Endless Fear (19 page)

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.

“
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 as 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.”

April’s heart beat crazily. “Why?”

“
August thought a short might have caused the electrical failure last night.”

“
Did it?”

“
Not according to Jacks.”

Was he saying that someone had deliberately turned off the main switch? That didn’t come as much of a surprise. The whole household knew her fear of the dark. Once again the garage walls seemed to close in on her. Someone besides Spencer must have known she’d gone to the basement. Who? She shifted the heavy books to her other arm, wishing she could ease the weight of her worries as easily.

“
April, I realize it was too dark to see anything, but did you
hear
anything unusual before I found you last night?”

“
Unusual?”
Like Lily’s whispering, accusing voice?
She bit back a hysterical laugh. How could she tell him about the voice? If he’d heard it he wouldn’t be asking generalities. The watchful flint in his dove-gray eyes sparked an awful thought. Did he think
she
had turned off the power? She squared her shoulders defensively. “Unusual? In what way?”

“
I don’t know—noises. Breathing…. Footsteps….” Spencer shrugged. “Noises….” He stepped closer, approaching her as cautiously as he approached the subject. He didn’t want a repeat of the incident on the attic stairs. But anger wasn’t good either. If she got mad she’d close him out in a heartbeat. From the wariness in her eyes and the set of her shoulders it might already be too late.

April couldn’t forget he had believed the worst about her after the car accident. Why would this time be any different? “Did
you
hear any of those things?”

“
Well, no…I—“

“
Neither did I.”

Frustrated, Spencer cut the distance between them to inches. He was bungling this. Either she was telling him the truth, or she didn’t trust him. Hell, why should she trust him? When had he been supportive? Right from the first, he’d been told she’d been selfish to come at this time. And why?

Because he couldn’t bear to look at her without remembering. Without wanting to touch her and love her. He caught hold of a strand of her hair. “Oh, April….”