River’s End

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Authors: Nora Roberts
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trial. She won’t be able, to start preschool in the fall, or play with her friends without bodyguards, without having people look at her, stare, point, whisper. And some won’t bother to whisper. I don’t want her to face that. I don’t think you do either.”
    “Oh God, Mom.” Torn to bits again, Jamie rose. “I want to raise her. David and I talked about it.”
    “How can you do that here, honey? With all the memories, all the publicity, all the risks. She needs to be protected from that but not locked in a house, however lovely, in the center of it all. Are you and David willing to give up your home, your work, your lifestyle, to take her away, to devote your time to her? Your father and I can give her a safe place. We can cut her off from the press.” She took a deep breath. “And I intend to see a lawyer myself, right away, to start custody proceedings. I won’t have that man getting near her, ever again. It’s what’s right for her, Jamie. It’s what Julie would want for her.”
    What about me? Jamie wanted to scream it. What about what I need, what I want?
    She was the one who soothed Livvy’s nightmares, who comforted and rocked and sat with her in the long dark hours. “Have you talked to Dad about this?” Her voice was dull now, her face turned away.
    “We discussed it this morning. He agrees with me. Jamie, it’s what’s best. You and David could come, spend as much time as you like. She’ll always be yours, too, but not here, Jamie. Not here.”
    Frank pushed away from his desk, surprised when he saw Jamie Melbourne. She took off her dark glasses as she crossed the squad room, then passed them restlessly from hand to hand.
    “Detective Brady, I’d like to speak with you if you have a moment.”
    “Of course. We’ll go in the coffee room.” He tried a smile. “But I’m not recommending the coffee.”
    “No, I’m trying to stay away from it just now.”
    “Do you want to speak with Detective Harmon?”
    “It’s not necessary to pull both of you away from your work.” She moved into the cramped little room. “I came on impulse. Not an easy feat,” she added as she walked to the stingy window. At least it was a window, she thought. At least she could look outside. “There are still reporters. Not as many, but a number of them camped out. I think I ran over that snippy one from Channel Four.”
    “Never liked him anyway.”
    She leaned her hands on the windowsill and laughed. Then couldn’t stop. The bubble of sound had burst a hole in her dam of control. Her shoulders shook and the laugh turned to sobs. She held on to the sill, rocking back and forth until Frank drew her gently into a chair, gave her a box of tissues and held her hand. He said nothing, just waited for her to empty out.
    “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Frantically she pulled tissue after tissue out of the box. “This isn’t what I came here to do.”
    “If you don’t mind my saying so, Mrs. Melbourne, it’s about time you let that go. The longer you hold it in, the bigger it gets.”
    “Julie was the emotional one. She felt everything in big soaring waves.” Jamie blew her nose. “And she was one of those women who looked gorgeous when she cried.”
    She mopped her raw and swollen eyes. “You could have hated her for that.” She sat back. “I buried my sister yesterday. I keep trying to take a step back from that now that it’s done, but it won’t stop coming into my head.”
    She let out a long breath. “My parents want to take Olivia back to Washington. They want to apply for full custody and take her away.” She pulled out another tissue, then began to fold it neatly, precisely, into squares. “Why am I telling you? I was going to tell David, cry on his shoulder, then I found myself going into the garage, getting into the car. I guess I needed to tell someone who wasn’t so involved, yet wasn’t really separate. You won.”
    “Mrs. Melbourne—”
    “Why don’t you call me Jamie now that

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