You Don't Want To Know (45 page)

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Authors: Lisa Jackson

BOOK: You Don't Want To Know
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Her insides turned to ice at the thought that not only her family, but also the police might try to make a case against her, a strong case.
Dern was the one person who believed in her. Yes, he'd lied, but who on this damned island hadn't?
“I think Reece is behind the murders. He just can't help himself. It's an obsession with him. Who knows if he's killed others while he was off the island—like you said, in other big cities—but these three women, so close together, they have to be his work.”
Snyder's earlier question flitted through her mind.
“You think Lester Reece would take the trouble to place dolls around your cousin? Slice and paint 'em up?”
She said, “You know, he might not be the killer.”
“There's that chance, yes. But if we can flush Reece out, we can find out. Maybe end all this insanity.”
That she believed. And she was tired of sitting around, letting the cops try and prove she was behind the deaths of three women. “Okay,” she said, feeling a little sizzle of electricity through her blood that she could actually do something. “Let's find him. I'm in!”
“Wait a second.”
“I'm coming with you.”
Dern shook his head. “No.”
“What do you mean no?” She wasn't going to be deterred. “You've convinced me that Lester Reece might be on the island, so let's go find him.” She pressed her face even closer to his. “Killer or not, he's the only person who might have an idea where Noah is!”
“You don't know that,” Dern said slowly.
“I don't care! Reece is the only hope I have right now.” That thought was depressing; she couldn't pin all her hopes on the known killer. Frustrated, she glanced out the window at the bevy of police vehicles that had been ferried to the island, all gathered near the gates of the estate, headlights on, though dawn was finally approaching. An armed posse, with Joe Biggs as their leader.
Oh, Jesus.
“They'll kill Reece,” she said with sudden clarity. “They'll kill him.” Grabbing hold of Dern's shirt, her fingers curled into the worn fabric. “And if they do, I'll never know what happened to Noah. Don't you see?” Desperation cracked her voice. “He'll be lost to me! I
have
to go!”
“Oh, honey . . .” Sighing, Dern folded her into his arms and held her tight. She heard the beating of his heart, felt his breath in her hair, felt weak against his strength. “Listen,” he said softly, “just hang tough. The police are only letting me go because I think I know where we can find him and because I was once a cop. Still in the reserves. I know what I'm doing. I won't get in the way and I won't be a liability.”
“And I would? This is my son we're talking about, Dern! My baby.”
“And we'll get him back. If we can.”
Tears threatened her eyes. She was so close to maybe learning something finally, locating the boy who'd been missing for so long. Her heart was cracking, but she couldn't break down. Wouldn't. She hated to admit it, but Dern was right. The police would never let her join them. No matter how she begged. But there was something she could do to help. Slowly she gathered her strength and made a long-overdue decision. Extricating herself from his embrace, she walked rapidly to the foyer and returned with her purse.
“What's going on?”
“I think I might be able to help.” She fished inside her bag for a second, dug into a zippered pocket, then withdrew the set of keys she'd found earlier. She slapped the ring into his palm. “I found these the other day. I'm pretty sure they're a master set of the keys to Sea Cliff. They belonged to my uncle and probably open every door.”
“How do you have them?”
“Long story. We don't have time now. Let's just say I found them.”
“Found them?” His eyes flickered with a dozen questions, but one side of his mouth lifted into that crooked smile she found so sexy. “Okay.” He seemed about to ask another question, then changed his mind and closed his fist around the key ring. “Thanks.”
“Just keep Reece alive so I can find Noah.”
“I'll do my best.”
“Do better than that, okay?”
His eyes flashed. Then, impulsively, he grabbed her again, pulled her close, his body fitting snugly against hers. She gasped as he kissed her. Long. Hard. His lips hot. Her breath caught in her throat as the kiss deepened, an unspoken promise. She closed her eyes and her mind to everything around them, and for a few glorious seconds, while his fingers tangled in her hair and his hips pressed hard to hers, she was lost in him and swept away from the pain of what was real.
Forbidden pleasures sprang to her mind, and for just a heartbeat she imagined what it would be like to love this man, to be with him.
But she couldn't.
Not now . . .
Not ever.
As if he felt the shift in her emotions, he lifted his head, swore under his breath. “Damn it all to hell.” His gaze held hers for an instant; then, as swiftly as he'd caught her, he let her go. Took a quick step back. Rammed stiff fingers through his hair in frustration. “I should say I'm sorry, but I'm not,” he whispered, and she felt the heat of the moment still burning on her cheeks.
“Me neither.”
This was insanity! With everything else going on, she couldn't let herself be distracted for even a moment. She looked away, putting some emotional distance between them just as a stern-faced deputy entered the room.
“I heard you're with us,” he said. African American and taller than Dern by four inches, the deputy was built more like an NFL linebacker than a typical cop. His nametag read D
EPUTY
B
ENNETT
R
AMSEY
and his expression said more loudly than words he wasn't about to take any crap from anyone. “It's time.”
“I'm coming, too,” Ava insisted, and glanced out the window. Dawn was approaching, the sky lightening to a gloomy gray, rain still falling from the leaden sky.
“I was told to bring only Dern,” Ramsey said firmly.
“But I know the island better than anyone! I could help. Really!” Frantically, she argued her point. “I've lived here most of my life and there's a chance Reece knows where my son is!”
“Just Dern.” There was a glint of compassion in his eyes, but he stood firm.
“No, really, I have to come with you,” she insisted, frantic. The thought that she would be left behind and that somehow she would lose her chance to find Noah panicked her. If Reece was cornered and fought back, or some cop got trigger-happy . . . “Please!”
The deputy's impenetrable expression cracked a little. “I'll talk to the commanding officer. That's the best I can do, ma'am,” Ramsey said, relenting a little.
“Mrs. Garrison?” Detective Snyder walked into the kitchen. With him was someone from the crime scene team. “Can I have a word?”
“I was just going to go with them.” Ava motioned toward Deputy Ramsey and Dern.
“It's important.” His face was impassive, but there was something in Snyder's stance, something a little more aggressive than before that made her take notice.
Dern, too, sensed it. As Ramsey shepherded him toward the back door, he held up a hand. “Just a sec.”
“I only need to speak to Mrs. Garrison,” Snyder insisted.
Ramsey had already opened the doors, the screen screeching as he pushed it out of the way, cold air sweeping through the kitchen. “If you're going with us, you'd better come along,” he told Dern. “The sheriff doesn't like to be kept waiting.”
Ava took a step toward the back door, but Dern gave a quick, short shake of his head, warning her off. “I'll find him,” he promised as he grabbed a jacket off the back of a hook mounted near the porch. “If Reece has Noah or knows where he is, I'll find him.”
“But—”
“Ava. Please. Trust me.” And then, before she could launch into any arguments, he was gone, through the door, the screen slapping resonantly behind him.
Ava felt a part of her leave with him.
She held tight to his promise, but she knew it could be empty. What happened in the showdown with Reece, if there was one, would be out of Dern's control. And even though he hadn't uttered the damning words, Ava realized Dern, like most everyone else, believed Noah was dead.
Through the window, she watched as the two men jogged toward the stable where officers, some on horses, some with dogs, others in four-wheel-drive vehicles, had gathered. Headlights glowed in the gloom while officers in rain gear, weapons visible, stood in small clusters. A few smoked, two were on cell phones, and another held three dogs on leashes.
Was it possible? After all this time, would they actually find Lester Reece on the island?
Ramsey and Dern joined the group and it looked as if quick introductions were made.
Her throat was thick, her nerves stretched to the breaking point as she thought not only might she never see her son again, but also that Dern, too, could be lost to her. Once he located Reece and brought him to justice, he would have no reason to stick around.
“Mrs. Garrison?” Snyder again. His voice a little sharper. “Would you come with me, please?”
“Of . . . of course.”
“Upstairs.”
She steeled herself at the thought that she might have to view Jewel-Anne's body again. So far, she hadn't witnessed anyone carrying a body bag down the stairs, so she assumed Jewel-Anne's corpse was being checked over. The thought made her shudder.
“This way,” Snyder said as she turned at the top of the steps to head toward the wing her cousin had occupied. Instead, he led her to her own bedroom.
Why?
Then she knew. She was the primary suspect, the person who had found the body, the family member with a very sharp ax to grind. Her heart beat a little faster.
The room was disheveled, black fingerprint powder on all the surfaces, the bed pulled apart, bedding removed, the box springs and mattress separated, the mattress standing on its side near one wall.
“What's going on here?” she asked, heart drumming. Whatever it was, it wasn't good.
“We wanted to ask you about this.” Snyder pointed to her bed where a reddish brown stain was visible on the box springs. Seven or eight inches long, an inch wide . . .
Dear God, what . . . ?
Her gaze moved to the mattress propped on its side, and of course it, too, held a similar stain. Obviously an object had been pushed between the two. Her pulse jumped. “What?” she murmured, a new panic surging through her blood as she got it. The stain had to be dried blood, and it was formed into the distinctive shape of a long-bladed knife. Her stomach convulsed. “God in heaven,” she whispered, and glanced back at Snyder, who was holding a plastic bag.
Inside the bag was the missing knife. Its serrated blade was sharp and deadly, smeared with blood.
Jewel-Anne's blood!
Her knees threatened to buckle, and she had to steady herself by leaning against her dresser. Obviously the cops thought this was the weapon used to slice Jewel-Anne's throat. Her stomach roiled, nausea bubbling up at the thought of the ugly blade carving into her cousin's flesh. She ran into the bathroom and heaved over the toilet. Once. Twice. Her stomach cramped and tears burned in her eyes as images of her handicapped cousin being attacked tore through her mind. She retched again, her stomach empty, only foul bile spewing into the toilet bowl. Had Jewel-Anne known her attacker? Obviously the killer understood about her attachment to the stupid dolls. But who . . . ? She felt time passing as she clutched the rim of the toilet, saw beads of sweat drip from her nose into the murky water.
“Mrs. Garrison?” Snyder again. Sounding as if he were miles away when he was standing in the doorway.
Finally, her stomach calmed. After flushing the toilet, she paused at the sink, rinsed her mouth, and caught her reflection in the mirror. Ashen. Hair a mess. Eyes haunted.
Too bad.
She wasn't guilty!
Her legs still shaky, she made her way into the bedroom and saw that Snyder's serious partner had joined him.
“Sorry.” Ava focused on the bag he was still holding, the bloody knife visible through the plastic. “That”—she pointed to the bag—“it's not mine. That knife . . . I don't know how it got here, in my room.”
Lyons was obviously skeptical. “We have a few more questions for you, Mrs. Garrison. But they might be better answered at the station.”
What? No!
“Wait. I . . . I can't leave. Not now. The search party is out looking for Lester Reece and my son . . .” Her voice trailed off as she realized no one was asking her permission. They actually thought she might have killed Jewel-Anne and probably the other women as well. It was all ridiculous. Why would she do such a horrid thing? Commit such gruesome, malicious murders?

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