Authors: Vickie McKeehan
He sat up. “I did hurt you.”
“It’s nothing. Just so I don’t embarrass myself though I’m
taking a nap. I’m not sure Baylee and Quinn will ever let me live down the day
Gloria ‘fessed up and I was blitzed. And poor Dylan, after our drama, Quinn
said he practically ran from the room like a man possessed trying to get as far
away from the hysterical females as he could.”
“We were all worried that you’d be so upset you’d have a
setback. But then we got there and you were…giddy as hell. I bet you’re a fun
drunk.”
“I’m a blast.”
“I plan to put that in the data bank, use it for later, when
maybe you’re pissed at me.”
“Oh, stop it. I still can’t understand why you guys thought
I’d be upset. Let’s think about this for a minute, what is the downside here? I
had Alana for a mother. Hello. Then I find out the woman I’ve loved for years,
the woman I’m closest to is really my mother. I just don’t see why I should be
the least bit upset about that.
“I believe Gloria when she says she didn’t willingly give me
up. It sounds exactly like a scheme those two women would cook up in retaliation
for some slight Alana thought she’d received. Think about it, Alana manipulates
Gloria into thinking she’s befriending her, all the while planning to take away
her baby. That idea took time to plan, have Jessica prepared to immediately
start adoption proceedings the minute Gloria gave birth even if it was with
phony, forged documentation. Then before Gloria knows what’s happening, maybe
she starts to ask too many questions, kicks up too much of a fuss while she’s
still in the hospital, and boom before she knows what’s happening she’s on the
other side of the country locked up in some mental ward. You know Jake,
Gloria’s lucky they let her out of that hospital at all. What a punishment
though, taking me away from her. No wonder, Alana treated me like a dog. To
her, I probably was no more than that.
“If I’m upset with anyone, I guess it would have to be my
father. He just lets Alana have me. I mean, he knew the truth, Jake. He knew I
wasn’t Alana’s and yet, when he found out about the adoption, he didn’t go to
the judge, petition the court, and say ‘hey, this is my daughter, my kid, I’m
the father Alana’s just the adoptive mother. I want custody.’ No, I have to
face facts, Jake, he didn’t want me. For a man traveling around the world doing
exactly what he wanted to do, he couldn’t have a kid tagging along. I’d be too
much trouble. I’d have been in the way. You know, it makes me realize Baylee’s
father did a decent job all those years, except of course when he drank. But I
mean at least he kept her, tried to be a father to her.”
“You’re a helluva woman, Kit. I thought for sure, you’d be
pissed. But here you are logically going through it in your head, sorting it
all out. That’s why I love you.”
She rolled back over the bed into his arms, nuzzled his chest,
and said. “Mmmm, I love you, Jake Boston. How could I possibly be in anything
but a blissful state right now? I’m not pissed, just hurt, disappointed. Life’s
too short to be mad at Gloria for something she had no control over. How can I
blame her when at least she came back into my life at the age of twelve? And
frankly, Jake, as long as I know Gloria’s my mother, I never have to think
about Alana in that role, ever again. Right now, here today with you, I’m a
happy camper.”
Later, waking from a nap, she found Jake’s body pressed up
against her back with his arms locked around her. It felt like heaven. Still
basking from the afterglow of their lovemaking, she could easily stay wrapped
up in him like this and just bake in the knowledge he was hers. Her mind
drifted lazily into dreams of marriage and kids. With the knowledge that Gloria
was her mother and not Alana, she could actually look forward to the future,
the dreams she’d had about having a family, having children of her own, might
now become a reality. It seemed to her that the future somehow held brighter
possibilities.
The phone ringing somewhere in the cabin put a slight ding
in her bliss. But even as Jake moved to answer it, even as she heard him say
something about Reese’s office, she knew the phone call was about her. She
rolled over in bed to study Jake’s body language for any sign of what the call
was about. She saw him tense up, saw him run a hand through his hair, then
after several more minutes, heard him end the call by saying, “We’ll be there.”
After hanging up, he crawled back in bed, and put his arms
around her. “That was Reese. He wanted us to know two things. St. John wants
his interview. Reese set it up in his office in the morning at ten.” As soon as
he looked at her face, he wanted to take away the fear he saw there. As his
hands moved up to stroke her hair, he reassured her, “Baby, just go back to
sleep, don’t worry about it now.”
But how could she not worry. Just when she began to think
about the future, had a reason to plan ahead, the past reared its ugly head
again, sending her back to a time she so wanted to forget. When she came out of
her funk, she asked, “What was the other thing?”
“The private investigator found Will Forrester.”
After spending an uneasy night and morning fearing the
worst, the interview with St. John lasted under thirty minutes and brought with
it her first ray of hope the police might go in another direction. During St.
John’s attempt to get her to say something incriminating, Reese dropped a
bombshell of sorts when he presented St. John with a copy of the coroner’s
findings. The M.E. was convinced the stab wounds on Alana’s body came from an
angle suggesting the killer had been right-handed.
“Read the report,” Reese had demanded when St. John
protested. “My client’s left-handed. This should be a no-brainer for you. Kit
did not kill Alana.”
But St. John had taken the report and huffed, “It’s a
theory, nothing more.”
“He’s the same guy who theorized the time of death. You need
to pursue other suspects on this one, Max, and stop harassing my client.”
St. John had stormed out of the office.
Later, Reese had explained the interview had been little
more than a scare tactic, a power trip that made sure Kit knew she was still a
suspect.
Even though the meeting had taken everything out of her, she
insisted on stopping at the vet hospital to sit with Pepper for a while. The
dog was coming along well enough, but would still need to stay under the
watchful eye of the vet in the ICU.
As she laid her head near Pepper and began to talk to him
softly, it broke her heart to see her dog so banged up. “Will he make a full
recovery?” Kit asked Dr. Phillips, the veterinarian who had operated on Pepper.
“He should, although he might have a slight limp in his hind
leg, the one that snapped at the joint. But the good news is there’s no
post-surgery bleeding, or signs of infection.”
“When can I take him home?”
“Give it another few days.”
“I have a lot of stairs in my house. I’m thinking perhaps he
should go stay at Gloria’s until he’s able to maneuver around.”
Dr. Phillips agreed, “Stairs won’t do. We don’t want him
tearing the stitches. But when he’s better he’ll need to have some kind of
rehabilitation. I understand you’ve been in the hospital yourself.”
“Yes, but I’m getting along okay.”
Jake rolled his eyes. “She’s out and about way too early.
But she’s determined to push the envelope.”
The vet smiled. “It’ll take both of you some time to
recover. Neither of you should try to do too much too soon.”
“See, even the vet agrees with me,” Jake said smugly as they
reluctantly left Pepper in the capable hands of the staff in ICU.
But Kit was ready for a fight when Jake offered to drop her
off at Gloria’s on the way to the public library while he went through the
newspaper archives without her. “Do you intend to have someone baby sit me for
the rest of my life?”
“If that’s what it takes to keep you safe.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’ll be going back to work in a few
days. Do you intend to bring your laptop to the Book & Bean and run your
company from the coffee shop?”
“Who’s being ridiculous now?” But as the idea sunk in, he
thought it had merit. “And going back to work in a few days is out of the
question.”
“Says who? I have to earn a living, Jake. I won’t live life
with a babysitter. You can’t be with me every second of every day. And I won’t
let Collin or any other Boyd dictate how I live my life. I’ve no intentions of
letting them have that kind of power over me. They’ve bullied me my whole life.
I’m done with letting them.”
“Hard-headed woman,” he muttered, before offering a
suggestion. “At least ask Gloria for some help. She could take some of the
baking off your hands.”
“Now that is a good idea. I’ll call her.”
He clasped her hand. “I just don’t want you hurt again.”
How could she fight that kind of heartfelt sentiment? She
let out a frustrated breath. “Just so you know, if you’re headed to the
library, you aren’t going without me.”
They had been at it for hours, looking through slides of
newspaper articles, archives on microfiche, until both of them suffered from
blurry vision, and so far they hadn’t found a single mention of any unsolved
murders that fit the timeframe after August 10, 1969. There had been murders
back then all over L.A. county, lots of them, but none that matched what they
were looking for. Now that she’d had some time to think about it, Kit wondered
if the whole idea was just a little too far-fetched.
“Maybe we should turn this over to a professional who knows
what they’re doing, drop it in their lap, like one of those investigators who
specialize in cold case files. Isn’t that what they’re called?”
“Jordan Donovan is damn good, but he’s concentrating his
efforts right now on Alana’s murder. His plate’s too full to go chasing a
half-baked idea like this.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You know what I mean. This is a reach even for us.” Then he
saw the forlorn look on her face, and added, “But it won’t hurt to eliminate
the possibility. Then we can go on to other ideas, other theories.”
“Such as?”
“For one, it occurs to me that maybe county tax records from
back then might yield a name. We look up the Sundown Ranch on the tax rolls see
if we can come up with an owner’s name that way.”
Kit gaped at him. “God, I love you. You’re brilliant. How do
we do that?”
“We can look up the county tax records online. I just don’t
know how far back they go. It might take a trip into the office where we search
the old-fashioned way through stacks of old records one at a time.” He saw the
incredulous look on her face and concluded, “Well, it beats nothing.”
“No, I’m impressed. It tells me you’re putting a lot of
thought into this. If I haven’t said so, I just want to say thanks. You’ve been
in my corner from the beginning on this, willing to believe in what I saw in
the dream, and I just want to say…oh wait, go back one frame. Look at this,
Jake.” She pointed to the screen where the headline read:
Elderly Couple Found Slain In
Hollywood Hills
Dated August 17, 1969
The L.A. County Sheriff’s Department confirmed the
identities of the elderly, Hollywood Hills couple who were found brutally slain
in their Sundown Ranch house on Friday morning August 15. Authorities believe
Pete Parker, 69, and his wife, Mary, 67, died from gunshot wounds or multiple
stab wounds. Sheriff’s deputies are investigating the murders of the couple as
a double homicide. Local attorney, Jessica Boyd, discovered the bodies of the
couple in their bedroom when she went to check on them after they failed to
show up at her law office for a morning appointment.
When interviewed for this article Jessica Boyd wanted
everyone to know, “They were always so reliable. It was out of character for
them to run late or to not keep their appointment. With all these recent
murders in the news, when they didn’t show, I immediately became concerned.
Their deaths are such a shame, too. They were such a sweet old couple.”
Upon arrival, sheriff’s deputies found a gruesome murder
scene that included graffiti written on the walls in the victim’s blood. There
were no signs of forced entry.
Autopsies of the couple have been scheduled for Monday
by the Los Angeles County Coroner’s Office.
Pete Parker gained notoriety in the ’30’s and ’40’s as a
former cowboy film star, starring in such westerns as Hills of Wyoming and
Mountain Siege. After their only son, Noah Parker, an Army Ranger, was reported
missing in action in Vietnam in May of this year, it was determined the couple
had no other living relatives. The Parkers made history two years ago when they
were awarded a $15 million dollar settlement against McKetrick Construction,
the largest settlement of its kind at the time. Funeral arrangements are
pending.
“Wow, Pete and Mary Parker,” a dejected Kit said as she
rubbed the back of her neck, and slumped in a defeated posture in the
uncomfortable metal chair she’d been sitting in for the last several hours. “I
thought I’d feel better knowing who they were, but I don’t.” Instead of feeling
elated at the discovery, all of a sudden, she felt sick to her stomach. “Pete
Parker was a former actor, a cowboy star. I bet that explains the gold cowboys,
Jake. I wonder if my father knew him.”
“What if the son, this Noah Parker wasn’t dead at all, but
was alive and eventually found out who killed his parents, decided it was time
for payback?”
“But why would it take him so long. It’s been over forty
years.”
Jake frowned. “Good point. But if he thought Alana and
Jessica killed his parents for the money that would explain a lot. And if we
found this article, maybe he did too. Isn’t it convenient that Jessica not only
found the bodies that morning, but she even managed to work into the interview
about the other murders. Looks like your dream was right on the money, Kit.”