Evil Secrets Trilogy Boxed Set

by Vickie McKeehan

  “Ben Griffin isn’t due to show up for four more days.” He slanted a glance in Quinn’s direction. “In spite of the papers I’ve filed to fight Quinn’s suspension, I doubt we get a hearing for at least a couple more days. I say we head to a destination the Boyds know nothing about…”

  Dylan busted out laughing while Jake simply shook his head and waited for the women to explode.

  Predictably, it was Quinn who shouted the others down first.

  “Before we got here he wanted to take off for Ireland. Now, he wants to run for the hills. What is it with you Brennan? Until a few days ago you thought we were all crazy and you were the only voice of reason in the room. Now, you want to take off on a pilgrimage somewhere to protect us womenfolk.”

  “We tried that already, Reese. Dylan got Baylee to go as far away as Catalina before he had to bring her back,” Jake pointed out.

  “We aren’t going anywhere,” Kit reminded them. She sent a scornful look at Jake. “I have a business to run. That business requires me to be on the premises daily.”

  Baylee agreed. “And I need to stick around because my father might come out of his coma and be willing to tell me more of the story about what happened to my mother.”

  Dylan sent her a sympathetic look. “Let’s hope he does. But…” He didn’t want her expectations too high. “Look…”

  “I know. Okay, maybe he’s pretty far gone, but at this point I need to be there at his bedside, see if I can pry any more info out of him that might be useful the minute he becomes lucid. There’s a chance, even if it’s slim, he might come out of it. Besides, his days are running out, barring a miracle of some sort. And I’d like to go back over to his house on Bel Green and see if I can locate Sarah’s last diary.”

  “Stubborn is one thing but need I remind all of you that Cade killed eight people in that blast. If Quinn and I hadn’t gone out to dinner, she might not be sitting here at all.”

  “Aw, you’re growing on me too, Brennan, even if it’s taken a psycho like Cade to bring us closer. But hey, I suppose I’m game for a road trip. If you can talk these two into taking a couple of days off, that is, I’m in. I’ve got nothing else to do. Where’d you have in mind to go?”

  “A cabin, up at Big Sur. My dad and I used to go there all the time. Jake and Dylan have been there.”

  Baylee laid her hand on top of his. “A trip sounds wonderful, Reese. But honestly I don’t feel I could leave Dad in his condition. You and Quinn should go, though. Get Quinn away from all of this, even if it’s just for a couple of days that would help.”

  Kit wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “It sounds lovely, Reese. But I’m not going off on a trip and splitting us up. I’m with Baylee, though; you should get Quinn out of here. You two go, get out of Dodge.”

  But understanding dawned suddenly. Quinn stood up and exclaimed, “Wait a minute, if they don’t go, I’m not leaving them behind.”

  Dylan nodded. “Strength in numbers; we split our forces we weaken the team.”

  Reese sighed. “I had to try one more time, not that I thought anyone would go for it. If we all don’t go as a unit, then forget it. We stay together, do this together.”

  Quinn smiled at him then. “Damn straight we do.”

  Dredging close to shore, ten miles south of San Madrid, the Wild Goose decided to head into port earlier than usual. It wasn’t because the crew had reached its three-hundred-pound catch yet or because they’d had engine trouble. Today, Captain Ryland Phillips, the father of two young boys who both played little league, had promised his sons he’d make it to their game that night and it started at six o’clock sharp. His oldest, ten-year-old Kellan was starting pitcher and had a streak of five wins under his belt.

  Ryland didn’t want to miss the first pitch.

  As the sixty-foot shrimp boat got closer to the jetty, though, Ryland’s eye caught something hung up on the rocks. From where he stood on the deck, it looked like a bloated mass of something.

  He took out his binoculars to get a closer look. Sure enough, the mass was a body.

  Captain Phillips didn’t know it yet, but he could attest firsthand that the Pacific Ocean had just given up Uri Jankovic to the land.

  He reached to radio the Coast Guard.

  He could only hope he wouldn’t be late for his son’s first pitch.

  CHAPTER 7 Book 3

  When Trevor finally woke that afternoon, he turned on the telly and blinked at the screen. The local television anchors were reporting a drive-by shooting that had taken place earlier in the day at the house of local attorney, Reese Brennan.

  Okay, it was official. Cade and Collin Boyd had gone bat-shit crazy.

  He ordered a steak from room service before going over to his laptop, booting it up. It was time to face facts.

  One person for this task was spread too thin.

  Failing to locate the brothers at this point could result in more unnecessary deaths. Lives were at stake. It was time to enlist an army, people who also had a vested interest in the outcome, people with limited skills, maybe, but if he balanced the emotional investment, it might make up for a lack of skillset with a deadly weapon.

  Even though he was a damned fine hired gun and a trained sniper, Trevor was also a decent hacker. But his resources told him he had at his disposal two who were even more talented in that area. If the skills were applied correctly, hackers could do some serious damage, enough to weaken the enemy.

  It took him under five minutes to crack the network of Brennan’s law firm. Once in, he sent Brennan an encrypted, untraceable e-mail, laying the groundwork for what he hoped would be a joining of forces.

  Inside Crandall House, Reese sat at the desk in the guest room designated as his. He had just polished off a brief and sent it to his paralegal with instructions for the next day’s filings when an e-mail appeared in his inbox with the subject line that read:

  Dossier on Boyd Boyd Geller & Gatz

  Reese checked the sender and noticed it read anonymous. He also saw that it had a rather large attachment. Relying on his virus software and hoping it was up-to-date enough to ward off any malware or Trojan horses, he double-clicked the message.

  For the next thirty minutes he read page after page of incriminating evidence against the Boyds, some he and his friends already knew. But as he flicked through document after document onscreen, it soon became apparent there was even more they didn’t.

  And knowing was about to change the game—yet again.

  Downstairs, Jake was locking up for the night when he heard a car pull into the driveway and saw headlights illuminate the living room wall. Immediately wary, he went to the front window, pulled back the drapes, and peered out into the dark. Because Crandall House was rather isolated, there were no streetlamps to provide lighting at night.

  Even though he knew Donovan’s men were out there guarding the perimeter, watching the house, knowing that didn’t make him feel any safer when it came to keeping the Boyd brothers away from Kit, Baylee, and Quinn.

  He went on alert as soon as he heard a car door slam shut. At that very moment his cell phone rang. By this time Reese had come into the room, the nine-millimeter Luger clutched in his fist with Dylan tagging along behind holding his own M-nine Beretta.

  Jake spared them both a glance and pushed the button to answer his phone. “Boston.”

  “Max St. John. I’m right outside your front door. I’ve got news.”

  Jake went over to the double set of doors filled with hope, keenly aware Max wouldn’t be here this time of night if it weren’t important. He squinted through the peep hole and sure enough spotted the detective in charge of Claire’s murder standing on the porch.

  A certain amount of expectation rose in his chest. Was it possible Max had already discovered who killed Claire? He turned the lock. “This better be good,” he said with a grin.

  “Funny how it always seems to be late at night when I get around to solving a puzzle. Why the hell do you guys have to live
so far out here in the boonies anyway? What the hell’s wrong with a nice neighborhood like Westlake Village? Holloway tells me it’s got a nice view of a scenic lake.”

  Jake wasn’t quite used to Max’s sense of humor yet and traded glances with Reese, mostly because at one time the bulldog detective had been such a formidable adversary to both of them.

  But now, hoping the man held the key to Claire Boston’s murder, he slapped Max on the back. “Let me see, scenic lake versus the ocean? No contest here, Max. Strange how two short months ago I hated your guts. Now look, we’re just one big happy family.”

  “Smartass,” Max replied. For the first time he took in the handguns Reese and Dylan were clutching and added, “Jesus. I don’t even want to know if you have permits for those.”

  Reese threw him a smirk. “Turns out, I’m legal. So is Surfer Boy here.”

  Jake didn’t want to wade through small talk. “You got the results of the DNA already? How is that possible?”

  “It pays to have a friend in the lab willing to work overtime.” Max smacked a thin manila folder into Jake’s chest. “Good work, Boston. We’re closer and at least headed in the right direction this time to finding Claire’s killer.”

  “Wait,” Jake said as hope died. “Closer? What the hell does that mean?”

  “Read the file,” Max insisted. “DNA under your wife’s fingernails is similar to Connor Boyd’s DNA.”

  “But not a match,” Jake finished as he tried to absorb the words on the single sheet of paper in the file.

  “It’s called familial DNA. See the short tandem repeats on the Y chromosome? That tells us that Claire’s killer shares some of the same tandem repeats.” When Max took in the confused faces around the room, including those of the women who now gathered as a unit around the bottom step of the stairs, he shook his head.

  “A full sibling, a father, someone close to Connor killed Claire Boston. Cade, maybe Collin. Won’t know for certain until we manage to finagle a DNA sample out of them.”

  Jake heard Kit let out a whoop for joy right before she launched her body into his.

  “You did it!” Kit yelled. “How does it feel knowing who killed Claire? For the first time in two years you have peace of mind about this and can put it behind you once and for all.”

  “It isn’t solved yet, Kit,” a disappointed Jake uttered.

  “I don’t understand.” She turned to stare at Max. “You said it’s either Cade or Collin. You know who did this to Claire. So go—get him—arrest him.”

  “That’s just it, Kit. They aren’t in custody yet and until they are…” Jake sent a distressed look at Baylee, remembering what they’d talked about that night in Catalina. “I was sure it was Connor, Baylee. I’m sorry, I would’ve been wrong.”

  Finally Kit understood the implications of the DNA not matching Connor’s. “Oh, God, if it hadn’t been for Mr. X…” Her voice trailed off as she went over to Baylee, put her arms around her. “I’m so sorry, Baylee.”

  It was Dylan who asked, “You’re certain about the results?”

  Max nodded. “You bet. Plus, I have cause to obtain another search warrant, a search I hope results in finding something conclusive. The point is, I’m out to get a warrant for Collin and Cade Boyd based on the results. Once they’re in custody, I get two more DNA samples to compare.”

  “But you have to find them first,” Reese asserted.

  Noting the somber mood of the group, Max added, “Hey, don’t look so glum. I thought you’d sleep better tonight knowing the news. I want these guys too, you know.”

  Reese slapped Jake on the back. “He does have a point. At least you narrowed it down to one of the Boyds.”

  “I guess.” Jake groused, still sounding a bit dejected. “A part of me does feel like a huge weight’s been lifted off but still…I was so sure it was Connor.”

  Max stretched out his hand to Jake. “No hard feelings, I hope. Reese is right. You actually are the one who pointed us in this direction.”

  Jake had no intentions of telling him about the anonymous e-mail from their Mr. X he’d received pointing him to Connor. Not only would it complicate matters, he felt it would break a trust in some weird sort of way.

  “Then my work here is done for tonight,” Max declared, turning to Reese. “Although I can tell you what caused Quinn’s apartment building to blow. You were right, Brennan. It wasn’t a natural gas leak. Someone deliberately disconnected the gas dryer in one of the units, on purpose, set out a candle, lit the damned thing—and waited for the gas to reach the flame. Arson investigators assure me it’s quite an effective way to achieve an explosion. Coincidentally, that unit just happens to belong to Quinn Tyler here.”

  “Cade.”

  “The only person of interest at this point,” Max agreed flatly. “Turns out, one of those victims last night who died was a little five-year-old girl named Tara Evers.”

  Quinn’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, God, Tara’s the little girl who lives next door to me. Her mother, Connie, must be devastated. She’s a single mom who only moved into the building eight months ago.”

  Reese slung his arm around her waist, drew her closer while Max went on, “The firemen didn’t find Tara until this morning buried under a ton of rubble. She was alive but they lost her in surgery.”

  “I feel so responsible…if not for me…”

  “Don’t do that, Quinn,” Reese cautioned. “You couldn’t possibly have known they’d do anything like that.”

  “That’s one of the reasons I’m on this. Cade Boyd’s the number one suspect. Oh, and while I’m here, might as well tell you this afternoon cadaver dogs hit on a fourth body out at The Enclave about twenty yards from where the other remains were unearthed.”

  “Jesus, you’re just full of news tonight, Max.” Reese ran a free hand through his hair while Quinn rested her head on his shoulders, still clearly upset about Tara. “What happens now?”

  “We wait. This one hasn’t been in the ground all that long, certainly not as long as the others.” He shot a look at Baylee. “I’m sorry, Ms. Scott.”

  “It’s okay. I understand. In fact, the technician who swabbed me for DNA explained the whole mitochondrial thing to me. He even told me how they extract the stuff from the dental pulp and if they get enough and if it matches mine, I’ll know it’s my mother who was buried there all this time for the past twenty-two years. I wonder who the others are, though, some other poor souls who happened to piss off Jessica and Alana.”

  “And were expendable,” Reese added.

  “The first three sets of remains won’t be yielding any fingerprints, that’s for certain, been in the ground way too long. The forensics team is working overtime on this. We’ll see if they can get you an answer, Ms. Scott—and soon. But the one they found this afternoon couldn’t have been in the ground more than four years maybe. I’m told there’s a slight possibility we could get enough of a fingerprint to ID the victim, especially if we get lucky and the prints are on file.”

  Max shook his head and went on, “Two months ago I was ready to retire. I’m staying on because this is turning out to be the damnedest case of my career. It just keeps spiraling outward from the core.”

  He turned to leave and stopped as if he’d just thought of something else. “I remember walking into the Stevens crime scene that morning, remember talking to Jessica, and feeling empathy for the victim and her best friend. But I have to tell you after finding out some of this stuff about her and the Boyd woman now, my sympathies are stretched to the limit. Those women were heartless.”

  After scouring the e-mail attachment upstairs, Reese could attest to that. But he had no intentions of sharing what he’d learned. He kept his mouth shut until after Max had said his goodbyes.

  As soon as the front door closed, Reese turned to the group and announced, “I know it’s late, but we need to huddle. There’s been a development.”

  “What’s up?” Dylan asked.

  “I got an e-ma
il about an hour ago from Mr. X. It seems when it came to BBG&G, Noah Parker did his homework, went the extra mile to solve his own personal puzzle.”

  Jake and Dylan exchanged deliberate looks. It was Dylan who wisecracked, “If he warned you to take Quinn and go on the run, he’s about twenty-four hours too late.”

  “But we already know about the Parker murders,” Jake reasoned. “We figured that much out on our own.”

  “And it was Dylan who got us looking into my mother’s disappearance before Dad ever got around to telling me the truth. What else do we need to know?”

  Reese shook his head. “This isn’t about the Parkers, at least not all of it. And I doubt anyone knew about the bodies buried on Boyd property, at least no one alive. It seems Noah Parker and our Mr. X uncovered more recent, very damaging information, stuff I doubt either one gained by legal means. There’s at least fifty pages of documents to pore over, maybe more. I got through some of the stuff but…”

  “If we split it up among us, it’ll go faster,” Quinn finished.

  “Exactly.”

  Kit headed to the kitchen. “Then I’ll get the coffee started.”

  After printing out the attachment from Reese’s laptop on the wireless printer set up in the kitchen, Quinn divvied up the sets of documents and passed a stack to each one. “There has to be sixty-five pages here, Reese.”

  As they got comfortable around the table, Reese stated, “I know, but I think you’ll find them informative. First off, let me paraphrase what the e-mail said. The man’s obviously used to working on his own, but says it’s past time we understand exactly what we’re dealing with since we have the most to lose. He’s willing to trust us with this because he can’t be in two places at one time. It seems he had a GPS tracking device on the Boyd cars. But since the cops…”

  “So that’s how he knew their every move,” Jake concluded.