Deeper Evil (The Evil Secrets Trilogy Book 2)

by Vickie McKeehan

  “I don’t think so.” When she started to object, he explained, “Hear me out. If your mother disappeared like he said, why wouldn’t he get a divorce? Have you ever considered…” This part was a lot tougher.

  “Considered what?”

  “What if your mother didn’t run off with anyone? What if something happened to her?”

  Baylee went white.

  “I know she was a local girl; I looked up her bio. Does she still have family living in L.A.?”

  Baylee’s hand went to her mouth. “Who asked you to do this?”

  “No one. But something isn’t right about the story. Haven’t you ever wondered why your mother never got in touch with you over the years? Twenty-two years is a long time to go without ever trying to communicate with your only daughter.”

  Baylee shrugged, trying to look bored with the entire conversation. “She probably had a dozen kids with the tennis pro. They’re probably living in a French villa somewhere growing grapes, getting fat off the land. I got the impression from Dad she was quite selfish. She didn’t want me. Why can’t you accept that, Dylan? I have, years ago.”

  But her bravado came out weak.

  For the first time since he’d known her Dylan realized she wasn’t being honest. Her performance didn’t ring true but rather came off more like a defense mechanism that kicked in to hide the hurt.

  “I thought you might want to know where she is, find her. If she’s alive wouldn’t you want a chance to question her about why she left? Find out her reasons for staying away all this time? Or, maybe she couldn’t for some reason contact you. If it were me, I’d want to know. Either way, don’t you want to know the truth?” He turned back to the computer. “By the way, who was the tennis pro? They don’t mention his name on the website I found.”

  The question caught her off guard. She looked even more annoyed. When she’d moved out of her father’s house at sixteen, she’d tried to find out where her mother had gone, wanting to give her a second chance if she could locate her. She’d always been curious, more curious than her father that was for sure. But even though she’d tried, she’d found nothing on her own, not a trace of Sarah Moreland.

  But did she have to go down that road again now, visit every time she’d been fragile to the point of breaking? She didn’t like to think about those times and especially not with this man. He seemed to always see her at her very worst, her most vulnerable. She took a seat on the sofa and drew her legs up to her chest, so she could rest her chin on her knees.

  But Dylan seemed to understand. “You’ve looked before, haven’t you?”

  “When I was sixteen, I found out she had a sister living in Glendale. Karen Nash. One Saturday morning I talked Kit and Quinn into jumping in the car, going over there with me to play Nancy Drew, maybe see if this woman, who was also my aunt, had any idea where her sister had disappeared to. I hoped she might know where my mother was living and with whom, maybe give me a last known address, a phone number, something, anything.”

  Baylee bit her lip. “It was a waste of gas. Karen swore up and down she hadn’t heard a word from Sarah in more than thirteen years. I remember I didn’t believe her. I thought she was covering up. My mother just left me, Dylan. It’s hard to understand how a mother could be so callous, but it happens.”

  As Dylan listened, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Didn’t she see that her father’s story kept getting weaker and how feeble the story sounded in the first place?

  “Does it? Think about it, Baylee. Sarah Moreland runs off after putting you to bed one night and no one, I mean no one, not even her sister, not her little girl, not her husband, ever hear from her again. Not once in twenty-two years. Honestly, and you may get mad at me for this, but I find your father’s story bordering on the unbelievable. What was the name of the tennis pro, Baylee?”

  “He was French. Luc Delaine. I got that tidbit from nosing around the tennis club one summer. And enough time had passed that people were willing to dish the dirt, so to speak, on what they remembered about their affair. It was kind of a folk story by that time, these two lovers running off so they could be together, leaving behind her movie career, a famous director-husband, and her own daughter. Exactly where are you going with this, Dylan?”

  He turned his back on her and started hitting his laptop keys. Right before her eyes, Surfer Boy turned into a genuine computer geek.

  “Let’s see what we can find out about this Luc Delaine.” After several searches, Dylan sighed. “The man seems to have disappeared right along with your mother. What little bio I found said he once had a promising tennis career and then just vanished. If the couple got to Europe, why didn’t the tennis pro pick up his career where he left off? There isn’t so much as a mention of him finishing in the top hundred tennis competitions after the rumor hits that they run off together. Looks like Luc Delaine disappeared right along with Sarah Moreland.”

  “Wasn’t that the point? Secretively run off in the middle of the night to be together, start a new life.”

  “You’re kidding, right? You mean these two were so in love they gave up their fantastic lives so they could be together? And do what? Your mother never went near another movie set in Europe. Luc Delaine stayed away from all competitions and never walked onto a tennis court again? Come on, Baylee. Think about it. Sarah deserts her acting career. Luc drops tennis like a hot potato. His bio says he was once ranked number four in the world. How is it that these two would give up everything they loved to be together? Everything. Does that make sense to you, Baylee?”

  She had to agree when he said it like that it sounded incredible. “Not a bit.”

  “Have you ever point-blank asked your father what really happened?”

  “Now who’s being unrealistic? Every time someone inadvertently mentioned my mother’s name, he always went ballistic. His attitude about it made questions impossible since he made it clear the subject was off limits. I didn’t dare bring it up.”

  “That’s convenient.”

  Her brows knitted together. “It is, isn’t it?” She gnawed on the side of her mouth. “You think he might have done something to her?”

  “Maybe. Somebody did.”

  “You know I’m not sure it’s worth mentioning, but… I’ve had this dream ever since I was little. Never mind, the idea’s crazy.”

  “Go ahead. Tell me.”

  She told him how the dream always played out and never varied. How her mother had been arguing with two women upstairs on the landing. How in the dream she’d overheard the argument take place outside her bedroom door. Then she repeated what she’d seen after she’d crept to the door and peeked out, what the two women had looked like, one blonde, the other with dark hair. “And for some reason, in the dream, the blonde always reminds me of Kit’s mother. Well, not Kit’s real mother, Gloria, but Alana. But you know what I mean we just found that out. The blonde woman in my dream always looked like Alana. I always thought the other one with dark hair as the evil, wicked witch.”

  Dylan sat there looking at her, stunned. “Did your father know Alana?” Then he answered his own question, as if he’d just worked it out in his mind. “Of course he did. They lived five houses down from each other. They were neighbors. Were they friends that you know of? And that bio I read mentioned Sarah’s role in Growing Up Dead playing Alana’s younger sister.”

  “Get real, Dylan. Dad and Alana were not friends. Dad hated Alana. Now that I think about it, he really hated her. You know, every time he got drunk he’d forbid me to see Kit or play with her; he didn’t even want me around Kit because of the way he felt about Alana.”

  Dylan turned back to the computer. In less than five minutes, Baylee saw the information appear on the laptop screen. Over his shoulder, she began to read aloud from a list of William Scott’s film credits. Dylan pointed to the part he wanted her to focus on.

  “Alana made three films with my father directing. In one of them Sarah Moreland played Alana’s little sister.
They all worked together once. They were neighbors. What does that prove?”

  “It proves they all knew each other rather well, and apparently your father and Alana had some sort of falling out. Baylee, what if your dream isn’t a dream at all? What if you actually heard your mother arguing with two women, one of which might have been Alana, and she pushed your mother down the stairs?”

  Baylee looked at him wide-eyed, and then shook her head. “No. In the dream Alana slaps my mother, fights with her, but it’s the woman with dark hair who actually does the shoving. I’m sure of that.”

  “Okay, but Alana was there. Think. Who was the other woman?”

  It didn’t take Baylee five seconds to pull in the image. Horrified at the revelation, her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh. My. God. The woman looked like a young Jessica Boyd with long black hair. She had dark, deep-set brown eyes. Is it possible?” She got up to pace. “This is crazy, Dylan. I feel like I’m getting caught up in a hallucination. Are we really having this conversation?”

  “We are. When did you say you started therapy?”

  “Freshman year of college. Dr. Strasburg. Santa Monica. Every Tuesday. I was seventeen. Why?”

  “Did you ever mention your dream to this Dr. Strasburg?”

  “Sure. Kit and Quinn and I talked a lot about our dreams, good dreams, bad dreams, disturbing dreams, and definitely our recurring dreams. It was all part of group.”

  “Could you go back there, get him to open up his files, maybe get a transcript of what you said back then?”

  “Sure, but why?”

  “I’m thinking when you first started talking about it, remembering the details your memory might be much clearer when you were younger, from a much younger perspective than it is now. Because, frankly, what you remember now is a little jaded. As we get older, our memories fade, lose their clarity. It might be worth it to take a look at his files.”

  Impressed, Baylee let out a sigh. “You really are good at this, you know that?”

  He grinned. “Just part of the full service treatment here at the Burke B & B.” His eyes narrowed as he suddenly looked, really looked at what she was wearing. How had that gotten past him? His gaze fell on the thin cropped top and the pair of incredibly short shorts.

  Baylee saw him swallow as his eyes descended on her body, at same time trying to stay fixed on her mouth.

  “You can’t walk around like that and expect me not to notice.”

  “I’m…sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I saw the light in here and just…”

  “Don’t apologize. You know this is going to happen as well as I do. I called Melissa this morning after you read me the riot act. She won’t be calling here anymore, at least not to—go out.”

  “Dylan, that isn’t necessary. I didn’t mean for you to break up with her.”

  “I didn’t. Break up with her that is. We were never together. You said you remembered how the game was played, Baylee. Fuck buddies. That’s all it was.” It shamed him to admit that.

  “I got that. But if you’re expecting me to fill that role…”

  He stood up and stressed, “Don’t insult me or you. There’s something more going on here. Don’t deny it. What happened this morning was inevitable. I don’t like the fact that I’ve become a little too careless with people.”

  “You mean women.”

  “Yeah, I guess I do. If it would put your mind at ease, I’ll get tested.”

  “Tested? You’d do that?”

  “If that’s what it takes. I had an insurance exam in January. Jake insists all his key employees have one every year. They took blood, the whole package. It all came back fine. But since that was months ago, I’ll go in for another blood test first chance I get.”

  He stepped closer. “We’re attracted to each other, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not looking for a quickie here, Baylee. Am I wrong to think we could have something special together?”

  She shook her head. “You aren’t wrong. But it’s too soon. You can’t pressure me and expect me to just jump in bed because I’m sharing your house and I’m convenient. I can’t help it if things get—a little heated between us sometimes. Living here wasn’t my idea, it was yours. The three-date rule doesn’t apply here, either. You can’t rush me on this. I have Sarah to think about first.”

  He chuckled, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “The three-date rule, huh? Is that what I’m doing?”

  She sighed, laughing as well. “Seems like.”

  “Will you kiss me like you did last night before you go back to bed?”

  She blew out a breath. “Do you think that’s wise?”

  He grinned at the idea of a challenge. “I think I can control my primal urges long enough to enjoy the kiss the same way I did last night without us ending up in bed.”

  “You’re making fun of me.”

  “Maybe.” He reached behind him to shut down his laptop. “Why don’t we take a ride out to Glendale tomorrow, spend some time talking to this Karen Nash? I found her address on the Internet. We’ll give her a call in the morning. Make sure she’s the right Karen Nash with a sister named Sarah Moreland. Maybe Karen can tell us more about the tennis pro.”

  How sweet of him, she thought. A chunk of doubt fell away. She was already standing close to him and simply stepped into his space, reaching her arms around his waist. “Oh Dylan, that’s the sweetest thing. I had to beg Kit and Quinn to make the trip that one time we went out there. And yet you’d go on a whim.”

  “I’d go because you need to find out what happened to your mother once and for all. Look Baylee, I had a pretty normal childhood, no abusive mother or father, no alcoholism to deal with, no beatings. I can’t imagine what it would be like to grow up that way.”

  Her last bit of resistance melted away. She stood on her tiptoes and touched her lips to his. He grabbed her around the waist, bringing her the rest of the way in, wrapping her up. His hands moved down to cup her rear end. Her body melded into his like it had been waiting to find purpose. The instant their lips touched the warmth spread. His tongue parted her lips, began probing, sucking, tasting.

  The heat came in layers, soft flame first before building to liquid fire.

  Somewhere a cell phone rang. They broke apart, looking around trying to locate the ringing. It was Dylan who got to the phone first. It was Baylee’s cell, which she’d left on the coffee table. Picking it up, Dylan checked caller ID. The lateness of the hour and the untimely interruption caused him to bark at no one in particular. “Who the hell would be calling at this hour?”

  “Maybe it’s Tanya. It could be about Dad.”

  He held up the phone while the thing kept ringing. “With a blocked ID, I don’t think so.”

  He flipped open the phone. “Who the hell is this?”

  The last thing Connor Boyd expected was for a man to answer. But that wasn’t enough to deter him. “I need to talk to Baylee. Now. Who is this?”

  Dylan recognized his voice. And it made his blood run cold. “You stay away from Baylee. Lose this number, asshole, and never call her again.”

  “I want to hear that from her. She doesn’t have the guts to say that to my face.”

  “She may not, but I do. You’re the sick pervert who’s stalking her.”

  “Did she tell you that? Don’t you what to know why I’m calling?”

  “I don’t give a shit.”

  “Are you going to tell me who this is?”

  “I’m the boyfriend, Einstein. You always call and threaten women at three in the morning.”

  Over the monitor, Sarah started to cry.

  “What is that noise? Is that a baby?”

  “What kind of asshole calls someone at three in the morning? You woke up my daughter, you jerk.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Baylee dart down the hall to quiet Sarah.

  “Your daughter?”

  “I don’t appreciate your calling my woman at three in the morning either. You got that?”

&
nbsp; Click. The line went dead.

  “Shit.” Not thinking straight, he quickly punched in star sixty-nine, but was not surprised when the call did not go through. He knew star sixty-nine didn’t work with cell phones. Frustrated, he threw down the phone and went in search of Baylee. He didn’t go far.

  When he got to Sarah’s room, Baylee was sitting in his desk chair with the baby at her breast, shaking from head to toe with a panicked look in her eyes. “That was Connor, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah. How’d he get your number?”

  “I have no idea. The only people that have it are Kit, Quinn, Blair, Tanya, and Dad. Maybe Gloria.”

  The list was short. “Well, he managed to get it from someone.”

  For Sarah’s sake, Baylee tried to stop shaking, tried to calm down. “I didn’t realize I’d be this scared.”

  “You mean you expected him to call.”

  “He’s called before, Dylan. But not since last year. And not using that number. I’ve changed my cell phone number twice, once when I got to Denver and again in December before coming back to L.A. trying to avoid this very scene. The only people that have this number are the ones closest to me.”

  “You’re changing it again first thing in the morning.” He realized he was shouting when Sarah stopped nursing long enough to turn her head to stare at him. At the gruff sound of his voice, her lips started to pucker into a cry.

  Instantly remorseful, Dylan went around and knelt down in front of both of them. He placed a gentle hand on Sarah’s head and said softly, “Hey there, Gidget, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. Getting a little hungry, needed a little snack, did you? It’s all right. I wasn’t yelling at you. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  He placed a tender kiss on the top of Sarah’s head before looking up into Baylee’s eyes. His hand reached out to touch her knee to stop it from moving up and down so much. Gentling his voice even more, he told her, “He has no idea where you are. You have to believe that. He reached a cell phone. For all he knows, you could be in Siberia.”

  “But I’m not in Siberia.”

  He smiled. “No, you aren’t.” But damn it, Connor could check cell phone pings from the nearest tower if he had the right connections.