Luke jerked a thumb in the direction of the hallway behind him. “Front room.”
The officer peered into the front hall. He did not seem eager to enter the house. Irene realized that h as young. In the course of his short career here in Dunsley he had probably not encountered a lot of dead bodies.
“Suicide?” the officer asked, looking uneasy.
“Or an OD,” Luke said. He glanced at Irene. “At least, that’s what it looks like.”
The officer nodded but made no move to investigate.
More sirens sounded in the distance. They all looked toward the entrance of the drive. An ambulanc nd another cruiser were coming toward the house.
“That’ll be the chief,” the officer said, obviously relieved.
The vehicles halted behind the officer’s cruiser. The medics got out of the ambulance and pulled on plastic gloves. Both looked expectantly at Luke.
“Front room,” Luke repeated.
Irene sighed. Alpha male, she reminded herself. The kind of guy everyone instinctively turns to for direction in a crisis.
The medics disappeared into the foyer. The young officer followed in their wake, more than willing t et them take the lead.
The door of the second cruiser opened. A big, powerfully built man of about forty climbed out. His light brown hair was thinning on top. The expression on his craggy face was grim.
Unlike Pamela, the intervening years had taken a toll on Sam McPherson, Irene thought.
He gave her a swift once-over. No sign of recognition flickered in his gaze. He turned to Luke, just a he other responders had done.
“Danner,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“Evening, Chief.” Luke angled his chin toward Irene. “I’m with Miss Stenson. She’s a guest at the inn.”
“Stenson?” Sam jerked back around and gave Irene a closer scrutiny. “Irene Stenson?”
She braced herself. “Hello, Sam.”
He frowned. “I didn’t recognize you. You sure have changed. What are you doing back in town?”
“I came to see Pamela. You’re the chief here now?”
“Took over after Bob Thornhill died,” he said absently. He looked through the doorway, a tense,
troubled expression creasing his face. “You’re sure that’s Pamela in there?”
“Yes.”
“I was afraid of that.” He exhaled deeply a long, world-weary sigh. “Heard she was in town this week. But when I got the call tonight, I hoped there was some mistake.
Thought maybe she’d let one of he ity friends use the house for a few days.”
“It’s Pamela,” Irene said.
“Damn.” Sam shook his head, mournful but resigned to the inevitable. “You’re the one who found her?”
“Yes.”
He gave Luke a brief, speculative look and then turned back to her. “How’d that happen?”
“I got into Dunsley very late this afternoon,” she said. “I tried to call Pamela several times throughout the evening. There was no answer. I began to get concerned, so I finally decided to come out here to see if she was home.”
“Cathy Thomas, the woman who took your call, said you reported booze and pills at the scene?”
“Yes,” Irene said. “But—” She started to say that she didn’t think Pamela had committed suicide, but Luke gave her a hard look that, much to her annoyance, made her hesitate. By the time she had found her tongue, Sam was speaking again.
“Thought she was doing okay,” Sam said quietly. “She was in and out of rehab for a while after college, but in the past few years she seemed to be staying clear of the crap.”
“The pill bottle in there has a prescription on it,” Luke said.
Sam narrowed his eyes. “Sounds like she was back in therapy again.” He moved into the foyer and paused just inside the doorway to look back at Irene. “You going to be in town for a while?”
“I was planning to leave tomorrow,” she said, not certain what she would do next.
“I’ll want to ask you a few questions in the morning. Routine stuff.” He angled his head toward Luke. “You, too, Danner.”
“Sure,” Luke said.
Irene nodded, not speaking.
“I’ll see you both at the station around nine-thirty,” Sam said.
He vanished into the house.
Luke regarded Irene. “You’re not exactly a stranger here in Dunsley are you?”
“I grew up in this town. I left when I was fifteen.”
“First time you’ve been back?”
“Yes.”
He watched her closely in the porch light. “I take it you’ve got some bad memories of this place.”
“What I have are nightmares, Mr. Danner.”
She walked across the drive and got into her compact.
It was going to be one of the really long nights, she thought, starting the engine, one of those mini-eternities when none of the usual rituals worked.
Four
When she got back to the brightly lit cabin, she took the travel pouch of tea out of her shoulder bag and went into the tiny alcove kitchenette to boil some water.
The cabins of the Sunrise on the Lake Lodge did not boast many amenities, but they had been designed as long-term-stay accommodations for summer visitors who liked to spend two weeks or a month at a time at the lake. In addition to the minimal cooking facilities, there were place settings for four, a teakettle and a few basic pots and pans.
She thought about Pamela while she waited for the tea to steep. The dark phantoms of memories that were stored in the vault in her mind stirred. Over the years various therapists and well-intentioned counselors had done their level best to help her lay the ghosts to rest, but she knew that only the truth could do that. Unfortunately, the truth had been the one thing denied her.
She took the chipped mug of tea back to the sagging couch and sat down. A heavy engine growled softly in the night. Luke had returned. She looked through the curtains and watched him get out of the SU nd let himself into Cabin Number One. Somehow, it helped knowing that he was in the vicinity.
She sat quietly and thought about the terrible summer of her fifteenth year, the summer when she had become for three short, memorable months, Pamela Webb’s best friend. The summer her parents had been murdered.
At a quarter to three in the morning, she made her decision and reached for her phone.
Adeline Grady answered on the sixth or seventh ring.
“You’ve got Grady,” Adeline said in a sleepy voice that had been rendered permanently husky by a daily regimen of expensive whiskey and good cigars. “If this isn’t important, Irene, you’re fired.”