All Night Long

taken care of my mother.” Sam closed his eyes for a few seconds. Then he looked straight at Irene. “He was in his office at the San Francisco store that day. Just a couple of hours away.”
    There was a short, heavy silence. Luke squeezed Irene’s shoulders to reassure her and then went bac o the window.
    “He used an inflatable boat with an outboard motor each time he came to Dunsley to kill,” he sai uietly “Launched it in some deserted section of the lake. That way there was no risk that anyon ould see him entering or leaving Dunsley. Probably didn’t worry at all about being seen when he murdered Hoyt Egan, though. No one at the apartment complex would have recognized him. Hoyt

    would have opened the door to him.”
    “Just as my parents did,” Irene said.
    “I’m betting that he used drugs to kill Pamela’s mother all those years ago,” Sam said grimly. “When he decided to get rid of Pamela, he was forced to act quickly. He must have concluded that it would be easiest to use the same method. After all, he had already done the research.”
    The certainty in Sam’s voice caused Luke to turn around. “You found some evidence?”
    Sam’s mouth thinned. “I discovered an empty syringe in the glove compartment of my SUV thi orning. Sent it off to a lab to run some tests on it. Expect they’ll find traces of whatever Victor use o kill Pamela.”
    Irene’s brows rose. “Speaking of your SUV what reason did Victor Webb give you when h orrowed it?”
    “He didn’t exactly knock on my door and ask permission to take it,” Sam said evenly. “He stole it whil was here in my office. I got a call from the chief of police over in Kirbyville saying he’d found the vehicle abandoned out near the old Ventana Estates subdivision site.
    We both figured some kids ha aken it joyriding.”
    “Victor must have been desperate to use your vehicle to try to get rid of me,” Irene said. “It meant h ad to take the risk of slipping into town and stealing the SUV out of your garage without being seen.”
    “Not that much risk involved.” Sam shrugged. “He probably used the old logging trail that runs through the forest behind my subdivision. Remember, he hunted around here all of his life. He knows the terrain as well as he knows his own face in the mirror.”
    “Still, it seems odd that he used your SUV ,” Irene insisted. “Why not his own vehicle? Or a rental? And why did he leave the syringe in your glove compartment?”
    “Because he knew that things were starting to fray,” Luke said quietly. “Victor realized that there wa growing risk that the situation would get out of control. If that happened, he wanted to be sure tha here was a convenient fall guy.”
    Irene’s face tightened with dismay. She looked at Sam.
    “You,” she whispered.
    “Me,” Sam agreed. “He was setting me up. Just in case.”
    None of them spoke for a while.
    Eventually Sam fixed Irene with his world-weary look. “Your dad knew about the gossip that I wa ictor Webb’s son. He talked to me about it once.”
    “When was that?” Irene asked.
    “One night when he found me pursuing my favorite hobby, getting drunk at Harry’s Hang-Out. Tha as just after Mom had died. I wasn’t handling things very well. He shoved me into his cruiser an ook me for a ride. Talked to me.”
    “What did he say?” Irene asked.
    “He told me that in the end it doesn’t matter who your father is. He said sooner or later, every man ha o take responsibility for inventing himself, has to decide just what kind of man he wants to be. A week later he offered me a job with the department on the condition that I never came to work drunk an ever drank on duty. I promised him I wouldn’t. I know it doesn’t mean much to you, Irene, but I kept my word to him all these years.”
    “It does mean something.” Irene reached across the desk and touched his hand. “It would have been important to Dad, so it’s important to me.” She rose and looped the strap of her handbag over her shoulder. “You know, I have a very clear memory of the evening that Dad told Mom over dinner tha e had given you the job. He said you had what it took to be a good cop.”
    Sam frowned. “Hugh Stenson said that?”
    “Yes.” She smiled. “You know, my father was an excellent judge of character.”
    Sam looked at her the way a man looks at the doctor who has just told him the lab tests came back benign.

    “Thanks,” he said, his voice very husky.