River’s End

him. It energized him. From now until it was done, Sam Tanner would be the focus of his life. He wants to run the show, Noah wrote. So do I. It’s going to be an interesting tug-of-war. He’s smart. I think people have underestimated him, seeing him purely as a spoiled and selfish pretty boy with a filthy temper. He’s learned control, but the temper’s still under it. And if his reaction to Jamie Melbourne is any indication, his temper can still be mean.
    I wonder how much of what he tells me will be the truth, what he sees as the truth, or outright lies.
    One thing I’m sure of is that he wants the spotlight again. He wants to be recognized. He wants the attention that’s been denied him since he walked into San Quentin. And he wants it on his terms. I don’t think he’s looking for sympathy. I don’t think he gives a good goddamn about understanding. But this is
    his story. He’s chosen the time to tell it, and he’s chosen me to tell it to. It’s a good twist — the son of the cop who took him down writing the book. The press will play on it, and he knows it.
    His comments on Jamie Melbourne are interesting. Truth, perception or lie? It’ll be even more interesting to find out.
    Most intriguing of all is the fact that he’s yet to ask about Olivia, or to mention her by name.
    He wondered if Jamie would.
    Noah understood that Jamie Melbourne’s publicity firm, Constellations, was one of the most prestigious in the entertainment business. It had branches in Los Angeles and New York and represented top names.
    He also understood that prior to her sister’s death, Jamie had represented only Julie, and had worked primarily out of her own home.
    It was an unarguable fact that Jamie’s star had risen after her sister’s murder. What that meant, Noah mused as he drove through the gates to the elaborate home in Holmby Hills, was yet to be seen.
    According to his research, the Melbournes had moved into the estate in 1986, selling their more modest home and relocating here where they were known for their lavish parties.
    The main house was three stories in sheer wedding-cake white with a long flowing front porch at the entrance flanked by columns. Rooms speared out from the central structure in two clean lines on opposite sides, with walls of glass winking out on richly blooming gardens and fussy ornamental trees.
    Two gorgeous golden retrievers bounded across the lawn to greet him, tails slapping the air and each other in delight.
    “Hey there.” He opened the car door and fell instantly in love. He was bending over, happily scratching ears and murmuring nonsense when Jamie walked over carrying a ratty tennis ball.
    “They’re Goodness and Mercy,” she said, but didn’t smile as Noah looked up at her.
    “Where’s Shirley?”
    A faint wisp of humor played around her mouth. “She has a good home.” Jamie held up the ball. As one, both dogs quivered and sat, staring up with desperately eager eyes. Then she threw it, sending it sailing for the dogs to chase.
    “Good arm,” Noah murmured.
    “I keep in shape. It’s too nice an afternoon to sit inside.” And she’d yet to decide if she wanted him in her home. “We’ll walk.”
    She turned, heading away from where the dogs were wrestling deliriously over the ball.
    Noah had to agree she kept in shape. She was fifty-two, and could have passed easily for forty—and was all the more attractive as she wasn’t going for twenty. There were a few lines, but they added strength to her face, and it was her eyes that drew the attention rather than the creases fanning out from them. They were dark, intelligent and unflinching. Her hair was a soft brown, cut in a just-above-chin-length wedge that set off the shape of her face and added to the image of a mature woman of style and no fuss.
    She was small framed, slimly built and wore rust-colored slacks and a simple camp shirt with confidence and comfort. She walked like a woman who was used to being on her feet and knew how to get where she wanted to go.
    “How is your father?” she asked at length.
    “He’s fine, thanks. I guess you know he retired last year.”
    She smiled now, briefly. “Yes. Does he miss his work?”
    “I think he did, until he got involved with the neighborhood youth center. He loves working with kids.”
    “Yes, Frank’s good with children. I admire him very much.” She walked past a glossy bush that smelled delicately of jasmine. “If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be here