Just Evil (13 page)

“No one’s asking you, Collin. When do you intend to stop
this obsession with the woman? She’s made it clear she doesn’t want you; why
can’t you leave it at that? I understand Kit is a beautiful, vibrant woman, but
she isn’t the only skirt in town. You could have any woman you wanted, so why
not leave her alone if she doesn’t show an interest?”

“We grew up together. It wasn’t always like this. I can’t
help it if I…I guess I’m in love with her.”

Sumner already knew that and hearing it didn’t sit well.
“Get the fuck over it. This feeling you have happens to be one-sided and
one-sided never works. How many times do we have to have this conversation for
you to understand that? You’re too old for this and you aren’t stupid, although
apparently you aren’t as smart as I had hoped you were. If you don’t stop this,
one day…one day…you’ll cross a line and I won’t be able to help you, no one
will. You can’t keep doing this. For God’s sake, leave the woman alone. Do you
understand me? You go near her again I’ll break more than your nose myself. You
got that?”

Kit and Baylee had been so swamped they’d barely had time to
do more than grunt at each other. So as soon as the line died down, Kit pushed
Baylee from behind the counter, telling her, “Go sit down. Take a break. Sarah
will be awake soon.”

While Baylee settled in at one of the tables, Kit poured
both of them a fresh cup of amaretto coffee and listened to Baylee talk about
her morning. “When I opened up, I had a line out the door and people grumbling
about having to wait. I hadn’t even made the coffee yet. I sold out every
pastry you had left over from yesterday by eight-thirty and then the customers
got really bitchy.”

“I’m sorry you had to open up.” In spite of her harried
morning, Kit’s business acumen kicked in. “You sold the day-old pastry?”

“Every crumb. Apparently these people will eat anything.”
Baylee eyed the stack of papers on the counter that Kit had brought in with
her. “What is all that?”

“Connor Boyd sent over papers he wants me to sign about
Alana’s estate. Can you believe that?” Kit missed the cautious glaze that
settled in Baylee’s eyes at the mention of the oldest Boyd son. “He wants to
make sure Alana Stevens Realty continues to run smoothly through the
transition. He spent ten minutes telling me that Alana’s employees would
continue to eat if I’d sign this, sign that. He wanted me to know I should be
grateful I now own a business.” She rolled her eyes before picking up her mug
to enjoy the coffee she’d poured.

Despite the fact that Sarah was a mere five feet away
napping in her Pack ’N Play, Baylee’s voice rose as she threw her arms out
wide. “What the hell does he think this is—a hobby? Damn those Boyds. They
never gave you credit for anything”

She grabbed Kit’s arm. “Don’t sign anything. I don’t trust
them. Promise me you’ll get someone to look at this stuff, maybe get your own
lawyer. Just don’t sign anything on Connor’s say-so alone, check it out first.
Besides, since when would Alana leave you her business?”

“That’s what I wanted to know.” Connor had sent over enough
paperwork via special courier to choke a horse. Then followed up with the phone
call to make sure she understood he was on a tight deadline and needed to get
her signature on the papers for probate as soon as possible.

“I’m still reeling from the news of Alana’s death and he
wants me to sign papers. It’s hard to believe she’d leave me anything.”

When she’d been able to think, she’d considered Alana’s
apparent about face. That didn’t sound like the same woman who’d always told
her she’d never get a dime.

Alana had told her time and time again she simply wasn’t
bright enough to run a bookstore slash coffee shop, let alone Alana’s precious
real estate business. Knowing all that, Kit kept wondering why Alana would
change her mind about something that meant so much to her.

And now, Connor expected her to step in and fill Alana’s
shoes, be prepared to take the reins of a real estate company she had no
interest in running. 

When Kit realized Baylee was saying something, she zoned
back into the present, focusing on Baylee’s hair. She still couldn’t get used
to Baylee with brown hair, and wondered why she’d colored it from the natural
blonde she’d had all her life to the dark chestnut color that now fell down to
her shoulders. In fact, there was quite a bit about Baylee lately she didn’t
get. “I’m sorry. I’m a little spacey. What were you saying?”

“I’m worried about you, about what happened yesterday with
the police.” When the baby stirred, Baylee walked to the port-a-crib to put
Sarah’s pacifier back in her mouth.

Keeping her voice soft, Kit told her, “I’m worried about me,
too. But in the meantime life goes on.”

Kit watched as Baylee patted Sarah’s little body, soothing
her back to sleep. Kit couldn’t help wondering when her friend had become so
moody, so secretive, and worse, such a cynic. Kit feared Baylee was a few Sweet
Tarts shy of turning totally bitter.

It wasn’t the Baylee she’d known forever, when they’d
confided their darkest secrets to each other. No, that Baylee had disappeared a
year ago with a half-baked story about spending some time in Europe looking for
the mother she’d never known, which had been a lie, Kit thought now.

Baylee hadn’t gotten pregnant in Europe. She’d been pregnant
when she’d left L.A. and hadn’t confided in either Quinn or Kit. No, she’d gone
off to God knows where alone to go through childbirth without her friends. Kit
still didn’t know the whole story because Baylee refused to discuss it.

Even though Kit hadn’t for one minute bought the story about
her quest to find her mother, she hadn’t been prepared when Baylee had arrived
on her doorstep last Christmas Eve with an eight-day old baby tucked into an
infant carrier. After getting over the initial shock that Baylee had a baby—and
that had been the easy part—the hurt had settled in knowing that Baylee hadn’t
felt the need to confide in her friends about the pregnancy, that she’d gone
through it alone, gone through childbirth alone.

Even after Baylee had been back for several months, Kit
still couldn’t get her to talk about the last year and what had happened to make
her leave L.A. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Baylee’s father, William
Scott, the renowned director, had fallen ill with a brain tumor, Kit doubted
Baylee would have re-surfaced with Sarah until the child was ready for college.
A theory that had her feeling uneasy for both mother and child. They were
running or hiding from something or someone, Kit was sure of it. She just
didn’t know who or what. Yet.

After getting the baby back to sleep, Baylee sat back down.
“How’d you get rid of Collin?”

“Jake broke his nose.”

“What a guy! And you spent the night with him?”

“I passed out on his boat.”

“This just keeps getting better and better. You don’t
usually drink enough to pass out. You were trying to impress him, weren’t you?”

Kit chuckled; Baylee knew her too well. She explained the
circumstances about last night right up to waking up on Jake’s boat, minus the
sexual vibes. She kept those to herself. Then she told Baylee about Collin.
“But you already knew he was drunk when he stopped here.”

“The bastard should be in jail.”

“No argument there, but guys like that with enough money to
buy a small third world country rarely spend time in jail. He didn’t last
time.”

Baylee could relate only too well. Her sudden urge to
protect was instinctive as her hand reached out to Kit’s. “I thought about you
last night, worried sick about this whole mess.” She didn’t say what was really
on her mind. Baylee didn’t think it was a good idea for Kit to get involved with
anyone right now when what she should be concentrating on was getting out of
the mess she was in.

The timing with Jake had sucked for years and now was no
exception. Baylee wanted Kit to put herself first for once, instead of Jake
Boston. She only wanted what was best for Kit. “You’ve got Quinn and me in your
corner. Gloria’s there too. You don’t need Jake Boston to come along now and
mess with your self-confidence all over again.”

Kit blew out a breath. There was that bitter tone she heard
Baylee use now toward men, one that she’d never had until recently. “But I’m
not fifteen anymore, struggling with low self-esteem.” Her brain zoned out and
into thoughts of pure lust as she replayed that kiss on the boat. Absently, Kit
picked up her coffee and tipped the hot liquid to her mouth. The stuff only
made her hotter. 

“About yesterday, about what I said. What do you want me to
tell them when they ask about…about Alana? You know, about…your childhood.”

Kit shook her head and held up a hand as if to stop her from
going any further. “I don’t want to talk about it. Just tell the truth; don’t
even think about lying. You’ve got Sarah to think about, so when they get
around to asking, just tell them how it was, just like you did yesterday.”
After baring her soul to Jake last night, she wanted to get on with the
business at hand. She gave Baylee a pleading look before quietly adding, “I
just can’t talk about it, okay? Please try to understand.”

“I do, too well. I tried to put myself in your situation
last night. If Dad…when he isn’t here anymore, what issues will I be dealing
with about my own childhood after he’s gone? If you need to talk, I’m here, but
if that isn’t enough maybe you should go back to see Dr. Strasburg, talk to him
about...how you feel…now that she’s dead.”

“I don’t think I’m so far gone I need to do that.”

“You’re in serious trouble. If the police…you have to be
prepared for…” For what, she thought, for an arrest? She wouldn’t think like
that, couldn’t.

The bell above the door jingled and Quinn Tyler stepped
inside the shop, dressed in jeans and an old faded Bruins T-shirt. Kit watched
the exotic-looking woman and brand new hospital resident toss back her long
black mane of hair before heading straight to the Pack ’N Play. Bending down to
peer at the now wide awake baby, Quinn immediately announced, “Hey, guys. Check
this out. Sarah’s got a tooth.”

Baylee scooted over to look. “Is that the future
pediatrician talking or wishful thinking on the part of her Auntie?”

To prove the teething diagnosis was true, Quinn picked up
Sarah and poked a finger in her mouth, rubbing at a little white sprout. “Don’t
tell me you haven’t noticed her teething, Mama?”

“As a matter of fact, she was a little fussy at four this
morning and didn’t want to go back down until six.”

Kit turned to stare at Baylee in wonder. “And I thought I
had a rough night. How do you do it?”

Baylee simply shrugged and said, “Since I’m staying at Dad’s,
Tanya’s always willing to lend a hand in the middle of the night.” Tanya was
pushing seventy, but she was the closest thing to a mother Baylee had ever
known. Over the past few months Tanya had proved once again she could handle an
infant.

“By the way, when was anyone going to tell me about Alana?
Yesterday I was on the downside of a thirty-hour shift when I look up at the TV;
saw Jessica preening for the press. And this morning I turn on the tube only to
find out Jessica committed suicide in the middle of an intersection. Geez,
they’re dropping like flies.” Quinn stood alternately bouncing and nuzzling
Sarah, then stopped long enough to look accusingly at Kit. “I called you four
times last night, worried.”

Before Kit could respond, Baylee chimed in, “The police were
here yesterday, questioning Kit. They think she,” Baylee bit her lip, looked at
Kit then Quinn. “They think she did it.”

“Did what?” When Quinn finally figured it out, her jaw
dropped. “You’re joking. They couldn’t.”

Kit took another sip of her coffee. “Unfortunately, they’re
serious, I have no alibi. As of yesterday, according to Connor Boyd, I
inherited the bulk of Alana’s estate. I’m sure the police will use that and
anything else they can…as motive.”

At that moment a customer walked in, and Baylee went to wait
on the man.

“I don’t know what to say, Kit. You told them you couldn’t
go back into that house, didn’t you? How could they think that? And since when
would Alana leave you her estate? When did that happen?”

“I have no idea, but I’m supposed to,” Kit waved a hand
toward the files on the counter, “go over this paperwork, sign where indicated,
and get them back to Connor ASAP.”

Just as Baylee had done, Quinn snuck out one of her hands
from around the baby and took hold of Kit’s arm. “Don’t sign anything. I don’t
trust those vultures. Take all this stuff to a lawyer. Get a second opinion.
Don’t take their word for anything.” When Sarah began to fuss and root around
like she needed to nurse, Quinn relinquished the baby to Baylee, who’d finished
up with the customer and sat back down at the table.

Quinn pulled up another chair, plopped down. “Did either of
you catch that joke of a press conference yesterday afternoon? The Unholy Three
standing by Jessica’s side the entire time? Icing on the cake since it was
Jessica’s farewell performance.”

Hearing Quinn mention The Unholy Three, the nickname they’d
given the Boyd sons when they were kids, sent chills down Baylee’s spine. She
looked away and absently began nursing Sarah.

But Kit shook her head and sneered, “Quinn, I was a little
busy getting the third degree from Homicide.”

“Oh, right,” Quinn said, sheepishly. “Sorry. But this was
must-see TV. You should have seen the way Jessica held court with her three
little lap dogs around her. They made such an ass out of themselves vying for
mommy’s attention. It was pathetic. That’s nothing new of course, but it was
sickening to watch Connor, Cade, and Collin twisting in the wind whenever
Jessica opened her mouth to speak. And Cade was the worst.”

“There was a time you didn’t think so.”