Lisa hated these two women with a passion. And she was getting tired of this whole scam. She wanted to take her baby girl, Quinn, and leave L.A. for good, go back to Santa Barbara and the way things were before she’d ever taken that trip to San Francisco to see Shatter in concert, before she’d ever gone to Nick Tyler’s hotel room that warm April night.
She wanted to get as far away from these two women as she could get.
Lisa had it all planned out. She would let her mother’s sister take care of Quinn while she got a job, a regular job. She could waitress. She was good with people. Or her mother could help her get a job at the bakery where she worked, just a way to earn a living until she got her artwork to payoff.
She’d been told she had talent. After all, when she’d been pregnant she’d spent hours and hours drawing and painting, something she loved doing with all her heart. Kind of like Nick Tyler had loved his music—certainly he had loved his music career infinitely more than he’d ever loved her.
How could she have been so stupid?
But if she got a regular job she could go back to school and get her GED. She knew that would make her mother happy. All she knew at the moment was that she should never have gotten mixed up with Jessica Boyd or the law firm or, for that matter, Alana Stevens. Unfortunately the two women seemed to go together like two matching halves of one personality. She knew that now with certainty.
Lisa shook her head and thought about how much she’d grown up in the last two years. That had a lot to do with being a mother, being totally responsible for a thirteen-month-old baby was a lot of hard work.
She stared into Jessica’s cold, dark eyes.
“You will do as I tell you, do you understand? If you want the money to keep coming in every month, stop fighting me every step of the way and listen to me. I know what I’m doing.”
“I know, but it’s just that Nick was so sweet to me when Quinn was born. He even showed up at the hospital and held her for the first time. I know he was moved by the fact that I named her after his mother. I hate to…”
Jessica’s tone changed. “Lisa, have you forgotten? The man took your virginity. And the law says if a man has sex with an underage teen, he does jail time. Period. Don’t you know by now Nick doesn’t care a whit about you or the baby? He never did.
“He hasn’t spent another moment thinking of you or the time you spent at his disposal. He used you and nothing more. If you won’t think of yourself, at least think of your baby, who has needs as all children do. And she won’t be a baby forever. As a mother you have to think about a decent place to live, food and clothing, and then there’s college for little Quinn down the road. Surely a girl like you, with your blue collar background, wants a good education for your daughter.
“The man’s raking in millions and Quinn is entitled to her fair share, as are you.” And didn’t Jessica know the amount of Tyler’s assets to the penny since she’d had to sleep with that old fart Portman to get him to send her Tyler’s account statements every month? The doting little man had been putty in her hands.
“Quinn’s entitled,” Lisa corrected. She might be young, but she wasn’t stupid. And if she was supposed to be getting so much money, where was it? It was taking a long time to trickle down to her and Quinn.
“Babies have needs, Jessica. By now I thought I’d be back in school. I thought I’d get the money and, you know, it would be mine to do with what I wanted. But every time Quinn needs something the money has to come through you. And I’m getting tired of my living arrangements, sharing an apartment with Ella Canyon wasn’t part of the deal.”
Even from across the room, Lisa noticed Ella go rigid with anger.
“You ungrateful, little bitch. I’m the one who has to babysit this one. Make sure she does what she’s told.”
Not to be intimidated, Lisa continued, “She uses drugs and she brings men around at all hours of the day and night. I don’t like it. I want my own place to live where Quinn and I can feel safe.”
Jessica didn’t handle whiny children very well and Lisa was no exception. “Are you saying I don’t take care of you and the child? Is that what you’re implying? Because how dare you question me! I get you everything you need. You have a nice apartment, food in the pantry, a car. Didn’t I fly you to Ireland where the little brat could be born just as you requested, the place where you wanted her to be born just like her father? Aren’t I looking out for you?”
“Yes but, sharing the place with Ella is…unnecessary. She’s constantly smoking weed, and I found a bag of cocaine in the kitchen.”
“What are you, a nark? How dare you rat me out!” Ella fumed.
Right then, how she wished Ella, her distant cousin, had never ever introduced her to Jessica Boyd. It seemed Ella was already hooked on the hard stuff and headed for the gutter.
“You couldn’t go to Ireland alone, now could you, a young, pregnant girl? Ella acted as your birthing coach and…”
“Babysitter,” Lisa finished. “I don’t need a druggie babysitting me.”
Up to now Alana hadn’t said a word, but she’d heard enough. “You’d better listen to Jess, Lisa. She’s helped others out just like you and they’re in better circumstances for it. Stop being an ungrateful pain in the butt. You have a small child and don’t have to work. Money comes in whenever you need anything. What more do you want?”
Lisa stood up defiantly. “You think because I’m young I don’t know what you’re doing. What’s going on here? I’ll tell everyone what you’re doing, I swear I will.”
Jessica’s eyes met Alana’s. “After all I’ve done for you, you threaten me?”
Staring into those cold, black eyes, Lisa swallowed hard. Maybe she’d gone too far this time. “I wouldn’t really.”
“Don’t think we’ll put up with threats from an ungrateful little tramp like you,” Alana warned. “You get knocked up, your mother kicks you out, and you don’t know where your next meal is coming from. Unless you want to go on the dole for good then you’d better let Jess here continue working things out her way. And if I were you, I’d keep my goddamned mouth shut with threats of any kind.”
With that, Alana walked over and calmly backhanded Lisa hard across the mouth.
The sting of the slap caused tears to form in Lisa’s eyes. She rubbed her throbbing cheek and glared at Ella, who stood shaking her head.
“That’ll teach the nark in you to keep your pie hole shut,” Ella shouted.
Oh God, thought Lisa, there had to be a way to get these three people out of her life for good.
If only Ella didn’t hover around her so much, she might be able to sneak out, take Quinn away from these horrible people, maybe buy a bus ticket back to Santa Barbara and get out of this mess she’d found herself in ever since she’d first walked through the door.
But as she looked around the room, her face still burning from Alana’s hand, she feared she might have waited too late.
Trembling from the memory, Ella looked over at the tall man who’d busted her out of the loony bin, wondering if she might be hallucinating.
Was it time for her pills? She really needed her medicine.
She stared at the big man with kind eyes and wondered if he’d brought her medication. Who was he anyway? This visit he kept asking her a lot of questions about Lisa. Lisa Redfield, her cousin. He kept after her to talk about what happened to Lisa, that’s all he wanted to know. Why was it always about Lisa?
Her name always brought back memories, both good and bad, along with jealousy, envy.
Bad times spent around Alana and Jessica when they spiraled out of control meant you never quite knew what to expect. She remembered being afraid. But this big man kept telling her she didn’t have to be scared any more.
Ella wondered if it was true.
Because the big man was taking her away from this dump, somewhere she didn’t have to be afraid. He’d told her so. She looked over at the other man, the one who was supposed to be a cop. He looked like
one. Cops were bad news, everyone knew that. She would avoid talking to that one, she decided.
She liked the big guy with the Irish name. He hadn’t been the first Irishmen she’d talked to, but he was certainly the nicest one. As he took her by the arm and led her out into the sunshine and to a waiting car, Ella resolved that maybe she’d see a glimmer of that life of luxury she once had, the one she’d had before the kid grew up and took off.
Quinn nervously looked around the conference room at her support system. There was Kit and Jake, Baylee and Dylan, and Reese. Her friends and family were here to offer support and love. Nothing she found out now could hurt her, Quinn decided.
She spared a quick glance at Nick Tyler. She might not even be his. It would be so like Ella to have lied to her all these years.
Didn’t matter, she thought.
But oh, it did.
No matter how many times she reminded herself that she was a grown woman, an adult, not a needy child looking for validation or attention, she wanted—to know, once and for all, where she came from and from whom.
For some reason, it mattered.
She looked over at Reese, taking command of the room. So like him to orchestrate this to its conclusion. When their eyes met, he smiled. And her heart simply stuttered in her chest.
After everyone settled in, Reese eyed father and daughter sitting across from each other. He took out the piece of paper with the DNA results, passed a copy to each one of them.
“Mr. Tyler, Quinn, as you can see by the results, you two are definitely related, father and daughter.”
“I know that already. I never doubted it for a second. I knew the moment I walked in here because she’s the image of her mother, the image of that little girl who came to the farm that day so long ago.” He stared at Quinn. “I never forgot about you. I forgot about doing the right thing, being a father.”
Quinn started to open her mouth to speak but Reese sent her a look. “Do you have a photo of Ella Canyon, Quinn?”
She gaped at him. “You know I don’t. We weren’t exactly the type of people to get out the camera and celebrate a Hallmark moment for posterity’s sake.”
He turned to Nick Tyler. “And do you have a photograph of Lisa Redfield?”
Nick shook his head. “I don’t believe we ever took one together, no.” But as Reese was about to go on, Nick changed his mind. “Wait. My mother took one at hospital the day Quinn was born. But that photo is back in Dublin, probably packed away along with a thousand other photographs. If I’d known I’d need it…I’d’ve gladly brought it with me.”
“Convenient isn’t it that no one is around today who can positively identify either Ella Canyon or Lisa Redfield.” He picked up two photos from the file folder Jordan Donovan had managed to provide. “Mr. Tyler, would you be able to recognize a photo of Lisa?”
Nick acted insulted at the question. “Of course I would.”
Reese handed off the picture. “Is that Lisa Redfield?”
“No. Same Native American features, but Lisa was younger, much younger, at least five years younger than the woman here. This is the nanny who brought her out to the farm that day for a visit, though.”
“Are you absolutely certain of that?”
“I am.”
Reese handed the same photo to Quinn. “Who is that, Quinn?”
“It’s Ella. My mother,” she emphasized.
“That woman is not your mother,” Nick insisted with some heat.
“What am I supposed to say to that? This is the woman who raised me.”
“The drug addict, you mean,” Nick shot back.
“Raging,” Quinn added.
“Lisa did not do drugs. Believe me, I know. Look, for the last time, I ought to bloody well know the girl who had you. She was like a ray of sunshine, a breath of fresh air. Good, decent. She was a talented artist, a painter. While in Ireland she painted several canvasses. One of which I still have—of me. Lisa drew portraits like no one I’ve seen before or since, with a skill anyone with an eye for such things would envy. Anyone could see she had talent, even one so very young.”
Quinn thought of Woman Rising. Instead of saying anything about what Trevor had told her, she eyed Reese with a confused look. “I don’t understand any of this, Reese.”
“I know. But you’re about to.” Reese handed Nick another photo, this one old, worn, the color faded. “Is that Lisa?”
Looking at that photo took him back to a time and place he wasn’t exactly proud to own as his. Tears filled Nick’s eyes. He nodded. “It is.” After studying it for several minutes, it was he who handed the picture off to Quinn. “This is your mother, so without malice, so idealistic, so young.”
Quinn took the photograph, stared at a young, Native American girl who looked radiant and shared her own facial features right down to her eyes. She might have been staring at a high school snapshot of herself. Reese heard her intake of breath. “She’s so beautiful.”
“Aye, she was.”
Reese went to the phone and dialed his assistant. “Audrey, could you please tell our guests we’re ready for them now? Thanks.”
Reese turned to Nick and Quinn. “What happened is a rather complicated story but you both deserve some long overdue answers about a great many things. Somewhere along the way, Lisa Redfield vanished off the face of the earth and Ella Canyon stepped in to fill her role in every way that mattered, except, of course, as mother of the year.”
When the door opened and Max walked into the conference room followed by Jordan Donovan, who held the arm of a very weak-looking Ella Canyon, Quinn looked as though she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her.
Despite the confusion Reese saw locked in her eyes, she remained seated, stoic at the prospect of getting her questions finally answered.
Max eyed Nick Tyler with a certain amount of admiration in his eyes. But one tour around the somber faces sitting at the conference table told him this wasn’t the time to wax poetic or request an autograph.
He was here to clear up a long overdue mystery.
Reese broke the silence. “This is Ella Canyon. Jordan found her locked up in a mental hospital in Oakland, a dump where Jessica committed her almost three years ago, ostensibly to help her kick a very nasty heroin addiction. My guess is Jessica and Alana needed her someplace locked up where she couldn’t tell anyone what she knew.”
Reese nodded his head at Jordan.
The private investigator cleared his throat. “It took a court order to spring her. But since the attorney of record, Jessica Boyd, is now deceased, the judge agreed to at least move her closer to L.A. Our flight got in about an hour ago. We came straight here from the airport. She’s here because she’s already gone on record with Max, given her official statement as to what happened. I brought her here to give us a firsthand account of what she says happened to Lisa Redfield, Quinn’s mother. “I’m not guaranteeing Ella will make much sense. Between my digging and her account I think we’ve got a better idea of that timeframe. She seems to like me, so I’ll prompt her by asking the questions.”
With that, Jordan turned to the woman with blank eyes. “Ella, you remember Quinn here, don’t you?”
“Quinn.” Ella chuckled, the low laugh of a druggie that hadn’t seen sobriety for too many years to count. “We pulled a fast one there, we did. Back then, I wanted to be like Jessica, like Alana, in every way. They had money. I wanted money, fame, to live in a big house. But they used me. They used everyone, sooner or later.”
“I know,” Jordan agreed. “Everyone here wants to know what happened to Lisa Redfield, though, and you’re the only one alive who can tell us.”
“She got knocked up by Nick Tyler. Everyone knows that. Should’ve been me. But Nick took a liking to Lisa that night at the concert. Hell, she wasn’t even old enough to drink legally. But his roadie picked her out of the crowd to go backstage and meet Nick. Backstage, that should’ve been me instead of Lisa. Who knew she’d get invited back to his hotel room
?”
“And once she got pregnant, you pointed her in the direction of Jessica because after all, Lisa needed an attorney to look out for her and the baby, right?”
“I knew Jessica. She’d helped out another friend of mine when she got pregnant, helped put the baby up for adoption. So when Lisa found herself knocked up, I called Jess.”
“And Jess handled everything from there.
“Sure she did. Jess was good at handling the details, making problems go away.”
“You had to wait for Lisa to have the baby of course, but after a paternity test…”
“Are you kidding? After that, it was a piece of cake. Jess got a million upfront and monthly child support. I thought we were in for a lengthy fight but...”
Quinn tired of listening to Ella’s voice, spared a quick glance at Nick to see how he was handling this, but Nick didn’t seem to be listening. He was staring at Quinn, equally curious how she was dealing with Ella’s narrative.
Father and daughter locked eyes. For once, Quinn saw the emotion in those pools of deep brown. The resentment she’d harbored for so long cracked a little.
But since Ella never stopped talking, she did her best to focus on the drug addict she’d thought all this time was her mother.
Ella seemed to be relishing the attention. It was so like her, thought Quinn. Disgusted, but curious, she listened to the tale.
“Tyler’s career was hot back then. He didn’t want to risk the scandal over a roll in the hay with an underage fifteen-year-old. Jess convinced Lisa that the rock star just wanted all this to go away. Jess and Alana made it happen.”
Ella lost focus remembering that day, the day everything had changed.
Ella heard Alana’s laugh along with the woman’s voice. Her rheumy eyes searched the room for Alana’s face or maybe Jessica’s. Unable to locate either woman, she began imitating the voice. “We’re his fucking fairy godmothers now. Heeheeheehee! We make the baby and the scandal go away, problem solved. We’re his fairy godmothers. We could get rid of the baby. We could, we could.”
Ending Evil (The Evil Secrets Trilogy Book 3) Page 28