River’s End

backs on that little girl, her tearful description of what she’d seen that night, and given Sam Tanner any pity.
    Twenty to life, the first fifteen without possibility of parole. Noah didn’t intend to be judge or jury but to align facts. As far as he was concerned, drugs didn’t matter. Drugs might blur the edges, remove inhibitions. They might bring out the beast, but the beast had to exist in order to act. The hand that had plunged the scissors repeatedly into Julie MacBride had belonged to a monster. He didn’t intend to forget that.
    He could research the crime objectively, he could distance himself from the horror of it. That was his job. He could sit and listen to Sam Tanner, talk with him, become intimate with his mind and put it all down on paper. He could dissect the man, prowl around in his brain and note the changes that may or may not have taken place inside him over the last two decades.
    But he wouldn’t forget that one night in high summer, Sam Tanner hadn’t been a man.
    He started to begin a new search on Julie MacBride, then on impulse changed it to River’s End Lodge and Campground. He sat back and sipped his coffee as their home page came up. Technology, he mused, was a wonderful thing. There was an arty and appealing photo of the lodge, exactly as he remembered it. A couple of interior photos showed the lobby and one of the guest suites. There was a chatty little description, which touched on the history, the accommodations, the beauty of the national forest.
    Another click took him to the recreational offerings— fishing, canoeing, hiking, a naturalist center . . .
    He paused there and grinned. She’d done it, then. Built her center. Good for you, Liv.
    They offered guided tours, a heated pool, health-club facilities. He skimmed down, noting that weekend, full-week and special packages were offered. The proprietors were listed as Rob and Val MacBride.
    Nowhere did he find Olivia’s name.
    “You still there, Liv?” he wondered. “Yeah, you’re still there. With the forest and the rivers. Do you ever think of me?”
    Annoyed he’d had the thought, the question, he pushed away from the desk and stalked to the window. He looked out at the city, at lights, at traffic. And wondered what had become of his ancient backpack.
    Turning away, he flicked on the television, just for the noise. There were times when he couldn’t think in silence. Because he was a man, and there was a remote at hand, he couldn’t resist surfing the channels. He let out a short laugh when Julie MacBride, young, gorgeous and alive, filled the screen. Those striking amber eyes were glowing with love, with pleasure, with the sheen of tears as she raced down a long sweep of white stairs and into the arms of Sam Tanner.
    Summer Thunder, Noah mused. Last scene. No dialogue. The music swells ... He watched, hearing the flood of violins as the couple embraced, as Julie’s warm flow of laughter joined it. As Sam lifted her off her feet, circling, circling in celebration of love found.
    Fade-out.
    Fate? Noah thought. Well, sometimes there was just no arguing with it. He picked up a notebook, plopped down on the bed with it and began to make a list of names and questions.
    Jamie Melbourne
    David Melbourne
    Roy and Val MacBride
    Frank Brady
    Charles Brighton Smith
    Prosecution team? Who’s still alive?
    Lucas Manning
    Lydia Loring
    Agents, managers, publicists?
    Rosa Sanchez (housekeeper)
    Other domestic staff?
    At the bottom of the list, he wrote “ Olivia MacBride .”
    He wanted more from her than memories of one violent night. He wanted what she remembered of her parents together, what she remembered of them individually. The tone of their household, the undercurrents of marital distress. There were always other angles to pursue. Had Julie been involved with Lucas Manning—giving credence to her husband’s jealousy?
    Would she have told her sister? Would the child have sensed it? The servants?
    And wasn’t it interesting, Noah decided, that his daughter hadn’t been among the things Sam Tanner claimed to miss?
    Oh yes, Olivia was key, Noah thought, and circled her name. This time, he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted by feelings, by basic attraction, by even the connection of friendship.
    They were both older now, and that was behind them. This time when they met, it would be the book first.
    He wondered if she still wore her hair pulled back in a ponytail, if she still had that brief hesitation before