You Don't Want To Know - By Lisa Jackson Page 0,12

an old slogan for an insurance company that fitted his view of the island.

No doubt the cozy little group had been discussing Wyatt’s wife and her current mental state, as they all became quiet when she walked into the room.

Great, she thought as the uncomfortable silence stretched, and the knot already tightening in her stomach twisted a little more painfully.

“. . . just really needs her rest,” the doctor was saying as Ava entered the room. She and Wyatt looked up, a bit guiltily, she felt.

“Ava,” Wyatt said, leaping to his feet and quickly crossing the faded rug stretched across the old hardwood of the library. He sent a quick, questioning glance in Khloe’s direction as if he were upset that she’d talked Ava into coming down. As he reached Ava, he whispered, “I thought you had a headache.”

“I did, but it’s a wonder what a couple Excedrin Migraine tablets can do.”

“I thought the sheriff wanted to ask her some more questions,” Khloe said stiffly.

“I do,” Biggs said.

“Good.” To Ava, Khloe said, “Let me get you some hot chocolate.” But she was too late. As if anticipating Ava’s return, Demetria, Jewel-Anne’s nurse, appeared with a steaming mug in which tiny marshmallows were dissolving in the thick, hot cocoa. She handed the mug to Jewel-Anne. “I’ve got another cup in the microwave,” Demetria offered, some of her severity seeming to have receded, her thin lips stretched into the semblance of a smile. “Just a sec.”

“Let me help,” the psychologist said, starting for the kitchen.

“Hey, could you grab me a cup of coffee?” Ian asked with a smile at Jewel-Anne’s nurse.

Demetria looked about to say, Get it yourself, but instead she smiled coldly. “I’ll see if there’s any made.” Turning on her heel, she found her way back to the kitchen as Wyatt, holding Ava’s hand, helped her to the sofa. They sat together, side by side, stiffly, and Ava was all too aware of everyone watching them, watching her. Wyatt’s fingers remained linked with hers, as if he cared—or was afraid she might bolt.

To where? We’re on an island, for God’s sake.

Beneath her sweater, her shoulders stiffened and she couldn’t help but feel Wyatt was acting the part of doting husband, putting on a show for everyone else, which was ridiculous. Everyone who lived at Neptune’s Gate knew their marriage was in trouble. It had been since the night Noah had disappeared.

Casually, she pulled her hand from his and stuffed it into the deep pocket of her sweater. Her finger brushed something cold and metal.

. . a key, she realized as the tip of her index finger scraped the jaw-like serrations on one side.

A key to what? To where? Hadn’t she worn the sweater earlier today? There had been no key in its pockets, or at least she hadn’t thought so.

Demetria returned with a cup of hot chocolate for Ava and handed it to her. Evelyn McPherson, on her heels, returned as well, cradling her own mug.

“No coffee?” Ian asked. At Demetria’s shake of her head, he scowled. “But I smell it and . . .” He glanced at Biggs who was taking a long swallow from his cup of coffee. “Goddamn it!” He pushed himself upright and stormed into the kitchen while Demetria seemed to swallow a smile.

Small, small victories, Ava thought, weary of all their games.

Biggs shifted in his chair, his eyes on Ava. “You saw something and ran out to the dock?”

“I already told you I thought I saw my son and I ran out to save him. I guess I was wrong,” she admitted, though she had to force the words. “But I saw something. Someone. On the dock.”

From the corner of her eye, she caught Wyatt sneak a look at Evelyn, who stood near the fire, ostensibly warming the back of her legs but really, Ava knew, scrutinizing her patient.

Her throat thickened and she stared into her cup as the marshmallows disintegrated, like foamy, dark waves on the beach.

“I guess I was confused, but I was frightened.”

“You thought you were saving someone?” Biggs asked.

“Yes.”

“Is she on hallucinogens?” he asked the psychologist.

“I wasn’t hallucinating!” Ava argued, then heard a quiet cough and saw Austin Dern standing near the window, ostensibly looking out at the dark night. He caught her gaze in the watery glass for just an instant and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

“I mean . . . Oh, I don’t know what I mean.” She hated this. She was lying, but Dern’s subtle