Just Evil (39 page)

Baylee looked away. “I did. I hated that woman. And when
Holloway and St. John get around to asking, I’ll tell them so.”

She took a sip of coffee. “She was mean. I remember one time
Kit was doing her best to ride her bike with the training wheels still on. But
like most kids, she took a spill, fell off, skinned her knee, and tore her
dress. It wasn’t until we were older after I’d given her grief once too often
about her always wearing a dress outside to play in that she told me how Alana
wouldn’t let her wear pants or jeans. Ever. Anyway, Kit fell off her bike,
ripped her dress at the bottom. Before I could stop, help her up, Alana comes
tearing out of the damned house like she’d been watching from the window ready
to pounce, doesn’t even take the time to check Kit’s skinned knee—just yanks
her up off the ground, goes to whaling the tar out of her, the whole time
cursing that she’s torn the freaking dress.”

She drew in a deep breath, let it out. “Alana scared the
crap out of me.”

Baylee took another long pull of caffeine. “You might as
well know Kit had it so much worse than I had it growing up. You see, my mother
walked out on my father when I was about three, ran off to Europe with her
tennis pro. Unfortunately, when she decided to leave William Scott, she also
left me.” She waited a beat until she saw the recognition flash in Jake’s eyes.
Her father had once been one of the most sought-after directors of action films
in Hollywood. “Yeah, that William Scott. I don’t remember much about my mother.
I was raised primarily by the housekeeper, Tanya Lincoln. If Dad ever started
that walk down memory lane, though, started reminiscing about his ex-wife, good
old mom, he’d start drinking heavily. Followed by a huge mad-on, he’d start to
hit on the closest and then the most vulnerable person which was usually me.
Fortunately for me, my father wasn’t home that often. He’d spend eighteen-hour
days at the studio. Or, he’d be out of the country for weeks on location,
sometimes months, directing some megabucks action flick.

“Kit wasn’t that lucky. She had to put up with Alana up
close and personal. Sure, she’d travel every now and again; dump Kit at the
Boyd’s, but not often enough if you ask me. And alcohol wasn’t the reason Alana
was mean. The woman was just evil without any provocation or incentive. For
punishment, from anything from spilled milk to not leaving a room quick enough,
she’d either knock Kit down or lock her up in a closet, might leave her there
for an hour, or twenty-four, depending on her mood. And her mood swings were
like storm clouds, quick to form and always violent. From an early age, I knew
Kit’s situation was far worse than mine, but I didn’t find out exactly how bad
until we went into group therapy together. Hearing her talk about it, all of
it, I felt terrible for her and a little guilty. I mean, here I was talking
about an occasional fist thrown my way and she was talking about agony, locked
in a damned closet for God knows how long.”

Baylee closed her eyes, remembering. When she opened them,
she looked back down at Kit and her voice broke. “God, when we were little and
I wouldn’t see her outside in the yard for a day or two, playing, riding her
bike, I’d panic. Even though we were just kids, I can remember not knowing how
far Alana had gone, so I’d go up to the front door, gather my courage enough to
ring the bell, pray Kit would answer the door and I could see for myself that
she was okay. It was anguish not knowing if Alana had finally lost it and done
something horrible to her.”

She took a moment to rub her eyes, compose her thoughts.

Hearing the door open behind her, Baylee looked around; saw
Quinn standing in the doorway.

Quinn walked up beside Baylee, wrapped her arms around the
shorter woman, and rested her head on top of Baylee’s. They stood there like
that until Baylee looked into Quinn’s tired eyes and asked, “Do you remember
Alana’s laugh, Quinn? She had the most evil laugh, which I guess pretty much
made her a natural for all the horror films she made.”

After a brutal twenty-four hour shift that had included a
busy Saturday night in the ER, Quinn let out a worn-out sigh. “I remember. That
laugh was enough to send chills down my spine on more than one occasion. But
then I got over it.” Her voice sounded tired when she asked, “Why are you
telling him this, Baylee? It won’t help Kit.”

“Maybe it’s practice for when the police get around to
interviewing me. Maybe I want to be ready. Maybe I just want to once and for
all convince those two cops that she didn’t go back inside that house and take
a knife to Alana.”

More awake now after listening to Baylee’s tale, those other
questions Jake had been harboring snapped into his brain, and he knew it was
time to ask. “What kind of a man was John Griffin? Why didn’t he ever follow
through on his promises and get her out of there?”

Quinn stepped back from Baylee, crossed her arms over her
body. “See what you’ve started? You’ve opened up old wounds that are best left
in the past.”

“Don’t blame Baylee. I’m the one who asked, the one who
wants to know. Kit’s wondered, too. It bothers her. You know it does. There’s
no use pretending.”

Quinn looked long and hard over at Kit, still sleeping. “I
don’t know how Baylee feels, but I always thought Kit’s dad was a good guy.
He’d take her places, do stuff, spend time with her; he’d let us girls spend
the night over at his house whenever Kit spent the weekend, you know, like a
girl’s sleepover. Alana never allowed that. I thought he was a cool dad. But he
should have taken her out of that situation, no argument there. I don’t know
why he didn’t. Neither does Kit.”

Baylee chimed in, “Ditto the nice stuff. I’ve got nothing
bad to say about the man, other than him leaving Kit in that situation time and
time again. But after…after…Alana…” She faltered and looked over at Jake again,
but when she saw Jake’s slight nod, as if he knew, she went on, “When Alana
shot her, that was it for me. I thought, okay, Kit will be moving away any day
now. I’ll lose my best friend. She’ll go live with her dad now.”

She shook her head. “But it didn’t happen. And Kit changed.
She wouldn’t take anything off Alana. After what happen, well, she just wasn’t
as close to her dad, either. But then he left one day to make a movie and she
never saw him again.”

Quinn started to pace the small room. “Well, why would she
be close to the man after that? Alana could have killed her that night and he
knew it. He was there, witnessed the entire thing happen right in front of him,
and what does he do? Instead of calling the cops or Protective Services, he
helps Alana cover it up. I am in agreement with Baylee though. After the
shooting, I no longer trusted her dad. And neither did Kit?”

The room grew silent as Baylee asked. “What will they do
when they find out how bad the abuse was?”

Jake looked at the floor a few seconds before answering. “Knowing
St. John, he’ll use it to get her to agree to an exhaustive interview where he
takes her through the past bit by bit, wears her down; then he’ll use whatever
he finds out in the process of interrogating her to further the investigation. Maybe
use it to get a warrant.”

Horrified at the idea, Quinn fumed, “You can’t be serious.
You mean if Baylee’s father ends up murdered or my stepfather pisses off the
wrong person one day and gets himself killed, Baylee and I would be suspects
because the bastards beat on us when we were kids. That’s ridiculous.”

Taken aback at Quinn’s revelation, Jake stared at the two
women,. Here they were, three beautiful women who’d grown up in one of the
wealthiest neighborhoods in the world, and yet, they’d had monsters for
parents. His heart went out to all three of them. He was considering their
abusive childhoods when Baylee pointed out, “I guess it isn’t practical to
bring up all those times the three of us wished Alana dead, now is it? If you
don’t mind, that’s something I’ll leave out of my statement when the time
comes.”

Quinn nods in agreement. “Okay. I’ll concede that we did
wish that—a lot, but we were kids, Baylee. Surely, this St. John can
differentiate between murderous adult and a kid’s childish thinking.”

“Don’t bet on it,” Jake said flatly. As if he were reluctant
to bring it up, the question kept nagging at him and wouldn’t go away. He had
to get it out. “Did either one of you know Alana was in to…” he’d almost said
porn, but decided to take a more tempered approach. “…adult parties? How exposed
was Kit to that type of environment? Did any of Alana’s friends ever get…did
they ever take notice of a little girl kept in a closet or back bedroom?”

Baylee went white, before her demeanor changed to hot, red
fury. “What are you really asking? You’re asking if Alana’s friends took pity
on the little girl and offered to help her out. They didn’t. Or you’re asking
if she was molested by one of them? She wasn’t, thank God.” And then as if
something had just occurred to her, she turned her temper toward Quinn. “She
wasn’t, was she? Did she ever say anything like that to you? That wasn’t
something she discussed in group. Did she talk to you about it? She would have
said something to me, wouldn’t she? She’d have told me about it, right?”

Quinn reached out for Baylee’s hand. “She never said
anything like that to me. There was that one time in group when she mentioned
venturing out of her room to see what the noises were coming from Alana’s
bedroom were. She was about eleven, I think, and she followed the music, saw
the adults doing the down and dirty, and went back to her room, shut the door,
stayed there, and as far as I know never made that mistake again. Being in that
type of environment was one of the reasons she waited so long to…” She shot
Jake a scornful look. When Baylee tried to stop her from going any further, she
shook off Baylee’s arm and said, “No, he should know. The way she grew up was
only one reason Kit waited so long to lose her virginity; the other reason was
that she was crazy about a guy who never gave her the time of day.”

“I can’t change the past, Quinn. But I’m here now. And I’m
damned sure not going anywhere.”

But Quinn’s temper spiked again. With little sleep, that
long shift caught up with her. She turned on Jake. “Is that what you’re after
here, the dirt of it all, the dirty little things that the press, if they find
out, will have a field day? Well, if that’s what you’re looking for, you can go
straight to hell.”

He stepped closer to Quinn, kept his voice level. “Calm
down. I’m after the truth and whatever helps Kit get through this. My goal
isn’t to hurt her, but rather to be prepared. I don’t want the police springing
things on her, finding out some dirty little secret they’ll just use against
her. It’s St. John’s way. I’m worried about Kit and what St. John can do to
her, not the goddamned media.”

Kit stirred and Jake closed the distance to the bed.
Gingerly, he picked up her hand, touched her bruised face, and softened his
voice. “Hey sleepyhead, you decide to finally come back to us? Baylee’s here to
see you and so is Quinn. We’re all waiting for you to wake up and talk to us.”

She opened her eyes, saw Jake, tried a weak smile, and then
winced in obvious pain when she tried to turn her head. “Everything hurts. I
feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“No honey, just a big-assed SUV,” Quinn pointed out as she
went into doctor mode, taking her pulse, adjusting the drip going in to her
vein. “You’ve got an IV drip here for the pain. Just push this button and out
comes the good stuff.”

“No. No. It makes me sleepy.”

“That’s the point, Einstein. You need the sleep to help your
body recover.”

She tried to sit up. “I need to check on Pepper.” When she
didn’t quite make it upright, she weakly slid back down.

“They’re keeping you until they’re sure that head of yours
isn’t going to fall off.”

“A car bumped into me, fast. I tried to get out of the way
as best I could, but it hit the side of the car again and again. I saw…Collin
sitting in the passenger seat.”

Jake’s jaw tightened. “That son of a bitch.”

Quinn’s fury exploded. “I knew that bastard would cross the
line one day. They’re all rotten, every last one of them.”

A little groggy from the IV drip that Quinn had increased,
Kit fought the feeling, but reminded her through a fog, “There was a time you
thought Cade was different.”

“I made a mistake, okay. But didn’t I pay for it? I’ll never
let Cade get the chance to hurt me again. And I’m not scared of those bastards
just because they have money.”

Jake wanted to get both women back on track, but curiosity
had him leaning into Baylee, asking, “What are they talking about?”

In a low voice, Baylee explained, “Over our objections,
several years back Quinn and Cade went out.” She waited a beat, “They dated.
During which time, Cade showed his true colors. I think it’s a Boyd family
trait. Quinn wanted to end it. Cade had other ideas. Seems to me, the Boyd men
have a little trouble understanding what the word no means.” And she could
attest to that firsthand, couldn’t she?

It sounded to Jake as if all three sons had a major problem
with women. But he wanted to get them all back on topic, so in mid-chatter, he
bent down to Kit, interrupting the flow of conversation, and asked, “What do
you remember, Kit? What kind of car hit you?”

Her words slurred, she spoke slowly, drawing each word out,
“Silver. And big…like one of those Cadillac…things.”

“An Escalade, you think it looked like that? Did you get a
good look at the driver? Could you identify him if you saw him again?”

The pounding in her head increased. She wanted to drift
away, sleep. “He had blondish hair, sort of sandy brown, kind of spiky on top.”
She made a weak attempt to sit up again. “If I had some paper I could sketch
him.”

Jake reached down and planted another kiss on one of her
bruises that had her going down for the count. “Later. You’ll draw him later.
That’s my good girl. Now go back to sleep.”