Deeper Evil (The Evil Secrets Trilogy Book 2)

by Vickie McKeehan

  “I’m not sure how Dylan will take that.”

  “You and I both know it’s for his own protection. It would make me feel better about him doing this.”

  Quinn sauntered up beside Baylee and said rather bluntly, “Is the barrister here giving you a hard time because he couldn’t talk his friend out of that birth certificate thing?”

  Baylee simply turned to look at Quinn and gave her a hard stare. “What has you in such a pissy mood today? Is it that thing that happened with Cade? You need to make sure hospital security doesn’t drop the ball like that again and leave you vulnerable.”

  Quinn’s bad temper plummeted. “I had a four-year-old kid die on me today.”

  Baylee and Reese eyed each other as if trying to decide which tack to take. It was Reese who blurted out, “Maybe if you talk about it you might lose some of that gigantic chip on your shoulder.”

  Quinn dropped down on the steps and told them the minute she’d seen the little girl she’d known it was too late to save her. “But despite her condition, I did everything I’d been trained to do to try to bring her back. It was just too late. I had to go out to the waiting room and look those parents in the eye and tell them their four-year-old daughter was gone. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

  “But think about all those others you’ve saved or will save, Quinn,” Baylee told her, as she let her free hand rest on Quinn’s shoulder. “I’m sorry that happened. It was a terrible thing, tragic. But you owe Reese an apology.”

  Baylee went around and sat on the step next to Quinn, settling the baby on her lap. “Dylan did a wonderful thing for me and for Sarah. Putting his name on that birth certificate might not have been the smartest thing he’s ever done, but he didn’t do it without acting on the advice of his attorney and friend. Reese did what any attorney, and for that matter, what any friend should do, he counseled him to do what was best for him. In the end, Dylan made up his own mind, came to a decision that benefited me and Sarah. And I’m grateful. But that’s what friends do, Quinn. They stand up and say ‘don’t do this.’ And you should know that better than most. I’m sorry you’re hurting because of that little girl. But you knew when you decided to be a doctor there would be times when you wouldn’t be able to save everyone.”

  Baylee got to her feet. “We talked about that, remember?” And with that she disappeared inside the house, leaving the new res feeling churlish.

  When she’d gone, Quinn grumbled, “Well, she told me. She may be tiny, but she’s pretty good at kicking my ass every now and again when I need it. She’s right. I’m sorry for being so rude. I’ve had a bad couple of days. That’s no excuse, of course, but…”

  “Well gee, let me circle this day on the calendar; Quinn Tyler just used the S word.”

  “Oh, shut up. I just don’t like lawyers.”

  Now that he knew why, he could tease her about it. “Lawyers in general or me in particular?”

  “You’re all right, I guess. You aren’t completely without merit. You helped Kit out with St. John when she needed you. I’m grateful for that.” She changed the subject. “Is that your hybrid parked behind Dylan’s weird-looking Benz?”

  “It is. I know Cade came to see you. Are you okay?”

  Dylan must have blabbed. “I’m fine.”

  She didn’t look fine; she looked exhausted, which prompted Reese to tease, “Want me to go beat him up?”

  She laughed and it transformed her whole demeanor. “Would you?”

  “It’s been a while since I’ve come to blows with anyone, but I can certainly try.”

  Gloria listened as Quinn and Reese finally managed a civil conversation with one another without any sniping. She noted the longer the two of them talked the more Quinn’s black mood lifted. She smiled. That was progress.

  Now that it was getting dark, Gloria decided to light the tiki torches they’d placed around the yard. When she heard Kit’s laughter, she looked over at her daughter wrapped up in Jake’s embrace. The sheer wonder of it made Gloria’s chest swell with the love only a mother could feel. Through it all, she realized how lucky she was that Kit wasn’t angry with her, didn’t hate her, wasn’t even bitter about the kind of childhood she’d had.

  Such a blessing, Gloria thought as she lit another torch. She glanced at the house that Kit and Jake planned to live in for a lifetime. She took in the growing night sky, the view from the cliff, and realized this spot would be perfect for an outdoor wedding. The image of Kit wearing a long white dress surrounded by Baylee and Quinn filled Gloria’s mind as vividly as if the scene were happening before her. Enjoying the image of Kit’s wedding, she wanted to remember that she had three girls who needed her now. She intended to be there for all of them.

  And she wished Jake could find the son she’d never seen. Her eyes filled with tears at the profound loss of losing her twins. She felt cheated. After all the years she’d thought she possessed some psychic ability, the joke apparently was on her. Some psychic she turned out to be, she thought miserably. She hadn’t even known she’d had a son. As she squeezed the tears from her eyes, she knew one thing for certain. There were tough times ahead. She could feel it in the air.

  But then she didn’t need psychic powers to know the Boyd sons were not finished with them yet. She might not be able to tell Jake where to find her own son, Ben Griffin, but she intended to use everything else inside her to make sure the three women she consider her girls stayed safe.

  CHAPTER 14

  Thirty minutes later, when the first blast of fireworks speared the night sky and lit up the San Madrid harbor, it was tough to say who squealed the loudest, Kit, Baylee, or Quinn. But it was Quinn who took off like a shot to stand at the edge of the cliffs to get a better view, telling her friends, “Come on, hurry up; you’ll miss all the good ones.”

  Kit dragged Gloria to her feet, laughing at Quinn’s enthusiasm, and both women followed her toward the cliffs. But when Kit noticed Baylee hanging back, struggling to make it up the hill carrying the infant carrier with Sarah tucked inside, she ran back, hefted it up and transported the baby the rest of the way.

  After settling down on the ground, Baylee took a few moments to gaze at the sleeping baby nestled in her seat with her thumb in her mouth. Watching her daughter, a peace settled over her.

  As she craned her neck skyward, taking in the show, she thought of how happy she was at the moment in spite of everything. She and Dylan were on better footing since Saturday. Here was a man she thought she could talk to, confide in.

  She took her eyes off the show long enough to glance back over her shoulder at him, then watched as her friends enjoyed themselves. These people were her family. She wasn’t going to think about anything worrisome tonight. She’d take pleasure in the fact that the people she loved were snuggled in around her, at least for the night.

  While the women sat on the cliffs going ape over the fireworks, the guys hung back near the bonfire, never moving from their beach chairs, and cracked open another round of beers. This was the perfect time to finish their conversation from earlier, the one Kit had interrupted.

  “There’s something I need to tell you guys.” Jake’s tone of voice had Reese and Dylan turning in their chairs to give him their undivided attention.

  “I got an e-mail Saturday morning. Sent anonymously. At least I haven’t been able to trace it yet. And believe me, I’ve tried.”

  Dylan leaned over in his chair. If Jake couldn’t trace it, no one could. “Okay. I take it this wasn’t your usual spam.”

  “No. The sender said that if I’m curious about who killed Claire, I should find out where Connor Boyd was the morning she was killed.”

  Shock registered on Dylan’s face. “Jesus. Do you think someone’s just messing with you because of everything that’s happened?”

  “That occurred to me. But you know I always suspected something, something I never shared because it seemed too crazy, too implausible. But now, I’ve been doing a lot thinking back.
Do you remember that party at The Enclave on Memorial Day about four years back? They called it the Boyd Bash. Claire and Connor were awfully chummy that day. I remember late that afternoon Claire disappeared for a couple of hours. When I went to look for her, I found her coming out of the cabana house. Didn’t think much about it until I started going over that day in my head. That day, Connor followed her out. I never said anything until now. It’s funny how you remember things when you have a reference point. It may sound crazy, I might just be grasping at straws, but I think the e-mail is legit. Of course, I know I’ll need more before I pay St. John a visit.” Max St. John was the bulldog detective that had gone after Jake relentlessly soon after Claire’s murder.

  “You want me to put Donovan on it?”

  “Yeah, I have something specific in mind. And then I need a meeting with Max St. John. Bring Holloway in on it if you can. I want you to set it up.”

  “Uh-uh. Not a chance, Jake. Not without your attorney present. You don’t go near that man unless I’m there.”

  “Okay. But I want to know what evidence he has, Reese. I want to know what the son of a bitch has been sitting on for two fucking years. If the police are so reluctant to look at these high-powered people as suspects, we’ll have to go around them or through them. One way or another, I want a meeting set up with St. John. I intend to apply my own pressure.”

  “I’ll see if I can get him to give us some specifics beforehand. But don’t hold your breath.”

  Dylan was curious. “What exactly are you looking for from St. John?”

  “You didn’t see Claire’s bedroom that night, Dylan.” He rubbed his temple. The memory of what he’d seen inside that room would stay with him for some time. “Someone went ballistic in there that day. There was a fight. And I believe Claire fought back, in fact, I know she did. That means there has to be blood evidence, DNA, something the killer left behind at the crime scene, under her fingernails, something concrete they can use to identify her killer.”

  Dylan and Reese exchanged looks. But it was Dylan who said, “When it comes time, how about we all pay St. John a visit? You know, if you’re right. All it would take is a DNA sample from Connor Boyd to link him to the murder. We could work on that if St. John would cooperate. What I want to know, though, is who sent you that e-mail? Why now? Why not two weeks after it happened rather than two damn years?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know. And one I intend to work on. Look guys, I don’t want you mentioning this to Kit. She has enough to worry about without wondering if I’m opening up a new can of worms. Plus, if Connor were responsible that just makes it—a more dangerous situation for Baylee. And remember, St. John isn’t exactly thrilled about clearing Kit in Alana’s murder. The guy could still make it tough on her. I want all of this behind us so we can move forward.”

  Reese blew out a breath. “I can’t believe everything that’s happened. It just keeps getting more bizarre by the minute.”

  “Talk about bizarre, there’s something I’ve stumbled on that’s pretty strange too, and believe it or not, it involves Alana and Jessica. It’s about Baylee’s mother.”

  Dylan proceeded to outline what convinced him Sarah Moreland never ran off with any tennis pro, including William’s weird behavior every time Baylee was within earshot. “And I found out from Tanya that at one time William’s personal attorney was Jessica Boyd. Not to mention William directed Alana in three different films, including one with Sarah. That means they all knew each other.”

  “And one night Sarah Moreland just disappears, takes off without a word?”

  Dylan nodded in Jake’s direction. “More like vanished without a trace, no letters, no cards, no calls in twenty-two years. The tennis pro leaves a promising career behind. She leaves her acting career. And get this, Baylee has been having this dream since she was a kid, a dream where she sees two women she swears looks like Alana Stevens and Jessica Boyd fighting with her mother on the upstairs landing. Then the one that looks like Jessica pushes her mother down the stairs.”

  “Have you been smoking weed?” Reese asked in disbelief, utterly convinced his buddy was high.

  Dylan shook his head. “Geez, I haven’t done that for a couple of years now, and you guys should know you were right there with me. Look, I know this is bizarre, but I think something really happened to Baylee’s mom. I think this dream Baylee’s having isn’t a dream at all but rather a memory of the event.”

  Having been through a similar situation with Kit, when she had all but dreamed every detail about the Parker murders, Jake could sympathize.

  “What does Baylee think happened?”

  “She’s beginning to think the same thing.”

  Reese once again felt he needed to be the voice of reason. “That’s because you’re planting the seeds in her head, Dylan. Look, women abandon their children every day. I had a conversation with Kit not four hours earlier. She told me Quinn’s mother dumped Quinn with her stepfather and was never around much.”

  He stared out at the three women sitting on the cliff, who were watching the night sky light up with fireworks. “I’m beginning to think they had impossibly difficult childhoods I can’t even imagine. And because of that, you can’t foster this outlandish idea in Baylee’s head. It’s irresponsible. She has enough to deal with without your woo-woo conspiracy theory.”

  “You know, Reese, Quinn’s right; you really can be a horse’s ass when you want to be. Baylee hasn’t had her mother around since she was three years old. I think her father force-fed her a bullshit story he’s lied about for so long it’s starting to eat him up inside. If what that little three-year-old saw actually happened that means Alana and Jessica murdered her mother. Why I don’t know. But I do know that now that William is lingering at death’s door, he feels guilty about it.

  “And I’ll tell you one other thing with certainty. After being in this for weeks now, after listening to what we think Alana and Jessica did to the Parkers, I personally think those two women were capable of the most evil, despicable things. Evil, Reese, and that includes pushing Baylee’s mother down the damned stairs. What I can’t figure out is why William went along with the story if they did something to her, unless he was in on it.”

  Reese blew out a breath. “At least you guys are consistent and crazy enough to believe in dreams.”

  Jake took immediate offense and fired back, “Yeah, hotshot, and Kit’s dream turned out to be the backbone of what we have so far discovered happened to the Parkers.”

  “Okay, but it’s a stretch to think Alana and Jessica might have killed Baylee’s mother. Why? What was their motive?”

  Jake looked over at Kit and the others as they continued to ooh and ahh over the fireworks. “Face it, Reese, when it comes to murder, Alana and Jessica didn’t need much more of a reason than money and greed. We know for a fact they must have plotted and planned for months to take away Gloria’s babies before they were born and it had nothing to do with money or greed but rather revenge for some slight.

  “And I’d like to point out that their actions set in motion a childhood racked with abuse for Kit, the woman I’m crazy in love with, who had to spend sixteen goddamned years full of misery and pain with that bitch of a woman because of what Jessica and Alana did to Gloria. So, face it, Reese, Dylan’s right. Those two were evil, plain and simple. The more we find out about them, the deeper the evil.”

  Jake turned to Dylan. “If you need anyone to buy into this theory about Baylee’s mother, I’m right there with you no matter how ridiculous it sounds. Those two women didn’t need much of an incentive to turn mean; they just were.”

  “Well, thanks for the support, Jake. But I don’t think it sounds that ridiculous myself. I’ve seen Baylee’s face after the dream. The panic there is too real.” He swallowed hard thinking about a scared, three-year-old girl in that situation before he added, “I think she might’ve seen it happen. Imagine, watching in horror as someone pushes your mother down the stairs. She was j
ust a baby.”

  “That’s exactly the way I felt after seeing Kit’s face every time she had the dream about the Parkers. Go with your gut, Dylan. Don’t listen to Reese here. He has a tendency to think just like a stick-up-his-ass lawyer.”

  In response, Reese simply lifted his middle finger in the air at both of them.

  Later, after they all dispersed to their rooms to get ready for bed, Baylee was sitting in a rocker, feeding Sarah in the room Kit had designated as the future nursery when someone knocked on the bedroom door. Dylan stuck his head in, and whispered, “How we doing in here, need anything?”

  Baylee held up a finger to her mouth to shush him and whispered, “She’s almost asleep.” When he started to back out of the doorway, she shook her head and motioned for him to come further into the room.

  “You don’t mind?” He asked, as he moved closer, looking down at the sleeping baby with her eyes closed in slumber.

  “Not at all.”

  Dylan went with instinct. He lowered his head and covered her mouth. The spark of heat from a simple touch shot through him like a firestorm.

  The rocking chair halted its motion. He heard her intake of breath before she parted her lips to let him explore further. She tasted sweet like the juicy, ripe peach he’d watched her eat earlier in the kitchen. It was his last clear thought as he sunk into the kiss. With Sarah between them, he’d thought the kiss would be nothing more than a chaste exchange of skin, but flares of need sprang up in quick beats that soon matched the rhythm of his heart.

  Tongues tangled back and forth. Their heads moved in time with the kiss. Dylan had a sense of something new, something he’d never experienced before, which was impossible, because he had experienced quite a bit. But he took in her scent. She smelled like fresh air, the air he needed to breathe. He imagined the smell of spring rain, the newly-mown grass of summer.