big frame out of the chair. Grabbing his battered hat off the rack, he jammed it on his head, stepped out into the hall and closed the door.

  Carson just sat there. Goddammit! Why did things always have to go wrong? He stood up and walked over to the window. The harvesters were moving through the rows, harvesting fat white bolls of cotton. Fields of roses still bloomed in the distance, but the season was coming to an end. Carson turned away from the window. For once, his mind was far from the farm.

  Returning to his desk, he sank down heavily in his chair. First the lawsuit, now this. And just like before, it was all Zach’s fault.

  Carson’s hand unconsciously fisted. He had to take charge, had to take control before it was too late. Silently he vowed he would do whatever he had to.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Such a simple little house. Two bedrooms, one bath, sparsely furnished with secondhand furniture and inexpensive, sentimental knickknacks. Painted a soft shade of yellow with plain white trim, it looked almost friendly.

  Elizabeth shivered as she climbed the front porch steps and knocked on the door, knowing the place wasn’t friendly at all.

  Maria pulled it open and a wide smile broke over her face. The moment Elizabeth stepped through the door, the young girl swept her into a hug, which was a little clumsy with the size of Maria’s belly and the plastic bag of groceries hanging from Elizabeth’s arm.

  “Thank you for coming,” the young woman said. “I am so glad to see you.”

  “I brought a few things.” Elizabeth held up the bag. “And I ordered a pizza for supper. I hope that’s okay. The deliveryman ought to be here any minute.”

  “I love pizza! Miguel likes my cooking better, so we do not have it very often.”

  And they didn’t have much money. It was the reason she’d ordered the food and b
rought some goodies for them to munch, some popcorn and a six-pack of Diet Coke, since Maria couldn’t drink alcohol. Elizabeth would rather have had a bottle of wine—or better yet, a big bottle of tequila—something that would knock her out for the night so that she could forget about ghosts and murderers and maybe fall asleep.

  They unpacked the goodies in the kitchen, put the Cokes in the fridge and set the popcorn out to pop later. Then the doorbell rang and the pizza man arrived, a young man wearing a Dave’s Pizza apron and a little paper hat. Elizabeth paid the boy, and as soon as he was gone, they sat down to eat pepperoni pizza and drink soda at the little table in the kitchen.

  It was getting dark outside, the early September days finally getting a little shorter.

  “I am glad you are here,” Maria said, flicking a glance toward the window where the light had begun to fade.

  “Is it this way every night, Maria? When it starts to get dark, do you worry about what might happen in the house?”

  The girl was standing at the kitchen counter. She finished the last of her Coke and set her empty glass and Elizabeth’s down in the sink. “I try not to think about it. Mostly, I am all right…until we go to bed. Miguel is so tired he usually falls right to sleep. I take my pills and then I sleep, too, but even when I am sleeping, sometimes I see her.”

  “You wake up and see her, you mean?”

  She shook her head. “She is there, sometimes, in my dreams, trying to warn me. And always she is so frightened.”

  “What do you think she’s afraid of?”

  Maria turned away from the sink and sat back down at the table. “I do not know. Whatever holds her here. And she is afraid for me and the baby.”

  An icy shiver ran down her spine. “We’ve done a lot of research, Maria, Zachary Harcourt and I. We found out things about the house—or at least the old house that was here before this one was built—some of them not so good. I think maybe you’re the link, the fact that you’re pregnant. I don’t think the ghost has shown herself to very many people, but since you are here now, and you are going to have a baby, she has come.”