Deeper Evil (The Evil Secrets Trilogy Book 2)

by Vickie McKeehan

  When Sarah stirred, they reluctantly broke apart.

  “Want to put her down?”

  “Sure.” He took the baby out of Baylee’s arms, eyed the Pack’N Play he’d carried upstairs earlier. Leaning in, he placed Sarah down on her back. Her mouth continued to make little sucking motions as she drifted deeper into slumber.

  Baylee whispered, “Want me to walk you to your door?”

  They began to move. Out in the hallway, his answer was to reach around her waist and bring her up against him. “What I want we can’t do tonight.”

  “Soon,” she promised, as she put her arms around his neck as they both fell into another mouthy kiss.

  Something was going down. Trevor felt it in his bones. The listening device hadn’t been all that useful with Jankovic because the man spent most of his time away from The Enclave in search of him. How ironic, he thought now as he followed the goon north on the PCH. It looked like he was heading to San Madrid.

  And the minute Jankovic’s big Chrysler crossed the Ventura County line Trevor was certain of it.

  By the time Jankovic pulled into the alleyway behind the Book & Bean, it was two-forty five in the morning. Trevor watched as the man got out of the rented vehicle, carrying something in his right hand. Trevor grabbed his night vision goggles, hoping he could make out what Jankovic held in his hand.

  To Trevor it looked like some sort of explosive device. He sucked in a breath waiting until Jankovic made his way to the back door, watched as the man jimmied the lock and then slipped inside.

  Trevor counted off one second, then two, before making his way to Jankovic’s Chrysler. Finding it unlocked, he ducked into the back seat—and bided his time.

  Fifteen minutes went by before Trevor heard footsteps on the pavement. Then the driver’s side door flew open, and Jankovic clumsily slid in behind the wheel. Before the goon could start the engine, Trevor snuck his hand around to the man’s throat from behind. The knife in his hand glistened in the darkness.

  “I hear you’ve been looking high and low for yours truly. Good news, ace. Tonight’s your lucky night. Looks like you found me.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “Do exactly as I tell you. Drive out of the alleyway to the end of the street. Take a left and then head west through town, toward the harbor. When the street deadends, take another left, and head south.”

  The knife pricked Jankovic’s skin. The tiny cut began to ooze red stuff. “Do what I tell you. If I were you I’d be doubly certain to miss any potholes in the road, or there could be a bloody mess. Get my drift?”

  Jankovic grunted as he put the car into Drive, slowly making his way down the unlit alleyway.

  “Now, I’m going to ask questions and you’re going to give me the answers. What did you leave inside the Book & Bean?”

  “Just casing the joint. That’s all.”

  The knife put more pressure on the skin and deepened the small cut even further. Blood streamed from the cut. Jankovic’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard, fear gripping his entire body.

  “I’ll give you a one more chance, but don’t treat me like I’m stupid. You know and I know what this is all about. Now, I’ll ask you once more: what did you leave inside the book store?”

  “Explosive device.”

  “With a timer?”

  “Set for tomorrow morning at eight-thirty. The timing makes certain that the targets will be inside.”

  “Where in the store did you leave it?”

  With a knife at his throat, not surprisingly, Jankovic unburdened his soul, telling Trevor everything he needed to know.

  By the time the car passed the city limits sign, Trevor commanded, “Pull over.”

  “What…what do you intend to do?”

  “Sorry old pal, but it looks like I win this portion of the game. Round Two goes to me.” With that, Trevor neatly slit the man’s throat.

  Ten minutes later, he dumped Jankovic’s body in an isolated cove in the water. With a little luck, by the time anyone discovered him, his body would be too decomposed to render many clues. Whether or not they found it floating in two days or ten, it didn’t matter much to him.

  Trevor crawled behind the wheel of Jankovic’s Chrysler and double-backed to the marina, pulling up in the parking lot near the boats. He cut the engine, retrieved the guy’s cell phone from the floorboard. He pulled the keys out of the ignition, leaving them under the driver’s side floor mat.

  There were no security cameras here. He had already checked. It was the best place to leave the car because he could walk back to the Book & Bean from the harbor. And hopefully, the rental car company wouldn’t take a week to pick up the car.

  As he walked back to the Book & Bean through town, he used Jankovic’s cell phone to dial the number of the rental car company he’d found on the rental agreement in the glove box. Even the lateness of the hour would work into his cover story.

  When he got the leave-a-message-at-the-tone prompt, he spoke into the recorder, “This is Uri Jankovic.” He rattled off the account information from the rental agreement needed before he continued with the message. “I’ve had a change in plans. My buddy and I are planning a fishing trip for a few days and as it turns out I won’t need the Chrysler 300 after all. I’d like you to pick up the rental car Tuesday morning. It’s in the parking lot at the marina in San Madrid. You can’t miss it. The keys are in the car under the mat. Whatever charges there are, just keep them on the same credit card I gave you at pick-up. Thanks.”

  By the time he got back to the Book & Bean it was four-fifteen. He had to move his ass and get out of there before Griffin and Boston showed up.

  He went in through the back door just as Jankovic had. His footsteps on the ancient hardwood floor creaked as he strode past the counter into the book store portion of the place, past the rows of bookshelves and made his way into the coffee shop.

  He hurriedly walked behind the long, scarred oak counter and ran his hands between the commercial refrigerator and the gap along the wood. Bingo. He bent down and spotted the device exactly where the bumbling oaf had said he’d left the explosives. He slipped the entire mechanism into his backpack. Turning to go, he came to a sudden stop in mid-stride, as the painting on the wall caught his attention.

  Just as it had the first time he’d laid eyes on it several weeks earlier, he was once again awestruck by how much the subject resembled his late wife. Kit had called it Woman Rising. Painted by the renowned artist Ella Canyon, the image of the semi-nude woman, draped only in a sheer white gown, had long flowing golden hair and stood in a greenish pool of water that seemed to show her rising out of the mist.

  Now, as he stood there staring like a schoolboy, moonlight cast the woman in shadows and eerie shapes. His heart felt like it wanted to beat a double time out of his chest. He couldn’t deny feeling a connection. In the blink of an eye, he made up his mind. He remembered Kit had dragged a stepladder from a storage closet to the left of the back door. He headed that way.

  On the drive back to L.A., he couldn’t help feeling a bit giddy. It had been an interesting night. He wondered what the stooges would come up with next. The ball was in their court. He wasn’t sure how long it would take before they noticed Jankovic missing. And it was time to take care of Frank Geller. As he drove back to L.A., he began to devise a plan.

  CHAPTER 15

  At five o’clock the next morning, Kit quietly got up to do her usual baking for the day. Even with guests still sleeping, she made her way downstairs walking on air at her new surroundings. But as much as she wanted to stay cocooned inside the walls of Crandall House, she still had a business to run. And just because she’d enjoyed a nice couple of days off, she knew the morning rush after a three-day weekend would be both hectic and welcome.

  The minute she sauntered into her spacious state-of-the-art kitchen, she felt like she’d hit the mother lode. For four years, she’d baked every day using the cramped kitchen in the small bungalow she re
nted from Gloria. As she turned the dial to pre-heat both of the commercial double ovens, she imagined all the delicious things she could bake every morning and with twice the room it would make for twice the inventory. She could try out new recipes and bake them twice as efficiently as she could have in her old kitchen.

  Her thoughts drifted to last night and how they’d spent their first night in their new house, surrounded by all their friends. She couldn’t have been happier. In fact, she was so happy she almost couldn’t stand it. Almost.

  By the time Gloria joined her in the kitchen at five-forty-five, Kit had her first batch of orange-cranberry scones and cinnamon buns out of the oven and on the counter cooling. Like a pro, she had a second batch waiting to go into the ovens and went to work filling the molds with more batter. Aromatic smells from the pastry began filling the room and the rest of the house.

  “Smells wonderful in here.” Gloria commented, right before she drifted over to the coffeemaker, still trying to wake up.

  “Hey, Mom, how’d you sleep?”

  The endearment caught Gloria off guard and caused her to bobble the decanter she held in her fist. She turned completely around to stare at her daughter. “Oh, Kit. Honey, that’s the first time you’ve said…the word. It’s so…”

  “I figure the mother of two grown kids oughta get used to hearing it more often. It’s starting to roll off the tongue a lot easier now. Mom.”

  Gloria came over for a hug, dabbing at her eyes. “I’ll never get tired of hearing it. You just keep calling me mom and it will make me the happiest person on earth. Now if Jake can just find Ben, I’ll be all set.”

  Overhead, Kit heard footsteps on the ceiling. The creaky flooring of the hundred-and-twenty-year-old house revealed others were beginning to stir.

  And when Baylee came through the door two seconds later carrying a bright-eyed baby on her hip, Kit left her batter long enough to pluck Sarah out of her mother’s arms, telling her, “There’s coffee. You look like you could use a cup. There’s also bagels and cream cheese, plenty of cinnamon rolls and scones. Help yourself.”

  “She slept through the night again,” Baylee announced through bleary eyes, pleased as punch that her daughter hadn’t woken everyone in the middle of the night. “It’s about a fifty-fifty shot. But the simple truth is she’s been sleeping through the night a lot more often.” Baylee grabbed a cup from the cabinet.

  “That’s a good girl, a big girl,” Kit praised, playfully tweaking the baby’s nose. Sarah giggled and contributed to the conversation by stringing together a bunch of babble, taking Kit’s face between both of her chubby fists and pushing them together. When Gloria saw Kit holding the baby, willing to help with breakfast, she went to the counter where Kit had left off with the batter and began pouring it into molds to bake.

  Baylee yawned and stretched. “She has a doctor’s appointment this morning. We’ll have to take off soon to make it there in what will probably be gridlock traffic.”

  When the oven timer dinged, Kit relinquished the baby to Gloria, who was already holding out her hands to take Sarah. Kit opened the oven door and took out another batch of scones, this time blueberry. “I have to get moving too. The time’s gotten away from me. After being closed yesterday, I’ll have a line out the door.”

  Jake walked in at that moment, rolling up the sleeves of his button-down Oxford dress shirt. “She always has a line out the door.” He gave Kit a quick kiss before sniffing the air. “Are those scones?” He picked up one that had cooled and immediately broke off a big chunk, stuffed it into his mouth. “This is why I’ve gained five pounds. I need coffee.”

  Turning to Jake, Kit chimed in, “If you’ve gained five pounds, it’s because you’ve parked yourself on your butt all day playing guard dog. I’ll be ready to head out in about ten minutes.” She grinned just before she gave him a mouthy kiss back.

  To Baylee and Gloria, she explained, “Even if he is five pounds heavier, I have my own personal security detail right here. And you wouldn’t believe all the cool perks.” She wiggled her eyebrows up and down before adding, “I’m so glad we all got together yesterday. It was like old times, but not. Better.”

  Baylee agreed, “Thanks for a lovely day. I had a blast. And I love your house. Does this mean you’ll be moving out of Gloria’s house soon? Did Gloria mention I have dibs on that, by the way? I’ve decided to rent your house from Gloria.”

  “You have? You’ll be living here in San Madrid? That’s wonderful, we’ll be neighbors.” But all of a sudden she looked thoughtful. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “I can’t explain it, but I just feel like those Boyds are up to something. I just know it. You be careful. Don’t let your guard down for a second.”

  “Dylan sees to that. You should see him looking around to see if we’re being followed like one of those TV characters on one of those cop shows.”

  “That sounds like the way Jake is now.”

  Kit turned around to start bagging the inventory of baked goods into food containers for transport to the store and saw a sleepy-eyed Dylan standing in the doorway looking a bit perturbed. “Hey, Dylan, we were just talking about you.”

  He headed for the coffee pot. “So I heard. I’m a regular Magnum PI.”

  Baylee laughed at his cranky mood. Then right in front of everyone in the kitchen, including her baby daughter, she walked over, tiptoed up to his chin, and gave him a quick kiss on his troubled mouth. “And we just love that about you.”

  Her bold demeanor had his lips curving. “As I remember it, that Magnum guy always did get the women.”

  As soon as Jake got to the back door of the Book & Bean, he knew someone had been inside. The jimmied lock was a dead giveaway. When Kit started to rush inside, he grabbed her arm. “Wait a damn minute. Let me check the place out first.” He didn’t have a clue what he might find inside, but he wanted Kit to stay out here while he did.

  “No way. We go in together or not at all. Do you think Collin did that? Or am I just being paranoid?”

  Jake had no idea. It might have been nothing more than a couple of kids breaking in over the Memorial weekend just for kicks. But he wasn’t taking any chances, not when Collin was out there somewhere lurking, waiting. “I suppose asking you nicely to wait out here isn’t going to fly.” When he saw the stubborn lock of her jaw, he got his answer. He decided it was too early in the morning to argue. Cautiously, they both made their way inside. “The least you could do is stay behind me. Got it?”

  “Yes, I’ve got it,” she said, looking around anxiously.

  “It’s a good thing we’re both morning people, because right now you are really irritating.”

  “Right back at you.”

  Nothing seemed out of place in the bookstore, so they proceeded into the coffee shop. Jake wasn’t surprised when he saw two customers he recognized as regulars standing patiently outside on the sidewalk waiting for Kit to open the doors. Nothing unusual about that. But at the moment he had other things on his mind than opening the damned shop. One slip up and Collin could be waiting to pounce. Jake wasn’t about to be taken by surprise again.

  Nothing looked out of place, as if the store had been robbed.

  “What the hell? Look at that. Woman Rising is gone. Why would anyone steal a painting?”

  Jake glanced up. Sure enough, the wall looked naked without the thirty-by-thirty-six canvas. “Didn’t you say a couple of weeks back you had a customer come in interested in buying it?”

  “Looks like he came back,” Kit said, as she walked over to the counter, spotted a stack of bills on top of a note.

  Jake picked up the money, started counting the wad of cash. “Two-thousand bucks. Looks like you made a sale and didn’t even know it.”

  Kit turned the note around without actually picking it up. Printed in block letters it read: Sorry about the lock but at least the place didn’t explode. Check your e-mail—again.

  “Explode? What does that mean? Should we call the police?”

&nbs
p; “I think I get it now. But I’ll know for sure after I check my e-mail.”

  Kit gave him a curious look. “What are you talking about? Does this e-mail have anything to do with what you refused to talk to me about on Saturday?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, but it’s time I read this e-mail. And Jake, because I love you, you don’t get any more free passes.”

  “I should have known,” he told her later after he’d had a chance to read his e-mail. The latest, also sent anonymously, had arrived at five-fifty-six a.m. that morning and claimed that a hit man named Uri Jankovic, hired by the Boyds, had planted an explosive device timed to blow up the Book & Bean with them inside at eight-thirty that morning. “This same guy has to be the one who sent me that bogus e-mail about Connor. I almost fell for it.”

  “Wait. What makes you think he isn’t on the level?” Kit countered.

  “Then again he could be a sick bastard harboring a forty-year-old grudge. He’s probably just messing with us.”

  “Why claim to save us, unless…”

  “Unless what?”

  Kit looked pensive, then preoccupied. After several long seconds, she tapped the computer screen and declared, “He’s the one who rescued me. That night at the warehouse.”

  There was a certainty in her voice that sent the hairs on the back of Jake’s neck standing at full attention. This was beginning to sound similar to the conversation he’d had last night with Dylan about Baylee’s mother. No wonder Reese had been adamant about keeping it real.

  “Kit, that’s a helluva leap.” But even as he questioned it, even as the words slipped past his lips, he somehow knew her conclusion made sense.

  “No, he’s the one who took the painting and the one who rescued me. It’s the same guy. I know what he looks like.”

  Jake didn’t like the sound of that. A man who’d killed as many people as this guy had would never leave anyone around to ID him later.