Free You Don't Want To Know by Lisa Jackson Page A

had been posted with a quickly written note saying that the shop would reopen in the morning.
    â€œGreat,” Ava muttered, disappointed. Then again, what had she expected? It wasn’t as if she’d made an appointment. She glanced into the darkened interior where the walls were painted a soft pink and the decor was an homage to the sixties, with framed black-and-white pictures of women icons of the decade. Everyone from Marilyn Monroe, Jackie Kennedy, and Brigitte Bardot to Twiggy and Audrey Hepburn stared down at the four stations, now empty, their black faux-leather chairs unoccupied.
    She grabbed a coffee to go at the bakery, resisted the urge to buy the last cinnamon roll in the display case, then tried calling Tanya only to get voice mail, where a lifeless computer’s voice instructed her to leave a message.
    She didn’t.
    Instead, she sipped her coffee and walked to the corner where she caught a glimpse of the bay and Church Island, still visible despite the fog bank slowly rolling in from the sea. She even made out Neptune’s Gate on one end and, just visible on the southern tip of the island, the dark roof of Sea Cliff. The institution had been closed for six years now, forced to shut its doors permanently when the last of its criminally insane inmates, Lester Reece, had escaped. Reece had been a suspect in several local homicides and had been convicted of murdering his wife and her best friend in one of his many fits of rage. His defense team had insisted that he’d been suffering from paranoid schizophrenia, and in the end, Reece had been sentenced to live out his days at Sea Cliff.
    Then he’d somehow duped the guards, slipped through the iron gates, and disappeared into the night.
    Ava felt a chill when she thought of Reece and his heinous acts. It seemed impossible now to think of him, and the others who had been equally dangerous, living so close to Neptune’s Gate. Of course, as a child, she’d accepted it as just a part of Church Island’s lore.
    â€œSo, who sprung you?” A male voice cut into her reverie, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
    Looking over her shoulder, she caught sight of Austin Dern heading her way. A beat-up backpack was slung over his shoulder, and the shadow of his beard had darkened overnight.
    â€œI’m not locked up.”
    Yet, hadn’t she thought of the house as a prison just an hour earlier?
    â€œIf you say so.” Not bothering to mask his skepticism, he shifted the backpack higher onto his shoulder. “You coming or going?”
    â€œComing. Just got here . . . I have a few errands to run and I thought maybe I’d look up an old friend.”
    â€œGood idea.”
    â€œAnd you?”
    â€œNeeded a few things,” he said easily. “I checked in Monroe, but you can’t get much more than stale pretzels and pepperoni that’s months past its pull date at Frank’s Food-O-Mart. The name’s kind of a lie, y’know. Not much would pass as food in there.”
    She felt a smile threaten the corner of her lips. God, when was the last time that she’d grinned or been even slightly amused?
    â€œFrank’s, that’s the name, right?” he asked, squinting.
    â€œMonroe’s answer to 7-Eleven. And you can get corn nuts there,” she said, nodding. “If you’re desperate. I don’t think they have pull dates.”
    His gaze sharpened on her face as if he’d just discovered something unexpected. “You could be right.” He hitched his chin toward the marina, where there were several boats that were used as private taxis to and from the island. “Depending on how long you’ll be, we could share a ride.”
    Shaking her head, she demurred, “Don’t wait. I’ll probably catch the ferry.”
    â€œI don’t mind.”
    He didn’t budge, and she wondered what he really thought of her after dragging her kicking and screaming