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 imitati
ng 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.”
Ella started shaking her head. “But Jess says no. No, we need the baby to keep going to the well.”
For a brief time Ella was in her own drug-induced world, taken back to a time when Jess and Alana were forever arguing, Jessica making demands, Alana acting like the enforcer.
Ella remembered the verbal war of words in detail.
“Why is it you always react way too quickly to everything?” Jessica accused. “Getting rid of the baby is problematic.”
“Too bad, she’s a squalling little brat, just like Kit.”
“I told you motherhood wasn’t for you. But you wouldn’t listen. You just had to get back at Gloria for taking John away from you.”
“She pissed me off. And so did John. But John certainly has made it up to me lately. He keeps me updated. I can’t imagine Gloria working as a maid. Can you imagine a maid of all things?”
“It’s all those shock treatments they gave her. Look, could we focus here? You’re always getting off-track. The baby we need, the mother not so much.”
“She’s a bitchy seventeen-year-old with a big mouth,” Alana offered. “But if we get rid of Lisa, what will we do with the brat? I’m not taking her. Kit’s enough of a handful. And I’m being magnanimous when I say she’s a spiteful little thing.”
“I hate to say I told you so but… motherhood isn’t what it’s cracked up to be, now is it?”
Alana ignored her friend, changed the focus yet again to Ella, who’d been sitting stoned on the sofa. She pointed a finger at the younger woman. “What about this one? Ella would be ideal. And she’d be easy to control. Look at her. She’s drugged out. Besides, she owes us.”
“As much as I’d like to get rid of Lisa, do you think a druggie is really the way to go?”
“Lisa is going to keep making trouble. If we don’t do something she might end up going to the cops. Then where would we be?”
That got Jess’s attention. “Okay. But I want it done neat and tidy. I hate cleaning up your fuckups.”
By the time Ella came back to them, she sat there dazed, spent.
Jordan had one more question. “Ella, is Lisa Redfield alive?”
The woman snorted. “Nobody takes a beating like that and survives. I was there. Alana beat the crap out of her. When she was done, Lisa wasn’t breathing.”
Jordan turned to Reese. “That’s basically the same story she told Max.” He looked over at Ella and said to everyone, “I’m sorry, but I honestly think that’s about all we’ll get out of her today.”
“We got more than I thought we would.” Reese turned to Quinn; saw the tears streaming down her face. He knelt down in front of her chair. “I’m sorry, honey. But Lisa Redfield was your mother, not this pitiful excuse of a person sitting here.”
Quinn looked up at Nick. “I didn’t believe you. I didn’t think you remembered Ella, and now…”
Nick picked up her hand. “It’s my fault. If I’d bothered coming to visit regularly like I should have done, I would’ve known what you were going through. I’m so very sorry, Quinn. I had no idea. I should have known something was up when Lisa didn’t show up with you that day at the farm. It wasn’t like her. She was a good person. I should’ve done something…”
Max spoke up. “Look, I hate to interrupt. I know this is a painful discovery for all of you but with everyone here, there’s more I need to get out on the table. As you already know, about a week ago we found four sets of remains on the grounds of The Enclave.
“With help from Donovan here, we’ve positively ID’d all of them, two through dental records.” Max turned to look at Baylee. “One is definitely Sarah Moreland, your mother. She was buried alongside a Luc Delaine, a man who went missing about the same time she did. His remains have been positively identified as well, through dental records.
“The third body was that of a young female, between the ages of fourteen and eighteen years old. Reese sent me over a sample of Quinn’s DNA. This morning the lab confirmed the body is…was Lisa Redfield, a seventeen-year-old Chumash Indian girl from the Santa Ynez, who went missing, according to her mother, around the same time she and a cousin by the name of Ella Canyon drove down to Los Angeles from Santa Barbara to speak to Lisa’s attorney, an attorney by the name of Jessica Boyd.”
A sick feeling hit Quinn’s stomach. She sent a panicked look toward Nick Tyler. My God, this couldn’t be happening.
Kit and Baylee went over to her and put their arms around her in a massive embrace. “I’m so sorry, honey.”
Reese filled in the rest. “Lisa Redfield’s family never saw her again after she left for that fateful trip to L.A. By this time Quinn was about thirteen months old, according to Lisa’s mother, who did not I might add, kick her daughter to the curb after she got pregnant. Sylvia Redfield wasn’t happy about her fifteen-year-old getting pregnant, but she did not kick her out. In fact, as your grandmother, Quinn, she’s very interested in meeting her granddaughter.”
Quinn’s hand flew to her mouth as it gaped open. She swallowed hard. “My mother, my real mother is dead because Alana Stevens and Jessica Boyd murdered her just like they killed Baylee’s mother?”
“My God,” Kit said. “I lived with that monster, suffered at her hands in that house all those years never knowing she’d killed so readily. Quinn and Baylee were often there. Who could have possibly imagined those two women plotted and killed whoever crossed them? All those years we had no idea we shared space with people who were so evil.”
Max stared at Kit, blinked. This woman had suffered massive abuse for years at the hands of Alana Stevens. No one knew Alana better than Kit Griffin. “Well, I wouldn’t discount what role the rest of the founding partners had in all of it. But we’ll probably never know for certain. Burying bodies near their own reflecting pool took some muscle. I can’t see Jessica or Alana digging a grave. They’d be too afraid they might chip a nail. I’d have to say someone knew what the two women were doing and why. Without giving you specifics there’s reason to believe both women were certainly involved in a great many murders and over a long period of time.”
Max took the time to glance around the room. “But there’s more. The fourth body is that of Ross Jennetti. We know that for certain because, as I’d hoped, the lab was able to get prints. His fingerprints were already in the system from an arrest back in the late ’80s for breaking and entering. At the time, he had a long rap sheet for burglaries and theft to support a nasty drug habit of us own.”
“Son of a bitch,” Nick fumed as he stood up and marched to the window. “You’re telling us that Lisa Redfield, Quinn’s mother, that beautiful young girl, was murdered not long after giving birth to my child and I’ve sat around on my ass while my daughter lived in squalor with this drug-addled Ella person and this bitch of an attorney, that this Alana Stevens and Jessica Boyd beat Lisa to death?”
Reese put his hand on his shoulder. “I’m afraid that about sums it up.”
“What happened to the million dollars? Or the money I sent every month?” Nick asked, almost afraid he already knew the answer. “It never reached Quinn, did it?”
“From what we’ve managed to learn from a database on Jessica’s hard drive at work, she kept the million and told Lisa you were playing hardball. In the meantime she was nickel and diming Portman for all she could get out of him, too,” Jake explained. “During that thirteen months, I doubt Lisa or Quinn ever saw anything more than ten grand from the million, certainly never enough to live on until Gerald Baines slipped Jennetti into the picture. Now, that was a complication Jessica didn’t see coming.”
Reese picked up the story from there. “Baines admitted Alana approached him with the idea of keeping a tighter rein on the cash flow. Baines bit hook, line, and sinker. Alana had a friend named Jennetti, who needed a steady job. What
better job than to oversee ten grand a month?
“But to pull it off, Quinn had to change addresses. Up to that time, Ella and the baby had been living hand to mouth out in the Valley. Because after all Jessica had made it clear Nick’s attorneys were not cooperating with the settlement. How she managed to stretch out the story for eight years is due to the fact that Lisa was no longer in the picture, no longer a threat.
“We all know Nick’s attorney Portman met Jessica’s demand, so there was no hardball on Nick’s part, no fighting the settlement. Jessica and Alana played on Ella’s drug habit, her weakness, and kept stringing her along. Ella at that point would do just about anything to make sure her supply of drugs never ended.
“Then for some reason Alana changes the dynamics. We’ll probably never know the exact reason. But it might have something to do with the fact that she has this house in Beverly Hills she owns and needs to liquidate at the time. As a real estate agent, she sees an opportunity. She negotiates the sale of the house to Baines, who in turn, sets Jennetti up in the house to keep an eye on Ella Canyon and Jessica Boyd.
“All the while Alana is playing both sides, as is Ross. They stick to the story that Jennetti is Nick’s record producer. The title gave him some clout because record producer sounds a helluva lot more impressive than a two-bit, ex-con, drug addict.”
Nick turned to Quinn. “Words will never be able to express how sorry I am about this whole mess. If I’d only taken the time to check on you myself, not leave it up to so many other people. My own daughter… I’m so sorry, Quinn. I’m so very sorry for everything, for not visiting you, for not bringing you over to Ireland when I could have. My mother could have raised you. Try to understand, I thought you were being taken care of properly, seen to, fed regularly, sheltered, that I was fucking father of the year because I ponied up the goddamn money…and went on with my music.”
Evil Secrets Trilogy Boxed Set Page 101