Just Evil (32 page)

Suddenly, he felt like throwing up.

On the drive back to the store from Bel-Air to San Madrid,
Kit had calmed down enough to think about what she needed to do. Jake had said
her dream had uncanny similarities to the murders that had taken place back in
1969. She needed to find the connection to those murders and the old couple who
lived on the property called The Sundown Ranch.

When she got back to the shop, Baylee was out front helping
a customer. Kit waved and nodded as she quickly walked past them, headed
straight for her office upstairs, and closed herself off with her computer.

When she Googled the murders from 1969, she got over four
million hits. She couldn’t believe the vast amount of information written about
the grisly 1969 murders committed over a two-day period on August 9th and 10th
in Benedict Canyon and Los Feliz.

Chills ran down her spine as she read the gory details. When
she found several of the actual newspaper articles from that timeframe, she
realized many of the details from the crime scenes had been made public. Days
after both murders, it was common knowledge that the killer or killers had left
behind graffiti, specifically the words PIG, DIE, and DEATH written in the
blood of the victims. The articles also revealed that the killer or killers had
used both a gun and a knife, that there were multiple victims at both crime
scenes, and that the murders were savage and senseless, and robbery didn’t
appear to be the motive.

Also, at the second murder scene, the one in Los Feliz, the
police initially believed it to be the work of a copycat killer, someone who
had mimicked the first murders in Benedict Canyon.

What if someone read the newspaper articles got the idea to
copycat the murders using the details described in the papers? If they’d been
planning murder months beforehand, getting a built-in description of the other
crime scenes might come in handy when they needed to cover up one of their own,
like the one that night at the Sundown Ranch.

Granted, it was a far-fetched idea. But she didn’t have
anything else to hang her hat on at the moment. She couldn’t explain it, but
the more she thought about it, the more the idea stuck.

And Jake was right about the similarities between the 1969
crime spree and the murders of the old couple in her dream. But there were also
major differences. Elated at her findings, Kit pulled out pen and paper from
her desk drawer, and began making a list.

More than an hour later, Baylee knocked on Kit’s office
door. When Baylee walked inside, she saw the intense look on Kit’s face.
Mistaking it for distress, believing Kit was upset about going back to Alana’s
house, she put the blame for that on the one person she felt responsible,
Connor Boyd.

“Why the hell would you listen to him anyway? Just because he
phones and tells you the house has been broken into, you drop what you’re doing
and take off by yourself. What were you thinking? And don’t give me that stuff
about demons. If you felt that way, then why go alone? Why didn’t you let me go
with you? I knew it was a bad idea for you to go back there.”

“I thought I could do it, Baylee, and go inside by myself.
But I couldn’t. Jake showed up. Thanks for calling him. I knew you did, even
though he didn’t say so. He said he followed me, but after I calmed down, I
knew you must have sent him. I was never so glad to see anyone when he walked
up to the car. I couldn’t go in. Obviously, I haven’t put a thing behind me
after all this time, all that therapy, just a waste of time and money. Sitting
in the car, it was as if it had happened yesterday. And Baylee, I could hear
Alana laughing.”

Tears came suddenly. She got to her feet and started toward
Baylee, who met her halfway. The two women hugged and Kit buried her face in
Baylee’s hair. Baylee let her cry it out as she had scores of other times,
annoyed at seeing her so vulnerable, having to revisit memories no one should
have to relive.

Jake found them like that, Kit wrapped up in Baylee, as he
stood watching from the open office doorway. Her tearstained cheeks, red nose,
and water-filled eyes told him she still hadn’t recovered from her visit to
Beverly Hills. Seeing how upset she was incensed him all over again.

But when Kit spotted Jake in the doorway, she abruptly left
Baylee and sought comfort in his arms.

“I’d like to stomp Connor Boyd into dirt right about now,”
Baylee said to Jake.

“You’d have to get in line.”

Kit snuggled up to Jake as close as she could before saying.
“Thanks for coming after me, Jake. I didn’t tell you that before.”

“No need to thank me. I’d have been upset with Baylee if she
hadn’t called. Why’d you go over there alone anyway?”

“See,” Baylee pointed out, “there seems to be a consensus on
that. Next time…”

“There won’t be a next time,” Kit told them. “It’s better if
I just put that place out of my mind. Gloria’s right. I’ll get one of those
estate liquidators to go in there and take care of all the furnishings, get
them ready to sell.”

“Well, after getting a look inside there won’t be that much
furniture to liquidate.”

Kit wiped her face with the back of her hands and seemed not
to care about the house or the furnishings at all, so it was Baylee who asked,
“Connor said someone broke into the house, but they vandalized the furniture,
too?”

“Didn’t say they broke in, but somebody sure turned it
upside down looking for something.”

Kit wasn’t paying a bit of attention to either one of them.
She went back to her desk and picked up the list she’d been working on. “I’ve
done some research online. You were right about the murders being similar to
Manson’s crime spree. There are definitely similarities to the murders of the
old couple, but there are also differences, enough, I think, that my old couple
was killed by a pair of copycat killers that wanted the police to think the
murders were part of the killing spree. And it worked. ”

Jake stared at her. “That’s a helluva leap, Kit.”

But Baylee wanted to know, “What old couple?”

Kit ignored her. “No, I don’t think so. Hear me out. I think
the killers wanted to take advantage of the fact that these murders took place
back to back, the ones that were so obviously plastered all over the newspapers
at the time. They had to act quickly. Timing was everything. The papers
published detailed accounts of the crime scenes. The killers could have read
the newspaper stories about both murders, gotten all the gory details they
needed, including the words found printed in blood. Now that’s a detail the
police might have kept to themselves, but they didn’t. I mean, you’ve got the
entire city of L.A. gripped with fear over these gruesome murders. The public
thinks there’s a killer out there targeting the wealthy, or celebrities, and
they’re just scared. So the killers in my dream jump on the bandwagon—seize the
opportunity, so to speak. All I know for sure is my killers in the dream have
nothing to do with the Manson family, other than maybe the fact that they’re
all just evil. They have that in common.

“But the killers in my dream drive a Mercedes. I see all
this detail from the dream enough to know the killers are women.”

She ticked off what she saw. “When they get out of the car,
they walk like women. When one of them writes graffiti on the wall in blood,
she gets upset when the blood stains her clothes. Then there’s the champagne.
They crack open a bottle of champagne afterward in the kitchen. Come on, that’s
such a girlie thing to do, don’t you think? I can see guys having a beer, or a
shot of whiskey, but champagne?”

Jake and Baylee gaped at her, then at each other. Kit
quickly relayed every aspect of the dream, even the ones she’d held back until
now. It was Jake who said, “You’ve seen a lot more detail since you first told
me about it. And in your dream you’re sure the one left in the bedroom with the
knife stabs the old couple even after they’re dead?”

As if all that wasn’t bad enough, the last sounded downright
gruesome.

“Yeah. If they were going to pull this off, make it look
like a continuation of the crime spree, it was an essential part to make it
look like the knife played a role in their deaths. But if we could find out who
owns that ranch, The Sundown Ranch, maybe look for any murders of an elderly
couple immediately after the more famous ones. We’d have names, a place to
start, come up with maybe a motive.”

Impressed, but still skeptical, Jake told her, “Okay, we’ll
check the newspaper archives for any murders that might have occurred after the
crime spree hit the newsstands, search the files they keep on microfiche, try to
narrow down the timeframe.”

“What does this old murder have to do with Alana?” Baylee
asked.

“Oh, she’s connected. But guess what Baylee, get this, Alana
and John Griffin were never married.”

Now that had Baylee more shocked than all the talk about
murder. “Say what?”

“Jake pulled the information from public records. That whole
private war they had going on wasn’t about a contentious divorce. So why’d they
hate each other? Any clue? I mean, you were around my father. You were around
Alana. It was a great ruse on their part, wasn’t it?”

Fist under her chin, Baylee was attempting to remember all
the times she’d spent around Kit’s parents. “I’ll say. I’ve got to think about
this Kit. They were so…so…horrible to each other, always at odds, always
threatening to sue each other, always arguing over custody, making outrageous
claims against each other, shouting insults.” She turned to Jake. “You’re sure
the records you pulled were accurate?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. They weren’t married, Baylee.”

Kit scrunched up her nose, and then point-blank said to
Baylee, “Maybe I’m the result of a one-night stand that occurred at some
Hollywood party, or worse, maybe rape. Maybe that’s why…you know…she…hated me.”

Jake didn’t know what to say to her now any more than he had
when she’d brought up her theory last night, and looking at the expression on
Baylee’s face, Baylee didn’t know how to respond to her either.

Baylee shook her head, walked to the door, and stopped.
“Look, let me think about this. I guess you could be right…I mean…it would make
sense. But,” she shook her head, “I’ve got to think about this.”

Once Baylee left them alone, Jake shut the door. In one
quick motion, he had Kit up against him, wrapped in his arms. His mouth found
hers. Jake broke off the kiss long enough to say, “Now, where were we? I want
you…out of those clothes. We can use your desk.”

Just as teasing, Kit calmly pointed out, “In case you
haven’t noticed, my office door doesn’t have a lock. Baylee might come back.”

Not one to be deterred, he reasoned, “No problem. We’ll put
a chair up against the door.” Bringing her with him, he took a couple of steps
backward to the desk and leaned on it, positioned her between his legs.

Kit countered, “What about your desk? It’s a lot nicer. And
I know for certain your office door has a lock on it.”

Logical to a fault, he nibbled her ear while rubbing his
hand over the swell of one breast, and rationalized, “No, my office won’t work,
at least not until everyone’s cleared out for the day. Besides, there are less
people to deal with here than there, and we’d have to move from this spot. No
trust me, here would be much better. And we don’t have a lot of time, so start
taking off…”

Kit feigned a pout. “So this is a quickie? What happened to
the full service treatment to which I’ve become so accustomed?”

“Define quickie.”

She put a little more husky tone to her voice, and
pronounced each word with great care, “The opposite of slow, taking your time
like before, putting all that control you’re so famous for to good use.”

“Depends on how comfortable this desk is, don’t you think?”
Letting go of her breast long enough to run one hand over the desk, he added,
“Feels pretty comfortable to me.”

“If it feels so comfortable then you take the bottom.”

He shrugged. “Not a problem, baby; I like you on top. I
thought I proved that already.” 

With both of his hands resting on her hips, he brought her
closer, nudged her top up slightly, then set to work with his tongue exploring
her belly button, licking, sampling, tasting.

“Your belly button is a real turn-on. I’ve got this thing
for it,” he teased. All the while, Kit enjoyed the motion of his tongue, kept
his head in place between both hands, as if he might somehow get away from her.
For the second time that day, he unbuttoned the top button on her jeans, ran
the zipper down to its base, and was just moving down to enjoy the
possibilities when a knock at the door interrupted their play.

“Go away,” they both shouted in unison. Clearly annoyed with
the intrusive knock, he made his intentions clear, “That’s the second time
today we’ve been interrupted. Tonight, we’re having dinner on the boat,
sleeping on the boat; no phones, no cops, no well-meaning friends or
co-workers. If I have to take us five miles out of port to do it, we’re going
to be alone. Got it?”

Smiling at the prospect, she quickly buttoned her jeans and
said, “That’s a great idea. I’ll leave early, go home, and pack a bag. I’ll
stop by the market, pick up some groceries. We can fix dinner and have the
whole evening to ourselves.”

When Kit took too long to open the door, it opened anyway,
and Quinn stood in the doorframe, obviously just as annoyed. “What are you guys
doing in here?”

“Geez, do you need me to draw you a picture? Jake and I were
just…talking…we were talking…about…books. He wanted to know if we had Bruce
DeSilva’s latest novel.”

Quinn looked around the tiny office. “Yeah. Right. And there
are just so many books stored back here. This must be where you keep the sale
items, right?” She cocked her head and looked at Kit. “You always were a
terrible liar.” Then to Jake, “It’s been awhile.”