You Don't Want To Know - By Lisa Jackson Page 0,181

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 DEPUTY BENNETT RAMSEY 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