Evil Secrets Trilogy Boxed Set

by Vickie McKeehan

  “And one night Sarah Moreland just disappears, takes off without a word?”

  Dylan nodded in Jake’s direction. “More like vanished without a trace, no letters, no cards, no calls in twenty-two years. The tennis pro leaves a promising career behind. She leaves her acting career. And get this, Baylee has been having this dream since she was a kid, a dream where she sees two women she swears looks like Alana Stevens and Jessica Boyd fighting with her mother on the upstairs landing. Then the one that looks like Jessica pushes her mother down the stairs.”

  “Have you been smoking weed?” Reese asked in disbelief, utterly convinced his buddy was high.

  Dylan shook his head. “Geez, I haven’t done that for a couple of years now, and you guys should know you were right there with me. Look, I know this is bizarre, but I think something really happened to Baylee’s mom. I think this dream Baylee’s having isn’t a dream at all but rather a memory of the event.”

  Having been through a similar situation with Kit, when she had all but dreamed every detail about the Parker murders, Jake could sympathize.

  “What does Baylee think happened?”

  “She’s beginning to think the same thing.”

  Reese once again felt he needed to be the voice of reason. “That’s because you’re planting the seeds in her head, Dylan. Look, women abandon their children every day. I had a conversation with Kit not four hours earlier. She told me Quinn’s mother dumped Quinn with her stepfather and was never around much.”

  He stared out at the three women sitting on the cliff, who were watching the night sky light up with fireworks. “I’m beginning to think they had impossibly difficult childhoods I can’t even imagine. And because of that, you can’t foster this outlandish idea in Baylee’s head. It’s irresponsible. She has enough to deal with without your woo-woo conspiracy theory.”

  “You know, Reese, Quinn’s right; you really can be a horse’s ass when you want to be. Baylee hasn’t had her mother around since she was three years old. I think her father force-fed her a bullshit story he’s lied about for so long it’s starting to eat him up inside. If what that little three-year-old saw actually happened that means Alana and Jessica murdered her mother. Why I don’t know. But I do know that now that William is lingering at death’s door, he feels guilty about it.

  “And I’ll tell you one other thing with certainty. After being in this for weeks now, after listening to what we think Alana and Jessica did to the Parkers, I personally think those two women were capable of the most evil, despicable things. Evil, Reese, and that includes pushing Baylee’s mother down the damned stairs. What I can’t figure out is why William went along with the story if they did something to her, unless he was in on it.”

  Reese blew out a breath. “At least you guys are consistent and crazy enough to believe in dreams.”

  Jake took immediate offense and fired back, “Yeah, hotshot, and Kit’s dream turned out to be the backbone of what we have so far discovered happened to the Parkers.”

  “Okay, but it’s a stretch to think Alana and Jessica might have killed Baylee’s mother. Why? What was their motive?”

  Jake looked over at Kit and the others as they continued to ooh and ahh over the fireworks. “Face it, Reese, when it comes to murder, Alana and Jessica didn’t need much more of a reason than money and greed. We know for a fact they must have plotted and planned for months to take away Gloria’s babies before they were born and it had nothing to do with money or greed but rather revenge for some slight.

  “And I’d like to point out that their actions set in motion a childhood racked with abuse for Kit, the woman I’m crazy in love with, who had to spend sixteen goddamned years full of misery and pain with that bitch of a woman because of what Jessica and Alana did to Gloria. So, face it, Reese, Dylan’s right. Those two were evil, plain and simple. The more we find out about them, the deeper the evil.”

  Jake turned to Dylan. “If you need anyone to buy into this theory about Baylee’s mother, I’m right there with you no matter how ridiculous it sounds. Those two women didn’t need much of an incentive to turn mean; they just were.”

  “Well, thanks for the support, Jake. But I don’t think it sounds that ridiculous myself. I’ve seen Baylee’s face after the dream. The panic there is too real.” He swallowed hard thinking about a scared, three-year-old girl in that situation before he added, “I think she might’ve seen it happen. Imagine, watching in horror as someone pushes your mother down the stairs. She was just a baby.”

  “That’s exactly the way I felt after seeing Kit’s face every time she had the dream about the Parkers. Go with your gut, Dylan. Don’t listen to Reese here. He has a tendency to think just like a stick-up-his-ass lawyer.”

  In response, Reese simply lifted his middle finger in the air at both of them.

  Later, after they all dispersed to their rooms to get ready for bed, Baylee was sitting in a rocker, feeding Sarah in the room Kit had designated as the future nursery when someone knocked on the bedroom door. Dylan stuck his head in, and whispered, “How we doing in here, need anything?”

  Baylee held up a finger to her mouth to shush him and whispered, “She’s almost asleep.” When he started to back out of the doorway, she shook her head and motioned for him to come further into the room.

  “You don’t mind?” He asked, as he moved closer, looking down at the sleeping baby with her eyes closed in slumber.

  “Not at all.”

  Dylan went with instinct. He lowered his head and covered her mouth. The spark of heat from a simple touch shot through him like a firestorm.

  The rocking chair halted its motion. He heard her intake of breath before she parted her lips to let him explore further. She tasted sweet like the juicy, ripe peach he’d watched her eat earlier in the kitchen. It was his last clear thought as he sunk into the kiss. With Sarah between them, he’d thought the kiss would be nothing more than a chaste exchange of skin, but flares of need sprang up in quick beats that soon matched the rhythm of his heart.

  Tongues tangled back and forth. Their heads moved in time with the kiss. Dylan had a sense of something new, something he’d never experienced before, which was impossible, because he had experienced quite a bit. But he took in her scent. She smelled like fresh air, the air he needed to breathe. He imagined the smell of spring rain, the newly-mown grass of summer.

  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 Chry
sler. 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 Book 2

  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 rented 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.”