Endless Fear

by Adrianne Lee

  “April, about last night….” Spencer’s voice burst her reverie.

  She jumped. Hot coffee spurted from the cup and scalded her hands. Swallowing a yelp, she bit back the pain and slowly spun around to face him. At the sight of his contrite expression, the fury she’d felt last night returned full force, but she didn’t know if she was more angry because Spence had searched her room or because he’d lied to her about it afterward. “Don’t tell me you’ve decided to confess?”

  Her effrontery waivered beneath the scowl he sent her. Quickly recovering, she straightened her shoulders and raised her chin, hoping she didn’t look as awful as she felt. And extra layer of makeup cloaked the dark circles underscoring her eyes, but someone who knew her eyes, someone who knew her as well as he, might not be fooled by a bit of female camouflage.

  Spencer studied her with a discerning eye. Detecting a haggard edge to her composure, he tamped down the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss the anger and hurt from her eyes. She wanted answers he couldn’t give and he had questions he wouldn’t ask. Not until he got the electrician's report. “On second thought, enough’s already being said about last night. I just wish you’d forget those poems. They aren’t important. At least not to you. I was wondering if you’d accompany July to school.”

  Evidently, he intended to shove the dirty subject under the carpet. Well, she had no such compunction. “Since it’s already past noon, I can only suppose you want me out of the house so you can search my room again—just in case you left something untouched.”

  He opened his mouth, then slammed it shut. How could he blame her for suspecting his motives? God, he wished he was free to confess. But that would only ease his conscience. No telling what it would do to April’s fragile well-being. “Since she’ll be missing classes for the next few days, her teacher has agreed to let her do her lessons at home. But someone needs to pick them up. I’m expecting a repairman at any time now. I can’t leave.”

  And everyone else, she realized, was obviously busy with last minute party preparations. She took another swallow of coffee. At least getting angry had chased off her fatigue, but peering at him over the rim of the mug, she could see any further discussion of the poems or his search of her room would be a waste of energy. And she had little to squander.

  She reined in her ire, and caught herself staring at his mouth, remembering. Pulling her gaze from his face, she turned back to the windows. The sudden intense feeling she had to get away from him, before she did something foolish, made a boat ride in the cool salt air sound absolutely irresistible. “Of course I’ll take her. I’ve been wanting a chance to visit Friday Harbor.”

  “I’ll show you around,” July exclaimed, bounding into the room. The child was already wearing her coat.

  April smiled. “All right. I’ll get my jacket.”

  “Goody. I know the ferry’s back ‘cause there’s a man here asking to see Spence.”

  “Where is he, twerp?” Spencer moved toward the little girl and caught her affectionately by both shoulders.

  “In the entry.”

  “Thanks.” He kissed her cheek, then glanced at April. There was fire in her eyes. “See you later.”

  “Sure.” The sudden dryness in her mouth annoyed her. Darn him anyway. As angry as she was at Spence, she would look forward to later. She pulled her gaze from his departing backside and told July, “Could you put this dirty cup in the kitchen and then meet me in the foyer?”

  “Sure. Hey, you’re wearing your turtle earrings.”

  “Yes. I love them. Now hurry along, I’ll only be a minute.”

  Her parka was not on the hall tree and April realized she’d left it in her room. She hastened up the stairs and down the long corridor. As she rushed by the west wing, the doors creaked open. The unexpected sound startled April. She stopped abruptly. Her heart hammered too hard. She glared at the doors. Everything seemed bent on unraveling her frayed nerves, she decided, grasping hold of both doorknobs.

  From deep inside she heard someone call her name.

  April froze. A cold sweat broke across her flesh. “I’m not going in there,” she muttered. It could be a trap…like last night.

  The call came again.

  Reason-stealing anger overtook April, wiped out her better judgment, and compelled her into the west wing. The musty air irritated her nose, and the thick carpet buffeted her footsteps. The hallway was gloomy and shadowed, but not pitch black as the basement had been last night.

  She pushed ahead, straining to hear the call when it came again. Nothing. Not even a breeze against the house. Her stomach clenched. She hadn’t imagined the voice, had she?

  Suddenly it was imperative she prove to herself whether or not someone was in this section of the house, deliberately trying to frighten her. She tiptoed into the ballroom. Reassuring daylight occupied every corner and crevice. Only one place anyone could hide in here. With her pulse thudding in her ears, she eyed the old furniture.

  To her surprise, the dust covers littered the floor. Before leaving this room the other day, Vanessa and she had replaced all the sheets. She shuffled nearer. Shock arched through her. Every sofa and chair cushion sat askew, the fabric gouged and shredded as though someone had taken a knife to it. The oak tables were mutilated, their lovely grained tops chipped, scratched and grooved.

  Numb, April noticed the table shoved against the wall beneath Lily’s portrait. Slowly her gaze lifted. The horror had not stopped with the furniture. Long, jagged slashes crisscrossed the painting from Lily’s shoulder to the hem of her gown. Ruined. Senseless vandalism. Who had done this? Why?

  Forgotten was the need to prove she’d heard a voice. She forced her leaden legs to carry her out of the room, down the darkened corridor and into the main hallway. The only thing moving with any speed was the panic swirling inside her. She must tell her father. Where could he be at this moment? In his workshop?

  Stumbling like a drunk, she made for the back stairwell. Near her room an awful thought stopped her cold. What if the family believed she had vandalized the furniture? Slashed Lily’s painting? With chilling certainty, she concluded the damage had been wrought with that exact purpose in mind.

  April slumped against the wall. She felt like screaming, but getting hysterical was definitely not a good idea. The best course, she realized resignedly, was to ignore the whole thing, pretend she hadn’t discovered the destruction. Several deep breaths later, she gathered her wits and went for her coat.

  By the time she returned to the foyer, July was halfway up the stairs. “What took you so long?”

  “I couldn’t find my coat,” she invented. “Come on, let’s get going. Karl is probably wondering where we are.”

  The trip to Friday Harbor kept April’s mind occupied with the past and the changes that had occurred in her absence. But too soon they were boarding the ferry to head back to Calendar House.

  The deck swayed beneath her feet as she stepped from her rented compact parked near the aft railing. July was already out of the car, helping Karl wedge chunks of wood beneath the rear tires.

  Although the temperature hovered in the low fifties, Karl wore no coat or cap, and the sleeves of his flannel shirt were rolled to the elbows, revealing strong, golden-furred forearms. The plaid fabric strained against his muscled shoulders and chest. Evidently, he spent hours lifting weights or otherwise toning his body, and expected to see his efforts applauded with admiring glances, a concession April, embarrassingly, found herself yielding to.

  “Got hot coffee in a thermos, if you’re interested.” He nodded toward the wheelhouse, causing one blond lock to fall attractively across his forehead. There was an eager glint in his ice-blue eyes.

  April suppressed a grimace. The one thing she couldn’t take right now was verbal handball with Karl. “Thanks, but I’d really like some fresh air.”

  “Suit yourself.” He made it sound like she’d passed up some delicious confection. Shrugging, he departed for the stern of the boat.
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  “I’m going to help cast off,” July informed her, and scurried after Karl on the heels of April’s warning to be careful.

  Absently listening to her sister’s excited chatter. April moved toward the railing and glanced at the cloud-riddled-sky. The smell of rain hung in the briny air. She drew a breath and let out a heartfelt sigh. Behind her, the wheelhouse door opened and closed, and July’s voice was suddenly lost to her, supplanted by the lap of water against the hull and the shriek of gulls overhead. The motor roared to life.

  As the ferry edged away from the dock, a lone gull swooped and landed on the rail nearby, setting off a creaky protest and an almost imperceptible wobble all along the weatherworn balustrade.

  April waved her hands and shooed at the bird.

  It squawked and flapped its wings, but made no attempt to leave. Settling back down, it eyed her with eerie disdain, as though it had more right to be there than she. Perhaps it did, April thought, wondering if she would ever really belong at Calendar House again. She shoved her hands into her parka and glanced away from the bird, out of Friday Harbor.

  She knew she was clinging as tightly to the hope of proving herself innocent of her mother’s death as the gull clung to the railing, but she also knew the bird could fly free if the structure beneath it collapsed. There was no such easy way out for her.

  The ferry gained speed, creating a breeze that lifted April’s hair and flattened it against the sided of her head. Unbalanced, the gull screeched, abandoned its perch and winged skyward. The railing shuddered, then stilled.

  Lost in thought, April sidled along the deck, heedless of the gusts batting her ears and the growl of the noisy engine. It struck her that the water looked depthless, deadly. And dark…as dark as the basement last night. She shuddered.

  Her recollection of last night’s ordeal in the basement was as choppy as the icy waves. Logic told her no one could have known she would go there at that hour. Only Spencer had had the opportunity to guess what she was up to, but he’d been busily searching her room at the time the voice was making its accusations.

  She stepped closer to the rail and stared at the ferry’s wake, conjuring the disembodied voice inside her head. Had she been victimized by another person? Or had the voice been of her own making, raised from her fear of the dark, her fear of the basement, her fear of remembering?

  Without warning, a blow struck her in the back. April slammed against the rail. Wood cracked and fell away, pitching her toward the icy water.

  July screamed.

  Terrified, April made a desperate grab for the balustrade braces on either side of her. Her knees buckled and smashed against the deck. Pain spiraled outward from each kneecap. She whipped forward, then back like a human slingshot.

  The braces held.

  Gasping, she sank onto her haunches and tried to catch her breath.

  Seeing the horror on July’s face, April realized what had happened before the girl started to explain. “I’m sorry,” she cried. “Spencer and I always play that game. He pretends he’s pushing me in the water. It’s s-s-so funny. But I couldn’t catch you l-l-like he does me. I didn’t know the rail would b-b-break. I didn’t know you could r-r-really go in the water!”

  Only too aware of the pain throbbing in her limbs, April pulled the weeping girl into her arms and began wiping at her tears with the palm of her hand. “I know, sweetheart. Don’t worry. No harm has been done. Only a little smudge on my slacks, but that’ll come right out.”

  She snuffled. “A-are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. We’ll tell Karl. He’ll see that the railings are repaired.” Remembering the pride Jesse Winston had taken in his work, she decided his son had not inherited the trait. “And as soon as we get back I’ll speak to Daddy about having the whole ferry given a good going over.”

  “O-okay. H-here.” Uncurling her fist, July extended it toward her. “O-one of your turtles came off.”

  Smiling, April released the child, then slipped the gaudy, rhinestone earring through her ear lobe, reminding herself to figure out a way to better secure them. “Thank goodness you found it. I’d feel terrible if I’d lost it.” She felt bad enough as it was. Distraught, jumpy, her nerves at their rawest—she would cause herself one accident after another if this kept on. Her tormentor had won another round.

  “Do you need help up?” July asked.

  “Nope. I can manage.” April stood, and brushed at her soiled clothing.

  “I’m gonna tell Karl what happened,” the child exclaimed and scrambled for the wheelhouse.

  The ferry continued to plow through the water, its steady course giving April an inner balance. Stiff-legged, she hobbled to her car and slumped against the front fender. Behind her the wheelhouse door slammed shut.

  Her gaze drifted, but not her thoughts. Absently eying the passing beach houses and cabins along this side of San Juan Island, she determined not to give in to the mind games being played on her. She needed to differentiate between real and imaginary. For instance, the voice. Spencer hadn’t heard anyone. He’d have mentioned it otherwise. But it had sounded so real. Well, she hadn’t imagined the incident in the garage, or the vandalized furniture in the ballroom.

  It added up to an odd equation. An anonymous note, a beheaded doll, and mutilated furniture pointed to a sick mind. But what about the attempt in the garage? Had it been any more life-threatening? After all, as long as the car was turned on, it had always been a means of escape. She nodded. Her reasoning made perfect sense. Most likely, the incident in the garage had been just another way of making her appear unstable.

  The first real sense of calm she’d felt in hours sluiced through April. Knowing the rules to any game was the best means of winning it. She would have to keep on her toes, but as long as she expected to be trapped, she wouldn’t be.

  * * * *

  The electrician snapped shut the hinges on the lid of his tool box. Rising, he gazed up at Spencer. “Nothing wrong with the wiring. That box is as sound as the day I installed it.”

  “Then there’s no way the main switch could have been thrown, by say, an overload?”

  “An overload? At midnight? Naw.” He hoisted the metal box with one beefy hand. “It’d take more than last night’s little squall to put out the power. Either someone hit the switch by accident, or some jokester in the house did it on purpose.”

  On purpose. The words sent a chill through Spencer. Until now, he’d clung to the hope that August had somehow confused the facts. He couldn’t believe someone in this household was vicious enough to prey on April’s fear of the dark. It was unthinkable. And yet, what else was he supposed to conclude after this?

  “I’d take you back to the Harbor in the speed launch,” Spencer said, leading the stocky man into the kitchen. “But Mr. Farraday has it in dry-dock, doing a few modifications to the engine or the running gear or something.”

  The man chuckled. “Yeah, he’s one lucky guy—making money at his tinkering.”

  Spencer poured the electrician a cup of coffee, then joined him at the dinette while they awaited the return of the working ferry. As the man rambled on about a recent fishing trip, Spencer mentally retraced his journey of the night before from April’s room until he found her in near hysteria in the basement. This attempt to detect something he might have missed left him frustrated.

  Anyone passing him would’ve been captured in the sweeping beam of his flashlight. If his subconscious had registered a sense of another being in the cellar while he and April were there, it refused to release the detail. Nor could he recall so much as one unexplained sound.

  With a start, Spencer realized the man was staring at him as though he expected some kind of response. Spencer knew just how he felt. The minute April returned from town, he was going to get some answers.

  Chapter Eleven

  At Karl’s insistence, April spent the remainder of the journey to Calendar House inside the wheelhouse, being plied with equal doses of coffee and concern. As much a
s she appreciated both, she couldn’t wait to escape. Five minutes after docking, she was driving her car up the ramp, past one of the twins, July, and a stocky man she didn’t recognize, to the garages.

  Moments later, inside her assigned parking stall, April shut off the motor, and drew a deep breath. She still felt a little shaky. Of course, exhaustion and too much caffeine were hardly calm-inducing, she thought, gathering July’s homework, and stepping from her car.

  The garage was eerily quiet. Unable to suppress thoughts of being trapped here, she hastened toward the open door.

  A shadow fell across it. April froze.

  One of the twins appeared and skidded to a stop. He was breathing heavily and his cheeks were flushed as though from running. His gaze swept her, paused briefly at the smudges on each knee of her slacks, then returned to her face. “Are you all right?”

  Spencer! April felt like her stomach had crawled into her throat. She swallowed hard and, wishing her nerves would settle to a controllable level, gave him a weak smile. “I’ll have to avoid knee-revealing skirts for a few weeks. No big loss. Please don’t fuss. It was an accident.”

  “Yeah, I examined the broken railing. Weather rot. We’re going to speak to August as soon as Karl returns.”

  She nodded, hugging July’s books and Pee Chees against her thudding heart, wishing she could seek the comfort of Spencer’s embrace instead. Unwittingly, she moved toward him. “Who was that man with you at the dock?”

  “Tom Jacks.” Spencer took a step toward her. “He’s an electrician.”

  “Oh?” This morning when he’d mentioned a repairman, she hadn’t bothered to ask, or even wonder, for what. Now myriad notions flooded her mind. Had Tom Jacks’ visit something to do with last night’s blackout? Her stomach pinched at the possibility, and, yet, she reminded herself, there might be a more mundane reason. “Don’t tell me Helga’s oven quit?”

  “No.” Spencer had the oddest feeling that April was holding her breath. “Jacks was checking the main panel box.”