At that very moment on Catalina, the not-so-well-hidden Baylee enjoyed a leisurely pace along the boardwalk in the sunshine with Dylan by her side as he pushed Sarah in her stroller. Headed down to the harbor to see Kit and Jake off to catch the ferry back to the mainland, the four of them watched the boats come and go as they kept up a steady stream of chatter before they reached the landing where the ferry waited.
“I miss having you and Sarah at the shop,” Kit told Baylee.
“I miss the work. I even miss waiting on the cranky customers, even the commute into San Madrid every day. I guess I got used to that little fishing village more than I thought.”
“When this is all over, you’ll move into Gloria’s house and make San Madrid your home.”
“I can’t wait. What is it you aren’t telling me, Kit?”
“Be careful, Baylee.” Kit glanced over Baylee’s shoulder at Jake, who was deep in conversation with Dylan. She hoped Jake was doing what she could not, warning Dylan about Connor.
Just before the last call to board, Jake pulled Dylan aside and told him, “Stay on your toes. Kit got a call from Gloria before we left the house. Connor came by. She said the guy looked strung out, started ranting how Sarah was his, threatened to get sole custody.”
Dylan’s knees wanted to buckle. “Shit. This is exactly what Baylee feared. Jesus, Jake.” He ran his hands through his long locks of hair. “I want to keep her safe. I’m not sure Catalina is going to get the job done, not far enough away, not by a long shot. How do you feel about me taking off for parts unknown? Because right now, I’m not so sure that isn’t the best thing I can do for her.”
Jake slapped Dylan on the back. “Dylan, I’ve known you since the first grade. Are you by any chance in over your head here?”
Dylan didn’t have to ask what he meant. He rubbed his chin and looked over where Kit stood talking to Baylee. His world seemed a whole lot brighter. “I’m pretty sure I’m drowning, maybe going down for the last time.”
“You couldn’t have picked a better human being, and those eyes.”
“Her legs aren’t bad either,” Dylan offered, but even the distraction couldn’t lessen the tension. “Maybe I should take her to Canada.”
“I know just how you feel. I’ve got a hearing coming up in less than a month that’s supposed to put Collin away for a measly five years.”
“That’s not enough.”
“You’re telling me.” He glanced over at Kit saying goodbye to Baylee and Sarah. “You let me know if you can talk Baylee into leaving her father. I’ll use whatever you come up with to pack Kit off with you.”
On their way back to the house, Dylan wondered if he should mention Connor’s visit. But glancing over at the peaceful look on Baylee’s face as she took pleasure in their walk, he decided to at least postpone the bad news until later, maybe after Sarah went down for her morning nap.
As they explored the shops along the boardwalk, Baylee itched to check out each quaint little store she passed along the narrow cobblestone pathways. The whole village looked as if it belonged along the Mediterranean.
Noticing Dylan had been exceptionally quiet, she decided to share her Catalina stories with him, ones about all the celebrities who had made the Island home over the years. “Not many people realize that Norma Jean Baker, aka Marilyn Monroe, lived here during 1942 while she was married to James Dougherty, who was in the merchant marine. The Island had been taken over by the military during the war and Dougherty was stationed here. While they were here they lived in an apartment overlooking Avalon harbor.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Not many do. But there’s a museum here dedicated to all kinds of interesting tidbits, like the fact that Mutiny on the Bounty was filmed here, the one with Clark Gable. And John Wayne used to bring his family here for vacations. Charlie Chaplin used to come here to fish.”
She looked so cute Dylan thought, as she talked and searched each store, each one selling their own version of touristy T-shirts, mugs, and a generous assortment of tacky souvenirs. Although she didn’t buy anything, she was like a kid at Christmas. Watching her take pleasure in the hunt, he did his best to enjoy the ambiance of the place, but the conversation he’d had with Jake on the dock kept coming back to him in spades.
Connor knew Sarah was his. No, Dylan corrected, he suspected. Suspicions would only get you so far. But it seemed he was hot on their trail anyway.
Dylan began to deliberately check out their surroundings. They were virtually trapped here. Great places to hide, thought Dylan, as he scanned the gentle slopes and rolling hills of the place. Because most of the island fell under the protection of a conservancy established by the heirs to the Wrigley fortune, a good portion of it consisted of either natural habitat areas or designated campgrounds. Not that Connor was the type to ever get his hands dirty at a campsite or for that matter check out any natural habitat but his own, Dylan thought now.
There were virtually no vehicles allowed on the island. A decade wait for permission to own a car here tended to put people off getting one. Most residents, as well as visitors, used golf carts to get from one site to another.
That was great if you had all the freaking time in the world, thought Dylan. But if Connor showed up unannounced… What the fuck good would a golf cart do if Connor paid them a surprise visit in the middle of the night and they needed to get out fast?
Dylan began to prepare an exit strategy.
But Sarah’s fussiness interrupted his escape plans. Nap time. It took them all of three minutes to walk back up the hill to the house. Ten minutes later, she was snuggled down inside the Pack’N Play fast asleep.
As they stood there looking at the sleeping infant, a quiet settled over the house. The next couple of hours belonged to them. Dylan looked at Baylee. Heat flared between them. “What do you say we take our own version of a morning nap?”
Without saying a word, Baylee took his hand, pulled him out of the room and down the hall to the master bedroom.
Head cocked to one side, Max St. John stood next to Frank Geller’s desk, studying the position of his body. He didn’t mind anyone settling old scores with these guys. From what he’d learned over the last month, they’d had their fingers in a lot of dark places. But it didn’t really matter who the victims were, whether a hooker or a high-profile, highly paid attorney, no one murdered on his watch and got away with it.
He’d seen a lot over the years. In the old days this might have been deemed a suicide, plain and simple, and no one would have been the wiser. God, how he missed those days. How many more months did he have until retirement anyway? Too many, he thought sadly. Looking at the blood splatter on the wall, he knew one thing for sure. Whoever was out to get these people might possibly be the best he’d ever seen. And he’d seen a lot. He glanced up just in time to see his partner, Dan Holloway, stride into the room.
“I’d say it was suicide except for one small problem. We’re standing in the office of the last original law partner and he’s just become victim number…” Dan counted off the victims on his fingers. “By my count. five. This guy’s good.”
“Just thinking the same thing myself. But there’s also this.” Max held up a gloved hand, turned a gold cowboy the size of a toy soldier over for Dan to inspect. “He’s also consistent. Five victims, five crime scenes with different caliber weapons used, including one where he used a knife. There are no patterns to speak of, except for leaving this gold cowboy at each scene.”
“Five that we know of,” Dan reminded him. “And the guy almost got Collin, the lucky SOB.”
“Yeah. That we know of. We’ll have to see, won’t we? What it looks like and what it is are entirely two different things.”
“Coroner’s report and forensics will tell.”
At that moment, Garrett Geller, the victim’s son, appeared in the doorway.
“Get him out of here,” Holloway bellowed to the uniform standing guard.
“He wouldn’t have
killed himself,” Garrett yelled in protest when the guard tried to manhandle him back into the hallway. “He’d just gotten married, just got back from his honeymoon for God’s sake. Can’t you see that the same bastard who killed my aunts and my uncle did this? Can’t you see that? What kind of morons are you? Anyone with a brain could figure this out. Don’t go calling this a suicide.”
“Get him out of here,” directed Max. “And if you can’t contain this crime scene any better than that I’ll find someone who can.”
With that, the uniform grabbed Geller and backed him forcibly out of the room.
Dan shook his head. “Even we morons know that our guy is responsible for what’s starting to add up to a very impressive body count.”
“You got that right. I’d say this is a personal vendetta. That’s a given. You know, I got a curious phone call from a cold case detective, a Ron Blake, over at the Sheriff’s Department. Double murder. 1969. An old couple named Pete and Mary Parker.” He relayed the information to Dan about the couple’s connection to the law firm, the lawsuit they’d won, the fifteen million at stake, and the codicil of the will where Jessica Boyd had been appointed the sole trustee of the estate, essentially removing the couple’s son, Noah, out of the inheritance picture.
“I remember hearing about the lawsuit. The paper ran some kind of anniversary addition once, about how the case had essentially put Boyd Boyd Geller & Gatz on the map. Why’d he call you?”
“To confirm his prime suspects were my dead victims. Alana Stevens and Jessica Boyd.”
Dan’s mouth dropped open. “You’re joking?”
“I wish I were. It seems Boston and his lawyer did a little end around, had a private detective deliver a .357 Magnum they found in the Stevens’ attic. Ballistics match made in heaven.”
“Son of a bitch. That might explain this whole thing.”
Max nodded. “Looks like someone came back forty years later to settle a score. Any ideas?”
“Geez, the son, this Noah Parker would be my guess. But the guy would have to be in his sixties by this time, wouldn’t he? Be easy enough to check. Run his name through the computer. That’s why we live in the technology age.”
“I did that. The son died two years ago. Looks like we’ll just have to go where the wind takes us on this one, Dan.”
Baylee’s eyes flew open. She realized she was in bed. She glanced at the clock and stretched catlike. Not yet noon. When was the last time she’d had a morning nap? Inclining her head, she listened to the quiet of the house. Lazily, she rolled over and saw the empty side of the bed where Dylan had earlier done absolutely, amazingly sinful things to her body.
She ran her hand gently across the sheets—and smiled at the memory of each glorious one. The man had wonderful technique, skilled hands with long fingers; not to mention, he had an even better mouth.
Leaving her alone in bed was becoming a habit of his, she thought. So he wasn’t the kind of guy who liked to stay in bed and snuggle. Well, there were worse things about a guy, she guessed, as she got up and threw on a pair of shorts and a cropped T-shirt.
She padded down the hall to check on Sarah. Expecting to see the baby still sleeping, she was surprised to find the crib empty. She headed downstairs, stopping long enough to listen when she got to the bottom step. The house was too quiet. Despite her relaxed state, nerves started to jangle along her spine. Where were they?
But then through the open windows, she heard Sarah giggle and Dylan’s calming voice coming from outside on the back lawn. They were sitting on the grass playing with a large bright red ball. Where the ball had come from Baylee had no idea. But Sarah was having fun attacking it as it became clear Dylan was using the rubber orb as incentive to try to get her to crawl.
So far it was working. The baby kept trying to reach the ball, one little scoot at a time, and then up on all fours. Obviously, she hadn’t yet gotten the hang of putting the whole motion together. But it wasn’t for lack of trying.
Dylan glanced up, saw Baylee standing there in her little shorts and top, and sucked in a breath. She met his gaze. Dylan moved to scoop up Sarah, but Baylee shook her head and joined them on the grass. “It’s beautiful here, peaceful. I like watching you with Sarah. You’re good with her, Dylan.”
“She’s a joy to be around. So are you.” He put Sarah back down on the grass.
Their eyes remained steady as they stared at each other, until finally Sarah squealed in delight as the ball rolled to her, breaking the trance.
“Anyone ready for lunch?” Baylee asked, lightheartedly.
“I could eat,” Dylan said casually, trying to forget the punch to the gut he seemed to constantly feel around her.
“You can always eat.” As she took off for the house, over her shoulder she offered, “I’m thinking thick grilled ham and cheese Paninis with lots of yummy cheese. Okay with you?”
With that itch in his belly, he watched her stroll back to the house. “You’re making my mouth water.”
Just before she stepped inside the kitchen, Baylee grinned to herself, knowing neither one of them was discussing food.
She dragged Sarah’s high chair outside on the patio so the three of them could eat and watch the boat traffic come and go in the harbor. While she set the table and put out the food, she noticed Dylan had booted up his laptop. The intense look on his face told her something was wrong. He had already mentioned Connor’s visit to Gloria. What now?
When she saw his face tighten yet again, she couldn’t help it, she asked, “Okay, spill it, Dylan.”
“Just another e-mail from our mysterious friend, giving us an update on Connor.”
Dylan read the e-mail aloud, “Connor’s on the prowl. Wherever you are, lay low. Remember don’t use any credit cards for purchases. They can be tracked. Use cash only for everything. Don’t make any slip-ups.”
“Oh. I’m glad I didn’t buy anything this morning. He really seems like he cares, this guy, this stranger, whoever he is. The question is why?”
“I don’t know. But we’re going to do exactly as he suggests and not use a single ATM or credit card transaction that can be traced back to either one of us.”
Baylee noticed Dylan’s thoughtful look and how he stared longingly at the water.
“Why don’t you go surfing, Dylan? It’ll relieve some of that stress. The water here is crystal clear. There isn’t much of a wave to speak of, but you can go swimming. It’s high time you enjoyed all the benefits the Island has to offer.”
“I’m enjoying the best benefit of all.” He shot her a wicked grin. “Let’s all go down and sit on the beach.”
When he leaned over in front of Sarah, he added, “What do you say, Gidget?”
“Sarah says it’s a deal.”
“What about Sarah’s afternoon nap?” If anyone had suggested to him two weeks ago that he’d be concerned with anyone’s nap but his own, he’d have laughed in their face. But now, he looked over at the baby sitting in her high chair. Funny how he’d done a complete one eighty in such a short amount of time. And no wonder. These two were his world now. But how would he ever convince Baylee of that?
“She’ll sleep no matter where we are, at the beach or in the stroller. The important thing is you follow your own advice and try to relax, enjoy the time here. Who knows what the future holds for any of us?”
As he watched the sea breeze ruffle her hair, he realized truer words were never spoken. They needed to take advantage of the now. He moved to her then, sat beside her at the table, took her hand in his, brought it to his lips. “I’m crazy about you.”
“You’re just caught up in all this. It’s easy to get drawn in, Dylan.”
“Why do you do that? Why do you refuse to see what’s happening between us when you know it’s true?”
“I’m not saying I don’t feel something. But it’s a little soon, don’t you think? I have Sarah to think about. I can’t just…”
“Fall for a player. I got that, Baylee. But this is
different. I’m different. The sooner you see it, the better off we’ll both be.” He stood up in a huff and started cleaning off the table, carrying the dishes back inside.
Baylee sat there looking at her daughter. “Men are complicated creatures, Sarah. The sooner you realize that, the easier life will be.”
In order to lessen the chance they were being followed or tracked, Jake and Kit had taken the ferry from Catalina into Santa Barbara instead of docking at San Pedro. As they stood on the deck, Jake’s arm went around Kit and he said, “We’re playing the percentages. If by some chance Connor gets wind we were in Catalina, I’m hoping he’ll think it was just for an overnight jaunt. The Sea Warrior left in the middle of the night so there’s not much chance he picked up on that.”
“This is all so clandestine. I hope Baylee and Dylan remember to keep a low profile. I’m not even sure I should use my cell to call her anymore. What if Connor is keeping tabs on Baylee through me?” Even as Kit said the words from the ferry railing, she scanned the dock for any sign of a Boyd lurking about. “I won’t kid you, Jake; I’m worried about Baylee. After talking to Gloria, that man isn’t going to give up.”
“Sick perverts rarely do. And something tells me the guy’s getting more desperate by the day.”
After spending the afternoon at the beach, Dylan and Baylee came back and fixed supper together, thankfully back on solid ground again. Neither dared bringing up the earlier strained conversation about their “feelings.”
As she bathed Sarah and got her ready for bed, Baylee reasoned that two people couldn’t spend as much time together as she and Dylan had been doing lately without bumping heads every so often. It wasn’t normal to think they could agree on everything, least of all how they felt about each other.
So what if she hadn’t been honest? She knew she was falling for the guy. But it wouldn’t do for him to know that. She might be rusty at the game, but she hadn’t forgotten the rules. When all this was over, she was headed to Gloria’s beach bungalow in San Madrid. He would pick up his game in Pacific Palisades as if they’d never shared this time together. End of story, Baylee thought, as she prepared to put an exhausted Sarah to bed.
Deeper Evil (The Evil Secrets Trilogy Book 2) Page 31