“That’s what I was afraid of,” Dylan said miserably.
CHAPTER 23
“What the fuck is this?” Connor railed, as Max St. John handed him a piece of paper. When he realized it was a search warrant, he ran his hand through his hair and stared hard at the detective. “You have no right to come in here and do this. This is bullshit. I’ll have your badge for this, you son of a bitch. I’ll make sure your retirement comes next week. I’ll get a judge to squash this before you’ve gone thirty feet.”
“Are you finished, Mr. Boyd? Because until you do all of those things, we’re going to turn this place on its end.”
“Just what the fuck do you think you’ll find?” Cade demanded.
“Read the warrant. We’re looking for two bodies.”
“Bodies? Are you fucking nuts?” Collin fumed, as he stood flanked by his brothers. “You won’t find bodies here. This isn’t a cemetery for chrissakes.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about,” Max insisted. He motioned for the uniformed officers to get the cadaver dogs ready. “All of you will need to find another place to stay until we’re done.”
“And when exactly will that be?” Connor demanded.
“Until we’re done. We’ll also search every house on the grounds, which includes the one you’re now standing in.” Max turned back to his search team, shouted out orders. “Start with the cabana house and then move on to where Mr. Scott indicated near the reflecting pool. And try to locate the groundskeeper. He may be able to provide us with additional information as to how long these buildings have been here.”
“Old man Scott did all this? You’d believe anything that doddering old fool told you?” Connor accused.
“He’s implicated your mother in a double murder. You’re an attorney, Mr. Boyd, all of you are. You know how this works. This is a legal, court-sanctioned search.”
“We’ll see about that,” Connor said before warning, “My mother is fucking dead. Or have you forgotten that, you stupid bastard? It may be legal, but someone’s going to pay for this.”
Max watched the three brothers as they stormed off in the general direction of the circular driveway out front. “Those are several pissed off people. We better hurry this along. They might make good on their threat to find the right judge to squash this thing. Let’s get to work, people. Let’s make every minute count while we have the chance.”
Inside William’s hospital room, Baylee hadn’t left his bedside for almost twelve continuous hours. During that time, the man’s condition had deteriorated. His blood pressure had dropped, his pulse was weak. William hadn’t uttered another word since his deadly revelation to Dylan and then went through it all again for Reese’s benefit, as well as, the two detectives.
They’d recorded and transcribed William’s statement officially. Reese had agreed to make the changes to his will effective immediately, which seem to please the old guy. But because he’d slipped into a coma, the last hours had dragged by without any more shocking disclosures.
Quinn had been darting in and out all day, checking on Baylee and Sarah whenever time permitted, whenever she wasn’t tending to people in the ER. Kit and Jake had just left to go grab a shower and a meal at Gloria’s and had promised to come back to look after Sarah while Tanya took a breather.
Everyone had been keeping vigil by Baylee’s side, but it was starting to grow wearisome and tedious for all of them. She didn’t like hospitals and didn’t see how Quinn literally lived in one.
Concerned for her well-being and trying to be supportive, Dylan watched Baylee like a hawk. She had to be exhausted from the entire ordeal. Not only did she have to deal with William’s slow slide into death, she was now awaiting word about her mother’s remains.
As William’s lawyer now, Reese had made the trip to The Enclave so he’d be on site just in case there was any news to pass along. The last time he’d called he’d told them the cadaver dogs had gotten a hit near the cabana house. But that had been hours ago.
“You look tired.”
“I guess I am a little,” she declared, as she rubbed the back of her neck.
Eyeing the droop to her shoulders, Dylan moved behind her chair and started rubbing her aching muscles.
“Mmmm, you have magic fingers, Surfer Boy. If you ever wanted to give up software code and make a living as a masseur, you could hire on to one of those cruise ships, change your name to Alejandro, and set up shop.”
For the first time in two days, he busted out laughing. “Now there’s an idea. But don’t forget how terrific I am at coloring hair. I’d hate to give up my hairdresser’s license.”
And for the first time in as many days, Baylee laughed as well. She almost blurted out how much she loved him, but at that moment, Dylan’s cell phone rang.
He looked down at the display and recognized Reese’s number. “Anything yet?”
“Jackpot. But you aren’t going to believe this. They didn’t find two bodies near the cabana house William described but three human skulls along with some tattered clothing, some denim jeans, something that looks like an old athletic sweatshirt, and various shoes. The remains weren’t really buried all that deep down, maybe three feet at the most. There’s no way to ID the bones yet with what we have though. I’ll know more later. The coroner’s here. The bones are headed to the morgue. Everything’s down to a crawl. They’ve brought in a forensics team, including a couple of anthropologists to look for more bones. I’ll keep you posted.”
Dylan tried to ignore the fervor he heard in Reese’s voice and disconnected. He turned back to Baylee, saw the stricken look on her face, and knew he didn’t need to say a word. Baylee did it for him. Tears ran down her cheeks. “They found her, didn’t they?”
“They found three skeletal remains, Baylee.”
“Three?”
“Yeah. It’s too early to tell who they were. I’m sorry, baby. It’ll take another couple of days at least before they get any kind of answers. It might not even be your mother.” But as he wrapped his arms around her, held her, he was pretty sure the forensic team had just discovered Sarah Moreland and Luc Delaine’s final resting place.
When Tanya came through the door with the baby, she looked ready to drop. “Sarah’s getting fussy, needs to nurse, I think.”
“Give her to me. Come here to Mama, baby.”
“How about I go get us some coffee?” Dylan asked, rubbing his tired eyes. “I could use the caffeine.”
“I could use a sandwich and a glass of milk,” Baylee said, as Sarah started to nurse.
“I think I’ll go along with Dylan, and get me a bite to eat as well. I could use the exercise,” Tanya said.
“You could both use the break,” Baylee pointed out as they both turned to leave.
“I’ll be back in ten minutes, Baylee,” Dylan promised. “And Quinn’s shift ends in less than two hours. She’ll be up here to hover. And Jake phoned earlier. He and Kit are making preparations to get Ben Griffin over here within the week. As soon as they grab a quick bite they’ll be back within the hour. And Gloria’s on her way, too. She and Kit want to sit with William for a bit to relieve you so you can get some rest.”
“That’s fine, Dylan. Get some food into Tanya first. She looks like she’s about to drop.”
If she were honest with herself, she enjoyed the peace and quiet spending a little alone time with Sarah. The past couple of days had been brutal. She’d waited twenty-two years for an answer to what had happened to her mother. She could wait another day or two, maybe even a couple of weeks, if that’s what it took to get the answers.
She had provided St. John with a DNA sample for comparison to anything the forensic team might find. Getting swabbed had brought a chilling reality full circle. All those times she’d visited The Enclave with Kit, only to learn now her mother may have been buried within yards of where she’d eaten birthday cake and ice cream during a party for ten-year-olds. That was truly disturbing.
How could her father
have kept that awful secret and let her attend a social event at the Boyds’ year after year? For Baylee, the depth of her father’s secret wasn’t just heartbreak, but broken trust. Her father had betrayed the memory of her mother, never once attempting to set the record straight. How could she forgive him for that even at death’s door?
For the first time in years, she realized that tonight she could go to sleep knowing her mother had not abandoned her but had been cruelly taken from her by two evil creatures that didn’t have a heart or a soul between them.
Baylee gazed down at the miracle in her arms. Watching Sarah nurse, she realized how lucky she was. She had named her daughter Sarah in spite of the fact that she’d spent years bitterly angry believing her mother had abandoned her in favor of a tennis pro, believing William’s story unconditionally.
His lies, she thought now, had covered two decades. How many times had he repeated that lie?
Even with that, when it had come down to naming her baby daughter, she’d gone with her heart. Sarah Moreland would live on through her namesake, her granddaughter.
All at once, the door burst open. Connor Boyd stepped inside William’s room. The heavy hospital door banged hard against the wall. The noise startled Sarah. She puckered her lips and began to cry. Baylee quickly tried to button her shirt, but Connor closed the distance and got right in her face. “You bitch. You should have told me I had a daughter.”
“What…are you talking about?”
He grabbed the front of her blouse, jerking her up and out of the chair. “Don’t even try denying it. I know she was born December sixteenth, one day shy of exactly nine months from the night we slept together. Her birth certificate was amended two weeks ago. You think I’m stupid? Think again. She’s mine.”
He tried to wrestle Sarah out of her arms, but Baylee held on for dear life, struggling, fighting him with everything she had while the baby wailed in protest.
“What are you doing? Connor, she’s just a little baby. Don’t do this, Connor. You’re wrong. Sarah belongs to Dylan.”
“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” He hauled off and slapped Baylee across the face. Despite the blow, she tried to fight back. With fists clenched, one hand clutching Sarah, she repeatedly hit him in the arm, in the chest, anywhere she could land a blow. But at five-three, she was no match for a man several inches taller with a longer reach. The second slap sent her reeling. And so did the punch he threw to her mouth. The jab knocked her to the floor.
As she fell backward, Connor quickly snatched Sarah out of her arms. He used that moment to rush out of the room with the baby bawling at the top of her lungs.
By the time Connor reached the elevator, Trevor had come up to stand behind him as if he were just another visitor waiting for the door to ding open. Once the elevator car slid apart, Connor stepped inside. Trevor followed. Trevor waited until Connor hit the button to ground level before turning to eye the terrified infant. As the car began to rumble downward, Trevor looked over, stared at the screaming child. His heart broke a little. But he had to stay centered.
A nervous Connor told him, “She’s hungry. She’ll calm down when I take her to her mother.”
“Right,” Trevor retorted as if unimpressed. He calmly asked, “How old?”
“Six months.”
“Cute little thing.”
“Yeah.”
“Funny, she must look like her mother. She doesn’t look a thing like you.”
Irritation flitted across Connor’s face for about two seconds, but then he nodded his head a fraction toward Trevor and said nothing else.
Once the elevator door opened at ground level, Connor bumped his way past other visitors, increasing his pace, rushing to the bank of elevators in the lobby that led down to the parking garage.
The entire time Sarah protested as loudly as her lungs allowed.
Trevor desperately tried to stay on his heels while at the same time staying back far enough to keep Connor from becoming suspicious. They joined a small group gathered waiting for an available car to open up to take them down to the parking structure. Trevor watched as the double doors opened and a stream of people filed past, gawking at the wailing infant.
Annoyed that she was making a scene, Connor clumsily tried to bounce Sarah up and down in his arms. When that didn’t work, he tried to put his hand over her mouth to keep her quiet, which only seemed to infuriate Sarah further. Resisting his efforts, her head moved back and forth, and she struggled in his arms in complaint.
As soon as the last person emptied the car, Connor impatiently hopped on, quickly pressing the button several times in rapid succession to get it to start moving. Calmly, Trevor waited for the last possible second to board the car himself, making sure he didn’t allow Connor an opportunity to change his mind. They rode down a couple of floors, making stops for a few other people, who seemed grateful to get out of the car away from the screaming baby.
Trevor didn’t bother to make small talk but listened instead to Sarah’s wails of protest as they became more and more pronounced. When the elevator door finally reached Level Five, Connor hurried out, heading beyond the first row of cars at a fast clip.
Trailing behind, Trevor scanned the parking lot until he spotted the familiar Hummer in the distance, parked several rows away. Knowing Connor’s destination made it better, but this was hardly the ideal place for a coup. And no matter how he wished otherwise, it wouldn’t be bloodless. He reached down, pulled the knife from his boot.
With no time to consider the security cameras or anyone who might be lurking, Trevor gauged the situation and realized he didn’t have much of a choice. He couldn’t let Boyd reach the Hummer and make off with the baby. It had to be here or not at all. And it had to be quick and clean.
With Sarah screaming, Boyd never noticed Trevor come up behind him. The baby was the perfect diversion. In a movement that lasted no more than five seconds, the six-inch blade Trevor held sliced deeply through Connor’s neck, severing his carotid artery. Connor’s free hand instinctively flew to his throat before trying to grab for the weapon. With blood spurting and streaming down his neck at a rapid rate, he soon began to falter. The second his momentum waned, Trevor snapped Sarah out of his clutch. With his left boot he pushed the weakening man to the concrete.
Trevor took off for the stairwell. He descended two floors down before he stopped to try and quiet the baby. “Shhhh, shhhh, little one, it’ll be okay. You’re okay. You’re just frightened. Everything will be fine. Shhhh, now. I’ll get you back to your mother.” An Irish lullaby popped into his head from another time, another place. Memories of holding another infant, his baby daughter, flashed through his brain in a montage of scenes that came fast and hard and painful.
He began to softly sing to the baby in Gaelic. His heart melted when she placed her weary head on his shoulder, as if she knew her ordeal was over. She did her best to try and calm down, all the while hiccupping and sniffling into his chest. Patting her back the way he remembered, the way he’d done a lifetime ago, he used his thumb to wipe her runny nose. Swaying back and forth, he rocked her gently until she quieted, falling into exhaustive slumber.
When Dylan came into the room with the coffee and spotted Baylee lying on the floor, he flung the carton holding the coffee cups aside and bent to where she lay. She was still out cold. The bruise on her face was already turning purple, her puffy and swollen lip looked twice its normal size, and blood from her nose trickled down to her chin.
He looked around for Sarah. Terror engulfed him. A wave of nausea clutched his stomach. While he ran to the bathroom sink to grab a washcloth and wet it with cold water, he dialed nine-one-one on his cell.
It felt like he waited fifteen minutes for anyone to pick up.
As soon as the dispatcher answered, Dylan’s composed manner evaporated. With every word, his panic grew. “There’s been a kidnapping at the Medical Center, a six-month-old baby, Sarah Burke, was taken less than five minutes ago by a man named Connor B
oyd. You need to put out an Amber Alert. Now. Get the police here! The suspect is driving a black Hummer. I don’t know the plate number, but you should be able to cross-check the name to the plate.”
After getting the specifics, the dispatcher told him, “The police are on their way. Do you want to keep the line open?”
“Sure, but I have…the baby’s mother has been injured. She fought the guy and she’s out cold.” He stuck his head out the door and wondered why no one had heard the commotion. He yelled down the corridor. “I have an injured woman in here. Hello? Could someone get me a doctor? Now.”
By the time he knelt down beside Baylee again, she began to come around. “Baylee, honey, talk to me, what happened?”
She attempted to gain her feet but slunk back down to the floor when her head spun. “Connor. Connor has Sarah.” Baylee pleaded, “Go, Dylan. Go find her. I’ll be fine. Hurry, please, don’t let him take her. Don’t let him get away.”
The nurse came in, just in time to see Baylee throw up.
Dylan was torn between running and staying. But when he saw the look of pure panic on Baylee’s face, he knew he had no choice. He took off down the hallway, not knowing for a minute where he was going or what he intended to do when he got there.
In the parking structure stairwell, Trevor took off his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt, and slipped it off. He used it to wipe some of the blood off the baby’s face. When he’d done the best he could, he took the shirt and bundled the baby firmly inside. If he didn’t get out of here soon he’d have a shitload of swarming police all over the place.
He shrugged back into his jacket, zipped it up, and opened the door of the stairwell leading down to the third level parking. He stuck his head out and looked around. He saw no one. With the coast clear, he headed straight for the elevator, hoping like hell that when the car opened it would be empty. Luck had been riding with him up to this point. Now was no exception. When the double doors dinged open, a sigh of relief escaped his lips. The car was vacant.
Deeper Evil (The Evil Secrets Trilogy Book 2) Page 35