“I’m meeting Kyle and his partner at Vincenzo’s tomorrow night for dinner. Join us,” he said.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve got Tommy with me, and I haven’t spent any time with Cindy, and we leave on Sunday and—”

“Bring them,” he said.

“I’ll need to talk to Cindy.”

“Tell you what, Livie,” Noah said, walking to his desk. He picked up a pen and wrote something on a piece of paper. “Here’s my cell number. Talk to Cindy and if you can make it, just let me know. I’d love to catch up.”

“I have your number,” Liv said.

“I had to change it after the documentary came out,” he said.

“Your adoring fans,” Liv replied.

“They’re not all fans,” he said.

Liv examined the paper. It was his official stationery: thick stock with Noah’s name and the state seal at the top. It hadn’t changed in seven years. Not since that morning he’d left her the note on the hotel room pillow, saying that he had to get home early to deal with the fallout from his son’s house party—the one that eventually sent her son to prison.

CHAPTER 29

MATT PINE

Matt awoke to a tap on his shoulder. He sat up quickly, squinting at the bright sun, confused for a second, but then remembering he’d slept on the beach. Before him was a young Mexican man wearing a white polo shirt and tan shorts. Other similarly dressed men were setting up umbrellas, unfolding chairs, and raking the sand. Matt looked toward the ocean. It was early and only a few people were on the beach. A couple with two young kids walked the shore, searching for shells, running from the waves.

“I’m sorry, sir, but this area is for guests only,” the man said.

“I am a guest.” Matt stood, brushed himself off, and walked toward the footpath that led to the hotel, hoping the guy wouldn’t call his bluff. He continued through the back door of the lobby, his damp sneakers squeaking as he made his way to the entrance of the facility. Out front, a bellhop hailed him a cab to the police station.

It took fifteen minutes to reach the station house. Matt took a deep breath before walking through the front door, which was propped open with a brick.

The lobby was a sweat lodge. He didn’t remember it being so hot yesterday. Behind the front desk was the same receptionist. She had an old metal fan on the desk, blowing around hot air. She gave Matt a sympathetic look and he worried he was in for a repeat of yesterday.