LITMIR.BIZ

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more thing.”

      “What is that?”

      “Dr. Zumwalt thinks you ought to get some counseling. It’s possible you’re suffering from some kind of stress that is causing these things to happen in your mind. I’m going to arrange for you to speak to Dr. James. Perhaps he can help you find out what is wrong.”

      Maria nodded, but Elizabeth could see she wasn’t happy with the idea. It was one thing to have a brain tumor, quite another to think you might be suffering some form of mental illness.

      “If we are finished, I would like to go home,” Maria said. “Miguel will wonder where I am if I am not there when he comes in for lunch.”

      Watching Maria’s nervousness beginning to build again, Elizabeth wondered if the problem might not have a great deal to do with the girl’s domineering husband. If so, talking to him might help.

      It wasn’t going to happen. At least not yet. Elizabeth sighed as the two of them walked down the hall and out into the hot July sunshine.

      

      It was just before lunch when Elizabeth returned to the office, a paper bag containing a low-fat Subway sandwich and a Diet Coke gripped in one hand. She set the bag down on the desk just as her phone began to ring.

      “Elizabeth? Hi, it’s Carson. I just called to thank you for such an enjoyable evening.”

      “I enjoyed it, too, Carson.”

      “Good, then how about we do it again? I’m having a small dinner party at the house a week from this coming Saturday. Representatives from a nominating committee associated with the Republican Party. They’ll be flying in with their wives. I thought you might enjoy meeting them. I know they’d like you.”

      So it was true. He was thinking of running for office. Elizabeth had never been interested in politics, aside from voting in the elections for whichever candidate she thought would do the best job. Still, it was a fairly high compliment to be included at such an event.

      “That sounds like an interesting evening. I’m registered as an Independent. I hope that doesn’t make a difference.”

      He laughed. It was a very deep, very masculine sound. “At least you’re not a Democrat. I’ll pick you up at 7:00 p.m.”

      Carson hung up and Elizabeth set the phone back down in its cradle. Carson was attractive and intelligent. They’d had a good time together at the benefit. But instead of Carson’s image appearing in her mind, his brother’s dark visage arose.

      Zachary Harcourt had always been good-looking. At thirty-four, he looked even better than he had ten years ago. But there was something different about him now, something darker and harder. He was no longer a boy but a man, one who could take care of himself. He had been to prison, she knew, and it showed in the lines of his face.

      She wondered again what he was doing out at Teen Vision and vowed to ask Carson about it the next time they were together.

      

      It was Friday, the end of Raul’s first week at Teen Vision. Elizabeth wanted to check on him and today she finally had time to take Sam up on his offer of a tour.

      Parking her shiny, nearly new Acura in the dusty lot, she climbed out of the vehicle and started toward the main office building next to the dormitory. Sam must have seen her drive in. She had called ahead, so maybe he had been watching for her. He was grinning as he walked out the door, joining her before she’d gotten halfway to the office.

      “I’m so glad you could come.” He caught one of her hands between both of his and squeezed warmly.

      “So am I. I should have come out a lot sooner.”

      “You didn’t have a reason to be here. Not until Raul.” He guided her back into the office and showed her around. “We have six full-time counselors. There are always at least two people on duty at any given time.”

      He showed her the desk each counselor was assigned, pointed out the tiny bathroom in case she should need it, showed her the small conference room with its faux wood, Formica-topped table and dark-blue padded chairs, a place the counselors could have private discussions with the boys. Then he led her outside.

      “Raul is out in the pasture. He’s got a nice way with the animals.”

      “He has a very gentle side, though he does his best not to show it.”

      He took her into the dormitory building, showed her the TV lounge, and one of the shared rooms upstairs. “Each boy has a certain amount of privacy, but we don’t allow any locked doors and we have random room inspections a couple of times a day.”

      The third building housed the dining hall, the main gathering place for the group. The kitchen was all stainless steel, immaculately clean, and she saw two of the boys in there working.

      “We have a full-time cook, but the boys do the cleanup and help with food preparation. We rotate the tasks, so each boy spends an equal amount of time and doesn’t get too bored.”

      “You’re doing a wonderful job here, Sam.”

      He smiled, seemed pleased. They headed out to where the new barn was being constructed and as she looked at the group of boys pounding nails, framing the third wall of the barn, her steps unconsciously began to slow.

      “What’s Zachary Harcourt doing out here? I can’t believe it’s a good idea to have a man like that around impressionable young boys.” Her gaze locked on his tall frame, shirtless today, his body sinewy and hard, muscles rippling as he pounded in another nail.

      Sam followed her gaze and started to laugh.

      “Why is that funny? Zachary Harcourt spent two years in state prison for manslaughter. He was drunk and high and he killed a man. From the look of his expensive clothes, he’s still involved in something illegal.”

      Sam was still grinning. “I take it you aren’t too fond of Zach.”

      She thought about the day he had embarrassed her in front of the patrons in the café. How he had shoved her up against the wall outside and tried to kiss her. How he had run his hand up her leg, trying to get under her silly little pink uniform skirt. “Zachary Harcourt was never any good. I doubt that has changed.”

      The smile slid off Sam’s face. “Why don’t we walk over there in the shade? There are a few things about Teen Vision that you ought to know.”

      He led her in that direction, into the shade of a thick-trunked sycamore not far from the barn. “The Zachary Harcourt you knew years ago no longer exists. He died during those years he spent in prison. By the time he got out, another man had taken his place. That is the man you see working over there.”

      Her gaze swung in that direction. Zach’s lean body glistened with sweat, outlining muscular ridges and valleys. He had amazingly wide shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist. A pair of worn jeans hung low on his hips and covered long legs undoubtedly as sinewy as the rest of him. She might not like Zach Harcourt, but she had to admit he had an incredibly beautiful body.

      “Zach’s been working here at least two weekends a month since the farm first started. He’s dedicated to building Teen Vision. You see, Zachary is the man who founded it.”

      “What?”

      “That’s right. It’s mostly supported now by donations, but in the beginning, Zach put up a great deal of his own money.”

      “But I thought Carson—”

      “That’s the way Zach wants it. Carson is a highly respected, very important man in San Pico. With his backing, Teen Vision has grown faster than it ever would have without his help.”

      She looked back at Zach, who had turned and seemed to be staring directly at her. For an instant, her breath caught. She quickly looked away. “How did Zachary Harcourt come up with that kind of money?”

      “Not the way you’re

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