She smiled darkly and released him, her fingers turning to the task of unfastening his belt and unzipping his fly. “Why wouldn’t you? She’s beautiful. Innocent. I know I would enjoy her.”

“I’m sure you would,” Bryce whispered, stroking her head as she took his swelling penis into her mouth. “But you can’t have her, cuz. Not until I get what I want.”

Mari climbed out of her Honda, making one final check of her appearance. She wouldn’t knock anybody off their feet with her fashion statement, but then, she hadn’t come here to attract attention to herself. Out of the limited clothes she had left, she had selected a purple silk blouse with a square-cut bottom that she let fall over a short slim black skirt. Having thrown out all her heels before leaving Sacramento, she wore simple black flats. Having burned all her panty hose, she had made a quick stop at the Gas N’ Go for a pair of L’eggs that some diabolical man had designed so that one leg was perpetually twisted. She scowled now as she glanced around for witnesses and tried to adjust the stupid thing with a discreet tug.

The paved parking area of Bryce’s little homestead was lined with an incongruous assortment of European imports and American four-wheel muscle. A bass rhythm thumped on the early evening air, carrying out from somewhere behind the enormous lodge-style log house.

“God, he must have felled half of Oregon to build that,” she whispered, staring in awe at the sheer mass of the place. It looked big enough to house Congress. A turret rose on one end like a rocket pointing to the big Montana sky. The roof was slate, the foundation massive fieldstones. The overall impression was of one thing: power.

A shiver skittered down Mari’s back. She called it a chill and strode around the side of the house in search of the source of the music and in search of some answers.

Bryce met her at the edge of the terrace as if he had been waiting especially for her. Dressed in loose-fitting navy raw silk trousers and a billowing white silk shirt worn open down the front, he was the picture of elegant hip. His hair was swept back into a neat queue, emphasizing his towering forehead. He beamed a smile at her that was almost iridescent in his tanned face.

“Marilee, I’m so glad you’ve come,” he said, taking both her hands in his. “I was afraid your friend Mr. Rafferty might have talked you out of it.”

“Rafferty doesn’t tell me what to do,” she replied, dodging the kiss he tried to brush across her cheek. She ducked around him, making a show of taking in the terrace and pool area that was cluttered with major and minor celebrities. “Quite a spread you’ve got here, Mr. Bryce.”

“Well, it’s home,” he said, chuckling with false modesty. A waiter appeared beside him, and Bryce took two slim flutes of champagne from the tray, handing one to Mari. “Call me Bryce. All my friends do.”

“Did Lucy?” she asked baldly, glancing at him from beneath her lashes as she raised the glass to her lips.

“Of course. Lucy was a regular here.” He made a mournful face, shaking his head, clucking his tongue. “Such a spirit. God, it’s a pity we had to lose her so young.”

“Yes. I’m beginning to feel I hardly knew her.”

He sipped his champagne and watched her, his pale eyes keen. “You weren’t close? She spoke of you. I’m surprised she didn’t tell you everything about her life here.”

“We shared a profession once. We were friends. But we weren’t very good about staying in touch after she moved here. As I said, I almost feel as if I didn’t know her at all anymore.”

Her gaze drifted across the small sea of faces, the thirty or so chosen elite who mingled on the flagstone terrace, talking, drinking, looking gorgeous. She recognized the redhead who had been in Bryce’s company at the Stars and Bars-Uma Kimball, Hollywood’s latest find who had been described as a cross between Tinker Bell and Madonna. She stood along the low stone wall that edged the terrace, wearing what looked to be a burlap sack with a belt of twine. A fortune in diamonds hung from her earlobes. She was stuffing her skinny face with canapes while a male model bimbob with a flowing golden mane tried to impress her with the size of his naked pecs.

Near the pool, the blond Rhine maiden stood in a stark black knit tank dress that hugged her body and dispelled any thoughts that she may actually have been a guy. Her eyes locked on Mari like a pair of lasers, beaming cool amusement.

“For instance,” Mari said, turning back to Bryce, “the sheriff told me Lucy was off riding by herself when she was-when she had her accident. I never knew Lucy to be the solitary type. I honestly can’t picture her communing with nature.”

“Yes, well, Lucy was full of surprises. Let me introduce you to some people,” Bryce offered, steering her by the elbow straight for the towering blonde at poolside. The woman was able to look down her nose at Bryce even in his high-heeled boots, something that brought a nasty gleam of satisfaction to her eyes. “Marilee, this is my cousin, Sharon Russell. Sharon, this is Lucy’s friend, Marilee Jennings.”

Sharon’s gaze raked down Mari from her unruly mane to the tips of her cheap flat shoes and back again. “Oh, yes,” she said, her wide mouth twisting sardonically, “the little singer.”

A razor-sharp smile cut across Mari’s face. “How nice to meet you,” she said sweetly. “You’re Bryce’s cousin? My, the two of look so much alike, I thought you were brothers-I mean, brother and sister.”

“You didn’t bring your guitar?” Bryce said, his mouth curving in disappointment.

“Were you going to make me sing for my supper?”

“Not at all. There are some people here from Columbia Records. I thought this might be an opportunity for you. You have a rare talent, Marilee.”

Which he had heard exactly once across a crowded room. Mari met his cool blue gaze for a moment, trying to figure out his game. Was he really so benevolent? Or was it a matter of playing God, manipulating people, bestowing blessings, then basking in the afterglow of their gratitude?

“Some other time, maybe,” she said as a glimpse of dark hair and handsome features flashed in her peripheral vision. Ben Lucas. “I’m still too shaken over everything that’s happened with Lucy and all to even think about my future. I just came to mingle, you know, meet some new people, eat some free food.”

“By all means.” Bryce flashed his teeth and gestured to the crowd around him. “Enjoy yourself.”

She nodded to him, ignored Sharon, and strolled away, snagging a stuffed mushroom off the tray of a passing waiter as she went.

Lucas was busy charming the black-haired girl from the riding party. They stood at the end of the pool, the underwater lights shimmering up on them in rippling waves. He was a good-looking man, a fact that had not escaped his own notice. Like most of the high-powered trial lawyers Mari had known, he was vain and arrogant to the point of megalomania. He had chosen his audience tonight unerringly. The young woman was hanging on his every word. She looked all of twenty, too fresh-scrubbed and innocent to be running with this crowd. Fresh meat. And Lucas was sniffing after her like a hungry wolf.

“… The press had Lana Broderick tried, convicted, and executed,” Lucas announced. “They were stunned by the acquittal.”

“But was she really innocent?”

He gave the girl a finely honed look of combined wisdom and compassion that had swayed many a juror, letting it soak in just right before dropping the dramatic finish line. “She should have been.”

Mari rolled her eyes and tried to keep from gagging on her mushroom. “I’m sure the unfortunate late Mrs. Dale Robards wished your client had been innocent,” she said dryly as she made a trio of their little duo. “If Lana Broderick had stuck with the baton-twirling squad instead of opting for extracurricular activities with Mr. Robards, Mrs. Robards might be alive today.”