THE COMPUTER SCREEN GLOWED blue in the light of Megan's desk lamp on the desk in the library.

Do it. Don't just stare at a blank screen. Tap the World Wide Web of information. You could find anything on a computer if you looked long enough. Or at least it would tell you where to go to find what you wanted.

But she didn't really want to know if her mother had lied to her.

Bite the bullet.

Concentrate. Remember the only echoes that had come clear. Hiram.

A long scream, fading. A woman falling? John, my baby.

What baby?

Pearsall. A woman done wrong by a man named Pearsall.

She didn't even know during what time period those episodes happened. It was pitifully sparse information to go on, she thought in frustration. Of course she could go back to the cave and try to let the voices return.

Yeah, sure. She was going to put herself through that again? No way. She typed "Myrtle Beach" in to the search engine.

She would dip into the local newspaper files and see if that babble was the echoes that Grady claimed them to be. Considering those references were so scanty as to be close to nonexistent. Lord knows how much time it was going to take her.

It didn't matter. She'd stay with it for as long as it took.

GRADY LEANED BACK IN THE DRIVER'S seat, his gaze fixed on the light streaming out of the library window. She had been up all night and he had an idea what she was doing.

Go ahead, Megan. Work it out for yourself.

I'll be here protecting your back.

CHAPTER SIX

IT WAS CLOSE TO NOON BEFORE Megan finally shut off the computer and leaned back in her chair.

Done.

She should be exhausted, but she was too wired to feel anything but excitement, tension, …and fear.

Get over it. She hadn't spent all this time and effort to let herself be blocked by an outpouring of emotion. Go take a shower and make a fresh pot of coffee. Think clearly and logically, go over the notes, and then come to a conclusion.

No matter how unclear and illogical the conclusion might prove to be.

"YOU PHONED?" GRADY SAID WHEN she opened the front door to his ring two hours later.

"Ten minutes ago." She frowned. "You must have been practically on the doorstep."

"Close enough." He came into the foyer and shut the door. "I told you I'd come when you called."

"But that was at the hospital."

He smiled. "That doesn't make any difference. I don't believe in short-term commitments. If you phoned, then you must have had a good reason. I'm not one of your favorite people at the moment."

"That's true." She turned on her heel. "Come into the kitchen and sit down. I need to talk to you. I'll even give you a cup of coffee."

"You're feeding me under your roof? Isn't that a medieval gesture of truce?"

"I'm not feeding you. I'm giving you a cup of coffee." She pulled out a chair at the kitchen table where she'd already set out cups and a carafe of coffee. "And the truce depends entirely on what you tell me."

"Then I'll start telling you about Phillip. I called the hospital and they have him comfortably settled in Bellehaven Nursing Home. I had Harley arrange for a guard to keep an eye on him."

She stiffened. "Wait a minute. You had no right to choose a nursing home without my input. Do you have any idea how many substandard nursing homes there are? A coma patient is totally helpless."

"I wouldn't put Phillip in a place where he'd not be well cared for. I checked it out. It's a fine place. Bellehaven has a special Coma Rehabilitation Unit in the annex run by Dr. Jason Gardner. It's small but high quality. They don't just let a patient lie there and vegetate. They try experimental medication, physical therapy, even study past psychological evaluations. I talked to Gardner and he's passionate about what he does. You should appreciate that."

"I do." Phillip needed all the passion they could give him in that dark world. "Has he evaluated Phillip yet?"

"No, he'll do that tomorrow. Right now there's no change in his condition. They're to contact both of us if there's any alteration, good or bad, tonight. Tomorrow you can talk directly to Gardner. He gave me his number and told me he's available to the families of his patients at any time."

"He sounds like a good doctor, a good man." She paused. "Thank you." It was clever of Grady to soften her attitude by appealing to her affection for the one person that they could discuss without conflict. "I just didn't think they were going to move him until tomorrow."

"I wanted him more comfortably settled."

"So that you could check him off your priority list?"

"No." He stared her in the eye. "So you could check him off yours. Yes, I wanted him to have the best possible care, but I also wanted your mind and focus clear. If that makes me a bastard, then so be it." He poured coffee into her cup. "But I don't believe my selfishness is that important to you at the moment or I wouldn't be here. Your move, Megan. Why did you want to talk to me?"

"Because you're the one with the answers." Her hands clenched around her cup. "I need to know more."

"More than what?"

She took a folded page of paper from her pocket and handed it to him. "When I was in the cave, these were the only conversations that I could distinguish out of that hideous cacophony. They were the strongest echoes."

"And?"

"I had to know that what you told me was true." She shook her head. "No, there's no way I can know, but I had to believe." She drew a deep breath. "That's why I spent the last sixteen hours at the computer searching through newspaper morgues trying to find some rock of reason to cling to."

"And did you find it?"

She didn't answer directly. "It wasn't easy. I had no date factor to enter into the equations. I had to go through every reference to the quarry since 1913, when the newspaper was established. I wasn't even sure what happened there would be mentioned. If there were crimes, they might not be known. If the emotional trauma was personal, there was no reason for it to be in the newspapers."

"No reason at all." His gaze narrowed on her face. "But you did find something. You're... pumped." He tapped the first name on the paper she had given him. "Hiram?"

"In 1922, Hiram Ludlow, a worker at the quarry was tried for the murder of his wife, Joanna. He pushed her from the cliff only a few yards from the cave. Then he went after his brother, Caleb, and shot him. He died in prison in 1935."

Grady pointed at the second name on the paper, "Pearsall."

"In 1944, Kitty Brandell sued Donald Pearsall for child support for her illegitimate daughter. She worked in the Pearsall Carpet Factory near town and when Donald came back from serving in the Army in World War Two, he evidently swept her off her feet. They had several clandestine meetings in the cave that summer and her daughter, Gail, was conceived there. He denied being the father and she was fired from her job and practically run out of town. But she fought back, saved up money for a lawyer, and filed the suit when her daughter was seven years old."

"Did she win?"

"No. His family had the power and the money. She ended up with nothing but court costs and a bad reputation, which was pretty terrible in those days. I wanted to find what happened to her later, but I didn't have time to investigate anything that wasn't pertinent to what happened in that cave."