He and she were getting closer, though she was still tender, hadn’t even yet buried Wyatt. Everything her scumbag of a husband and his lover had planned had been executed perfectly, until the ending, when it had all fallen apart for them and they were both killed. The police believed that Khloe had actually been the murderess, and Wyatt’s role in that part of the scheme was murky. However, he had definitely been in on trying to make Ava go out of her mind, his intent to make her kill herself, though Jewel-Anne had probably just started the gaslighting out of envy and guilt for having given up her son.
Ava felt weird about all of that. Satisfied that Khloe and Wyatt were dead and had gotten what they deserved, yet sad as well . . . it was still all so messed up. And she couldn’t help but wonder if others on the island had suspected what was going on. Trent and Ian? Jacob? Though they all claimed their shock and innocence.
Virginia and Simon had been conveniently off the island the night that Khloe had staged her lover’s death and tried to kill Ava. Now they were swearing their innocence and had moved out. Ava’s cousins, too, showing their true colors, were in the process of finding other living arrangements. Trent had flown home, and Ian had quit whining long enough to clean out his room. Even Jacob was in transition, insisting he wanted to leave this “sick house of horrors” ASAP. He had been home the night that Ava was nearly killed, probably stoned out of his mind, the volume on his television cranked into the eardrum-breaking decibel range. He swore he heard nothing outside the walls of his room that night and had somehow, despite the earsplitting roar from his TV, slept through all of the hubbub.
Sure.
However, Ava didn’t care about any of them. The staff could be replaced and her family wasn’t close to her. Those who wanted to eventually connect again, maybe Zinnia or Aunt Piper, would try. Or maybe not. For now, everyone seemed to be giving her the space and time she needed.
That left her with Dern, a man she was getting to know day by day, the layers of his past unraveling.
So far, so good. At least she had hope for them—once the dust had settled on the shambles of her life.
Of course, the most important thing was Noah.
Finally on the third day, just when Ava thought she would truly go out of her mind, the call came through. With Detective Snyder’s help, her son was coming home! He was four now and had been ripped away from the family who had stolen him, so it was going to be tricky. But she would be patient.
As clouds rolled in from the Pacific and the tide lapped at the shore, she waited for him at the end of the dock, ignoring the splintered bullet holes and bloodstains that couldn’t quite be washed away.
Dern was at her side. In the two days she’d been out of it in the hospital, he’d been the one who had figured out what had happened. “It had to be Demetria,” he’d told her when she’d been released from the hospital. “No one else could keep a secret and she was Jewel-Anne’s biggest supporter; her confidante. Jewel-Anne convinced Demetria to steal her boy that night at the party. Wyatt knew all about it. They worked it out, to take him after you put him down. They had a boat ready. They stole into his room and had a friend who desperately wanted a baby boat him across the bay. They drove to a private airstrip and flew him by private plane to Canada. Vancouver. Where with fake papers, Noah got lost in the crowd. But it’s all being straightened out now.” Dern hugged her and added, “Demetria felt horrible about losing Jewel-Anne. And she’s undone about the murders. When I confronted her and showed her the picture I’d found, she broke down completely, told me everything, and now is dealing with the police and the FBI and the Canadian authorities. It’s a legal and criminal mess, but one thing is certain: you’re getting your boy back.”
“Thank God.”
“It’ll be tough at first. He still thinks his ‘mom’ is in Vancouver. She’ll be prosecuted of course.”
“He’ll miss her.”
“The dad took off a year ago, so . . .”
“So those shoes won’t be as hard to fill.” She glanced up at him and he grinned, that sexy grin she found so damned endearing. “Are you volunteering?”
“You know where I stand.” That she did. He’d professed to love her and, so far, intended on staying with her here, though he did own some property in Texas.
With Dern, anything could happen, but she had a good feeling about their relationship. A very good feeling.
Now, though, it was all about Noah; then again, it always had been.
The boat was drawing closer, knifing through the gray water, casting a thick wake. Every muscle in Ava’s body was tense. The wind was up, blowing her hair in front of her face, and the smell of the sea was heavy today. From aloft, seagulls let out their plaintive calls, teasing the dog, who, feeling the tension in the air, hadn’t left Dern’s side, even as a sea lion cruised by the shore.
Ava barely noticed. All of her concentration was on the cutter from the sheriff’s office and its precious cargo.
Heart trip-hammering, nerves strung as tight as bowstrings, she waited on the dock as the cutter docked, tying up.
Detective Snyder, in uniform, helped a lanky young boy onto the deck.
Her heart cracked. Noah! Though taller, no longer any baby fat visible, his hair a thick, curly brown, his eyes round, she recognized him as he walked along the dock, holding Snyder’s hand.
Her throat was hot. Tight. Her eyes burning with tears. Did he remember her? That was probably too much to ask.
Dern squeezed her shoulder and she took a step forward.
“Noah?” she said, and the boy scowled, distrusting.
“My name is Peter.”
“Of course it is. And I’m . . . Ava,” she said, telling herself to take it slowly. God, oh, God, she wished that he would remember her, and there was a flicker of something in his gaze as he looked at the house, the grounds, and into Ava’s face. But if she’d expected him to suddenly recall her and come running into her arms, she’d been wrong. Instead he looked from her to Dern and back again, then at Rover. “Is that your dog?” he asked.
“Yes.” She nodded, fighting tears.
He smiled shyly. “I always wanted a dog.”
“He’s yours,” Dern said.
“Really?” Noah’s mouth rounded in surprise, and his little face brightened.
“Really.”
Noah walked forward to pet Rover and was rewarded with a wet tongue to his face. “Eeewww!” he cried in delight, but kept petting the dog. Fighting tears, Ava squeezed Dern’s hand, then let go as she walked up to her son, bent down, and gave him a hug. “Welcome, home,” she said, her voice cracking. “Oh, Noah, welcome home.”
“I told you my name’s Peter,” he said again.
“That’s right.” She laughed. “Well, Peter, I’m glad you’re here!”
The dog, spying a squirrel, gave a sharp bark and took off, and Peter didn’t hesitate but gave chase. He was so much taller than he had been the last time she’d seen him two years earlier.
“I think he’s gonna be all right,” Snyder observed as he watched the kid run after the dog. He cleared his throat. Turning his gaze back to Ava, he offered a quick nod, as if satisfied. “You know, I think you’re all gonna be all right.”
Ava grinned. Basked in the thought. “Count on it,” she said, and then, unburdened, she took off running, chasing after the boy she’d thought she’d lost forever, the son who was finally home for good.
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KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 2012 by Lisa Jackson LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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Library of Congress Card Catalogue Number: 2012936436
ISBN: 978-0-7582-7959
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Lisa Jackson, You Don't Want To Know
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