Baylee grinned. “Looks like you did an excellent job. She’s gotta be hungry by now.”
“Probably. But she’s been a doll since we got up.”
“I need coffee. Want me to bring you a cup when I come back up?”
“I’d love a cup.”
“Breakfast in twenty minutes,” she said as she turned to go and head downstairs, her heart feeling lighter than it had in months.
As she rounded the door in the kitchen, Baylee smelled freshly-brewed coffee and knew Kit was already there whipping up something tasty for breakfast. When Baylee walked in, sure enough, Kit stood at the counter, stirring batter in a bowl. She stopped long enough to look up at Baylee. “Well, don’t you look…rested.” She wiggled her eyebrows up and down.
“What we did didn’t exactly resemble rest,” Baylee confided, as she took down a cup from the cupboard and walked to the coffeemaker. “You do get up early, don’t you? Couldn’t you at least sleep in today, let me take care of breakfast, while you take care of Jake?”
“Habit. And just so you know, I took care of him…twice. I took the initiative and threw together some pancake batter.”
“By all means, your pancake batter is legendary. Believe me, Dylan will appreciate it. Where’s Jake?”
“On the phone to Ireland again. He’s relentless in trying to find Ben.”
When Baylee turned around from the coffeemaker, Kit was grinning at her. Baylee went over and promptly wrapped her arms around her waist.
Kit reciprocated, leaning her head down on the top of Baylee’s head. “It’s about time you had sex. Just be careful. Don’t get in over your head.”
“Okay, Mom. I promise I’ll be careful.”
“Don’t look at me like that. You know what I mean. That man’s a player, Baylee. But God, he is a hunk. Besides, I wanted to talk to you. Alone. Without the guys. We didn’t get much of a chance to hash out my…”
“Vision?”
“No. Yes. I need to explain a few things. First, it was different somehow when the people I saw Alana and Jessica murder were…strangers. I had never met the Parkers. That didn’t come out right. But you know what I mean. I care that the Parkers were murdered, of course. But…well, this is after all, your mother I saw…pushed down the stairs…killed…murdered. Somehow, this seems more personal, even though I didn’t know her I’ve seen pictures you’ve shown me from the time you were very small. These images in my head are—disturbing. The Parker murders haunted me for weeks, still do, but now…”
“You see my mother dead and it wasn’t an accident. Alana and Jessica were involved. What no one’s talking about, what you didn’t mention, what none of us mentioned last night is why my father didn’t do anything about it? I thought about this. He had to play some role in it. It’s the only thing that explains why he ignores those women murdering his wife and doesn’t bother reporting it to the police. But then he takes it a step further and makes up a story to cover for them.”
“Maybe he didn’t know right away.”
“Oh, come on, Kit. You don’t really believe that do you? Even though in my dream or memory or whatever the hell it is, I didn’t see him when it happened. Do you really believe those two women didn’t gloat at some point, didn’t brag about what they’d done? Do you think for a minute they kept their secret from him? I don’t believe that and neither do you.”
“No. But I had to give it a shot. He might have found out after the fact. How long, I’m not sure.” Kit frowned. “Maybe I’ll work on that angle, see what I can…you know, see.”
Baylee tilted her head to study Kit’s face. “That is so weird, the way you do that I mean. Last night you went dead pale when it… Does it just pop into your head like that or what?”
“I think there has to be some motivation to go back into the past and see, back in time to view what happened. Alana’s murder triggered the Parker dream. Once that surfaced it sort of opened a door. And I guess talking about your mother prompted this particular door to pop open.” Kit shrugged. “Hey, I can’t explain it any better than that.”
Baylee heard footsteps overhead. “Do you know he let me sleep in this morning while he got up with Sarah?”
Kit smiled. “Not only a hottie but thoughtful.”
“He is.” And wasn’t that a surprise. “You guys going back today?”
“Got to,” she said, grinning. “I left the shop in Gloria’s care. She says everything’s running smoothly, but the truth is, I have a business to run. I won’t let the Boyds ruin something I’ve put my life savings into.”
“Just be careful, Kit. Collin is too much like Connor. And they’re both like their mother.”
“Insane,” Kit agreed as she poured another cup of coffee.
By the time Dylan walked into the kitchen with the baby on his hip, Sarah was ready for her own breakfast. He took a long look at Baylee standing at the stove pouring pancake batter onto a griddle. He could get used to this. That brought him up short. When had he come to feel like that?
She turned and saw Dylan holding Sarah. Her breath backed up. He looked so natural with her, the resemblance between the two uncanny. Their same coloring made them look like father and daughter. Caught off guard by those thoughts, she simply waved Dylan into a chair until she could find her voice. Knowing his love for food, she finally squeaked out, “How many pancakes for starters?”
“Forget about me. I’ve got a hungry baby here. She’s getting fussy, wants her momma.”
Kit stepped to the stove to take over as Baylee took Sarah out of Dylan’s arms. She immediately went to the kitchen table and sat down.
As Sarah began to nurse, Baylee’s eyes drifted to Dylan’s. Their eyes locked, held.
Dylan’s mouth went dry. He forgot about everything else and saw only Baylee, the way the sun filtered through the kitchen window and fell on her golden hair.
Baylee saw him swallow, saw him move toward her, and felt him plant a gentle kiss on her forehead before moving to cover her mouth.
Dylan heard Kit clear her throat, heard the clang of a plate on the table. In spite of the distraction, he found it difficult to pull his eyes away from Baylee and the baby. When had they both snuck into his heart like this and taken over? Had he ever felt this kind of punch to the gut? Certainly not that he could remember. Understanding came slowly, like measuring the fierceness of an initial wave, before bracing for it to bash your head and take you under.
He heard Kit saying something.
“Go ahead and eat, Dylan, while they’re hot. I’ll go remind Jake that he wanted to leave this morning. He’s probably forgotten all about the time.”
But she might as well have been talking to herself for all the good it did. Kit left the kitchen wondering if that talk she’d had with Baylee might have come just a little too late. It looked as though her friend had already gone down for the third time.
CHAPTER 20
On his fourth day back at work in his Beverly Hills fifteenth-story corner office, Frank Geller sat at his desk trying to catch up on his month-old messages. Despite the early hour, despite the pot of coffee he’d already had, his mind was not on the job. At sixty-seven, Frank was more than ready to move on to retirement. He was tired of the daily grind, weary of the constant arguments with his law partners. Jessica and Sumner might have been dead, but they lived on in their three callous, cold sons.
Disgusted with his heavy caseload, litigations that had been stalling even before he’d taken time off, he wanted nothing more these days than to have some free time to spend with his new thirty-year-old bride, the woman who made him feel twenty years younger.
He wanted that simple life he’d been promised back in 1969. The life they’d lied and cheated and killed to get. The life he believed he would have had when he went along with what his two sisters, Jessica and Eva, and his brother-in-law had so meticulously planned out. And no one could forget the role Alana played in the whole thing. It had been a stroke of genius how she’d manipulated that poor
sap, Forrester, into unwittingly providing those all-important documents they’d needed during the Parker’s lawsuit. Who could have predicted McKetrick would have agreed to fork over fifteen million to those cattle-raising hicks?
Lady Luck had been on their side and continued to be when the Parker’s son, Noah, went missing in Vietnam. That had been opportunity. And a Geller never let opportunity knock without answering.
They’d plotted and planned and stolen until even more millions had fallen into their laps. If those plans happened to include murdering said hicks, so be it. He’d been in on the strategy, the calculation, had even contributed his share to how it would all go down.
But he hadn’t murdered anyone. At least, not that night.
The old couple had been distraught over their missing son in Vietnam, probably wouldn’t have lived much longer anyway. They were old, at death’s door. They’d have been dead inside of a year, Frank reasoned now.
The couple’s trust fund had certainly provided all of them with a nice tidy life. You couldn’t deny luck like that, or how all the stars had lined up, how everything had so neatly fallen into place. When it was meant to be, it was meant to be.
Certainly, none of them could have predicted the firm’s overnight success from that moment forward over winning one little lawsuit. If it had brought fame and fortune to their door, they had gleefully reaped the rewards. When opportunity knocked, you certainly didn’t tell it to go away.
Of course, along with all that fame and fortune, along with all that money, had come a heavier caseload, a lot of pressure, a great deal of stress. It had not been easy dealing with his overbearing sisters, Jessica and Eva, and Sumner, his controlling brother-in-law, on a daily basis. Every one of them could be pains in the ass and that was on a good day.
But that was in the past.
Frank had no doubt the firm was about to take a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn, a new direction under the leadership of his three brash nephews, Connor, Cade, and Collin. He winced at the thought of his sons, Garrett, Scott, and Taylor having to deal with those three on a daily basis. The very thought made him break out in a cold sweat.
The Boyd sons were too hot-tempered and unpredictable to lead. Not to mention, they lacked that essential innate drive and ambition you couldn’t teach, something that came from knowing lean, hungry years. Neither Connor nor Cade nor Collin knew anything about lean years. Their parents had seen to that. Now, they’d inherited the firm. With Sumner and Jessica no longer around to reel them in every now and again, there was no telling how far off the deep end they’d dive.
But it was no longer his problem. It was time to escape. No question, he deserved that simple life he’d been promised so very long ago.
As he shook himself back to the present, he was glad he’d taken his nephews’ warning to heart. Frank wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t taking any unnecessary chances. He’d hired two of the best rent-a-cops he could get to watch his back, accompany him to and from work, stand guard at the door, make sure he was never alone. Even now as he sat here trying to get into the groove of work, he felt fairly safe.
It wasn’t even seven-thirty yet. Trevor’s plan couldn’t have been simpler in its approach. If it all went the way he thought, there would be that certain element of surprise that always gave him that extra boost of adrenaline. The bodyguards Frank had hired weren’t the brightest. They weren’t in shape. They weren’t even real bodyguards but rather glorified security guards used to walking around a parking lot marking tires. And that, of course, was a plus on his side.
But a true professional never took anything for granted or left anything to chance.
On cue, Trevor pushed the button on the recorder he held in his hand.
He watched from one of the vacant offices as the two-way radio strapped to the heaviest of the rent-a-cops crackled to life. The muddled voice, the garbled language, came out as something intelligible.
“Come back. I didn’t copy that.”
Again the distorted message filled the air. The message that wasn’t meant for anyone to decipher, broke the silence. Suddenly, the rent-a-cop abandoned protocol and said simply, “Hey, Mike, is that you? I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”
Clearer, but breaking up every third or fourth word or so, Trevor pushed the recorder again. This time the message coming over the two-way radio hinted at a disturbance on the fourteenth floor. “…Cory…got…trouble…floor fourteen…breaking glass… Cory… need…help…intruder… Cory…need…assistance…do you …copy? We’ve…got…trouble…need assistance.”
Cory, who had been on the job for less than six months, never thought for a moment the call was fake. Trevor watched as Cory deserted his post outside Frank’s office to go help out his buddy Mike.
Trevor grinned. Another plus in his favor. Well-intentioned, Cory had left poor Mr. Geller clearly unguarded.
A few minutes later, Trevor opened the door to Frank’s office and stepped inside. Talk about feeling secure, the man never even so much as glanced up from the papers until Trevor walked up to the man’s desk.
“Such a twit, did you really think they’d be able to keep me away?” He saw the shock register on Frank’s face.
That boost kicked in.
Frank’s eyes locked on Trevor’s and froze. Automatically he reached for the phone.
Trevor placed a gloved hand over Frank’s to still the motion. “I’m afraid it’s too late to phone a friend.”
“Who are you? Why are you killing my family?”
“Well, now, it’s like this. Let me tell you a story.”
“I don’t have time for stories. Look, I have a fortune in a Swiss bank account. It’s yours, just don’t kill me.”
Trevor shook his head and laughed. “Can’t do it, mate. It wouldn’t be fair to the others. Besides, Frank, they need you to argue leniency with the Devil. Even as we speak, they’re waiting for you at the gates of hell.”
“Wha…what are you doing?” Frank’s eyes grew wide when he saw Trevor reach into his pocket and pull out a .22 Smith and Wesson.
“It’s small but effective when fired from close range. And it never misses from a few inches away.” He saw Frank swallow nervously, watched as his mouth went dry in fear.
“I’ll give you anything you want. Look, I’m writing down my Swiss bank account number and the code you’ll need as we speak.” He shoved the piece of paper frantically toward Trevor.
“Sorry, mate. There’s no bargaining in your future. That will only buy you a very quick suicide.”
Ten minutes later, Trevor had just made his way out of the elevator to ground level when he felt the earth begin to shake. He saw the building sway, heard breaking glass above him and looked up in time to see broken shards rain down on his head. The quake had him taking off running through the parking structure as fast as he could to reach open space.
Connor, on the other hand, had made a side trip to Agoura Hills. At the same moment the ground stopped shaking, he was parked in his Hummer outside Gloria’s house staring at Baylee’s Range Rover which was parked in the driveway. It hadn’t moved in days. He knew that for certain because he’d hired private security to stake out not only William Scott’s house twenty-four-seven but also to babysit her car here in Agoura Hills. But she’d made no more slip-ups showing up here or at her father’s house.
He’d been up most of the night. The trip to Gloria’s house he now realized had been made on impulse and a mistake. He glanced over at the man sitting in a Chevy at the end of the street. Was that his security detail? he wondered as the two locked stares. It better be, he thought bitterly. The bitch was costing him a fortune and not for the first time.
His head pounded like a mutha. No one was getting him any results. Why couldn’t anyone find one fucking woman with a little baby? If the answers weren’t coming to him, he’d by God find his own. He opened the car door and climbed out. Maybe she was holed up inside the guest cottage after all, he decided, as he crossed the st
reet and walked up the driveway between the Range Rover and Gloria’s Honda Accord. He’d check the inside of the cottage for himself.
Walking her dog, Gloria saw him cross the street from the end of the block. For a bit of security, she reached down and snatched up Morty, her Chihuahua, from the pavement. She had no intentions of backing down from the likes of Connor Boyd. But as she got closer, she saw the vacant look in his eyes. Alarm crept up her back.
“Gloria.”
“What are you doing here, Connor?”
“Where’s Baylee?”
“You think I would tell you? Humph, I wouldn’t, not even if I knew, which I don’t.”
When he got close enough, he reached out to grab her arm, but the dog had other ideas. Morty bared his teeth, growling. Connor jerked his hand back just in time. “Tell me where she is.”
“I have no idea. I suggest you leave now, Connor, before I call the police.”
With the dog in one hand, Gloria reached in her pocket with the other and pulled out her cell phone. “Do I make the call Connor, or do you leave? You don’t frighten me for a minute.”
“Look, old woman, you should be scared. But I’ll leave, this time. Your threat to call the cops isn’t why I’m going. I know plenty of cops. Answer me one thing, though. Is Baylee in that guest house around back?”
Gloria forced out a laugh. “Of course not. You’re welcome to look and see for yourself.”
Connor started walking to his car, jingling his keys, but turned back. “You know and I know that baby is mine. I intend to find her, Gloria. And when I do, I intend to get sole custody. Be sure to tell her that the next time you two talk. She can’t hide from me forever.” With that, he climbed back into the Hummer, started the engine, and barreled off down the street.
Gloria watched him go. “Oh, Baylee, I do hope Dylan has you well hidden. If not, we may have to get you out of the country…and fast.”
Deeper Evil (The Evil Secrets Trilogy Book 2) Page 30
