Deeper Evil (The Evil Secrets Trilogy Book 2)

by Vickie McKeehan

  “How much weight did you gain?”

  She gave him an incredulous look. “Is there a question you won’t ask?”

  His mouth curved. He knew how to get out of a jam. “All I’m saying is you don’t look like you had a baby six months ago.”

  “Good recovery. You think on your feet.”

  “My sister is still trying to lose the baby weight. She gained almost forty pounds.”

  “Wow! That is a lot. I gained about twenty. And for some reason the weight just poured off.”

  He laughed. “That’s probably because you can’t sit still for five minutes.”

  “Maybe.”

  “When will Gidget here be ready to eat solid food?”

  “She has her six-month checkup Tuesday, the day after Memorial Day. I’m hoping he’ll tell me it’s time to introduce some cereal into her diet.”

  “Tuesday? Why didn’t you say something?”

  “Forgive me, daddy, but it never occurred to me that a single guy would be interested in making a trip to the pediatrician with us. I’m still getting used to this whole daddy act of ours anyway.”

  He had a serious look on his face when he said, “Yeah, well, next time give me a heads up. What time?”

  “Ten o’clock.” Baylee was starting to think the man was taking this daddy act a little too far. She could easily chalk it up to the man’s amiable disposition, but it could also be the start of an uneasy obsession. How much did she really know about the guy anyway? “Dylan, I think I can get Sarah to and from the doctor by myself. I’ve handled it just fine for months now.”

  “No way. We’re a team now.”

  But for how long, she wondered, as she tried to decide how much of Dylan’s act was fake and how much was genuine.

  “She was born the sixteenth of December, right? What time?”

  His curiosity knew no bounds. “Three-twenty a.m.” She cocked a brow.

  “Who was with you?”

  “My friend, Blair. Look, Dylan, is this interrogation going any place in particular? Am I allowed to have my attorney present?”

  “Very funny. Look, there’s a lot I don’t know, okay? I’m just trying to be thorough. And you opted for breast feeding because it was healthier for the baby over the bottle. Good choice. That’s the way my sister went too. Even as we speak, she’s trying to wean the little guy, but he’s stubborn and not too happy with the sippy cup.” He suddenly wished he’d been there when Sarah popped into the world.

  Baylee couldn’t help it; she laughed. What other single guy would possible know anything about a sippy cup? Okay, so it was his good nature front and center making him so curious, not some bizarre or weird fixation. She relaxed and decided to get more into the spirit of the questions. Two could play this game.

  Playfully, maybe a bit more suggestively than she should have, she said with a straight face, “Because Sarah was so small, she had trouble at first getting the hang of the whole nipple thing.” When she saw the tight look form on his face, she went on, “It took her a couple of days to get the hang of what she was supposed to do, but she finally figured it out. We both did.”

  She’d said on purpose to shut him up and put an end to the questions. But she should have known better. Dylan Burke didn’t have a shy bone in his body. He just kept right on talking about the benefits of breastfeeding over the bottle until finally he asked, “Isn’t it getting about that time?” His eyes automatically drifted to the front of the shirt she wore as if he were trying to see if the answer were written on her boobs.

  Now she was the one who was self-conscious. “Uh, yeah. We probably should go. And tonight’s bath night so we need to factor in some extra time.”

  “Really? Can I help?”

  Baylee didn’t know whether to be thrilled or wary at the offer. She forced herself to remember this was a temporary situation. When this whole thing with Connor was over, she would move on. And so would he. She couldn’t—no, she wouldn’t—get used to having him in both of their lives. She reminded herself he was simply acting the part of daddy; it was a role he was playing with relish. She had no illusions or fantasies that he’d actually be interested in stepping into that role for real.

  As soon as they got back home it didn’t take long before Sarah grew tired from having been out all evening and began to fuss. As far as the bath went, Dylan took his cues from Baylee.

  While he held the unhappy Sarah, Baylee, who seemed to take Sarah’s fussiness in stride, ran water into a yellow plastic thing that looked to him like a bucket. On Baylee’s command he reluctantly sat the squalling infant into the water and wondered how on earth Baylee intended to bathe a very unwilling participant. But to his surprise, Sarah’s demeanor changed as soon as Baylee began to turn the bath into more game than chore, complete with splashing noises and bubbles that not only entertained Sarah but got the job done as well.

  He couldn’t help it. He was bowled over by Baylee’s technique—and not for the first time. Everything about her spoke to the woman’s love for her child. She seemed to have a handle on what Sarah needed, when she needed it, and what the baby would or would not tolerate. Considering that the kid couldn’t talk, Dylan thought Baylee seemed to know exactly what to do in any given circumstance.

  The longer Sarah stayed in the water the more she kicked and oohed over the bath toys. Caught up in the game, he picked up a Dora Explorer bubble maker and began to shoot bubbles into the air. That got Sarah’s attention. She slapped for the bubbles, and with every reach of her little hands, water sloshed over the sides of the tub. Dylan didn’t mind. He was having too much fun watching her enjoy the water. Imagine, a little pint-sized fish like this having as much fun as he had had just that morning in the surf.

  When Baylee announced bath time over and done, he watched with rapt attention, trying to pick up as many pointers as he could as she dried, diapered, and dressed a wiggling Sarah with such a knack. She never broke stride.

  As soon as Baylee had the last snap in place on Sarah’s pink pajamas, sensing freedom from her restraints, Sarah promptly rolled over, grinned from ear to ear, pleased that she’d survived the ritual bath process. Her mood went from weary to recharged, as if she’d found her second wind.

  Dylan reached down and picked her up, settling her on his shoulder. He picked up the soft bear she slept with from her crib and started going after her belly, telling her, “Mr. Bear is going to get you.” He proceeded to make Mr. Bear dance until she giggled. When she began to squeal with delight at each playful gesture, he didn’t stop until he got a genuine belly laugh out of her.

  Baylee watched in fascination as Dylan charmed her daughter. She tried to harden her heart against his appeal. And then like a rock through a window, her mind crashed, wondering how she could help but not fall for this guy. Watching the two of them sit down on the floor and continue their playtime, it seemed that to her, Sarah was as captivated as she. What would happen to both of them when he tired of the daddy role, when he saw that being a father was more than fun and games?

  She decided to end the day on a high note, one that didn’t require thinking too far into the future. Connor was still out there, no doubt looking for her. She couldn’t be distracted from that, couldn’t forget that keeping Sarah’s existence a secret was first and foremost, the priority. The feelings Dylan brought out would have to be put on the backburner. There could be no doubt Sarah’s welfare came first.

  CHAPTER 12

  In the dream, she was twelve.

  Baylee tiptoed to the door, checked the hallway. She wouldn’t let him see her, catch her. If he did, in his present state, she knew what to expect. She hated him when he was like this. Her hands shook just thinking about him finding her hiding place inside Tanya’s bedroom closet. And now, just to Baylee’s luck, Tanya was out running errands. Otherwise, the woman always acted as her go-between, her protector. But at times like this, Baylee couldn’t rely on anyone but herself. Any other time her father could be a decent human being, but when
he drank, like today, forget it.

  William Scott was a mean, drunken bully.

  As she stood just behind the closet door, she strained to listen. Maybe he’d passed out by now and the coast was clear. If she could just make it to the backdoor, she could run down the street to Kit’s house. Even though Kit had it far worse than she did, Kit would hide her in the pool house for the next few hours until her father either passed out and sobered up or exhausted himself searching for her.

  She sucked in a breath and found the courage to open the door. She stuck her head out a few inches and listened again. Deciding the way was clear, she crossed the width of Tanya’s bedroom right off the kitchen and stopped at the door again to listen for any sign her father might have wandered into the kitchen. Sucking up her nerve, she opened the bedroom door and peered out. The room was quiet. It looked like she was home free. He had to be somewhere else in the house. She ran like a deer across the room, threw open the back door, and stepped straight into her father’s chest.

  “There you are, Sarah.”

  The open-handed slap snuck out like a snake to sting her cheek. “I’m not Sarah. It’s Baylee, Dad. I’m Baylee.”

  “You aren’t sneaking out of this house, Baylee Diane. You aren’t going down to that goddamned woman’s house. Not today; not ever again; no way. I’ve told you a hundred times to stay away from that bitching viper.” Backing her up in the kitchen, William yelled in her face, “You’ll stay away from her or I’ll know the reason why.”

  Baylee lied with conviction and not for the first time. “I…I…wasn’t. I was going over to Quinn’s house.”

  “Don’t lie to me.” He grabbed her arm and twisted it back. “I don’t want you around that woman, you understand? Kit might be okay, for now. But if she’s around that mother of hers for any length of time, she’ll turn out just like her. You need to…find new friends.”

  “Kit is not like…Alana. She isn’t.”

  “Yeah…well, she will be. Living with that evil woman will make her turn mean. You wait and see. No one can trust ‘Lana Stevens. Believe me, I know.” He swayed as if it were a struggle to remain standing.

  Silently, she willed him to pass out. If he passed out, she had a reprieve. But when she looked into his rheumy eyes, saw his resolve strengthen, she said quietly, “Daddy, I’m not my mother. Remember where you are. I’m not her.”

  “Damn you,” he groused, as he staggered further into the kitchen, dragging her along with him. “Don’t bring your mother up to me. You always do that. I don’t want to talk about your mother.”

  She didn’t want to remind him that she hadn’t been the one to bring up the woman earlier. He did it every time he drank, talking nonsense. But she knew better than to dispute anything he said now in this condition. “I’m…sorry.” Would this be one of those times when she could avoid taking another punch? She held her breath as well as her tongue. She took a chance and reached out to touch his hand, trying to get him to realize where he was, who was standing right in front of him. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

  It didn’t work. Within seconds, quick as lightening, his hand struck out again and slapped her across the face. Defensively her arms came up to block any more blows as he grabbed her arm. “Get out of my sight, you little…”

  He never got to finish. Tanya Lincoln stepped inside the kitchen, all five feet two inches of her, dressed in faded jeans and a loose white blouse. “William, let her go.”

  William dropped his hand in mid-strike at the sound of Tanya’s voice. “She’s in trouble. I caught her sneaking down to Kit’s again.”

  “Then ground her, William. Send her to her room, but do not hit that child again.” The diminutive woman sat down the bag of groceries she was carrying on the immaculate kitchen counter and stepped over to where William held onto the child’s arm. “Baylee, there are more bags in the car. Go help carry them in, please.”

  Baylee didn’t have to be told twice. She’d been saved again. When Baylee scooted out the back door, Tanya calmly touched William’s sleeve, placed her other hand on his chest, and stared into his glassy eyes. “You can’t keep doing this. You need to get some counseling, and stop the drinking, stop hitting her.”

  “I don’t want her around that Stevens woman. She’s the very devil. I don’t want Baylee hanging around Kit, either. I don’t care how long they’ve known each other. You let her go down there behind my back. I know you do; don’t even try to deny it. And I won’t have it; do you hear me? You work for me, something you seem to forget often enough around here. You see to it Baylee doesn’t leave this house tonight. And stop Kit from coming down here so much. Let me run my own damn house for once.”

  “William, the girl comes down here most of the time just to get out of the house. Don’t begrudge Kit a place to come to when that woman gets mean, which is almost all the time. You have no idea what that woman is capable of.” Tanya knew only because Baylee had confided a secret in her, but she wouldn’t break that confidence, especially with William. “And you know Alana doesn’t allow Kit’s friends in the house that often. That means Baylee doesn’t go down there as much as you think she does. You’re being unreasonable.”

  He grumbled and sauntered out of the kitchen, wobbling his way out of the room, and holding on to the wall for support. Tanya heard rather than watched him stagger down the hallway to his study, where she knew he’d be passed out in five minutes time and would probably never remember this conversation when he sobered up.

  But despite that, Tanya sighed in relief. It tore her up inside how that man treated his only daughter, his only child. Tanya looked around and saw Baylee standing in the doorway, her aquamarine eyes darting around the kitchen in fear before she set foot inside the room, as if scouting it out.

  “Coast is clear, honey. He’s probably already asleep. Lord, that man is a piece of work. If I’d known he’d picked up the bottle I never would’ve gone to the store when I did.”

  “I hope he passes out and never wakes up,” Baylee said hatefully, touching the cheek where she’d been smacked.

  “You hush up talk like that. I know you have every right to feel the way you do, but you don’t go saying things like that about your father.” Tanya gently touched the girl’s cheek. “That needs ice.” She reached into a kitchen drawer, pulled out an ice bag, walked to the freezer, and began filling it up. After tightening the cap, she held it out to Baylee’s face.

  Baylee responded by wrapping her arms around the petite black woman, a woman she thought of like a mother. “Thanks, Tanya. What would I do without you?”

  “I’m not going to let you find out, child. I’ve been taking care of you since you were born. You’re like my own daughter. And I’m always going to be here for you. You might want to stay clear of Kit’s house for a while though. Who knows, when he wakes up he may not even remember this rant, but to be on the safe side better not go down there, especially today. Is Kit doing okay these days?”

  Baylee shuddered, remembering that just a month earlier Kit had gone through a horrible ordeal. Baylee snuggled further into Tanya’s embrace. At least she didn’t have a mother like Kit had, a woman that would shoot her own daughter. Kit had sworn Baylee and Quinn to secrecy. But it had been too heavy a burden for Baylee, and she’d been so scared for Kit that one night last week, after hiding from another one of her father’s rages, in a vulnerable frame of mind, she’d confessed to Tanya the secret of what Alana had done.

  Alana had shot her own daughter with a .22 caliber pistol. Thank God the bullet had hit Kit’s shoulder and nothing vital. She had a bad scar on her shoulder, but at least she was alive. Baylee hated to think of Kit dying. Even though Alana hadn’t even seen the need to take Kit to a hospital for treatment, she had found a doctor who came to the house to remove the bullet.

  Money, it seemed, could buy silence, even when it involved the shooting of a child.

  Baylee slowly came awake, disoriented, sweating. At least it wasn’t the other
dream, the one where she saw her mother pushed down the stairs. She got up to wash her face. As soon as she opened the door to her room, she noticed a light on at the end of the hall.

  Someone was in the living room. Before she rounded the corner, she saw the flicker of light like that of a computer, heard the typing of keys. From the doorway she saw Dylan, who looked deep in concentration, hard at work.

  “I always heard Internet porn was addictive, but it’s two-thirty in the morning; shouldn’t you give it a rest?”

  Dylan jumped out of his skin. “God. Scare me next time, why don’t you. It’s not porn.” He narrowed his eyes, staring. “What are you doing awake? You look upset.”

  “Just a dream. It’s nothing.”

  He suddenly looked uncomfortable. “You want to talk about?”

  “Childhood memories. I’ve had it before. Really, it’s nothing.” Baylee noticed that now he looked distressed. “What’s wrong, Dylan?”

  “I’m not sure how you’ll take this. But…I did some research. I was planning to tell you in the morning.”

  “Tell me what.”

  “Were you aware your father never got a divorce from your mother?”

  “What? Of course they were divorced. She left him when I was about three. They were divorced the following year.”

  “Was that your father’s official story?”

  “I guess. No. Wait. Tanya told me. I think. If they weren’t divorced that year, it was definitely the next.”

  “Not according to public records.” He hit the computer keys in rapid-fire succession and pointed to the screen. “Here, take a look.”

  Her eyes locked on the screen as she read the information from a public records database he’d managed to find. The website confirmed there was a marriage between William Scott and Sarah Moreland, but an additional search found no divorce. Even staring at the screen, she was adamant. “Well, the records are wrong.”