Endless Fear (18 page)

“
Hindsight is a waste of time.”

“
True.” Spencer dropped the curtain and spun around. “Why would someone else be interested enough in those poems to steal them? What purpose could they have in mind?”

Thane lurched to his feet. “You think the person who stole the poems intends to show them to Vanessa and tell her about Lily’s penchant for young men, don’t you?”

“
You’d better beat the person to it.”

“
How can I?” Thane groaned.

He’d rarely seen his brother show so much emotion. Struggling to keep his own wits, he reasoned with him. “I don’t think you’re giving your fiancée enough credit. Vanessa is a modern woman. And given her background, she’s not likely to air the family’s dirty linen in public.”

Pacing, Thane seemed to mull this over. Finally, he ground to a halt in front of Spencer. “But, what if she calls off the wedding? I’ll--I’ll--I don’t know what I’ll do. I love her.”

Clapping his brother on the shoulder, Spencer said, “I know, but what if—down the road—she discovers your marriage is based on half truths…?”

Pain registered in Thane’s eyes as he tugged his fingers through his mussed hair. “You’re right. She deserves to know what she’s getting into. I’ll have to find the right opportunity…tomorrow….”

Relief and dismay twisted in Spencer’s gut. How nice it would be to unload his own burden of guilt, but he couldn’t take the same route as his brother. Thanks in large part to himself, April wasn’t a modern, worldly woman. He couldn’t see her accepting the twins’ duplicity as easily as Vanessa, or accepting a young man’s first experience with lust. Not when it involved her mother.

Intuitively, Thane said, “Don’t worry about April. She’ll come around.”

For a fleeting moment, Spencer considered imparting his worry about the lights being put out on purpose, but decided he was probably jumping to erroneous conclusions. The thought of one of his family deliberately trying to harm another struck him as downright unbelievable. Anyway, his brother had enough to sleep on for one night. There was no sense stirring up trouble. He’d keep his suspicions to himself, at least until he heard the electrician’s report.

* * * *

It was nearly noon when April entered the kitchen. Two days remained until the engagement party, and activities abounded in a noisy frenzy. The tantalizing smell of baking bread permeated the room. Helga punched at a bowl of rising dough and July, with flour dusting her arms to the elbows and an apron shielding her clothes, assisted. Karl was sharpening knives. The metal scraping against metal pulled a shiver down April’s spine. Cynthia and her father were going over the wines to be served, while Thane and Vanessa painstakingly lettered place cards. Spencer was on the telephone.

“
Good morning,” April murmured, feeling self-conscious as all heads turned toward her and responded in kind.

Only one person in the room forced the greeting, barely managing to mask shock and agitation behind a cheery smile. That person presumed April’s absence this morning was a direct result of the scare she’d undergone in the basement less than twelve hours ago. That person took for granted she’d been found, cowering and whimpering like she had when Lily died.

What the hell had gone wrong this time? the person wondered, breathing slightly faster than regular, studying April with an appraising glance. Except for the flush coloring her cheeks, she looked extremely normal. One hundred percent sane. Damn.

The person returned to the task at hand, broodingly. April had been such a meek, submissive child; one assumed she would be even more malleable after her years of catatonia. Anger gave way to mounting fear. Selling short the young woman’s mental strength had proven a major mistake, a blatant breaking of the first rule of the hunter: underestimate the quarry and you become the prey.

Stricken eyes swept the room as panic swelled in the anxious heart. Time was running out. Day after tomorrow guests would start arriving, buffering April with the safety of their numbers. If she remembered—all would be lost. Only a fatal accident would insure permanent silence.

April poured herself a cup of coffee and escaped to her father’s den. Relishing the quiet, she stared through the French doors at the overcast day. This morning her body felt as battered as the sea-ravaged rocks buttressing the cliff just beyond the bay.

The coffee’s strong aroma beckoned from the steaming mug in her hands. She took a drink and heat flowed into her queasy stomach like a soothing salve. Taking another gulp, she willed the caffeine to kick in and lift the lethargy claiming her limbs, her mind.

All night she’d tossed and turned, plagued with nightmares. In her sleep, she’d acted out one scene after another, all with similar themes inspired by the petrifying experience in the dark basement, and further fueled by the memory of Spencer’s betrayal twelve years ago.

Could the horrid dreams have contained snatches of the truth? Had she killed Lily in a fit of jealousy? The thought made her skin crawl.

“
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.