Handsome Dr. Kent Mattson is a highly recommended
psychologist with a high paying private practice. It wasn't
the stars or the Hollywood industry casualties, however,
who normally captured his attention, but rather, the
challenges in his other work as a forensic psychologist
with the LAPD. Tired from checking out a murder scene
earlier that day that still kept buzzing in his mind, Kent
wasn't as focused as normal when the attractive Melanie
Harris refuses to open up on her first visit.
Called to the scene of a second homicide with similarities
to the first, he is shocked to discover that Melanie knew
both the victims and may be in danger herself. Trying to
find a safe place for her, Kent decides to fly her to
Chimeya, his family ranch, where Melanie soon finds her way
into the hearts and schemes of his Newfoundland housekeeper
and his soon to be adopted kids - a legacy from his late
wife's work with inner city youth. When Susan was gunned
down, Kent had been consumed with guilt and felt he could
never love again.
As Kent spends many hours trying to decipher both the
patterns left at the crime scenes and his own feelings,
Kent's boss, Carolyn Murphy, a fashionable grandmother and
top notch career detective becomes concerned that Kent may
be blinded to Melanie's potential as a killer. After all,
Melanie had been the one betrayed on her wedding day by her
own sister as Ariel had chosen that time to tell Melanie
that she was pregnant. The father was none other than the
groom, Mitch Carson, an aspiring actor who himself was
killed a few weeks later in an "accident".
Despite a little too Hollywood coincidental opening, Julia
Penney quickly hits her stride in developing this riveting
investigative thriller of intrigue, romance, and trust
betrayed. The characters are fascinating and believable and
the various subplots are masterfully interwoven to add
tension and hint at the motives behind the killings. Enjoy!
It was on her wedding day that Melanie Harris discovered
the ultimate betrayal: her sister Ariel was pregnant by
Melanie's fiancé.
Six months later, Melanie turns to psychologist Dr. Kent
Mattson for help in resuming her life. Kent, a man plagued
by his own demons, is immediately drawn to Melanie. But he
has more pressing matters on his mind — like the two,
possibly linked, homicide investigations he's assisting
with. The situation becomes even more complicated once he
realizes that Melanie knew both victims.
When Ariel goes missing, Melanie knows she has to let go
of that past betrayal. Saving Ariel means forgiving her —
and trusting Kent, the man who's shown her that there's
love after loss.
Excerpt
WHEN MELANIE HARRIS had envisioned celebrating her six-
month wedding anniversary, she never imagined she would
spend it sitting in an impersonal office, waiting for an
appointment with the renowned Dr. Kent Mattson. Then
again, she hadn't anticipated how quickly things could
have turned bad. She glanced at the unmoving hands of the
wall clock, then tried to read the magazine in her lap,
but the words on the page were a meaningless blur.
She sighed, bit her lip and, for the hundredth time,
wondered what was keeping her in the chair. All she had to
do was get up, walk out into the bright California
sunshine and put the whole sorry chapter behind her.
There was the door.
She stared at it for a moment, then set the magazine down
and stood with sudden resolve. She'd just taken her first
step toward freedom when the receptionist entered the
waiting room.
"Dr. Mattson will see you now, Ms. Harris," she said with
a pleasant smile. The receptionist was a middle-aged woman
with a calm, patient expression, obviously accustomed to
dealing with the steady stream of emotional wreckage that
flowed through Dr. Mattson's office. "I apologize for the
wait."
Melanie, a mere two feet away from the door, froze with
indecision. She could hear her heart beating in the
stillness of the room. Her mouth was dry, her palms damp.
She didn't belong here, but, after all, she'd promised
Stephanie that she'd endure at least one visit. She owed
her best friend that much. It was Stephanie's enviable
strength that had propped Melanie up for the past six
months. Six months of wishing she were dead rather than
face another sunrise.
"Promise me you'll see Dr. Mattson. He's the best there is
and he can help you," Stephanie had pleaded.
"You have to put this behind you. None of what happened
was your fault."
Wasn't it, though? Wasn't she standing here in this
office, hand reaching for the doorknob, because she'd
blindly and willingly believed everything Mitch had told
her, in spite of the warnings from those who'd known him
so much better than she had?
"Ms. Harris?" the receptionist said, a concerned frown
furrowing her brow. "Are you all right?"
Melanie felt herself beginning to crumble. In spite of her
resolve not to show any weakness, her eyes stung and her
voice trembled when she spoke. "If I were all right, would
I be here?"
The receptionist never missed a beat. "Ms. Harris, there
isn't one among us who doesn't need someone like Dr.
Mattson at some point in our lives," she soothed, stepping
forward to touch Melanie's arm. "Please, come with me."
She guided Melanie across the waiting room to another door
and gave her a reassuring nod before opening it. Melanie
drew a deep breath, shored up the last of her resolve, and
entered Dr. Mattson's inner sanctum.
Expecting an older, overweight man with gray hair, horn-
rimmed glasses and a placid, patronizing expression,
Melanie was surprised by the sight of an athletically
built man dressed in blue jeans and a chambray shirt,
sleeves rolled back to reveal powerful forearms.A man
whose dark, tousled hair showed not a hint of gray, whose
keen blue eyes were offset by the weathered tan of his
face and whose strong masculine jaw looked as if it hadn't
felt a razor since erasing the five o'clock shadow of the
night before. In fact, he looked much more like a cowboy
who had just come in from a hard morning's work in the
saddle than a clinical psychologist. She wondered for a
moment if she were in the right place, but before she
could retreat, the receptionist closed the door behind her
with a firm click.
She was trapped.
KENT MATTSON KNEW he was running behind, but he was
distracted. He couldn't stop thinking about the murder
scene he'd been called to that morning. But,
unfortunately, his work with the LAPD paid peanuts
compared to his private practice. Two days a week he
listened to clients who were victims of Hollywood; it was
a shallow world by most counts, juicy by others, yet
immensely profitable to those in a position to help them.
Without that extra income he'd have lost Chimeya long ago.
Too, he derived an ironic satisfaction from an
increasingly healthy bank account bolstered by these movie
industry casualties. It was these very same stars and
starlets moving into the valley who had sent property
taxes soaring and jeopardized the long-term survival of
the historic ranch that had been in his family for three
generations.
He glanced down at the latest file his receptionist had
placed on his desk. Melanie Harris. The name was vaguely
familiar, though he couldn't place it. He scanned through
the file but his mind kept returning to the morning's
murder.
A soft rustle of movement interrupted his thoughts and he
glanced up to see a woman standing in the doorway. She
seemed uneasy, which wasn't unusual for a client's first
visit. He rose to greet her.
"Ms. Harris. Please, come in. I'm Kent Mattson," he said,
crossing the room.
Melanie Harris was a tall, attractive young woman in her
late twenties or early thirties. Her clothing was
predictably fashionable, her hair a deep, lustrous shade
of mahogany and swept back. She wore no makeup, which was
highly unusual in this part of town, but the best makeup
artist couldn't have hidden the dark smudges beneath those
tragic green eyes, nor mask the fact that she was at least
ten pounds underweight.
Kent gestured to the chair across from his desk. "I was
just reviewing your file," he said, waiting for her to
sit, but she remained standing just inside the door. "I
see you were referred by your regular physician, Patricia
Phillips. Won't you have a seat?"
She hesitated, and he sensed that she was very near to
bolting. Her eyes held his for a moment, like a startled
doe caught in the headlights of a car, and he was struck
by her expression. He turned away and moved toward the
side table, and poured himself a cup of coffee. "I have
several bad habits," he said, glancing over his
shoulder. "One of which is drinking too much coffee. Could
I fix you a cup, or would you prefer tea? I have black,
green or herbal." He noted that some of the initial
anxiety had left her eyes, but the wariness remained, and
he doubted very much that the sadness would ever
leave. "I'm fine, thank you," she said in a quiet voice.
Good. At least she could talk. Be a tough job for him if
she couldn't. He carried his mug to the window and stared
out at a skyline smudged with brown haze. "I see from your
file that Dr. Phillips was concerned about your weight
loss and chronic insomnia." He took a sip of coffee,
wondering why her physician hadn't just prescribed Prozac
or Valium. The movie industry was hooked on those pills.
Still no response from Ms. Harris, who remained standing
just inside the door, poised to flee. "So," he said,
turning to face her, "we know why Dr. Phillips thinks you
should be here. I guess what I need to know is why you
think you should be here."
He felt another jolt as his eyes locked with hers. If she
wasn't a big-name movie star yet, she would be. Those eyes
alone would guarantee that, even if she couldn't act worth
a damn.
"I'm here because I've been told I need your help," she
replied.
He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "That's
something you're not going to get from me until you're
ready for it. When you're here because you want to be
here, you'll be ready. Until then, you're just wasting
your time and mine."
Her face betrayed no emotion whatsoever, but he noticed a
quick flash of pain in her eyes. "In that case, Dr.
Mattson, I'll be going," she said, and turned toward the
door.
Kent might have let her walk out except for that flicker
of anguish. She was in trouble, real or imagined, and
needed help. That was, after all, why he was there,
despite his current preoccupation, which he did his best
to shake off. "Once you start running from your past, Ms.
Harris, it becomes very hard to stop," he said. "How much
longer do you want to live like this?"
His words made her pause, her hand closed around the
doorknob. He saw the determined set of her shoulders as
she stood motionless, and then she leaned forward until
her forehead touched the door, her body rigid. After
several long moments she straightened, turned and looked
at him.
"I'm tired of running."
"Good," Kent said, relieved that he hadn't driven her
away. "You've just taken the first step. If you choose to
stay, we can begin."
FOR MELANIE, remaining in Dr. Mattson's office meant
returning to a place in time that she never wanted to
revisit again, yet she knew instinctively that to silence
the demons, she had to confront them. She also realized
that alone, she was incapable of fighting that battle. As
much as she wanted to walk out, she knew it would be a
mistake. For six months she'd suffered.
Ever since her wedding day.
She remembered every detail as if it were yesterday. The
original DiSanto gown, a slim, strapless shiver of satin
and pearls. Stephanie helping her with the tiny buttons up
the back. The sweet-spicy scent of the old-fashioned pink
roses that made up her bridal bouquet. The deep, rhythmic
rumble of the Pacific Ocean and the golden afternoon
sunshine spilling through the tall Palladian windows while
Ariel wove pearls into her hair....
It was perfect, until the tap came on the door and Janet,
the wedding director, peered into the room. "It's almost
time. Two minutes until they start the wedding march.
Victor's waiting to walk you to the rose arbor. You look
just beautiful, Melanie."
Would she ever forget that moment? Stephanie had finished
fastening the last button and had gone to gather up the
bridesmaids, leaving her alone with Ariel, who had been
uncharacteristically quiet throughout the endless
preparations. Ariel, her hands full of pearl hairpins, her
face as pale as Melanie's gown, her fingers trembling so
badly that Melanie, noticing all of this for the first
time, reached her own hand to close on her sister's.
"Ari, for heaven's sake, what is it? What's wrong?" Ariel
pulled away from her, shaking her head, denying that
anything was amiss, but something very definitely was.
Melanie rose to her feet, concerned. "Are you ill? Please,
Ari, tell me. What is it?"
Her sister's blue eyes had filled with tears. "It's
nothing," she said with such dramatic pathos that Melanie
knew her sister thought her world was coming to an end.
"Ari, this isn't the time for theatrics." Melanie put her
hands on her sister's shoulders. "Tell me what's wrong."
The tears spilled over. "Oh, Mel, I'm pregnant," Ariel
blurted out around a choked sob. "I wasn't going to tell
you. I didn't want to tell you!"
This was hardly the moment for Ariel to be breaking this
news. In five minutes Melanie was supposed to be walking
down the petal-strewn path to her wedding ceremony.
"I'm happy for you, Ari," Melanie managed, hugging her
sister. "Now stop crying. This isn't the end of the world.
You're not the first unmarried woman on the planet to get
pregnant." Ariel began to weep in earnest and Melanie's
patience grew thin. The minutes were ticking down, and
Mitch was waiting. "Ari, who's the father? Does he know
about this?"
Ariel buried her face in her hands and cried out in
despair. "Oh, God, Mel, it's so awful. I didn't want to
tell you."
"I would have guessed sooner or later. It's pretty hard to
hide a pregnancy after a while, kiddo. Look, we'll talk
more about it at the reception, okay? It's going to be all
right, Ari," Melanie said, stroking her sister's hair back
from her flushed face with genuine affection, because as
much as Ariel could drive her crazy, Melanie wanted the
best for her. "I'll help you through this. Trust me.
You'll be a great mom."
Ariel was not reassured. "I wasn't going say anything,
except for being pregnant. You're my sister and I love
you. I would never hurt you, Mel. Never."
Melanie felt a twinge of unease. "Of course you wouldn't.
You're not making any sense at all."
Another tap at the door, and Janet looked in. "We're
waiting on you, Melanie." She frowned. "Is everything all
right?"
"Just give us a few more minutes," Melanie said, and when
the door closed she gripped Ariel's shoulders and leveled
her gaze. "Talk to me, Ari."
Ariel shook her head again. "I'm three months pregnant. I
was going to get an abortion. I went to the clinic and
I..." Fresh tears brimmed over and Melanie released her to
grab a nearby box of tissues. "I just couldn't go through
with it," Ariel said, sniffling and dabbing at her eyes.
"That's all right. Does the father know?" Melanie repeated.
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