Irene’s cell phone rang, jarring her so badly that she jumped a good three inches. She did not take her eyes off the screen as she punched the key to take the call.
“Irene?” Luke’s voice carried the hard, no-compromise edge of command.
“What’s wrong?” she asked instantly.
“Hoyt Egan is dead.”
[_”Dead?” _]
Tess’s head came around very fast, an alarmed, questioning expression on her face.
“Who’s dead?” she asked.
Irene held up a hand to silence her so that she could hear Luke.
“I found him a short while ago,” Luke said. “Someone hit his head very hard and very often with eavy, blunt object. The cops are here now. They’re going on the assumption that Egan interrupted a burglary in progress.”
“Dear heaven.” Stunned, she tried to gather her wits. She looked at Tess. “Hoyt Egan, Webb’s aide.
He’s dead.” She turned her attention back to the phone. “Wait a second, Luke. What do you mean,
you found him? Where are you now?”
“In the hallway outside his apartment. The cops have set up a crime scene. I’m calling because I’m not going to be able to get away for a couple of hours, at least.
The detective in charge has made that real clear. He wants to talk to me.”
“Of course he does. You’re the one who found the body. Why on earth did you go to Egan’s apartment?”
“Call it a whim,” Luke said dryly. “Look, I’ll give you the whole story when I get home. Meanwhile, I don’t want you there alone at the lodge.”
“I’m not at the lodge,” Irene said automatically. “I’m at Tess Carpenter’s house.”
“What are you doing there?” he asked sharply.
“At the moment we’re viewing some computer files that Pamela left for me to find.”
“What files? Where did you get them?”
“She stashed them in my old bedroom at the house where I lived with my parents here in town.”
“You went there?” Luke paused. “Alone?”
“I’ll explain later. The important part is what I found. Some of the files are film clips.
We’re watchin ne now. It shows Senator Webb in this really odd pink-and-white room. He doesn’t seem to know that he’s on camera.”
“What the hell is he doing?”
“At the moment, he’s sitting on a chair with a drink in his hand. But it looks like he’s waiting for someone else to come into the room.”
“Irene, pay attention,” Luke said. “I called Phil Carpenter just before I called you.
He’s headed out t he lodge. I’m going to call him back and tell him where you are.”
“Why?”
“I want him to keep you company until I get back to Dunsley.”
“I don’t understand.”
Tess was watching her with an expression of total confusion now.
“Didn’t you hear what I just told you?” Luke said. “Someone murdered Hoyt Egan.”
“A burglar.”
“That’s what the detective suggested. Me, I’m not taking any chances, given your theory about Pamela Webb’s death.”
Irene swallowed hard. “Got it.”
At that moment a girl walked into the pink-and-white fairy-tale room. She appeared to be no more than ten or eleven years of age, blond and delicate.
“She looks like a flower girl at a wedding,” Tess said softly.
The girl was dressed in a floor-length white satin gown. A gossamer veil clouded her features. She came to a halt a few steps away from Webb.
Irene went cold. She felt the phone start to slip from her suddenly nerveless fingers and hastily tightened her grip.
“Not the flower girl,” she whispered. “She’s the bride.”
Tess paled. “Oh, my God. You’re right.”
“Irene?” Luke’s voice crackled roughly. “Are you okay?”
“It’s the film clip,” she said. “There’s a young girl dressed as a bride. And Webb. I can’t believe it. No.
I can believe it. That’s what’s so awful.”
“I’ve got to call Phil. As soon as I get in touch with him, I’ll call you right back.”
“Okay.” She was vaguely aware of Luke’s cutting the connection, but she could not take her eyes of he screen.
Webb rose from the pink chair. The bulge of his erection was clearly visible, tenting the fabric of his trousers. He reached out, took the child bride’s hand and said something to her, his manner a mockery of gallant behavior. The girl did not respond in any visible way. Irene assumed that she was in some sort of trance that had been induced by either the psychological trauma of the situation, drugs or both.
Webb tugged the girl toward the door. She trailed after him listlessly, the train of her miniature white gown dragging forlornly across the carpet behind her.
The film clip went dark. A second later a new scene appeared. The setting was a frilly pink-and-white wedding-cake bedroom. It was obvious from the limited range of the camera’s view and the lowered lighting that this clip had also been shot clandestinely. The child bride stood statue-still next to the bed, clutching her bouquet.
Webb walked into view. He was nude, his middle-aged body soft and sagging and obscene without the camouflage of his expertly tailored clothes. He reached out to raise the wedding veil that covered the child’s face.
“I can’t watch any more of this,” Irene said. She spun away from the scene before she got physically ill.
“Neither can I.” Tess lowered the screen of the computer.
Irene’s phone sounded.
“Luke?”
“Phil’s on his way” Luke said. “What’s happening in that film clip?”
Irene looked out the window at the dark expanse of the lake. “I think we just found out why Pamel as murdered.”
Forty-Two
Pamela looked into the camera. She was still sitting on the sofa, the glass of wine in her hand. ocking smile curved her mouth, but her eyes were as cold as northern seas.
[_”That was taken on Daddy’s last trip out of the country. Pretty sick stuff isn’t it? _]
Got to give
Hoyt Egan some credit. He accompanied Daddy on some of the foreign junkets and figured out what was going on. He bribed one of the brothel employees to make that video. Thing is, until I discovered a few weeks ago that Hoyt Egan was blackmailing my father with that video, I had convinced myself that Daddy wasn’t doing little girls anymore. Turns out he’d just taken his business out of the country.