All Night Long

wer oing to do the trick.
    Maybe everyone in his family was right, maybe he was having some problems getting his act togethe nd maybe things were getting worse, not better, as he had begun to believe. Hell, maybe he was asket case, just as they all feared.
    But one thing he knew was true—he hadn’t lost his obsession with dots. Whenever he saw an interesting assortment of the little suckers, he got a bone-deep urge to connect them.
    Irene had hit redial on her phone at least five times while she watched the evening news with him. Whoever it was she had come to Dunsley to see had never answered.
    Something told him that sh asn’t going to be able to just sit quietly waiting much longer. She had as good as admitted that she wasn’t thrilled to be here and she was looking forward to escaping as soon as her
personal business
was concluded.
    The muffled rumble of a car engine emanated from the narrow drive that linked the cabins to the main lodge. Lights flashed on the other side of the curtains, spearing the night briefly before turning towar he main road.
    His one and only guest was leaving. Had her phone call finally been answered? Or was she skippin own and her bill here at the lodge?
    Automatically, he checked his watch and made a note of the time. Ten twenty-five.
    There was not a lot going on at this hour on a weeknight in early spring here in Dunsley, certainly nothing that was likely to lure an out-of-town visitor with obviously sophisticated tastes. The Ventana View Cafe closed promptly at nine.
    Harry’s Hang-Out, the only bar, generally remained open until midnight, providing there were enough customers, but somehow he didn’t think its quaint charms would interest Irene.
    He went to the window and watched the twin beams of the snappy yellow compact sweep out onto the main road. She turned left toward town, not right to the highway.
    Okay, she wasn’t ducking out on the lodge tab. She was definitely off to meet someone. But a lady who was afraid of the dark probably didn’t go out alone a lot at this hour unless it was absolutely necessary. Someone or something here in town must be damned important to Irene Stenson.

    He had lived in Dunsley for several months. It was a very small town, a place where nothing out of the ordinary ever happened. Hell, that was the primary reason he had decided to move here. Offhand he could not think of anyone in the community who might scare a woman like Irene, but he was willing to bet that she was afraid of something.
    And just why the hell did he care?
    He thought about the mix of anxiety and somber determination that had been vibrating in her all evening. He knew the face of raw courage and sheer grit when he saw it. He also knew what it was like to go out into the night to meet the bad guys.
    You didn’t do it alone unless there was no alternative.
    Maybe Irene could use some backup.
    He fished the keys out of his pocket, grabbed his jacket and went outside to the SUV The drive to the Webb house took Irene through the heart of Dunsley’s minuscule downtown. The trip proved to be an unsettling experience. So much seemed familiar.

Three
    The drive to the Webb house took Irene through the heart of Dunsley’s minuscule downtown. The trip proved to be an unsettling experience. So much
seemed
[_familiar. _]
    It wasn’t right, she thought. The place should have changed more than this in the intervening years. She paused at the four-way stop that marked the main intersection.
    It was as if Dunsley had fallen into lack hole seventeen years ago and remained trapped in a time warp.
    True, most of the storefronts had been modernized and repainted. A few of the shops bore new names. But the changes were all superficial. Everything looked uncomfortably the same, if ever so slightly ou f phase. Yep, definitely a time-warp thing, she told herself.

    There were almost no other cars on the streets at this hour. She tromped on the accelerator, anxious to get to her destination.
    The lights were still on in the gravel parking lot outside Harry’s Hang-Out. The second H in the fade eon sign still flickered, just as it had seventeen years ago. The small herd of battered pickups and SUVs parked in front was identical to the one that had filled the lot in her youth. Her father had been rouse ut of bed in the middle of the night on more than one occasion to quell a brawl at Harry’s.
    She drove past the park and kept going for a short distance. When she reached Woodcrest Trail sh