Authors: Vickie McKeehan
“Oh, Gloria.”
“But I wasn’t on any medication so I didn’t have any pills I
could take. I didn’t own a gun so I couldn’t shoot myself. One afternoon, I
walked out to the harbor and sat down on the pier there, watching the boats for
a while. It’s different from L.A. there, quieter, a little more serene than
here. But right there in the harbor, I thought maybe I could just walk off into
the ocean and drown, just sink down into the depths of the water, and leave my
problems, my messed up life behind.
“But I didn’t do that, Kit, because I thought of you. The
one person in the world that was mine, the one person I loved above all else. I
walked back to town then, got a job as a maid at the bed and breakfast on the
outskirts of town and started saving every penny, every dime I could scrape
together to get a lawyer to get you back.
“That’s how I met Morty. I went into his office about six
months later and told him the whole story. And the day he told me that the
adoption was legal because Jessica had some piece of paper that said I gave you
up, I cried for a week. I didn’t sign anything, or at least I don’t remember
signing anything. But Alana had you just the same and I didn’t. And by that
time you were almost two, I had never even laid eyes on you so in my mind I
told myself that Alana would be good to you. That since she did something so
despicable she must have really wanted a child. I told myself that Kit every
day, I told myself that to keep from going insane for real. I had to keep
telling myself everything would be okay if you were with Alana. Lord knows the
woman had the money to take care of you better than I could. That’s what I told
myself.
“But then when Morty and I got married, he asked me where
I’d like to go on a honeymoon. I chose L.A. He brought me back here and I got
to see you for the first time. You were three years old by then. You were such
a beautiful little girl, all blond with big green eyes just like mine. But your
right arm was in a cast. I’ll never forget it. I asked you how you’d hurt
yourself and you said…” She stopped long enough to blow her nose into a
Kleenex. “You said that ‘the mean lady hurt you’ and I knew then, I knew Kit, I
knew from that point on. I wanted to kidnap you, just grab you up and run, but
Morty, of course, ever the lawyer, talked me out of it, convinced me to let the
courts handle it. To get your father involved.
“I tracked down John in Ireland, told him what was
happening. He promised me he’d do something. But he didn’t. Oh, he’d petition
the court every now and then, go through the motions for a while, but then when
it came right down to it, Alana would promise the incidents were isolated or
that he was exaggerating the extent of your injuries, and she’d keep financing
his next picture. She bought him off, Kit.”
By this time the tears were trailing down Kit’s face. She
sniffed. “Oh Gloria I always suspected it was something like that, because he’d
make promises to me, too and then back down, give in to her every single time,
and he’d always take me back to her.”
“Oh baby, I’m so sorry, sorrier than you will ever know.”
“We can’t change the past Gloria, you said so yourself. Jake
said something to me the other day about going forward from this moment on.
That’s what we’ll do Gloria, from this day forward, we’ll start over as mother
and daughter.
“You know, when I was little I used to wish that you were my
mother. Of course, for a time there, I also did that with Maya, the Boyd
housekeeper.”
She smiled with a twinkle in her eye before going on, “But I
wished more often and harder that you would fill that role. And now, you’re my
mother. It’s like I’ve been granted a wish after years of wishing on a star.
You were always like my fairy godmother, you know, showing up at the worst
possible times to help me out, make things better.”
“I missed everything though, those years I’ll never be able
to get back, your first steps…” Her voice trailed off in a broken whisper.
“Hush now. Don’t think about it. We’ll make up for it Glo,
somehow, someway, we’ll make up for it. Maybe with grandchildren, how would
that be?”
“Oh Kit, I could only dream and hope for this kind of
reaction from you. You’re the sweetest angel. I thought you’d hate me.”
“I couldn’t. Will you do me a favor?”
“What’s that?”
“Go check on Pepper today. Stop by the vet’s. Let me know
how he is. I mean Jake hasn’t left my side long enough to do it. I’m worried
about Pepper.”
“I stopped at the vet’s this morning, but I’ll stop by and
check on him on my way home. You do realize, honey, that Pepper may need to
stay at the vet’s for some time, don’t you?”
She sighed. “I know. I just hope he’ll make a full recovery.
What are you doing here so early, anyway?”
“I woke up at three o’clock—couldn’t get back to sleep. So I
drove here to sit with you for a while.”
Kit caught the time and sat up straighter. Was it possible?
Casually, she asked, “Bad dream?”
“Oh, it’s just this recurring dream I’ve been having off and
on over the years. It hasn’t surfaced for quite some time. But since Alana died
I’ve been having it every night, waking up at exactly…”
“Three minutes past three.” The hairs on the back of Kit’s
neck stood up and chills shuddered down her arms to her fingertips.
Gloria looked shocked. “How do you know that?”
“Because since the night we got back from sailing, the day
the boat blew up I’ve been having a nightmare that wakes me up at three minutes
past three about an old couple who lived in the Hollywood Hills on a place
called the Sundown Ranch. How much detail do you see, Glo?”
“When I first started having the dream I’d just turned
fifteen, there wasn’t much detail to it, just like two people stumbling around
in the fog, a misty scene hard to make out sometimes. But for the past week,
the details have gotten clearer, more vivid.”
“Vivid as in color or black and white?”
“Like an old black and white movie. I see their car drive up
to the house. I see how they get inside. The killers use their own key, so it
was someone that knew the old couple, someone they trusted. I see them stumble
around in the dark, turn on the lamp, go to the kitchen, take out the knife
from a drawer. Then one of them creeps along the hallway to the bedroom where
the couple’s sleeping, while the other one stays in the kitchen loading some
kind of a gun. Then the one with the gun comes into the room and just starts
shooting.”
Kit picked up the rest. “After the couple’s dead, the one
with the knife stabs them, uses their blood to write the words PIG, DEATH, and
DIE on the walls of the bedroom. Afterwards, they go back into the kitchen to
celebrate with a bottle of champagne.”
“What? They do what? I don’t see that. That’s just
horrible.”
“I told Jake about it. Because of the graffiti on the walls,
he thought the whole thing sounded similar to the Manson murders.”
“Oh my God, I remember that. I’ve been having this dream for
so long I didn’t see the similarity. Of course, it’s like that. How could I not
have seen that? But why would I be dreaming about the Manson murders, why this
particular old couple?”
Kit told her about her theory that the murders were a
copycat of the more famous murders and that she believed the killers were Alana
and Jessica.
Gloria was so stunned she had to sit back down. “Some
psychic I am. What does it all mean?”
“I don’t know. Without proof, who on earth is going to
believe us?”
Two days later, Kit left the confinement of the hospital
after claustrophobia descended. She wouldn’t stay cooped up in that hospital
room a minute longer. She had to break outside, lap up some sun and breathe
fresh air again no matter how much Quinn wanted her to stay until she was ready
to face St. John. And Kit was equally resistant to Jake’s plan to whisk her out
of town for security reasons. She simply turned a deaf ear to his fears and
suggested she recoup on the boat.
If Collin hadn’t tried to kill her, taking her to the boat
to recover might have been a great idea. But taking her to such an exposed
place, out in the open where Collin might reach the boat from the water, was
risky. Jake tried reason, logic, and common sense. But Kit refused to budge.
She wanted to recover on the boat.
Granted, he’d wanted to cave the minute he’d taken one look
at her sorry state. She still had stitches in her head. And the purple and
yellowish bruises still covered most of her body. But what really had him
giving in was when he’d looked into her pleading green eyes and fell into their
depths. Against his better judgment, he’d thrown in the towel right then and
let her have her way.
He promised himself he wouldn’t keep her locked up like
Alana had done. If Kit couldn’t have the freedom to come and go, to enjoy life
outside, she’d feel as if she might already be in a jail cell. And since that
was exactly where St. John intended to put her, Jake refused to treat her like
a prisoner.
But just because he’d given in, didn’t mean he was happy
about it.
Looking over at Kit wearing a bright red bikini, stretched
out in a deck chair enjoying the sights and sounds of the marina, his mouth
watered. But he had no intentions of acting so carelessly. Taking the chair
across from her, he rigidly watched her like a hawk for any signs she might be
in pain.
After so many days pent up, and with so many people around
them at the hospital, Kit was aware that for the first time in days they were
truly alone. On the trip to San Madrid, she’d felt that pull in the belly at
the idea of getting him naked. Despite the bruises and soreness, her body
revved with a sexual energy as she recalled what terrific things he could do
with his mouth, things she yearned for. Her juices went slick in anticipation.
As hungry gulls bomb-dived for their supper, as the water
gently slapped the sides of the boat, one glance at Jake told her he had no
intentions of making a move toward her that way. Still dressed in his Dockers
and Polo shirt, he sat stiffly watching her as if she might explode any second.
So it was up to her.
She patted the chair next to her and suggested, “Why don’t
you come over here and sit beside me?”
He stared at her through the sunglasses he wore, but said
nothing as he stood up, moved to oblige and sit down next to her.
“Aren’t you hot in all those clothes?” She all but purred
the question, as she watched a single brow arch over his dark glasses in
response. When she awkwardly leaned toward him, he continued to stare without
uttering a word. Determined, Kit fanned her face. “Why don’t you take off some
of those clothes so you’ll be…cooler and I’ll get to see …all of you.” Reaching
up with her good left hand, she took hold of the back of his neck, brought his
mouth down to hers. She tugged on his bottom lip before opening her mouth,
drawing in his tongue. Feverishly, she gave him a wet kiss then tried to lift
her injured right arm to put her other hand around his neck―and shrieked
in pain.
Patiently, he gently lifted her right arm and put it back
down on the chair, placed both hands down on either side of her. “You’re in no
shape to be fooling around. And I tried to tell you not to remove that sling
from your shoulder, but you wouldn’t listen. It’s there for a reason. You need
rest and sleep to get your body to recoup. Now behave yourself.”
“You just think you’re so smart don’t you, Mr. I Know
Everything. I’ve been sleeping for five days until I’m loopy. I’ve been cooped
up inside. It’s such a beautiful day. I don’t want to behave. I want to feel
alive, make love. Make love with me, Jake. I want to feel you inside me.”
“You’re getting bitchy, honey.”
“I’m not bitchy. I’m just…can I help it if my juices are
revved. Don’t you want me?”
He sighed. “Kit, if I touch just one of those bruises, I’m
liable to hurt you. The last thing I want to do is to put you in any more
pain.”
“It hurts no matter what activity I do, so why not do
something I really enjoy, one we both enjoy. How about if I show you where it
doesn’t hurt, how would that be?” She cocked her head, took one of his hands in
hers, and placed it on her breast. With her fingers on top of his she started
kneading her breasts using his fingers. Soon he was rubbing her breasts for
real through the fabric. “Kiss me, touch me, Jake. When you touch me, I feel so
alive.”
“Woman, you are killing me here. I’d like nothing better
than to get you out of that bikini, but I might hurt you.” Then he saw the
wounded look in her eyes and gave in, again. As his mouth covered hers, his
arms moved under her to carry her below deck. “We’re doing this in a bed. I’m
not giving the damned nosy neighbors an eyeful they’ll be talking about at the
Book & Bean.”
“Let them talk. It’ll increase business.”
“You say that now, but when I rip off this bikini, they’ll
whisper about it with awe in their voice.”
“You like my bikini.” It wasn’t a question.
“What’s not to like,” he said, as he gently laid her on the
bed. “In about two seconds, you aren’t going to be wearing it.”
“Show me.”
Twenty minutes later she was still lying on top of him, with
his arms rubbing up and down her back, when he said, “I didn’t hurt you, did
I?”
“No.” Her shoulder was killing her. But she played along
with the teasing tone when she asked, “Did I hurt you?”
“I think I might have a couple of bruises myself.”
“Poor baby.”
“I’m not complaining.”
She kissed his mouth, whispered softly, “You have a gentle
touch, Mr. Boston. I feel safe when I’m in your arms, safer than I’ve ever felt
before.” In one motion she swung off of him, rolled over to reach her bag on
the floor, dug around until she found a prescription bottle, and poured out a
blue pill into her palm. She downed it with a couple of sips of bottled water
from the nightstand.