Getting Jake’s take on Connor’s phone call and Cade’s visit to Quinn was a little like fanning the flames of a bonfire. They both agreed that Connor tipped his hand. But why?
“I don’t understand why Connor doesn’t just leave her alone. And why does Cade go out of his way to make sure Quinn knows who got into her locker?”
“I said the same thing about Collin. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that he’s infatuated with Kit. If you follow the same logic, the same obsessive fixation could be true of Connor and Cade.”
“Oh God. If that’s it, and Connor’s fixated on Baylee, he won’t let this thing go. You still think it’s a good idea to do the picnic thing tomorrow?”
“I couldn’t derail Kit’s Memorial Day train short of a natural disaster even if I wanted to. She’s been planning this for a week. Just come prepared to spend the night. She wants everyone to have a good time, forget their worries, and that means stick around after they’ve had a few too many beers, no drinking and driving.”
“Can you accommodate everyone like that?”
“Furniture was delivered yesterday. But they’re still working on getting the electricity wired. The downstairs is good to go. Upstairs, that’s another matter. But everyone will have a room and a bed. Worst case, you might have to take a cold shower upstairs, or stand in line to get a hot one down.”
“Can’t ask for more than that.” When he heard the shower shut off, he told Jake quickly, “Look, I gotta run, so I guess we’ll see you then.”
Baylee fed Sarah and got her packed for the trip to see Karen Nash. Despite the failure of her visit nine years earlier, she was excited about talking to the woman again, excited about the prospect of gleaning some tidbit of fresh information that might have transpired over the past nine years.
The turn-of-the-century mission revival style house belonging to Karen Nash sat at the end of a palm tree-lined block in old Glendale. After unloading Sarah from the car, they were warmly greeted by a petite woman standing on the porch with graying blonde hair and a wide smile. Even though Baylee hadn’t see her aunt in ten years, it was like she was looking at an older version of her mother. How had she managed to forget how much Karen resembled the woman she only remembered in old photos and bad dreams?
Over tea and cookies on the patio, Karen Nash took a walk down memory lane: ticking off funny stories, rehashing childhood memories, and funny anecdotes about the sister she hadn’t seen in more than twenty-two years. When it grew warm, the three of them moved into the living room, where it was cooler, and once again, without too much prompting, Karen relayed the last time she’d heard from Sarah.
“As I recall, William had left the week before for San Francisco to start work on a new film. She called me on a Sunday morning because she phoned to wish me a happy Mother’s Day. We talked about nothing in particular. She told me her plans to spend the day with you. The entire conversation was rather uneventful, just two sisters catching up on what each other’s plans were for the week. It was the last time I ever talked to her.” Tears ran down Karen’s cheeks.
Baylee reached out to take hold of her hands. “I’m sorry, Karen. I should have realized how painful this would be for you. But I need to know. That day, did it sound like she was unhappy? Did it sound as if she was ready to take off for parts unknown?” And leave her only daughter in the dust.
Karen looked hard into Baylee’s eyes. “I know the rumor, Baylee. And no, she said nothing about leaving. She wouldn’t have done that. I told you that when you came here at sixteen. But you were very obstinate. Your father had planted an idea in your head and I could say nothing that would dissuade you from believing some ridiculous story about her running off with the tennis pro. I couldn’t provide you with the info to back up William and you got upset with me, stormed out.”
Embarrassed, Baylee softened her voice. “I remember. I’m sorry. But I was young and so very disappointed and downhearted from having made the trip. I admit I didn’t respond very well to what you told me. But I was sixteen, Karen. What can I say? I just remember being so hopeful about finding you, wanting desperately to locate her, find out what happened, confront her maybe. I remember being exhilarated at that hope, and then I came here only to discover that you couldn’t help me. I had to have someone to blame, so I blamed you for not having the answers. I was let down, Karen. I’m sorry I was rude. I know now that you weren’t lying to me. Back then my judgment was clouded by youthful dejection and nothing more.”
Karen nodded. “I felt bad for you, Baylee. I wanted to help and couldn’t. Sadly there’s never been a word from her. I haven’t heard from Sarah in twenty-two years.”
“Can you tell us anything about the tennis pro, this Luc Delaine?” Dylan asked hopefully.
“I can tell you I never believed that story about the affair. Sarah would never do that. Luc and Sarah were friends. They met at the country club and struck up a friendship. Nothing more. Now William,” Karen’s eyes darted over to Baylee, in sympathetic fashion. “I’m sorry, but your father had a roving eye. Sarah told me once about this one woman in particular he saw on a regular basis, a woman who refused to leave him alone even after he married.”
Baylee shot Dylan a look. “Do you have a name? Did you know anything about her?”
“I know she was an actress, a blonde. Apparently she had worked with William a couple of times before. They had history together. Sarah said he was really hung up on her. I’m sorry, Baylee, that’s all I can remember; it’s been such a long time now.”
“Thanks, Karen, you’ve actually been a big help.” Even though it wasn’t entirely true, Baylee wanted the woman to think so. This woman was after all; her mother’s only living relative. They left shortly afterward with a promise to do a better job keeping in touch. But by the time they got little Sarah buckled into her car seat, by the time Dylan headed toward the freeway, Baylee sat there in the car, feeling just as dejected as she’d felt at sixteen.
In the dream, she was three.
She heard the angry screaming shouts coming from outside her bedroom. She knew she was scared. Were the mean people outside after her, too? She tried to block out the noise by covering her ears, trying to muffle the sound as the shouts got louder. She huddled under the covers. But the shrill voices wouldn’t leave. There were two women yelling at her mama. Every so often she heard her mama’s voice as she yelled back at both women to get out of her house. But it only made the mean people scream louder. And the women still weren’t leaving.
Baylee thought the argument was about her daddy. But that couldn’t be right because he wasn’t even at home. She couldn’t remember where he’d gone. All she knew was that her mother was home alone and arguing with two women.
While her three-year-old mind tried to figure out what was happening outside her door, the adults continued to scream bad words at each other. When the little girl heard hitting noises, her fear for herself turned to fear for her mama. She tried to work up her courage enough to crawl out of bed.
Finally she crept toward her bedroom door. She cracked it open enough to peer outside into the hallway. There she saw two women fighting with her mama as they stood on the upstairs landing. The woman with blonde hair slapped her mama. Baylee recognized her as Kit’s mother. But she remembered that Kit’s mother scared her, that she was big and mean. She didn’t like Kit’s mother.
But she didn’t like the other woman either, the one with long black hair that was yelling mean things in her mama’s face. And then all of a sudden Kit’s mother slapped her mama again. Baylee tried to move; she wanted to run out into the hallway, to make them stop. But her throat tightened. Her stomach hurt and her feet refused to budge.
Just as she started to open the door further and creep toward the fight, the woman with black hair pushed her mama, and she watched as her mama fell in slow motion backwards down the stairs. Baylee remembered hearing the scream and her mama’s cry, which lasted all the way down to the bottom step. She heard t
he dull thud hit the floor. And then nothing. She saw the two women exchange looks and then calmly descend down the stairs.
The little girl watching from the wings opened her mouth to cry. But no sound came out. Instead, she ran back to the bed and dived underneath just in case they came for her, too.
The adult Baylee sat up, remembering, reliving the moment in the dream when she’d been too scared to help. Perspiring, she fought for air. Reaching for the light on the nightstand, she fumbled in the dark, knocking over several items on the table. She heard something hit the floor. When she clicked on the light, she saw Dylan standing in her doorway.
“Ohmygod, you scared the life right out of me. What are you doing up?”
“You were crying in your sleep, thrashing around. Are you okay?” He went over and sat down next to her on the bed.
She scrubbed a hand over her face. “I had the dream. I saw the whole thing replayed again. I’m sure the woman in the dream is Alana. She’s the first one who slaps my mom. The other woman looks like a young Jessica Boyd. She’s the person who pushed my mom down the stairs.”
She swept her hair back with her hand. “I don’t know what’s real anymore, Dylan. It has to be a dream. That’s all there is to it. Why would my father tell me she left if she didn’t? But if there’s the smallest chance that she might have died that night I have to know the truth. Why would those two women do such a thing to my mother? And why would my father be part of it?”
Why indeed, Dylan thought as he reached out to touch her hair. He picked up a bottle of water from the floor, twisted off the cap. “Here, drink this. You want anything else?”
“Answers. I want some answers, Dylan.”
But there would be no answers tonight, at least not until William decided to expunge the ghosts he had lived with for over two decades.
CHAPTER 13 Book 2
Crandall House no longer looked like a ramshackle, boarded-up relic from the past. The stately Queen Anne Victorian with the wraparound front porch and bold columns draped with ornate ivy now looked like the showplace it had once been in its heyday back when it was a hotel, a stop on the Coast Stage Line in 1888. Actually, thanks to a team of workmen that had labored practically around the clock, the old house had been updated with all the latest and greatest gadgets.
Kit couldn’t believe they’d actually moved in. Even if it were just for today, she didn’t care. It was like a dream come true. Thanks to the team of electricians who’d worked up until eight o’clock the night before, they had electricity throughout the first floor and that included the kitchen. She looked around the room where everything gleamed brand new, from the stainless steel appliances to the new flooring.
Kit gazed across the room. Her eyes instantly locked on the smile Gloria wore prominently on her face as she stood at the marble countertop putting the finishing touches on the potato salad. Mother and daughter had been cooking and baking for hours, eagerly waiting for their friends to arrive, hoping for just one day where they could all enjoy themselves without worrying about anyone named Boyd.
Pepper, Kit’s black-and-white Border collie, sniffed the appetizing smells in the kitchen then plopped down beside Kit’s feet at the counter. Still a little slow getting around after the car accident weeks earlier, Pepper had made a tremendous recovery from surgery.
Kit set aside the marinade she’d prepared for the steaks and hamburgers Jake would grill later and watched as he stepped inside from the newly built deck onto the sandstone kitchen floor.
“Grill’s got plenty of propane and is ready anytime you are.”
“Where are they? It’s almost ten-thirty.”
Jake shot her a grin without asking who “they” were. All morning long she’d been like the proverbial kid waiting for Santa to come down the chimney on Christmas Eve. She’d been planning for this day all week and wanted nothing more than for everyone to get here, kick back, and have a good time.
When a car horn sounded from outside, she shot out of the kitchen like a runner at the starting line, running toward the front door so fast her shoes skidded on the newly laid hardwood floor in the hallway.
Gloria saw Jake smile and declared, “She gets like this when she throws a party, better get used to it. By the way, are we working on those grandchildren yet?”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “That is none of your business, Mom. Don’t get pushy, okay?”
At the word “Mom,” Gloria’s eyes misted over. She put her hand to her mouth before trying for some composure. Reeling in her emotions, she teased, “I always knew you’d make a smart-mouthed son-in-law. What was I thinking trying to get the two of you together all those years? I should have had my head examined.”
“You love me, you know it, and you always have.” He went over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “There’s no point in denying it. Even when I was a young upstart smartass, a pain in the ass, you loved me.”
“Maybe a little. Even though you aren’t so young anymore. That’s why you need to start working on some grandbabies, lots of grandbabies.”
Just then, Dylan came through the kitchen door hauling a Pack ’N Play. Kit followed, carrying Sarah in the infant seat with Baylee tagging behind, an olive green diaper bag strapped over her shoulder, and pushing a stroller that squeaked on the brand new floor.
Jake walked around the kitchen island and slapped Dylan on the back. “You guys sure don’t travel light. You bring the whole house with you?”
“Laugh it up, pal. This could be you in nine months,” Dylan shot back without rancor.
A stricken look crossed Jake’s face at the realization of that statement. A hand went to his chest and stayed there as if the arrow had pierced right through his heart. “Point taken.”
“Good. Then make yourself useful and get the cooler of beer out of the car,” Dylan told him with mock contempt as he went about trying to find the best place to set up the port-a-crib so Sarah would have a place to nap later.
Jake disappeared down the hallway, considering Dylan’s comment and realizing truer words were never spoken. In nine months, he could be hauling around a baby and all the trappings that went with one. Surprisingly, the idea didn’t freak him out. He’d wanted kids once and, now that he had Kit, the possibility he might actually become a dad was more of a reality than it ever had been before.
By the time Jake reached Dylan’s SUV, Reese was unwinding his lanky frame out of his sporty Lexus. Dressed in jeans and an ancient Nirvana T-shirt, he stretched his back. “Jesus, it’s a long way out here. Traffic was awful. If you’re planning to commute back and forth to Westlake Village every day from here you should think about getting one of these.” He tapped the hood of his sporty hybrid 600.
“Good idea,” Jake said absently. Any other time he’d like nothing more than to give the car a once-over, but at the moment, his mind conjured up the prospect of baby car seats and minivans.
Reese took a moment to look at the house for the first time and whistled. “Wow. This is some place.” His eyes took in the angles and curves of the massive Victorian, the wide wraparound porch, and the curved balcony upstairs. He took in the view. Built on the top of a cliff overlooking San Madrid’s little fishing village, he stared out into the ocean. “What did you pay for this?” Reese asked, as if being the man’s lawyer entitled him to certain specifics.
When Jake threw out a ridiculously low figure, Reese whistled again. “You got a helluva deal. How much have you sunk into the place remodeling it though?” When Jake threw out another figure, this one not so low, Reese chuckled. “Well, let’s see what that kind of money gets you.”
They retrieved the cooler with the beer out of the back of Dylan’s SUV, reminiscent of their college days at Cal-Berkeley, and started walking toward the house. They met Dylan on the wraparound front porch. He had a serious look on his face. “I know we agreed not to talk about this today, but before Quinn gets here maybe we should talk while the women are out of earshot.”
Jake shook his h
ead. “I don’t think Quinn’s going to be able to make it. Last I heard she had to work. But yeah, I think we need to talk, there’s something I need to tell you guys and I don’t want Kit to know about it yet.”
“Actually, Quinn’s coming, after she gets a little shuteye. But she’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you. Cade showed up at the hospital yesterday morning after her shift ended. I thought Donovan was supposed to be keeping an eye on these guys. If that’s true, I’d say he’s doing a damn lousy job of it.”
Reese stopped short and stared at Dylan, but it was Jake who offered, “I already chewed on Donovan some over what happened. He has a guy tailing after Kit and one on Baylee. As of yesterday afternoon, one’s following Quinn now, too.”
“That can’t be. There’s been no one around Baylee except me.”
“Donovan says the guy’s been there. If he’s any good, don’t you think it’s better if you don’t see him?”
“I don’t like this. Baylee might’ve had the right idea after all. I should just get her out of L.A. and take her some place safe where Connor can’t find her.”
“And where would that be exactly?” Jake asked in mock irritation.
Knowing he’d been left out of the loop, Reese finally interjected, “Wait, back up here a minute, Dylan. What the hell happened yesterday between Cade and Quinn?”
Dylan went into a lengthy explanation about Cade’s face-to-face threat, about his breaking into her locker, Connor’s three a.m. phone call, and about the fact that Connor had heard Sarah over the phone. But before they could get into more specifics, Kit opened the front door and the conversation came to a screeching halt.
Assuming they’d probably been discussing the Boyds, she went on the offensive. “I thought we agreed to put this aside for today, just one damn day. Can we agree no more talk about them? Besides, it’s time to get the meat on the grill. Quinn’s about twenty minutes out.”
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