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Authors: Lisa Jackson

You Don't Want To Know (51 page)

BOOK: You Don't Want To Know
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“Ava?” Khloe said softly, and Ava wanted to fall through the floor. “I know you're down here.”
What? No . . . oh, please no.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
Ava didn't move. Just held her knife aloft in the darkness. Every muscle in her body was tense. But she was tired . . . oh, so tired. . . . She had to fight to remain rigid, ready.
“Aaaavaaa,” Khloe singsonged again. “Aaaaavaaa.”
Sweat drizzled into Ava's eyes and palms, feeling slick against the knife's handle. “You saw it all on your little camera, didn't you?”
Ava swallowed hard. Didn't answer. The knife wobbled in her hands.
“Oh . . . I get it . . . you think you're going to get the drop on me, don't you?”
She was swaying, the knife so heavy, the drugs in her system dragging her down, not even her own adrenaline strong enough to counteract the sedative.
“Well,
friend,
it's never going to happen!”
It's now or never!
Wielding her butcher knife, Ava leaped forward.
At that moment, the world went white. Bright light burned her retinas. She only caught a glimpse of Khloe's surprised expression and the mega-flashlight in one of Khloe's hands.
In the other was the very blade that had plunged into Wyatt's chest.
The message came in late. After midnight. The 911 operator tracked Snyder down and gave him the news Ava Garrison had called in and claimed she was witnessing her husband being attacked by Khloe Prescott, that even now, Wyatt Garrison could be dead. Snyder listened to the tape twice. He didn't understand what was going on, couldn't begin to piece it together, but he didn't waste any time and coordinated with the pilot of the sheriff's department boat, then headed from the station to the marina. He'd been up for over twenty-four hours and was dog tired, but he shook it off as he left his bike in his office and took one of the department's cruisers. Lights on, sirens wailing, he roared down the streets toward the marina.
No doubt Lyons would be pissed that he hadn't called her, but he wasn't going to wait. He'd heard the sheer terror in Ava Garrison's voice on that tape and knew she was in trouble. Big trouble.
She was a suspect, yeah, but after spending most of the day interviewing her, he didn't believe she'd call for help if she didn't really need it.
The first response team was already on its way to the island, a Coast Guard cutter and helicopter dispatched. But Snyder intended to get to the island as well.
He drove through one yellow light and slowed for a red, but the streets were empty and his lights were blazing, so he ran the light, taking the turns to the waterfront a little too fast, and screeched to a halt in the parking lot across from the marina in record time. Near the water, the fog was rolling in, thin wisps that promised to become a bank before dawn.
The boat was waiting.
Lyons, damn her, was already on board.
“So what the hell took you so long?” she asked, tossing him a life jacket and sending him a don't-ever-try-to-put-one-over-on-me-again grin.
“Go to hell.” But he was glad to see her.
“Back atcha,” she said, then to the captain, “Let's go!” and the boat took off, speeding across the inky water, cutting through the fog, heading for whatever.
“You goddamned bitch!” Khloe shrieked as Ava pounced on her, plunging her knife deep into Khloe's shoulder. The flashlight fell, crashing against the tile and rolling drunkenly away, its beam swirling crazily overhead.
Khloe, screaming, flailing with her free hand, tried to stab Ava over and over again as they hit the floor.
Crack!
Ava's knee hit hard on the tiles, but she grabbed Khloe's wrist before she could be wounded.
In the weird light, Khloe's face was contorted in pain and hatred, her gaze drilling deep into her adversary. She'd missed with her blows but kicked hard, the toe of her boot connecting with Ava's shin.
Pain shimmied up her bone and she lost her grip.
Scooting away, she heard the slurping sound as Khloe yanked the knife from her shoulder and squealed again. The knife clattered to the floor. Frantically Ava scooted away, trying to stand, her bare feet slipping and smearing on warm, sticky blood.
“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” Khloe snarled.
“So why didn't you?” Ava threw back at the woman who had once been her friend.
Keep her talking and keep her in your sight. . . . Don't be distracted for an instant.
“You had plenty of chances.”
“It had to look like an accident, you idiot! Why do you think? That's a little harder than they make it look in the movies!”
“But the others. They weren't accidents.” While she was talking, Ava was staring at the knife in Khloe's fingers and hoping that the police were on their way. Or Dern. Or anyone. She'd heard a boat approaching. Where the hell was it?
Khloe was advancing, trying to climb to her feet.
The knife. Where's your damned knife? She's hurt. You could get the drop on her, but you need the knife.
Desperately she searched the dark room, then remembered the knife in her pocket and the dozens in the drawers and racks in this room.
“They didn't have to be accidents,” Khloe was explaining, seeming glad to tell Ava about her plans, how clever she'd been. “So the police would think you, the crazy woman, killed them.”
“I had no reason.” Carefully, keeping her gaze fixed on Khloe she slid her hand into her pocket.
“You hated them . . .”
“No! Not Cheryl!” she cried, thinking of the kind woman who had taken her in and quietly hypnotized her in the hopes of exorcising Ava's demons. Her fingers touched the tip of the knife in her pocket, but she had to keep Khloe talking, hope that she was distracted. “Why would I kill Cheryl?”
“Because she knew all your secrets. And when they finally find the tapes of your session that you hid in the floorboards of your closet, you'll be tied to the murders.”
“What tapes . . . I never . . .”
Khloe's eyes glowed with her own warped sense of pride. “They'll find them,” she assured Ava, and swayed a little on her feet. She was still bleeding, red drips streaking down her arm.
“You killed them all,” she charged. “Why?”
“Shut up!” she yelled at Ava. “It doesn't matter. They knew too much. Had all, one way or another, learned about Wyatt and me. They . . . they had to go.” She was breathing hard, dragging in breaths, her one arm limp, her eyes blazing. “Tell me, bitch, how does it feel to have lost the love of your life?”
“The what?” For a second, she thought of Dern.
“Your husband!” Khloe snarled as Ava kept sliding away from her. Ava's mind was racing. She wondered just how badly she'd wounded Khloe. The cut had been deep . . . but still Khloe kept coming, kept crossing the long room.
“Wyatt. We have to save him!” Her fingers curled over the hilt of the knife in her pocket.
“He's dead.”
“No!”
“Oh, yeah. I made sure,” Khloe said smugly. “I don't leave loose ends.”
“But . . . you and he . . . why . . . Oh God,” she whispered, sick to her stomach. Not that she loved him, not any longer, but to think that he'd given up his life at Khloe's hand . . . “How could you?” But then, how could this woman she'd counted as a friend become a savage, ruthless killer?
“What do you care?” Khloe said, and her lips twisted in a half smile. “He was just so fucking easy to seduce. I did it to get back at you, you know.” Her grin, though a partial grimace, widened, and she seemed to enjoy stalking Ava, advancing slowly, stretching out her quarry's terror.
“Back at me for what?”
“Every damned thing! This house! The money! The fact that you were treated like a princess when I had all those brothers and sisters to take care of. How do you think I feel
working
for you? Having my mother and husband working for you?” Khloe threw up her hands, the knife wobbling, blood spraying.
Rage that had been building for years bubbled forth. “And then there's the men. First in high school, you weren't satisfied until you went out with
my
boyfriend.”
“Mel? But that was years ago . . .” Ava couldn't believe Khloe's pure hatred. Her fingers tightened over the knife.
“And then Kelvin . . . just when I thought I had a chance to better myself . . . to taste a little of what you take for granted, by marrying your brother, you convince him to take the boat out.”
“It was an accident.”
“And you end up inheriting everything.” Khloe's lip curled in disgust as she advanced. “So you see, Wyatt was a way to get back at you. Through him, I can get a part of this.” She wobbled her knife at the interior of the kitchen, to indicate the house, the estate, all of Neptune's Gate.
“But you killed him!” This didn't make any sense. Still, Ava scooted away. She just had to keep this going until help arrived. Khloe seemed to want to gloat, to tell her all the little details. Because they both knew that Ava's chances of escape were small.
“Because the chickenshit backed out! Decided not to go through with it! In fact, the jerk said something about trying to patch things up with you. He liked being married to you, having it all. That's why divorce was out of the question. He'd rather you be alive and sequestered away in some loony bin so he could have control of everything.”
“And you . . .”
“I had a better idea! I knew what Jewel-Anne was doing and just went along. If she made you crazy enough, you would kill yourself. When that didn't happen, I went to plan B.”
“The murders. Setting me up to take the fall.”
“See, you're not as dumb as you look.”
Ava had to keep Khloe talking as she neared the far wall. She was close now. If she could only grab the door, swing it into Khloe's face, stab her in the gut, then take off, she might have a chance.
Where? Where will you go?
The boathouse! If she had enough time. And the keys were in the ignition. Oh, God, if only . . .
Keep her talking. For God's sake, Ava, keep her distracted.
“What . . . what about Simon?”
“What about him?”
“He's your husband.”
“Not for long. I've had one too many bruises from that sick son of a bitch. I'm divorcing his ass. He knows it. Won't fight me.” She stopped for a second and blinked, as if to catch her escaping thoughts. Maybe Khloe was wounded worse than even she knew.
Again, Ava heard a boat's engine . . . or more than one.
Please, oh, please . . .
Khloe took another step forward. “You know, this would have been so much easier if you had just drowned when you were supposed to. You know, when you thought you saw your damned kid. That would have been perfect!”
BOOK: You Don't Want To Know
5.06Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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