Evil Secrets Trilogy Boxed Set

by Vickie McKeehan

  And there was one point Dylan could not get past. “I just want to say that every time I’ve been around your father, he’s acted like he’s carrying around a lot of guilt―about something.” Dylan shrugged before adding, “Just a personal observation by an outsider looking in at the situation with a new perspective. This ongoing affair he had with Alana might be it.” But he didn’t think so. “Or, it could be something more sinister.”

  A couple of feet away, Kit stopped in her tracks and stared at him at the grill.

  The image came quickly, like a blur across her vision. It made her dizzy. Everything and everyone around her ceased to exist as she focused on the scene as it played out and she was sent back in time to that night inside William’s house, watching in slow motion as it happened.

  While the others continued to chat, Kit had taken a side trip to the night Sarah went missing.

  Baylee went into detail about how Dylan thought William had done something to Sarah until she glanced over at Kit and noticed she’d turned pale as a ghost. Kit had a pained expression on her face. Baylee turned to look at Jake, who was also staring at Kit, watching her every move.

  Baylee saw Kit abruptly drop into one of the lawn chairs, white as chalk.

  “What’s wrong, Kit?”

  Kit drew in a deep breath as the images remained constant, like a movie on DVD, as she watched two women, the woman who’d raised her, and the woman’s best friend, Jessica, standing together at the top of a staircase, arguing with a petite blonde woman.

  Having seen pictures of Baylee’s mother, Kit winced as the event became sharper, clearer, as if someone fine-tuned the picture.

  Kit swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. “That night Sarah demanded Alana and Jessica leave the house. She wanted them out. They hadn’t been invited. Apparently, Alana had used a key she had to William’s house. That’s how she slipped in that night, she and Jessica. Alana strolled right in, bold as brass. Wait. Alana had sold William his house and had copied the key, kept it without William’s knowledge. The key allowed the two of them to simply walk in the front door that night and right up the stairs, where they confronted Sarah on the landing just after she’d put Baylee to bed. Hmm, that’s exactly the way they entered the Parkers’ home the night they killed the old couple.”

  Even though Dylan stood at the grill, he turned to meet Baylee’s eyes before he stared over at Kit in disbelief. The three of them eyed Kit as if horns had suddenly sprouted from both sides of her head right before their very eyes. But Kit didn’t even notice. She steamed right on.

  “That’s it. That’s exactly right. Dylan is correct; something sinister happened.” From the lawn chair, Kit glanced up at Dylan. “You’ve hit the mother lode. Only it wasn’t William.”

  Kit picked up Baylee’s hand and gripped it so hard, it hurt. “Your childhood dream is fairly accurate. You did see Alana and Jessica. Both of them were there that night, both of them fought with Sarah. Sarah didn’t stand a chance against both of them. They towered over her, over-powered her.”

  “You remember my dream from therapy? How? Even I don’t remember all of it.”

  “I do. But I’m not projecting what I heard in group. I’m sure of it. Of course, I remember your discussing what happened in the dream with Strasberg. And you know why? Because there were so many times I saw both of those women do such despicable things it branded me for life. Things that for the longest time I couldn’t put together, didn’t understand fully what was happening. We were just kids, Baylee, trying to survive our own personal anguish. How could we know the adults around us were such evil people? But I obviously didn’t let go of the images, couldn’t for some reason get them completely out of my head.”

  Kit sat up straighter. “But what you remember wasn’t a dream. It happened. It was real.”

  “Intuition again, Kit?” Jake asked in wonder.

  “It’s something. I’m just not sure what. But we should confront your father with the journals; find out the truth once and for all, the sooner, the better.”

  “Do you think he even knows about what they did?”

  Kit’s brows drew together in concentration. After some time, she concluded, “Oh, he knows.” And wasn’t that a kick in the pants, she thought. But then she took in the stricken look on Baylee’s face. “Dylan’s correct that William’s carrying around a ton of guilt. It’s eating him up inside. I’m sorry, Baylee.”

  “Don’t be. Somehow it doesn’t surprise me,” Baylee said solemnly. “What else did you see?”

  Kit described the entire scene, reiterated her idea. What little three-year-old Baylee had witnessed that night was Alana fighting with her mother, and then Jessica Boyd had stepped in to finish the job by pushing Sarah down the stairs. When she finished, Kit recognized their skeptic looks.

  “I’m telling you it wasn’t a dream. What Baylee saw was the real deal,” Kit insisted.

  “Baylee’s been having this dream as long as she can remember,” Dylan pointed out, as he plated the burgers. “That has to be significant in the bigger picture.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Jake asked Kit, wanting to believe what she saw as fact.

  “The same way I knew the dream about the Parkers was significant, as if it had already happened exactly the way I saw it.”

  “But that was your dream,” Baylee pointed out. “How can you possibly see what my dream is like? And it’s been years since I’ve spoken about it in group.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers. All I know is what I see coupled with what I remember from group. I remember it freaked me out just as much then as it does now that the women you saw looked like Alana and Jessica. I believed it back then, Baylee. But who would have believed either one of us, even if we’d pursued it? I might not have said anything at the time, probably didn’t, as a matter of fact, but just because I stayed quiet doesn’t mean I forgot how you described what happened, how terrifying it was for you.

  “But don’t you see I saw the sequence of events as they killed the Parkers in my head, I saw them in gritty detail, just like now; I see grainy images, but I recognize Alana and Jessica. And they’re fighting, arguing with a woman with blonde hair, who was wearing jeans and a gray sweatshirt at the time. They were yelling at each other. And then all of a sudden Alana moved in, hauled off, and slapped her. Jessica swoops in like she’s coming to Alana’s rescue, gets into the middle—and wham—she pushed Sarah, the much more petite woman, down the stairs.”

  Baylee gasped. “Did I tell you that? That’s exactly what happens in my dream. My mother had on jeans and a gray, long-sleeved top. It could have been a sweatshirt.”

  It was Dylan’s turn to act as cynic. “Maybe you see it that way, Kit, because that’s the way Baylee described it to you in group therapy, in the beginning. Power of suggestion.”

  Kit shook her head. “No. No. The woman wore her blonde hair in a long layered look, like they did in the eighties. Big hair. I don’t remember Baylee describing the hairstyle she saw that night.”

  Undeterred, Kit added, “You look a lot like her, Baylee. I can see what she looks like dead, lying at the bottom of the stairs. Her body’s twisted…unnaturally, as if she might have broken her neck.” Kit trembled slightly at the image.

  Dylan looked at Baylee’s face, which had gone white at Kit’s words, and then he shot a glance at Jake as if to say, ‘can’t you get her to shut up?’ but Jake just shook his head.

  Jake reminded Dylan, “What can I say? She was right about the Parkers, I vote we go ask William Scott about all of this, see what kind of reaction we get from him.”

  “God, I’m so confused,” Baylee said as she wearily put her head in her hands. “It’s harder to deny all this what with Kit seeing it too. My father has his faults, but how could he keep this a secret all these years? This whole thing is a little too fantastic to even think about.”

  “I think we’re all more than a little blown away as to how she’s able to do this. But I sat the
re that day in the library when we went looking for some newspaper article in the archives that I really didn’t believe we’d find.” Jake gave Kit a look as though he believed in her one-hundred percent before adding, “Then there it was in black-and-white, elderly couple found slain in the Hollywood Hills. That’s something I won’t forget, or the chills that went with it. I don’t know how she does it, only that she’s been right so far.”

  Baylee’s shoulders slumped. She looked at Kit with genuine resignation. “I’ve known you all my life. I’m not saying I doubt what you’re seeing, of course I don’t. It’s just that, this is my dream, not yours. But how could you possibly know that kind of detail, what my mother looked like, especially that night? You’ve seen pictures of her that I hid from my father and would take out every now and then just to look at her, keep her image alive in my head. But in those pictures her hair was different, like the one in her wedding dress. She wore her hair up the day of her wedding. That night, the night in the dream, that layered look was new. I’m pretty sure she hadn’t worn it that way for very long. I always thought she looked a little like Farah Fawcett. See, I’m getting the memories mixed up.”

  “It’s okay, Baylee. I know what you mean. This is new to me, too. These visions are new. But I’m not going to lie and say I don’t see what happened because I do. Clearly there’s something going on here.”

  “Yeah. And some days it’s all too much to take in,” Dylan suggested as he passed around the plates Baylee had yet to set out on the table. “This whole thing is getting a little too weird. But while you’re at it, Kit, maybe you could look into the past and tell us where the hell Sarah hid that last journal.”

  Kit laughed and threw a potato chip at Dylan’s head. “Very funny. For that I might need my crystal ball.”

  Afterward, while they cleaned up the kitchen and Jake was at the sink loading the dishwasher, Baylee turned to him and announced, “I just want you to know if you have to get a DNA sample from Connor to close the case on Claire’s murder, I won’t hold it against you. I know how much you need to put it behind you once and for all. If that’s the only way…”

  “Baylee, I’m certain he killed Claire. I’m as sure as Kit is about what she said happened to your mother. I want to put Claire behind me. That much is true. But that isn’t why I think the DNA is a good idea. If Connor did it, then we can put him away for a long time, get him out of your life and Sarah’s for good. I want him to pay for what he did to Claire, and that also means he pays for what he did to you. The Boyds have a history of getting away with things. I want an end to all of this once and for all. The DNA may be both our tickets at doing that.”

  “Jake, you have no idea how much I wish you could send Connor to jail with one little sample of DNA. But what if…”

  “Let’s take one step at a time, Baylee. Just one thing at a time. Try not to worry so much about the results.”

  She wondered if he really understood the implications of what he was suggesting. It wasn’t that easy to forget Connor Boyd. They didn’t know him like she did. Sure, it was easy for everyone to tell her to relax but a lot more difficult to put it into practice. She knew it would take a bloody miracle to get him out of her life, out of Sarah’s. Merely wishing him out of sight, out of mind wasn’t going to work. He wasn’t simply going to go away. But she gave Jake a weak smile anyway. “That’s exactly what Dylan told me. I only hope you both know what you’re doing.”

  That night as Baylee lay in bed, she worried about all of it. What would happen if it turned out Connor wasn’t Claire’s killer after all and he’d be free to fight for custody, or at the very least for visitation? What if it turned out he was Claire’s killer but somehow managed to pull legal strings and get away with it? Nerves tangled her up in knots, filling her with fear and doubt.

  When she heard a light knock at the door, it opened before she could respond and Dylan stuck his head in the room. “You want to talk about it?”

  She cocked her head to stare at him. “I may be relatively out of practice, but something tells me you did not come to my room―to talk. And besides, we had a date. For a minute there, I thought I’d been stood up.”

  He walked over to the bed and sat down beside her, rubbed a finger down the side of her face to her chin. “You wore your worried face to bed. I had to come see if you were okay. If there’s a side benefit…” His voice trailed off as he took in the way her hair tumbled to her shoulders, watched those aqua eyes, saw the worried look fall away, and fill with anticipation.

  “Oh, there is. Come here, Dylan. I need you tonight.”

  That eagerness he saw in her eyes, knowing she wanted him as much as he wanted her had him pulling her greedily into his arms. “I thought it would take forever for everyone to go to bed.”

  He felt her pulse thump each time his lips nuzzled another area of throat.

  The hunger gnawed between them.

  She entwined both arms around the back of his head. “I was hoping we could go hiking while we were here, but I think Jake and Kit are going back to L.A. tomorrow. That means we lose our babysitters.”

  “Good.” He slid his hands under her hips and tugged. “We can be alone then, run around naked in the house if we want,” he told her with a twisted grin as he pressed his lips to hers.

  She looked into his eyes, saw craving. Her juices flowed. “You want to run around naked,” she asked as she nibbled back along his shoulder.

  “We could stay naked all day if we want. I want you naked now, Baylee.”

  “You first,” she demanded as she lifted his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Her fingers drifted to the button of his shorts. She worked it open and then slid down the zipper. Willing to oblige, he shed his shorts and underwear, stood before her.

  She took a long measured look down his body and gestured with a curve of her finger to come closer. As he moved to her, over her, Baylee felt a warm liquid pooling between her legs.

  “Let’s get you out of these,” he suggested. He worked to pull off her pajama top, his fingers spreading over silky skin. He moved his mouth down to her bared breasts, and began to nip and suckle generously with teeth and tongue.

  A jolt of pleasure swam through her as she ran her fingers through his golden locks. At the idea they’d get to spend the night together, lie together in each other’s arms, Baylee opened up, feeling sexy, bolder than before. She consumed his mouth again in a slow seductive tease before rolling over him. She began to make her way down his body, using lips and tongue to caress, to fondle, to stroke.

  It was torture, thought Dylan, as he watched her move slowly down his upper body. He did his best to be patient, to let her explore, let her set the tempo, since she seemed so determine to play and take her time.

  But when she continued to use mouth and tongue to lick and taste as she slowly made her way back up to his mouth, patience became difficult. “Come on, Baylee,” he groaned in quiet desperate need. “Now.”

  Running her hands along his body, she slicked along at a leisurely pace. “I want you, Dylan.”

  With that, he sought her core. He began to work her, slowly at first. Stroke for stroke, she became hotter, wetter. He watched as her eyes heated, watched them change and darken, and sent her up, soaring through the bliss.

  She rose up from release, still glassy-eyed. She pushed him back on the bed, straddled his hips, lowered herself onto him and began to ride, up and down, fast and furious, then slow, deliberate strokes, taking her time, but working toward that ultimate goal.

  As soon as he felt her body began to quiver, he grabbed her hips and slammed into her, thrusting faster, deeper, bringing them both through the wave at the same time.

  Sated, his brain struggled to form a single, coherent thought. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t remember the last time sex had been like this for him, completely gratifying on every level.

  Baylee lay on top, boneless. “I know I need to move, but I’m not sure I can.”

  “Mmmm, k
now what you mean. Let’s just lie here—and recover.”

  She rested her head on his chest. “Sure. Recover and then try it again. Maybe next time we’ll get it right.”

  He laughed. “That’s the spirit. We wouldn’t want to waste a minute of our first night together.”

  Baylee smiled down at him. “Let’s see whatcha got, Surfer Boy.”

  “Ah, a challenge,” he muttered as he drew her down to him, began nuzzling and chewing on the soft curve of her neck again. “I’m good, but even I might need a twenty minute reprieve.”

  She responded by wiggling around on top of him―and felt him go hard inside her.

  “Okay, I guess I’ve got super powers and didn’t even know it,” he joked as he tried to think if he’d ever felt this way before. But how could he concentrate on the past when Baylee kept doing all manner of creative things to his body.

  And once brought to life, he decided to make the most of it.

  After going at each other for a third time, they lay entangled in the sheets, spent, exhausted. Unable to move, he said, “I guess I know what to do in the future to get that worried look off your face.”

  Too relaxed to move, she laughed and moaned, “You have my permission to do that as often as necessary.”

  “I intend to as soon as I find another ounce of strength. Right now, I feel like Superman ran into a big dose of kryptonite.”

  She laughed and rolled into his sweaty chest. “I feel so―tingly.”

  He busted out laughing. “You should. I know how to turn you to mush now, woman.”

  “Then I like turning to mush.”

  His mouth met hers. The kiss had the heat building once again. “God, you’re so incredible. But I honestly don’t think I can manage it a fourth time.” He grinned and pushed her hair off her face. “Give me a couple of hours though and I promise I’ll deliver.”