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figured that havin uiet, unfashionable little Irene in her orbit made her look even more glittery and exciting. At any rate,
    for about three months they were inseparable. No one understood why Irene’s folks allowed her to associate with Pamela, though.”
    “Pamela was held to be a bad influence, I take it?”
    Maxine grimaced. “Worst possible influence. Lot of busy-bodies took it upon themselves to warn Mr.
    and Mrs. Stenson that if they didn’t keep Irene away from Pamela, she would come to a bad end. It was widely predicted hereabouts that sooner or later sweet little Irene Stenson would fall victim to the evil forces of sex, drugs and rock and roll.”
    “Ah, the innocent pleasures of youth.”
    “Yep, the good old days,” Maxine agreed. “But for some reason, which no one in town could understand, the Stensons didn’t seem to object to the friendship between the two girls. Maybe they liked the idea of Irene hanging out with the daughter of a U.S. senator, although I never thought the Stensons were impressed by that kind of thing.”
    Luke studied the view of Cabin Number Five through the trees. Most of the lights had been left burning all night. The last time he had checked, sometime after four in the morning, the glow in the bedroom had diminished to a dim, silvery blue. He had concluded that Irene had finally gone to sleep with a night-light in that room.
    “Go on with the story,” he said. It was going to be bad, he thought. He could feel it in his bones.
    “One night Hugh Stenson shot his wife to death in the kitchen of their home. Then he turned the gun on himself.”
    “Damn.” He’d known it would be rough, he reminded himself. “What about Irene?”
    “She was out with Pamela Webb that night. When she got home she found the bodies.” Maxine paused. “She was only fifteen years old, and she was alone when she walked into the house. Still gives me the creeps just thinking about it after all this time.”
    He said nothing.
    “It was incredibly tragic. Really shook up the community. Later there were rumors that Elizabeth Stenson had been having an affair with someone in Dunsley and that Hugh went crazy mad when he found out.”
    “Crazy mad?”
    Maxine nodded somberly. “There was also a lot of talk about how Hugh had seen some heavy combat during his time in the Marines and that he suffered from that post-trauma thing.”
    “Post-traumatic stress disorder.”
    “That’s it.”
    He looked at Cabin Number Five again and saw Irene coming through the trees toward the lobby. She was dressed much as she had been yesterday, in a pair of sleek black trousers and a black pullover. The long black trench coat was unfastened. The hem swirled around the tops of her gleaming black leather boots.
    The family history certainly explained the shadows and secrets he had seen in those amazing eyes, he thought.
    “Wow.” Maxine peered through the window at Irene. “Is that Irene?”
    “That’s her.”
    “I never would have recognized her. She looks so . . .”
    “What?”
    “I don’t know,” Maxine admitted. “So different, I guess. Not like that poor, brokenhearted girl emember seeing at the funerals.”
    “Where did Irene go to live after the deaths of her parents?”
    “I’m not sure, to be honest. On the night of the murder-suicide, one of the police officers, a man named Bob Thornhill, took Irene home with him. The next day an elderly aunt arrived to take charge of Irene. We never saw her again after they buried her folks.”

    “Until now.”
    Maxine did not take her eyes off Irene.” I can’t get over how she’s changed. She’s so sophisticated-looking. Like I said, she never even dated back in high school.”
    “Probably dates now,” Luke said. “A lot.”
    He could not imagine any man ignoring that cool, subtle, feminine challenge.
    “Who would have guessed she’d turn out so classy and stylish?” Maxine went back to the coffee tabl nd got very busy. “Let’s see, she would