You Don't Want To Know - By Lisa Jackson Page 0,8

cousin, Jewel-Anne’s half brother. Ian wasn’t exactly a ball of fire. She walked to the end of the bed and held on to one of its tall posts. “You know, I’m surprised you’re here.”

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. Almost. “I was on my way back anyway. Jacob was waiting with the launch.” Usually his sister’s chauffeur, Jacob had also been the driver assigned to Ava when her license had been taken away.

Wyatt added, “Khloe called my cell. Luckily I was nearly to Anchorville anyway.”

“Nice of her.”

His mouth twisted downward as if in distaste. “Listen to you. Khloe used to be your best friend.”

That much was true. “She’s the one who pulled away.”

“Did she?” He threw up his hands and shook his head. “Are you sure about that?” When she didn’t answer, he added with a trace of sarcasm, “Whatever you say. But Dr. McPherson’s on her way. You need to talk to her.”

“Whatever you say,” she mimicked, then hated the harsh sound of her words when she noticed a wounded light in his eyes.

“I give up.” He was out the door in seconds, and once again, her throat tightened.

“Me too,” she whispered. “Me too.”

“You know that you didn’t really see Noah.” Dr. McPherson was kind, if slightly patronizing. A pretty, slim woman, she wore a skirt and boots, her streaked hair brushing her shoulders, her gaze filled with concern. She seemed sincere and caring at times, yet, true to her paranoia, Ava didn’t trust her. Never had.

Now they were seated in the library, a room off the living area with floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with old volumes and a fire that was glowing softly in the grate. Propane hissed softly as the wood stacked on ancient andirons caught fire.

“I saw him,” Ava insisted. She was seated on the worn couch, her hands fisted on her lap. “Whether he was there or not, I don’t know, but I saw him.”

“You know how that sounds.” Wyatt was standing in a corner, his tie loosened further, his expression dark.

“I don’t care how it sounds. That’s the way it is.” Ava met the concern in her husband’s eyes with simmering mutiny. “I thought I was supposed to be honest.”

“You are, you are,” Dr. McPherson said with a quick nod. Perched on the edge of the recliner that was wedged between the hearth and the couch, the firelight caught in her pale hair. Though her office was on the mainland, she often came to the island, a deal she’d worked with Wyatt. “Of course.”

Now Evelyn glanced over her shoulder at Wyatt, and for a split second Ava thought she saw a tenderness in her gaze, but it was quickly masked. Maybe she’d misread it.

“I think it might be best if we were alone,” the doctor suggested to Wyatt.

“It’s all right,” Ava said. “I don’t mind. Maybe we can turn this into a marriage counseling session instead of a determination to find out if I’m off the rails or not.”

“No one said anything about that,” Wyatt remarked. He walked to the fire and turned off the propane, and the flames withdrew, like frightened snails into their shells, leaving the mossy chunks of fir to glow a deep, pulsing red.

“Look, I know it sounds crazy. Nuts. Even to me, but I’m telling you, I saw my baby on the dock in the fog.” She wanted to add that she thought the medication she’d been given might have been the cause, but that would have made the doctor defensive, as she was the one who had prescribed the antianxiety pills.

Wyatt walked behind the couch, reached over, and squeezed her shoulder. Fondly? Or out of frustration? She looked up at him and saw nothing but concern in his expression. “You have to let go of your fantasies, Ava. Noah’s not coming back.” With that he left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

The psychologist’s gaze followed after him; then when the door was shut, it turned back to her patient. “What do you think is going on here, Ava?” she asked.

“I wish I knew.” Ava glanced to the windows, dark with the night. “I wish to God I knew.”

Before they could really get into it, there was a tap on the door and Wyatt opened it again. “Thought you should know. Sheriff Biggs is here.”

“Why?” Ava asked.

“Khloe called him.”

“Because I jumped into the bay?”

“Yeah. She thought you might be attempting suicide.”

“I wasn’t!”

“Humor her. Biggs is her uncle.”

“Big deal.” Ava was having none of it. “What is this?” She looked

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