Endless Fear (34 page)

A sudden flapping jerked her to a halt.

Her eyes widened, but saw no clearer. “I…is someone there?

A screech had April slamming her back to the wall. She heard the whoosh. Then flapping wings. Something grazed her hair. And another and another.

Bats!

She swung the branch, but the attacking swarm broke her grip. The limb fell. April covered her head with her hands and dropped to the cave floor, screaming.

The startled creatures screamed back.

Like a bolt from the blue, inside her mind April heard another’s screams. Her mother’s. Suddenly, behind her closed eyes, she started to remember, to see.

April realized she was reliving again the incident in the basement right after Lily had interrupted Spencer and her first kiss. Now, she was standing in the shadows of the basement stairs, listening to the clump of Spencer’s shoes ascending the risers. When he reached the halfway mark, she heard Lily say, “Oh, darling, you startled me.”

The footsteps continued upward to the landing.

“
I need a little winey-poo for my empty glass.” Lily’s voice sounded slurred. “Lord, I didn’t know how I was going to manage that spooky ole wine cellar alone, but as you can see, I’m desperate. Come along, darling.”

“
Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

“
Had enough? Well, maybe you’re right, darling.” Lily had dropped her voice seductively. “What do you suggest instead?”

There was a whisper of fabric and then silence. April crept from her hiding place. The scene that met her eyes set her back on her heels. Spencer was kissing her mother.

But no.

His hands were on her upper arms, and he was trying to disengage her hold. Lily was the one doing the kissing. Jealousy and anger tangled inside April, but she held her tongue.

“
Mrs. Farraday, don’t.” Spencer pleaded, his voice and good manners strained.

Lily ran the tip of one long nail across his lower lip. “Mrs. Farraday? No need to be so formal, dear. No one is going to hear us…or is that what you’re afraid of? That we’ll get caught here? You always were more shy than your brother. Well, I know a very private place. No one will disturb us there—because no one but me knows it exists.”

“
What?”

She tapped the empty wine glass against his chest. “Oh, I know what you’re thinking. Lily won’t leave the house. Well, to get my secret place it isn’t necessary to go outside. You don’t believe me, do you?” She laughed and looped her arm through his. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

“
You don’t understand. I don’t want to go anywhere with you, Lily.”

“
I beg your pardon?”

“
I don’t care about you in
that
way.”

Releasing Spencer, she stepped back and raked her eyes over him, then arched one brow and peered at him tauntingly. “Are you trying to tell me you prefer—ahem—your own gender?”

“
No,” Spencer roared. “I prefer April.”

For five whole seconds her mother stared at him, clearly taken aback. Then she burst into laughter. “April! She’s just a baby. A man like you needs a woman.”

“
April is worth the wait.”

“
You’re making a big mistake, darling.” Her words sounded more slurred than before, but the threat in them was distinct enough. “Reconsider—or I might have to tell August I caught you playing nasty with little April.”

As though her feet were part of the concrete floor, April stood frozen in place, unable to look away, unable to block out the horrid words.

Spencer glared at Lily. “August wouldn’t believe you.”

“
Don’t underestimate my influence with him. If the notion struck me, I could convince him to send you, your brother, and your phony southern belle of a mother back to whatever Texas rock you all climbed out from under.” She moved against his chest again. “But I could be talked out of forgetting the subject ever came up…”

“
No.” Spencer set Lily away from him.

Lily bristled, swinging the wine goblet through the air. It hit against the banister. The lip of the glass broke. The sound reached April before a jagged chunk of crystal landed near her feet, but her attention remained riveted on the scene being played out on the landing above her.

“
You’ll be sorry…” A vicious smile curved Lily’s famous mouth. She glanced at the now dangerously notched rim of the wine goblet. She tossed her head haughtily and narrowed her eyes as though she were acting out a role and the weapon in her hand were a prop, not something that could inflict real pain, real death. For a heartbeat, she waved it menacingly at Spencer. Then shrieking like a wounded cat, she lunged at him.

Spencer threw his arms up to protect himself and pushed her away.

Surprise wiped the smile from Lily’s face. She reeled backward, struck the railing, but failed to grasp it. She pitched out over the stairs. Spencer grabbed for her and missed. Lily screamed. And screamed.

As April watched in horrified shock, her mother started to tumble toward her. The wine glass fell. Crashed. Lily’s body banged against the wood railing, thumped against the risers, as April ran forward and Spencer ran down. But neither reached her in time to stop the rough landing on the concrete floor.

April fell to her knees beside her mother. Lily was still alive, but even at fourteen April could tell she was hurt badly. Her eyes were glazed, and she seemed to be holding her neck at an odd angle.

Terrified, April clutched her mother’s hand and glanced up at Spencer. He was staring dumbfounded at Lily. His face was dead white. “I…I didn’t mean to….”

She nodded. “Go get Daddy. Hurry.”

Without another word, Spencer had raced up the stairs like the devil himself were after him.

April blinked. The inkiness of the cavern surrounded her, pulling her from the past with a jolt. For a long while, she stayed huddled against the ground, listening. At length, she realized the frightened bats had roosted elsewhere, as evidenced by the heavy silence.

Slowly she lowered her hands and opened her eyes. Several seconds passed and the squeeze of fear that always came when she faced total darkness failed to take hold. Soon she realized she was not afraid and knew the answer was simple. There were no more secrets hiding in the shadowy depths.

She shifted to a more comfortable position, leaned against the wall and closed her weary eyes. Discovering she hadn’t killed Lily had left her feeling oddly empty and strangely satisfied. Yet, oddly, a scrap of guilt still burrowed in her conscience. Why? Because she was the catalyst for the fight between Spencer and her mother which had led to the fall? Probably. She could live with that, but if she couldn’t have Spencer, what good was knowing the truth?

Hot tears fell across April’s chilled cheeks and fear, worse than any created by the darkness, attached itself to her heart. For April was certain she finally understood Spencer’s repeated rejections, the fleeting twinge of guilt in his haunted gray eyes. Undoubtedly, he was reminded of his part in Lily’s accident every time he looked at April. And he always would be.

She hugged her knees, lamenting into the black silence, “Oh, Spence, even with my memory back—Lily is going to keep us apart forever.”

Chapter Twenty

The person who had pushed April from the cliff considered those gathered in August Farraday’s den. Men, women, and child, all were present, dressed for outdoors. But until the fog and the darkness subsided, no one was going anywhere. A sense of agitated gloom hovered over the group like a thunder cloud. It was apparent they thought they already knew the dismal outcome of the search that lay ahead and dreaded its inevitability. Yet each appeared anxious to get on with it.

Fools. So they’d found an earring. Well, soon they’d find her body. But the truth…they would never find that. It was as dead as April.

The person smiled inwardly, welcoming the impending search, no longer afraid of discovery. At some point during the sleepless night, the serenity had finally come. Probably with the acceptance that eliminating April had not only been necessary, but had brought the events of twelve years ago full circle.

And finding her and burying her would deliver the final release.

Chapter Twenty-One

In the background, a radio station played static-laced elevator music as those gathered in the den awaited a weather report. Helga served coffee and sweet rolls. Spencer accepted a cup of the strong black liquid, but refused the pastry, knowing he’d never choke food past the lump in his throat. It didn’t even smell good.

Gulping down the coffee, he stalked to the window and stared at the smothering fog. July nudged his side. He draped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her against him in an awkward, comforting hug. Neither spoke. There was nothing to say. With half an ear, he listened to August’s phone conversation with the Coast Guard, feeling like a motorless sailboat stalled in the dead seas, waiting for a wind that wasn’t going to come.

Hearing him say goodbye, Spencer turned around in time to see August shakily set the receiver in its cradle. A solemn resignation defined the elderly man’s slumped form. After a long moment, he lifted his head. Tears stood in his dark blue eyes. “I…I told them to concentrate on the south shoreline.”

No on said anything. Spencer’s eyes met August’s and he knew their thoughts were on a similar plane. It was twelve years, almost to the day, and now they would find April as they had found Lily.

Spencer’s stomach hurt. The hot coffee exacerbated the pain. He released July, strode to the fireplace, and deposited the cup on the mantle. Grabbing up the poker, he prodded the dying flame. It hissed, then revived with a crackle and a spark. He added another log.

With his back to the growing heat, he sank to the raised hearth and surreptitiously studied the faces of those so familiar to him. Which one—Thane, Karl, August, Helga, March, or Cynthia—was the consummate actor? Which one, professing fear and worry for April, might actually have been capable of shoving her from the cliff? For he was now convinced that was what must have happened. The only other alternative was that April had jumped, and her doctor insisted she wasn’t suicidal. He’d been convinced enough to call in the Sheriff, but he was practical enough to realize he might never be able to prove foul play.

Maybe if he understood the motive behind this hideous crime, he’d know which one to blame. Somehow, he felt it had to do with Lily. Was it because April looked so much like her mother?

He glanced at his own mother through hooded eyes, hating that he suspected her. But, for all her claimed concern, he kept recalling her resentment and jealousy of Lily. Did she look upon April as a constant reminder of the actress August had once loved? Even so, could she hate enough to kill? The very idea made his skin crawl. Yet… Before Lily, he hadn’t thought himself capable of such thoughts either.

The old guilt soured his weak stomach. It was generous of Thane to insist Lily’s fall had been an accident, but had it been? Although he’d never said it aloud, no matter how hard he tried, Spencer couldn’t deny he’d despised Lily for the things she’d been saying and trying to do, couldn’t deny he’d shoved her, and couldn’t erase the vision of her sprawled on the cement floor with her neck broken, her eyes glassy.

August’s tremoring voice sliced through this black introspection. “The man said there’s a storm due in and the headwinds have already reached Friday Harbor. The fog should start lifting by noon.”

“
Noon!” Spencer leaped to his feet, dropping the poker with a clatter. “Hell, it’s six-thirty. I’m not gonna cool my heels for another five and a half hours.”

“
You’re not going to have to, man,” Karl pronounced from his position at the French doors. “Listen.”

Except for the fire, the room fell silent. Then Cynthia whispered, “Wind.”

Spencer strained to hear it. A weak breeze. It wheezed against the ancient structure, erratically at first, panting into the blinding mists with the strength of a breathless jogger. But it gained force rapidly. Even before holes of visibility appeared in the dense fog, everyone had donned their respective coats.

Like a small army marching to certain defeat, they left the house. Spencer hadn’t bothered to suggest anybody stay behind; it was evident no one wanted to wait in the house.

Random patches of fog lingered, wavered in the wind, swirled and dissipated, chilling the air with frigid dampness. Overhead, the sky was as sullen and gray as the group moving to the cliff.

The binoculars around Spencer’s neck banged against his chest with every step he took. Soon, the cold penetrated his clothing and stung his unshaven face. Ignoring it, he clung tighter to July’s hand. He still couldn’t believe she had come out here alone, in the dark, against strict orders to stay indoors.