"So you didn't need this?"

Michael sighed. This is going to be bad. As much as he racked his brain, though, he couldn't think of one thing he'd done wrong. There hadn't even been time, really.

"Um, about not telling you about the ghost," Michael tried. "I was wrong about that. I should have told you."

"I wouldn't have believed you," Maria said.

Michael blinked in confusion. Had he missed something? "I don't understand why you're mad, then," he admitted.

Maria blew out her breath in obvious frustration.

Michael cringed and took a step back. He hadn't backed away from the ghost of the old prospector even when lightning started striking inside the Crashdown Cafe, but he backed away from the wrath Maria exhibited.

"Did you even think about what you did?" Maria asked.

"I didn't do anything," Michael protested.

"Yes, you did."

"What?"

"You saved Liz from the ghost," Maria said, "and I was standing right there\ You didn't think about saving me!"

Liz sat in the waiting area outside the hospital emergency room wing. She wanted out of the hospital, or at least to get out of the waiting room and outside for a couple minutes. But she had the feeling that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

The waiting room was bright with early afternoon sunlight that poured in through the slatted blinds. People sat and talked, some of them acting like they'd had quite a bit of experience sitting in the hard, uncomfortable chairs. Others fidgeted or flipped through magazines without any real comprehension. A handful looked sick and nauseated, only inches away from being truly desperate.

All things considered, Liz thought the hospital waiting room wasn't an ideal place to spend time worrying about someone. Even though she didn't know Wilkins, she thought enough of him that she felt guilty. Mostly, her thoughts were on Max, wondering where he was and why he hadn't come when he'd found out what had happened at the Crashdown.

Unless he doesn't know, she told herself. Quickly she tried to cut down on that line of thinking because those thoughts got intense with a scary suddenness.

Liz glanced at her father at the other end of the room. Jeff Parker was trim and driven. He cradled his cell phone to his ear, listening for a while, then talking rapidly, working out details with the insurance people. He often referred to the yellow legal pad and file he carried, making notes as he went along.

Unable to sit any longer, Liz got up and walked over to her dad. When he looked up, she said, "I'll be right back. I'm going to get something to drink. Do you want anything?"

"Coffee," her dad said. "Thanks." Then he turned his attention back to the phone conversation.

Liz left the waiting room and walked to the small alcove filled with vending machines. She pushed a dollar in, then made her selection.

A shadow slid across the vending machine's surface as Liz straightened with the soda can in hand. Startled, remembering how she hadn't seen the ghost back in the cafe and suddenly wondering if they left shadows or reflections, Liz spun around.

"Are you all right?" Isabel asked.

"I'm fine," Liz responded. "You startled me."

"Sorry," Isabel apologized.

"No harm done. What brings you here?"

"I talked to Michael," Isabel explained. "I heard what happened at the Crashdown." She paused, looking around. "Isn't Max here?"

Liz folded her arms self-consciously. "No."

"Do you know where he is?" Isabel asked.

"No," Liz answered.

Irritation showed in Isabel’s eyes and face. "If you see him, tell him I need to talk to him."

"Sure," Liz agreed, refraining from telling Isabel the same thing. She didn't want Max to think she was looking for him. If he came to her, she wanted him to come on his own, not because he thought she needed him. Then she realized that was exactly why she was faulting him for not being there at the hospital, for not coming when he knew she might need him. "Is something wrong?"

Isabel hesitated, then said, "The ghost at the Crash-down Cafe hasn't been the only ghost sighting lately."

"I know," Liz replied. "Michael said he saw one a few days ago when he was working in the desert." Understanding dawned in her as she watched Isabel. "You've seen a ghost too?"

"I saw something," Isabel agreed. "That's why I need to talk to Max." She paused. "I need you to do another favor for me."

Liz was instantly attentive. Isabel never asked for favors. "Sure," Liz said.

"I don't think it will ever come up, but if it does, would you tell my dad that I came over to see how you were as soon as I heard about what happened at the Crashdown?"

Liz blinked, waiting for an explanation. It didn't come. "Okay," she said, but she wondered what Isabel was hiding. Liz felt paranoid all of a sudden that all of them were keeping secrets from her.

Isabel checked her watch. "When did you get here?"

"I don't know. Maybe forty-five minutes ago."

Isabel gave a short nod. "If my dad happens to ask you when I got here, can you tell him that I got here five minutes after you did?"

"Sure," Liz replied. Straight-arrow Isabel? Wanting to lie to her parents? The world might be ending after all.

"Thanks," Isabel said. "I've got to check on something. I'll be back in just a few minutes."

"Okay." Liz stood there dumbfounded, feeling the cold soda can turning her hand numb. Isabel turned and walked down one of the hospital corridors like she knew where she was going.

Terrific, Liz thought with a scowl. Now I'm Messenger Girl. She located the coffee machine and pushed in another dollar. She slipped the coffee cup from behind the protective plastic door and turned around to find Jim Valenti standing behind her. She was so startled, she almost dropped the coffee.

"Something the matter?" Valenti asked. He was raw-boned and rangy, a product of the rawhide cowboy influence that lingered in New Mexico. He wore jeans and a white Western shirt, and a pair of hand-tooled cowboy boots. He carried a white hat in one hand that marked him as one of the good guys in an old TV Land Gunsmoke episode.

"No," Liz replied, keeping control of the drinks she was carrying.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Valenti said.

Liz shot him a wry look.

"Sorry," Valenti apologized, with a small grin. "After I heard the story, I thought I'd drop by and see if it was true."

"I didn't see a ghost," Liz said.

Valenti nodded and twirled his hat on his finger. "I thought it was a bunch of hogwash, but I'm having trouble filling hours these days."

A short time back, Valenti had been let go from his duties as sheriff. He'd been holding back information that would have exposed Max, Isabel, and Michael.

"It's not all hogwash," Liz said. "There was"… she hesitated… "something. Michael saw it."

Valenti's eyes narrowed, and his forehead wrinkled in thought. "The way I heard it, you and Maria were standing beside Wilkins when he went down."

"We were," Liz agreed.

"But you didn't see anything?"

"No."

Valenti sighed. "And Maria?"

"Didn't see anything," Liz said.

"What did Michael say he saw?"

"A man." Liz tried to remember everything Michael had told her during the frantic and whispered conversation they'd managed to have before the ambulance arrived.

"Someone Michael knew?"

"No. Michael said this guy was tall and stooped, like he'd spent a lot of time hunched over so he wouldn't bump his head on things."

"What about his eyes?" Valenti asked.

The interest the ex-sheriff had in the matter was immediately apparent to Liz. "Michael said the ghost only had one eye. The other was covered by a patch."

Valenti scratched his beard-stubbled chin with a thumbnail, sounding like sandpaper. "A one-eyed ghost, eh?"