Deeper Evil (The Evil Secrets Trilogy Book 2)

by Vickie McKeehan

  But Kit shook her head. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “No, you’re thinking I’m in danger now that I know what he looks like. But he rescued me from Collin. There must be a way to prove it.” She started to pace, to think. “Can you send a reply to the e-mail?”

  “I’ve tried, but it bounces back every time. I’ve tried tracing the source, but the source is blocked.” At that very moment, Jake’s e-mail account dinged, signaling another e-mail in his inbox. They stared at each other for two seconds before Jake glanced at the sender. He sat up straighter in the chair when he saw that, it too, read Anonymous. The subject line read simply, Hello. Jake double-clicked the subject line and read:

  Look in the commercial fridge. No, don’t be scared. It’s okay. Just look inside.

  Jake checked his watch since the e-mail had suggested what was supposed to happen if Jankovic had his way at eight-thirty a.m. It was now seven-ten. He looked over at the woman he loved and made his decision. “You need to get out of here. Now. Go down the block as far away as you can and wait for me there.”

  “Are you nuts? You think I don’t know what you’re planning to do? I’m not leaving you alone in here.”

  “You’re the one that’s nuts, you know that. We could both be toast.”

  “For the second time, I might add. I’m not leaving. I think it’ll be okay.”

  “If that’s intuition talking, I hope to hell you’re as right as you’ve been so far.”

  “It’ll be okay. Let’s do it.”

  And they did.

  They ventured over to check the fridge out together, throwing open the door together. They both spotted it at the same time. A gold cowboy the size of a toy soldier stood prominently on top of a squatty carton of organic half-and-half.

  CHAPTER 16

  At the doctor’s office, Baylee and Dylan stood next to the examining table like two anxious parents, watching with eagle-eyed interest as gray-haired Dr. Newman, the pediatrician, stretched Sarah out to measure her from head to foot. He measured the circumference of her head, then her chest. When he was finished, he made some notes in her chart, comparing her height to the weight the nurse had written down earlier. “I see she’s gained almost two pounds. That’s good, looks like she’s topping the scales now at fourteen pounds,” Dr. Newman reported to an elated Dylan.

  “She’s got a good appetite,” Dylan commented. “How tall is she?”

  “Looks like twenty-five inches, which makes her fall into the seventy-fifth percentile range.” Over his glasses he looked at Dylan, anticipating his next question. “That’s normal,” Dr. Newman added before Dylan could ask. “Is she sleeping through the night?”

  “It’s about fifty-fifty,” Dylan answered eagerly. “Last night she did, but she was worn out from the picnic.”

  “Introducing a little baby cereal might help her sleep longer. She’s breastfed, right?” The doctor didn’t wait for a response. Instead he began thumbing through Sarah’s chart until he found what he was looking for. “Try mixing the cereal with a little breast milk; make it watery at first and then gradually increase the consistency. The cereal will provide her with the iron she needs too. Wouldn’t hurt her to get a little vitamin D with the cereal.” Dr. Newman made more notes in the baby’s chart and took out his stethoscope, listening to her heart before moving around to her back. “Lungs are clear. She’s sitting up, I take it.”

  Once again, the answer came from Dylan. “She sure is. And she rolls over too.”

  Baylee thought it sounded as if he were talking about a dog. But he looked so thrilled to be here, so excited to participate in this visit, she didn’t have the heart to dampen his spirits with criticism. Instead, she enjoyed watching his reactions to everything that came out of the doctor’s mouth as if hanging on to the doctor’s every word Dylan could pick up some new and interesting tidbit about Sarah’s development.

  After feeling around Sarah’s head, Dr. Newman said with certainty, “Soft spot in the back is closed up. The one on top’s gotten smaller. That’s good.” He stuck a tongue depressor in her mouth. After looking around inside, he announced, “Two teeth. That’s a good start. Is she reaching for things?”

  “All the time,” Dylan snapped out before Baylee had a chance to say a word.

  “I see here it’s time for her six month round of shots.”

  Dylan’s face blanched. “A shot? She has to have a shot?” He looked accusingly at Baylee and grumbled, “You didn’t say anything about her having to get a shot.” He turned to Dr. Newman, pleading his case. “She’s just a little baby. She isn’t even sick. Why does she have to have a shot?” Without any more thought, Dylan promptly reached down and snatched Sarah up off the exam table in a purely protective gesture.

  Baylee listened while Dr. Newman ticked off a list of diseases a mile long which the shot protected against and the importance of keeping Sarah from getting any of them.

  When Dr. Newman left the room, Dylan grunted, “I don’t like this.”

  “Frankly, I don’t either. I think we should make a run for it.”

  Dylan’s eyes narrowed. “You’re making jokes? This is serious. They’re about to stick this baby with a needle and you’re making jokes. I don’t believe how calm you are about this.”

  “Dylan. The first time she got her shot, I was right there with you. I researched the vaccines over the Internet and was so scared she’d have a seizure or some serious reaction that I almost didn’t go through with it. And seeing that needle go in to her little leg when she was just two months old hurt me almost as much as it did her. Immunization shots are part of being a parent. What if she was exposed to influenza or hepatitis?”

  “Seizures?” Dylan’s face went white at the knowledge. “God, there’s a lot to this. What did you do?”

  “Sat up with her that night; gave her baby Tylenol, tried to make her more comfortable, and watched her like a hawk to make sure her fever didn’t go too high and that she breathed normally. I’ll tell you right now she’ll likely run a fever tonight and be fussy.”

  “Well, that just isn’t right.”

  “I agree. But the alternative is to put her at risk for all those diseases Dr. Newman mentioned. Do you want her to get sick?”

  “Of course not.” But he didn’t want to see that needle go into her leg either. He didn’t even want to consider the idea of seizures. “Let’s think about this. Let me run out to the car, get my laptop, do a little more research on these vaccines, make sure they’re safe before they stick her with that needle.”

  When the door opened and a middle-aged nurse walked in carrying a tray with a needle along with some oral medication, Dylan visibly winced and handed the baby to Baylee. “If you’re set on going through with this, I can’t watch.”

  “What do we have here, a nervous daddy?” the nurse scoffed, as she approached the baby, trying to get her to open her mouth so she could pour in some vile, red-looking stuff. Dylan glanced at the needle on the tray and made up his mind. While the nurse kept trying to get Sarah to open her mouth, he gathered up the diaper bag and infant carrier and stormed out of the room.

  Later, when they got down to the first floor, Dylan steered them around the corner. Surprised at the direction he’d taken, Baylee wanted to know, “Where are we going?”

  “There’s a lab right around the corner of the building. If Sarah can suffer getting jabbed with a needle, so can I.” And with that they walked into the lab to get the blood test he had promised.

  While they waited in the reception area for Dylan to get his blood drawn, Baylee’s cell phone rang. She glanced cautiously at caller ID. Relieved to see the call came from her father’s number, she pushed the button. It was Tanya.

  “Baylee. Hi. I thought you might want to know your dad is having an awfully bad day. He’s been asking for you.” And that was putting it mildly, she thought. The man had been ranting and raving since five that morning, mumbling something about
Sarah. Tanya couldn’t tell if he were talking about his ex-wife or his granddaughter.

  “I can be there in thirty minutes. How bad is he?”

  “Out of his head mostly. Talking crazy if you ask me.”

  They talked a few more minutes, Tanya assuring her that he would be fine until she got there. When Dylan came out of the back with a Band-Aid taped to his arm, she ended the call.

  “How’d it go?”

  “No problem.” He reached to pick up Sarah. “How’s Gidget here doing?”

  “She’s fine. Just so you know, I put off giving her the second round of shots until you felt more comfortable with the idea.”

  Unbelievably touched, he turned to stare at her. There was nothing she could have done that said she respected his opinion more, even if he had acted a little over the top.

  “I might have overreacted.”

  “You think?”

  “I’m new at this, okay. Be patient with me.”

  “I’m trying. After you’ve done your research, after you’ve weighed the benefits versus all the risks, we’ll have time to make an appointment, bring her in next week to the doctor’s office and get the boosters she needs.”

  “You don’t think I’m out of line?”

  “I think you’re concerned. Getting babies immunized against a lot of nasty diseases is necessary and beneficial, but it’s also a serious decision to make. And you’re entitled to own that concern, know the risks. I think after your research, you’ll come to the same conclusion I did that she should get the shots. But I want you to have that opportunity to judge for yourself.”

  “Baylee, I think that’s the nicest way anyone’s ever shown how much they value my opinion, especially something this serious. I’ll get online when we get back and find out everything I can. When she got the first shots, did she get sick?”

  “That night she ran a fever, it stayed around one-hundred degrees. She was a little lethargic and her leg swelled up some, stayed that way for about twenty-four hours. But the day after that the fever subsided and she seemed fine.”

  “I just don’t want to do anything that hurts her or makes her sick.”

  Baylee smiled. “I know. And that is one of the nicest things you could do for me.”

  He threw his arm around her shoulders in a companionable way. “Who was on the phone?”

  “Dad’s having a bad day. I think we should drop by while we’re out.”

  “Good idea. Let’s get out of this place.”

  William Scott was indeed having a bad day. As soon as he spotted Baylee standing at the foot of his bed, his rambling escalated, and the man’s words inexplicably became meaner. “Who asked you to come? Why won’t you leave me in peace? You always make me feel bad, guilty. I didn’t do a damn thing. Why is it every time I look at you I feel guilty for all those things I did wrong? I can’t help what I did. I can’t change what I did. I can’t go back and make it right. Do you hear? I can’t do it.”

  “Daddy, it’s okay. Stop. Hush.” Baylee thought he was talking about all the times he’d hit her, but then his comments grew nastier.

  “Don’t tell me what to do, Baylee Diane. You’re just like your mother, just like Sarah. Sarah tried to tell me what to do. But she couldn’t control me. I did what I wanted, marriage or not. Do you hear me? She couldn’t stop me and you can’t either.”

  Strangely, big tears formed in his eyes, he started to cry. “I didn’t listen. I made a mistake, that’s all. I can’t change it, can’t go back and make it right. It’s too late, been too late for over twenty years.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  But as quickly as the tears formed, he turned nasty again. “Don’t question me. You’ve no right to question me. Just leave me alone, why don’t you? I don’t want to talk about it. It’s over, done with; there’s nothing I can do to bring your mother back. I made a mistake, that’s all. I didn’t know it would end like it did. How could I have known? But it’s over. I can’t go back and change the past. Leave me alone, do you hear? Leave me in peace.” William put his hands to his head to cover his ears. “I can’t take the voices. Leave me in peace.”

  Baylee tried in vain to get his hands down. “Daddy, what happened to my mother? Tell me. Did she leave on her own? She left, didn’t she? Please tell me where she went.”

  William screamed, “Stop it. Get out of here. No one asked you to come here.” He looked accusingly over at Tanya. “She called you. I didn’t ask you to come here.”

  Baylee felt angry and confused. But she did as he asked and left the room, shaken.

  Outside in the hallway, Dylan stood holding Sarah. He’d been standing at the doorway listening to William’s tirade.

  “Did you hear that? Did you hear him talk to me like that?”

  “He’s sick, Baylee. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.” But Dylan thought it sounded like a man haunted by his own guilt.

  She shook her head. “I don’t understand why he’s so mean. Why does he have to be that way? He’s dying, Dylan, and I can’t do anything to stop it. There may not be time for me to get the answers I want. But I think he’s definitely acting responsible about something.”

  Dylan did his best to comfort her, to try and make her feel better about her father’s odd behavior. It wasn’t everyday your dying father made you feel small. But then again, Baylee seemed almost used to his caustic manner. In the back of his mind, Dylan thought William Scott acted like a very troubled man who needed to get a giant weight off his chest—the sooner the better.

  Around the corner from William Scott’s house, Cade sat in his Corvette relaying the information from his cell phone to Connor. “We hit pay dirt. She’s here with the guy. Looks like they’ve got a baby, too.”

  So it was true. Baylee was a mother. The man he’d spoken to on the phone hadn’t been lying about waking up the baby. “Boy or girl? How old?”

  “I don’t know a fucking thing about kids, much less a baby; the thing’s little, that’s all I know. The guy was carrying it around in one of those baby things, those carriers, so I couldn’t see it very well.”

  “Did you get his license plate number?”

  “I’m not stupid, Connor. Of course I did.” He rattled off the plate number on Dylan’s Mercedes G500 while Connor wrote it down.

  “I’ll get my buddy at the DMV to run the plate. What’s the guy look like?”

  Cade described Dylan to a tee.

  “Good job, Cade.”

  “What’s this about you moving into Kit’s old house?” Dylan asked, as he stood at the sink in the kitchen and poured spaghetti into a colander to drain while Baylee stood a few feet away at the stove stirring the homemade marinara sauce she’d thrown together.

  “I need to start thinking about the future, my future, and Sarah’s, start putting down roots. Kit’s house is that first step. I need to get my jewelry design business back on track, so I can bring in a stable income. I’ve decided to take advantage of this downtime to launch a website so I can sell my jewelry online.”

  “You have a jewelry business?”

  “See, it’s invisible. Since I left L.A. it doesn’t exist any place but in my head. Yes, I design jewelry. I do have a degree in art, and I decided about four years ago to turn my love of art into creating wearable jewelry.”

  “Sounds reasonable. Got any samples?”

  “A few. I’ve almost exhausted my inventory, though.” She went into a detailed account of how she’d had a successful booth at the local flea market, selling her jewelry there on the weekends up until the time she’d left. But over the past six months, she hadn’t designed one new piece.

  “But that’s going to change,” she promised emphatically, and realized for the first time in a long time, she actually meant it.

  After dinner, while Baylee got Sarah ready for bed, Dylan booted up his laptop, instantly digging up info about childhood immunizations. There were sites that touted the benefits, as well as sites that warned about the risks. An
d the risks were plentiful. There were sites that linked the vaccines to autism, seizures, abnormal breathing, high fevers; the list to Dylan seemed endless and scary.

  But there were also plenty of websites that linked autism to the chemicals and toxins in the environment. It was a tough call to make, and a serious one. In the end, as Dylan sat there bombarded by both sides of the issue, his thoughts went to Baylee and how incredible it was that she had done her research, without a support system, and come to the best decision for her daughter, alone.

  She’d had no one to lean on, no one to discuss the matter with in a partnership sort of way.

  That fact moved something inside Dylan. The woman was incredible. There was no other word to describe her. He thought of what a difficult job she had as a single mom and didn’t envy the responsibility, the weight of it all. He came from a pretty ordinary middle-class family from the Bay area. But it had been a two-parent proposition. He’d never once over the years realized how lucky he had been to have both of his parents around—until now.

  As he sat there contemplating his own youth, he decided to check his e-mail. As soon as he accessed his account, one e-mail with the subject line Baylee, immediately got his attention. Double-clicking it, he read:

  Boyd knows where you live. He wants Baylee dead. Be careful.

  The e-mail had Dylan grabbing his cell phone and dialing Jake. As soon as Jake picked up, he told him about the e-mail and then said, “If this guy’s legit, I have to take Baylee and Sarah and hit the road, get the hell out of here. I’ve changed my mind about her staying put. I think she needs to get out of L.A. for good.”

  Jake realized he couldn’t stop the train of thought. But he muddied the picture when he told Dylan the equally bizarre account of what had happened that morning at the Book & Bean and the fact that their mystery man had e-mailed him as well. Much like Dylan, he felt like he needed to get Kit away from L.A. for good, but would she go?