Part 281 (1/2)

”She had help.”

He rose then, all but lunged from the chair to roam the room. It was

full of the tangible proof of his success. Gold records, platinum

records, Grammys, American Music Awards. Signs that the music he had

created was important.

Jockeying for s.p.a.ce with them were dozens of photographs. Devastation,

yesterday and today, Brian with other singers, musicians, politicians

he'd supported, celebrities. There was a framed snapshot among them, of

Emma and his lost son, sitting on the banks of a little creek and

smiling into the sunlight. He had created them as well.

Twenty years dissolved in an instant, and he was back on the sun

dappled gra.s.s, listening to the laughter of his children. ”I thought

I'd put this behind me.” He rubbed his fingers over his eyes and turned

away from the picture. ”I don't want Bev to know, not yet. I'll tell

her when I think the time's right.”

”That's up to you. I wanted you to know I'm going to reopen the case.”

”Are you as dedicated as your father?”

”I'd like to think so.”

With a nod, Brian accepted that. Whatever bond had been forged on that

horrible night two decades before had yet to be broken. But he had

another child to consider. ”What about Emma? Are you going to put her

through all the questioning again?”

”I'll do everything I can to keep Emma from being hurt.”

He opened a bottle of ginger ale. A poor subst.i.tute for whiskey. ”Bev

seems to think you're in love with her.”

”I am.” Michael shook his head at the offer of a drink. ”I'm going to