All Night Long

agree.”
    John’s mouth tightened. “I was afraid you were going to say that.” He searched Luke’s face with a worried expression. “Jason also told me that you were with Irene when she found Pamela Webb’s body.”
    “Yes.”
    “That had to be very difficult for you, given what happened to your mother when you were a boy.”
    Luke swallowed some of the intense cabernet. “You’ve been talking to Dr. Van Dyke too much.”
    “I think you should talk to her, too.”
    “Haven’t got time right now. Like I said, I’m busy.”
    John stirred, visibly annoyed. “What’s all this about the senator’s lake house burning to the ground?”
    Luke smiled humorlessly. “Jason did a very good job of filling you in, didn’t he? I’ll have to speak t im about that.”
    “Don’t blame your brother. I asked the questions. He answered. Look, I know you don’t want to admit you might have some issues. No one wants to admit that they’ve got psychological problems. That goes double for men who have seen combat and probably quadruple for Marines. But Dr. Van Dyke say hat PTSD is a wound, just like having shrapnel in a leg. It can fester if it isn’t cleaned out.”
    “I’d like to know how Van Dyke can justify coming up with a diagnosis without ever interviewing the patient.”
    “That’s exactly why she thinks you should make an appointment with her. She wants to get a solid diagnosis. Even though you refuse to talk about it, we all know that you went through some terribl tuff during your last couple of years in the Corps. No one can be exposed to that kind of thing an ot be affected.”
    “I never said it didn’t affect me. What I’ve said is that I’m dealing with it.”
    “The hell you are. After you got out of the Marines you were unable to adjust to working here at the winery. You failed to establish a normal, intimate relationship with the woman you planned to marr nd had to end your engagement—”
    “Dad, this isn’t a good time.”
    “Then you take yourself off to the middle of nowhere, buy a third-rate, fleabag motel and get involved with a rather odd woman who appears to be trying to construct a conspiracy theory about the death o he daughter of a U.S. senator. I don’t need a degree in psychology or psychiatry to know that doesn’t sound exactly normal.”
    The door opened before Luke could come up with a response.
    Gordon Foote walked into the room. He took in the scene with a knowing expression and raised his eyebrows at John.
    “Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “Should I go back out and come in again?”
    “Don’t bother,” John growled. “You’re family Not the first time you’ve seen Luke and me go at it.”
    That was no less than the truth, Luke thought. Gordon had been his father’s friend and partner since before Luke was born. The bond between the two men had been forged when they were enthusiastic students in the wine-making program at the University of California at Davis. Together they had built a dream. Elena Creek Vineyards had survived economic recessions, drastic changes in the global marketplace and a number of earthquakes. Today it thrived, thanks to the dedication and effort o hese two men.
    In many ways the pair could not have been more different. Gordon was the easygoing, genial sort,
    the kind of man who could walk into a room full of strangers and, within ten minutes, be on a first-name basis with everyone. Women loved to dance with him. Men enjoyed his company. Hostesses knew that the easiest way to ensure a successful party was to make certain that Gordon Foote got an invitation.
    Even Gordon’s ex-wife was fond of him, although she had left him several years ago during one of the downturns in the wine market. She had assumed, as many in the industry had, that Elena Creek Vineyards was headed for bankruptcy. By the time it became clear that the company was destined to flourish, she had remarried.
    Gordon had remained happily single, devoted equally to the business and to his daughter, Katy. As fa s Luke could determine, he did not lack for feminine companionship.
    Gordon crossed the room to where the open bottle of cabernet stood on a side table. He gave Luk wry, commiserating look. “Who’s winning this one?”
    “It’s a draw so far.” Luke smiled slightly. “Neither of us is giving an inch.”
    “What else is new?” Gordon raised his glass in a mocking salute. “Don’t let me stop the two of you. Always fun to watch the