You Don't Want To Know - By Lisa Jackson Page 0,85
. . . think he’s come back, do you?”
“No!” Khloe cut in quickly, coming from the kitchen.
Jewel-Anne stiffened in her chair. “I doubt it,” she said. “He . . . he just seemed to disappear.”
“Probably with help from his daddy,” Khloe cut in.
Was it Ava’s imagination or did Dern’s mouth tighten, almost imperceptibly? In a heartbeat, the expression had vanished, just like Reece had years before. Despite the rumored sightings of Anchorville’s most infamous criminal, Lester Reece had either died or somehow managed to elude the police. If it was the latter, then Khloe was right. If Reece had escaped justice, no doubt he’d turned to his tight-knit family. Reece was the son of a local judge who had finally stepped down amid rumors of adultery and graft, but he’d denied his son nothing. Privileged and handsome, Lester had also had a cruel streak that had eventually escalated to murder. Though Reece had been convicted, his clever, high-priced attorney had found psychiatrists who declared him to be mentally unstable and he’d ended up at Sea Cliff rather than behind prison bars. He’d escaped from the hospital and his disappearance had cost the hospital administrator, Ava’s uncle Crispin, his job.
“He was seen recently,” Demetria insisted. “By Corvin Hobbs. Just a few months ago.”
“Who would believe Corvin?” Jewel-Anne said curtly. It was true. A local fisherman, Hobbs was known for his tall tales and affinity for Johnnie Walker.
“Looks like we’ve got company,” Demetria said as she peered through the window.
Ava followed her gaze and saw a boat cutting through the water, its wake a white, churning tail. She recognized the family craft with several people inside. Not far behind was a second boat boldly marked as belonging to the sheriff’s department.
As the first boat slowed before pulling into the boathouse, Ava recognized Ian at the helm. With him were his twin, Wyatt, and, of course, Evelyn McPherson.
They had just disembarked when the boat from the sheriff’s department pulled up to the dock. A woman helmed the craft. With her was Detective Wesley Snyder. The only person missing was the sheriff.
“Perfect,” Ava said, glancing up at Dern. “Looks like we’re going to host a party.”
“Wonder why?” His scowl was deep.
“Because they all figured out that I saw Cheryl yesterday. They probably hope that I saw something that will help with the investigation.” Deciding to get out of the line of fire, Ava headed for the stairs to the second floor.
Dern followed. “It may be more than that,” he said as he joined her in the upper hallway.
“Meaning?”
“Maybe you were the last person to see her alive.”
“You think they might consider me a suspect?” Ava asked in disbelief. “I hardly knew her.”
“I don’t know. But someone’s messing with you. Big-time.”
She heard a step on the landing and saw Graciela, dust rag in her hand, wiping down the stair railings. She, too, was staring out the windows as the entourage from the boat landing walked up the hill to the house. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“Looks like we have company,” Ava said.
“And the shoes?” Graciela swept Noah’s sneakers from the floor. “What’re they doing here?”
“I found them. In his room.”
“Wet?” Graciela asked, eyeing Ava as if she were untrustworthy.
“Yes.”
“But they weren’t in the closet?” She seemed confused as she lifted the tiny Nikes by their heels.
“No! Not in the closet.” Ava snagged the shoes dangling from the maid’s fingers.
“But why?”
“Oh my God!” Khloe’s voice preceded her footsteps, and when she rounded the corner below them, she was stuffing her phone into the pocket of her sweater. “Why didn’t you tell me about the murder?” she demanded of Ava.
“I just found out myself.”
“Ian called me a few minutes ago,” Dern explained as he and Ava retraced their footsteps downstairs.
Ava brushed past Khloe and opened the door. Wyatt was just climbing the front steps. “I’ve got bad news,” he said, his face grim as he walked inside and brushed a kiss across her cheek. He smelled of the ocean and something else . . . the slight tinge of cigarette smoke.
“We heard,” she said as the twins arrived behind him. Trent gave her a bear hug. Of all of her cousins, he was the closest to her.
“What a mess,” he said as Ian and McPherson stepped through the door. “Ian says you knew the victim.”
“Everyone did.” Ava shut the door behind them. “Cheryl lived in Anchorville for years.”
Unzipping his jacket, Trent said, “But I thought Ian mentioned that you saw her professionally?”