She got out of bed and pulled on her slippers, then crept into the kitchen in her pajamas. Between hot flashes and an overly heated house, she didn’t bother with her housecoat. Wait until Willow hit the age of fifty-three, and see if she allowed Graham to keep these saunalike temperatures in this house.
While the milk heated in the microwave, Ginger swallowed a sleeping pill and rubbed her eyes. Willow and Lucy were the ones with the nightmares in this family, but considering Larry Bager’s telephone call, Ginger didn’t doubt that she might be in line for some frightening dreams.
She settled in her favorite chair at the kitchen table and took a sip of the milk. A wall of glass separated the kitchen from the deck. At this time of year, the deck furniture was stored in the basement, so she had a clear view of the lake, where the water shimmered with light from the full moon.
After talking with Larry, Graham had decided, as she’d known he would, that they could use a watchful private investigator on their trip. Ginger knew the ex-cop was a good P.I., but how was he going to keep up with a group of people who would be scattered across the whole island of Kauai?
After the wedding, Graham and Willow planned to spend most of the week together, exploring the island, in a world all their own. Preston Black, Willow’s brother, was going to help Ginger watch the girls. The planners of this exotic wedding, Helen and Steve Courtney, would also be around to act as escorts and help with whatever was needed. This wedding trip was an extravagant gift from Mrs. Engle, a wealthy lady who Graham and Willow had befriended last year, and who had spared no expense in the arrangements she’d made for their comfort and enjoyment.
The children’s days would be filled with swimming, hiking, exploring. Graham and Willow didn’t want to spend the whole time separated from the girls, so they planned to have dinner most evenings with Lucy and Brittany.
It looked as if Larry Bager would now be helping Ginger, Preston and the Courtneys babysit.
Ginger had taken a second sip of milk when she thought she heard a tap-rattle somewhere at the other end of the house. Probably the wind.
Still…
She pushed away from the table and crept through the dark, quiet house. Before leaving for the medical mission field in Belarus, Ginger had been afraid of things that went bump in the night. Ten years dealing with every situation imaginable in a foreign country had toughened her. Now, it took more than an unidentified noise in the darkness to frighten her; it took recent notification that a convicted murderer had broken out of prison.
She passed her bedroom door and skirted the bentwood coatrack in the hall when a tiny figure in white suddenly appeared, startling her.
“Brittany?” she whispered. “Honey, what are you doing out of bed?”
The child rubbed her eyes and squeezed poor Chuckles so tightly Ginger feared for his head. “Lucy woke me up and now I can’t sleep.”
Ginger took Brittany’s free hand and led her back along the hallway. “How about sharing some warm milk with me?”
“With honey?”
“Sure.” Ginger brushed long strands of Brittany’s blond hair behind her shoulders, and looked down into the child’s green eyes. This little darling looked so much like her late mother that it sometimes chilled Ginger.
The sisters looked nothing alike. Lucy had dark, soulfully deep eyes that seemed to see beneath the surface of things. Her hair was almost as dark as her eyes, her face solemn in repose, whereas Brittany always had a quick smile. Lucy remained aloof from strangers, and it often seemed to concern her when her little sister made friends easily.
The bond of love between the sisters was strong. Lucy took her role as older sister seriously. For the first few months of the girls’ life here in Hideaway, Lucy had refused to let Brittany out of her sight.
Keeping watch over the active five-year-old was quite a responsibility, and, after much pleading, Ginger had convinced Lucy that Brittany would come to no harm here in the tiny village of kind, common people.
“How did Lucy wake you up?” Ginger asked.
“She had another bad dream, and then I got into bed with her so she’d feel safe, but she left me there.”
Ginger stopped. “She left you?”
“Uh-huh. She went out to the hallway when you and Daddy were arguing.”
Ginger winced. “We weren’t arguing.” What if Lucy had overheard her talking to Graham about Rick Fenrow? “Where is she now?”
Before Brittany could answer, a scream rent the air, followed quickly by another, raising the hairs along the back of Ginger’s neck and causing her to stumble and stub her toe on the hall coatrack.
That was Lucy’s voice, raised in terror.
Another nightmare?
Ginger turned and ran back down the hallway. Graham’s door flew open and he scrambled out, nearly colliding with Ginger. The screams continued.
They reached Lucy’s room to find her standing between the beds, staring out the window. Graham grabbed her up into his arms while Ginger turned on the light. Lucy’s face was as pale as her nightgown, her dark brown eyes wide with terror, mouth open, long hair falling over her face.
“The man, Graham!” she cried, pointing toward the window. “There was a man! He was out there watching me when I opened my eyes. I saw him. He was watching me! Right in that window!”
Graham put Lucy down and grabbed the flashlight the girls kept on the stand between the beds for when the electricity went off. He rushed to the window and shone the bright beam over the yard around the side of the house, then turned and ran from the room. Within seconds, the outdoor lights flooded the yard and garden, outlining two of the horses in the corral behind the house.
Ginger heard Brittany’s cries from the kitchen. Grabbing Lucy’s hand, she hurried back to find Graham holding Brittany in his arms as he punched a number on the telephone keypad.
“Shhh, it’s okay, honey,” he whispered to Brittany. “It’s going to be okay. Lucy’s been having some bad dreams lately, you know—” His attention switched to the phone. “Greg? This is Graham Vaughn. Could you come out here? We’ve had some excitement.” He explained the situation to the sheriff in two succinct sentences, thanked him and hung up, stooping to place Brittany on her feet.
“There’ll be some men here in a couple of minutes. I’m going to go outside and check—”
“No!” Lucy cried. “What if it’s that man?” She stared, wide-eyed, at Brittany, pressing her lips together. The terror in her eyes told Ginger what she’d feared.
Indeed, Lucy had heard them earlier tonight. She obviously knew about Rick Fenrow.
“Graham,” Ginger said, “why don’t you stay inside?” More than likely, Lucy had awakened from another nightmare, and convinced herself it was real because of what she’d overheard. More than likely.
But Ginger didn’t want to take chances. And so the four of them stayed together in the kitchen, staring out the windows, the children wide-eyed and trembling, until they heard the sound of a motor a few minutes later.
As they’d expected, the sheriff and his deputy, as well as Taylor Jackson, forest ranger, arrived in three different vehicles—Taylor’s vehicle being a boat.
This sprawling log home provided them with the best of both worlds. They lived in the country, with all the privacy they could want. They were only a quarter of a mile from downtown Hideaway by way of the shoreline, and one mile by road. Many Hideaway residents used water transportation.
The