“Yes, of course, Hoyt,” Ryland said. “I’ll talk to you later, Sam.”
“Sure,” Sam said.
Irene stepped directly into Ryland’s path. “Senator Webb, I’m Irene Stenson.
Remember me? I was a friend of Pamela’s in the old days here in Dunsley.”
Ryland looked startled. But his expression quickly turned warm and polite. “Irene, my dear. Of course I remember you. It has been a very long time. You’ve certainly changed. I almost didn’t recognize you.” His expression grew somber. “Sam says you were the one who found Pamela last night.”
That was his cue, Luke thought. “She wasn’t alone,” he said. “I was with her. Luke Danner.”
“Danner.” Ryland’s eyes tightened a little at the corners. “Sam mentioned that the new owner of th odge was also on the scene.” He indicated the woman at his side. “Luke, Irene, allow me to introduc y fiancee, Alexa Douglass.”
“How do you do?” Alexa inclined her head in graceful acknowledgment of the introduction. “I’m so sorry that we are meeting under such sad circumstances.”
“Excuse me, sir,” Hoyt muttered. “We really do have to leave.”
“Yes, Hoyt,” Ryland said. He looked apologetic. “Irene, Luke, this is my aide, Hoyt Egan. He’s in charge of keeping me on schedule. This is a very busy time for me, as I’m sure you’re well aware. I’ve got back-to-back fund-raisers lined up for the next two months. And now I’ve got Pamela’s funeral to worry about.”
“Gosh, just think, a fund-raiser and your daughter’s funeral in the same time slot,”
Irene murmured. “Which will it be? Choices, choices.”
There was a short, stunned silence. Luke watched every jaw in the room except his own drop so har t was a wonder they didn’t all crack on the floor.
Ryland recovered first. Dismissing Irene, he fixed his attention on Luke. “I’m not entirely clear on why the two of you went to see Pamela last night.”
“It’s complicated,” Luke said.
Irene took the recorder out of her pocket and clipped it to the strap of her shoulder bag. She reached into another pocket and removed a pen and a notepad.
“Senator Webb, I’m with the Glaston Cove Beacon. As you may or may not know, we announced your daughter’s death in today’s edition.”
“That’s impossible,” Hoyt snapped. “None of the media even know about Pamela’s death yet.”
“I just told you, I’m a reporter,” Irene said patiently. “The story ran this morning.
You can also find it at the Beacons online site.” She turned back to Ryland. “Can you tell us if there will be an autopsy performed on your daughter to determine cause of death?”
Anger flashed across Ryland’s face, but only for a split second. He veiled it almost instantly. “I realiz hat finding Pamela’s body last night must have been a terrible shock for you, Irene.
But I must make it clear that I have no intention of discussing the details of my daughter’s death with any member of the press, not even you. This is an intensely personal matter as I’m sure you, of all people, understand.”
Irene jerked ever so slightly, as though she’d been slapped, but she did not step back. Luke watched her scribble something on her notepad.
“Did Chief McPherson tell you that the reason I’m back in town is because I got an e-mail from Pamela requesting me to meet her here in Dunsley?” she asked.
Ryland was clearly astounded by that information. “Pamela contacted you? What did she want?”
“She didn’t say. She just asked me to come here to talk with her.”
Ryland swung around to confront Sam. “You didn’t tell me about this.”
Sam flushed a dark, dull red. “Didn’t think it was important.”
“Sir,” Hoyt interrupted nervously, “we really have to get moving.”
Ryland switched his attention back to Irene. “I wasn’t aware that you and Pamela were still in contact with each other.”
“That e-mail note was the first word I’d had from her in seventeen years,” Irene said very steadily. “Naturally I was more than a little surprised to receive it.”
“She gave no indication at all why she wanted to talk to you?” Ryland demanded.
“No,” Irene said. “But I got the impression that it had something to do with the past.”
“What past? Your friendship with her, do you mean?” Ryland grew visibly calmer.
“Yes, that does make sense in a way. I expect that she wanted to say good-bye to an old acquaintance. People intent on committing suicide sometimes do that, I’m told.”
“Really? Who told you that?” Irene asked, scribbling madly.
“I read it somewhere,” Ryland muttered. He eyed the recorder uneasily. “Pamela was being treated for severe, clinical depression,” he added, enunciating each word very clearly.
“I don’t believe that she contacted me to say good-bye, Senator,” Irene said. “I think she may have wanted to discuss the circumstances surrounding the death of my parents, Hugh and Elizabeth Stenson. I’m sure you recall the case.”
Ryland stared at her. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Alexa closed her elegantly manicured fingers over his sleeve. “Ryland?”
“It’s all right, dear.” He pulled himself together. “Years ago there was a terrible tragedy here in Dunsley.
A murder-suicide. Irene’s parents both died.” He raised his voice slightly and spoke directly toward the recorder. “Poor Irene, here, found the bodies. Everyone said she was badly traumatized by th xperience and would probably never be quite right again. Don’t worry, there is no connection t amela’s death.”
Alexa looked at Irene. “You have my deepest sympathies, Miss Stenson.”
“Thank you.” Irene did not take her gaze off Ryland. “Sir, don’t you agree that there is at least a remote possibility that Pamela’s death is connected to what happened all those years ago?”
“No,” Ryland said in a thoroughly crushing tone of voice.
Hoyt Egan jerked. He stared at Irene in mounting horror. “What you’re implying is impossible, Miss Stenson, absolutely impossible. And if your paper prints any innuendos of that sort, the senator will consult his lawyers.”