Chapter One
The ferry isn't yet a far-off speck on the dusky horizon,
but he knows it's there, cutting toward Tide Island
through the choppy gray waters off the New England coast.
Complete darkness will fall well before it docks at the
landing down the road to release its load of weekend
passengers.
In summer, the Friday-night ferry is always crowded with
commuting husbands and vacationing families, college
students who work as weekend waiters or lifeguards,
couples in love, sticky-faced children.
But now, in the shortest month of the year, when winter is
at its bleakest and the island offers nothing but silent,
chilly isolation, there won't be many people on board.
Just the few hardy nature-lovinโ souls willing to brave
the elements; perhaps some island-dwellers returning with
groceries from the mainland; maybe a handful of slimmer
house owners coming out to inspect the damage December's
Nor'easter inflicted upon their property.
That's about it.
Except for them.
He knows they're on board--all three of them. Still
strangers to each other, but not to him.
He has been watching them for so long now.
Waiting.
A quiver of anticipation passes over him and he cautions
himself to relax. He has to maintain control at all times.
He can't afford to take any risks at this point, just when
it's all coming together at last.
After all these years...
Soon enough, he assures himself. It won 7 be long now. He
casts his gaze back out over the water, giddy with
excitement. He'd heard on the radio a little while ago
that there's a growing likelihood this weekend might be
stormy.
Wouldn't that be perfect?
Even at this moment, they're probably enjoying the brisk
twilight ride. He pictures them scattered in different
corners of the deck or cabin, lost in their own thoughts,
thinking about the weekend ahead, filled with excited
expectations.
They aren't the only ones who are looking forward to it.
His features twist with mirth, and he stifles a giggle.
Very, very soon.
He lets the filmy lace curtain drop back into place and
turns away from the window.
He still has a lot to do before they arrive.
As the ferry leaves Crosswinds Bay and heads out into the
open Atlantic, Jennie turns her face into the cold, salty
wind and smiles.
What a relief to be leaving everything behind, if only for
a few days. Already, she can feel the chronic tension
starting to loosen its grip on her body. She takes a deep
breath of the sea air and lets it out on a satisfying
sigh.
By the time she reached the ferry terminal twenty minutes
ago, her jaw ached from clenching and her neck and back
muscles had been a jumble of stress knots.
Knowing Friday night traffic out of Boston was always bad,
she'd left at three o'clock to heat it. Unfortunately, a
jackknifed Tractor-trailer had rammed into a car on 1-95
and brought her to a standstill by three-fifteen. And
she'd lost an hour by the time she'd managed to creep by
the accident scene, ducking her head after a fleeting
glimpse of emergency vehicles with their flashing red
lights.
Spinning domed lights--and sirens--bring her back to that
awful day three years ago.
So does the sight of blood, no matter how scant. Just two
days ago, she'd cut her finger on a paring knife and found
herself still trembling uncontrollably a half hour later.
Today, she had struggled to shake the disturbing memoties
from her mind and concentrate on the road. She really had
to step on it to make the five o'clock ferry from
Crosswinds Bay on Rhode Island's southwestern coast.
As a rule, she hardly ever went more than five miles above
the speed limit, but she didn't really have a choice if
she wanted to get away for the weekend. And she was
determined to do that.
The cozy Bramble Rose Inn seemed to beckon silently from
miles away, promising refuge. She couldn't miss the ferry--
it was the last one tonight. She was willing to risk a
speeding ticket to catch it.
Besides, everyone else on the road seemed to he flying by
at eighty miles an hour anyway. Jennie had slid her small
red Hyundai out into the passing lane and let the
speedometer climb to seventy.
Just past Providence, she was stopped by a humorless
trooper who promptly slapped her with a speeding ticket.
Now, shaking her head at the thought of having to part
with a precious fifty dollars to pay the fine, she pulls
her black leather gloves out of the bag at her feet and
slips them over her winter-chapped hands. It's freezing on
the deck, but she doesn't want to go inside yet.
There's something cleansing about standing out here with
the fresh, fishy air whipping through her hair and
stinging her cheeks so that they feel swollen. A bell
clangs on the bridge somewhere above her, bidding a hollow
farewell to the shore they are rapidly leaving behind.
"Excuse me, do you know what time it is?"
Jennie turns toward the voice. A young woman stands behind
her, clutching the railing with one hand to keep her
balance as the boat rolls over the waves. She's so bundled
in a parka and scarf that all that's visible is a pair of
pretty brown eyes and a snub nose that looks bright red
from the frosty air.
Jennie pushes her glove up her wrist and peeks at her
watch. "It's almost a quarter after six." She practically
has to shout to be heard over the wind end crashing waves.
โThanks. Do you know when the ferry is supposed to get
in?"
"I think at around seven-thirty. At least, that's what the
schedule said."
"Good. I'm starving."
"Me, too." Jennie remembers that she hasn't eaten since
the half a blueberry muffin from Dunkin' Donuts that she'd
gulped down lids morning in the car on the way to work.
She'd been too busy trying to wrap things up and make an
early getaway to even think about lunch.
The other woman reaches into her pocket end produces a fat-
free granola bar in one fuzzy-mittened hand. "Want half?
It'll fide you over."
Jennie hesitates. "Oh, that's all right, you don't have to-
-"
Abruptly, the woman snaps the bar in two and hands one
piece to Jennie with a grin. ``Here. I'd feel guilty
gobbling the whole thing down myself. Besides, I'm on a
diet."
"Thanks," Jenny says.
"Don't look so grateful. It's fat free end it tastes like
cardboard, so I'm not being as generous as you think."
Jennie smiles back at her end clumsily pushes the bar up
through the torn wrapper with gloved fingers before taking
a bite.
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