All Night Long (35 page)

He jackknifed to a full sitting position. “The hell he did.”

“I decided that the best thing I could do was get off the road, so I turned into that old subdivision at the end of the lake.”

“Ventana Estates?”

“The idiot followed me.”

“You are scaring the living daylights out of me.”

“Have to admit, I was a little tense myself at the time.” She shivered. “But that old road through the subdivision was still covered in gravel, just as I remembered. What’s more, it hasn’t been maintained very well. It’s a real mess.”

“I know. I drove through Ventana Estates shortly after I moved to Dunsley just to check it out.”

“A little local recon, hmm?”

“Tell me the rest of it.”

Her smile faded. “I did the only thing I could think of. I stomped on the accelerator as soon as I realized the SUV wasn’t going to back off. Believe me, he got a windshield full of gravel and rocks.”

“That,” he said, thinking about it, “was a very good maneuver.”

“I could hear the rocks and pebbles hitting the SUV. I’m pretty sure I did some serious damage to the windshield and the finish on the hood and front fenders.”

“He didn’t follow you out of the subdivision?”

“No. I had my eyes glued to my rearview mirror all the way home. Never saw him again.”

“Did you get a good look at the SUV?”

She shook her head. “Not really. He came up behind me very suddenly. I was so rattled that it was all I could do to concentrate on my driving.”

“What color?”

“Silvery gray, like yours and a few hundred others in the area. It was one of the larger models with tinted windows. But that’s all I noticed.”

“License plate?”

“Are you kidding? I never even got a glimpse of it.”

He sat quietly for a moment.

“Luke?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re thinking that maybe it was more than a case of simple road rage, aren’t you?”

“I’m thinking that’s a real possibility,” he said, forcing all emotion out of his voice. “Both Pamela Webb and Hoyt Egan are dead. If you had gone off the road into the lake today people would be talking about your unfortunate accident tonight. And Senator Ryland Webb could rest a little easier, knowing that the woman his daughter had contacted just before she died was gone.”

“That bastard isn’t going to rest easy for the rest of his
life if I have anything to say about it,” she vowed. “Tomorrow night at the fund-raiser I’m going to nail his hide to the wall. The story will break in the
Glaston Cove Beacon
the next morning and Webb’s career will be in smoking ruins within hours.”

T
he following evening Irene stood with Luke, Adeline Grady and Duncan Penn, the
Glaston Cove Beacon
’s one and only photographer, in the shadow of a potted palm. Together they surveyed the crowded hotel ballroom.

“Very slick,” Luke said. He was dressed in a suit and tie, and he carried a laptop under one arm. “No one even blinked when we walked through the door.”

“That’s because all they saw were our press credentials,” Irene said. “How did you get them anyway, Addy?”

Adeline, short, round and magnificent in a stoplight-red pantsuit, rocked on her heels and looked smug. “Some of the easiest things to get in the entire universe are press credentials for a political fund-raiser. The campaign officials want the media to attend.” She waved in the direction of the buffet table. “Why do you think they put out all the good grazing food?”

“Not a bad spread, either,” Duncan said. Young, thin and slight of build, he looked as if the weight of the cameras draped around his neck might cause him to topple over. He examined the canapés, sliced cheeses and small sandwiches heaped on the small plate in his hand. “I’d give the Webb campaign a seven out of ten for the buffet. Maybe an eight.”

Irene looked at Adeline. “I wouldn’t have thought that the
Glaston Cove Beacon
was particularly popular with the Webb campaign people, given that we broke the story of Pamela’s death.”

Adeline downed some champagne and lowered the glass. “There may have been a slight misunderstanding regarding the exact name of the paper when I phoned to request the credentials.”

Luke studied the plastic-encased card slung around his neck. “That would probably explain why our paperwork says that we’re with the
Beacon Hill Banner.
”

“A temporary miscommunication, which I am only too happy to correct.” Adeline reached into her tote bag, withdrew four press cards and handed them around. “Here are your replacement credentials.”

“Misunderstandings happen,” Luke said, removing the
Beacon Hill Banner
card from the plastic holder.

“They do, indeed,” Adeline agreed. She looked at Duncan. “I’ll hold that plate for you while you exchange the cards.”

“Thanks.” Duncan gave her his heavily laden plate and busied himself with the process of removing and replacing the press cards.

Adeline ate one of the sandwiches and immediately helped herself to another.

Irene exchanged her credentials and went back to surveying the room. “No one here seems to be mourning the death of Hoyt Egan.”

Adeline shrugged and selected another tidbit from Duncan’s plate. “Webb’s new campaign manager released a statement earlier today. Called Egan’s death a terrible tragedy and said it clearly demonstrates that it is time to get tough on crime and that Ryland Webb has a plan to do just that.”

“Heard that before,” Duncan said. He finished fiddling with his credentials and reached to take back his plate. An alarmed scowl widened his eyes. “Hey, that’s my food, boss.”

“Oh, is it?” Unperturbed, Adeline seized one last cocktail sausage and then handed over the plate.

Luke looked at Irene. “How does it feel to be a big-time investigative journalist?”

“Adrenaline city,” she confessed. “Don’t usually get this jazzed when I cover the Glaston Cove city council meetings or choose the recipe of the week.”

Addy rubbed her hands together. “You aren’t the only one who is in high gear tonight, kiddo. Got to admit this story of yours feels big, very, very big.”

Irene reached into her handbag, took out the little recorder and clipped it to the shoulder strap. She switched it on to make certain that it was working. “These gadgets have a bad habit of failing just when you’re about to start an interview. Cameras ready, Duncan?”

“Ready and waiting.” Duncan gazed longingly at the buffet table. “Do I have time to refill my plate?”

Irene saw commotion in a doorway at the back of the room. Webb appeared. Alexa Douglass was at his side. A short, anxious-looking man hovered in the background. Hoyt Egan’s replacement, no doubt.

“Forget the food, Duncan,” she said. “Webb just arrived.”

A keen expression lit Adeline’s face. “Here we go, boys and girls.”

Irene stepped out from behind the palm, notebook in hand. “Follow me.”

“The two scariest words in the English language,” Luke said dryly.

She paid no attention. She concentrated on forging a path through the crowd. Ryland Webb was surrounded by a group of well-wishers and potential contributors, but his height made it possible to keep him in view.

Alexa Douglass spotted Irene first. Surprise and then a frown of alarm flashed across her face. She suppressed both reactions quickly beneath a polite smile and then whispered something to Ryland.

His head swiveled as he searched the crowd. When he saw Irene and her companions, he spoke urgently to his new aide.

The short man hurried forward, obviously intent on intercepting her.

“Miss Stenson?” The aide planted himself directly in front of her. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” He glanced at Luke, Adeline and Duncan. “You and your friends.”

“I have some questions for the senator,” Irene said.

“He’s not giving interviews tonight. He’s entertaining his guests.”

“Tell Senator Webb that I am in possession of a video that was recently shot on location in Europe,” Irene said. “Make it clear that the story about that particular junket and several others to the same destination is set to appear in tomorrow’s edition of the
Glaston Cove Beacon.
Ask him if he would care to comment.”

The aide’s face creased with bewilderment. He glanced back over his shoulder at Webb, who had turned his back on the small group.

“Better not make this decision on your own, son,” Adeline advised the aide. “This is big.”

The short man dithered briefly.

“Wait here,” he said.

He spun around and worked his way back through the throng to where Ryland stood surrounded by people. Irene watched him deliver the message in low-voiced tones.

Ryland jerked as though he had been tapped by a cattle prod. He turned slowly to look at Irene. She had to hand it to him, she thought, his expression was well schooled, giving nothing away. But she could see raw fury burning in his eyes.

“If looks could kill,” Adeline murmured, “I think we’d all be smoking cinders about now.”

“Oh, man, he looks pissed, all right.” Duncan sounded remarkably cheerful. He took aim with a video camera. “This’ll be great for the online site.”

Ryland said something to the aide and to Alexa. Then he started toward Irene.

“Showtime,” Irene said softly. She stepped forward to
meet him, raising her voice. “Senator Webb, what can you tell us about your last trip to Europe?”

“Not here.” Ryland glared at Luke, Adeline and Duncan. He angled his head toward a hallway. “I’ll speak to you all in private.”

He moved off through the crowd, not waiting for an answer. Irene followed quickly, aware that the others were close behind her. She checked the recorder clipped to her shoulder bag one last time. Duncan selected another camera.

Ryland strode swiftly down a hall and turned into a small conference room. Irene, Luke, Adeline and Duncan trooped in behind him. He slammed the door shut and whirled to confront Irene.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded in a voice that vibrated with rage.

“Senator Webb, the
Glaston Cove Beacon
is in possession of some computer files containing evidence and videos that appear to show you in the act of raping an underage girl in a European brothel,” Irene said. “Do you have a comment?”

“You stupid bitch, how dare you suggest anything of the kind? I’ve never raped anyone in my life.” Ryland turned a dark shade of red. “If you’ve got film, I guarantee you, it’s fake. If you go public with it, I will see that you and your damned newspaper are ruined. Do you hear me? I’ll destroy you.” He looked at the others. “All of you.”

Irene nodded at Luke. “Show him what we’ve got.”

Luke set the computer on a table, raised the lid and powered up the machine. Ryland watched with an expression of gathering horror.

“You can’t do this,” he said. “Do you realize who you’re dealing with? I can make your lives a living hell.”

Adeline gave him a sunny smile. “I love threats. They make great quotes. Is that recorder working, Irene?”

“Yes, boss.”

Ryland stared, face working, at the little device clipped to Irene’s shoulder bag. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

“My paper is also in possession of a video recording made by your daughter, Pamela,” Irene continued, scribbling
rapidly in her notebook. “On it, she states that you are a pedophile and that you abused her when she was a girl.”

“That’s a lie.” Ryland fisted his hands and took a step toward her. “I’ve told you, my daughter was mentally disturbed. If you print that garbage, I swear I’ll—”

Luke moved up close behind Irene. “No threatening the reporter.”

Ryland rounded on him. “You’re a fool to get involved in this, Danner.”

“Not like I had anything more interesting to do,” Luke said.

Irene heard one of Duncan’s cameras whir. She made some more quick notes and then looked up.

“Pamela knew that you would attempt to portray the videos as frauds, so she also supplied copies of travel records and credit card statements that verify that you made several trips to the city in which that particular brothel is located. My paper is prepared to fly me to Europe to investigate.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Adeline blink at that outrageous statement.

“I’ll sue your paper right into the ground,” Ryland said. “Those trips were made for legitimate reasons. Trade issues.” On-screen, Pamela started to talk. Ryland went still, as though hypnotized. “Shut it down. Do you hear me? Shut it down.”

Adeline followed his gaze to the screen. “FYI, we made several copies of those computer files, Senator. Didn’t want to take any chances.”

Ryland turned on her. “My lawyers are going to tear all of you limb from limb.”

Duncan’s video camera whirred some more, catching what Irene knew would be a compelling scene of Ryland leaning over the much shorter Adeline in an extremely intimidating fashion while he made his threat.

Ryland realized what was happening and jumped back.

“Pamela also implicates you in the death of Hugh and Elizabeth Stenson seventeen years ago,” Irene continued. “Care to comment?”

“I had nothing to do with their deaths. Everyone knows your father was a nutcase. He killed your mother and then committed suicide.” Ryland seemed to regain some of his composure. “Obviously you are just as crazy as he was, Miss Stenson.”