by Brenda Novak
Bishop stiffened. Terry’s mood certainly hadn’t improved since last night. “It’s an unnecessary loss. That’s all. I’m not finding fault with you; I just hate waste.”
“Doesn’t everyone? Welcome to the real world, buddy. I guess now that you’re no longer a big cancer researcher you gotta live like the rest of us.”
Lyman grimaced. How could Terry say that after what he’d been through? Sometimes he didn’t like the janitor very much—and yet Terry had been just about the best friend Lyman had ever had. He doubted anyone else would’ve helped him get out of Beacon Point. The orderlies and other medical staff had treated him like some kind of leper. One, in particular, always mentioned the lobotomies and said it was poetic justice that he’d lost his mind.
“I still have the intellect that made me a cancer researcher in the first place,” he pointed out, which was more than he could say for Terry. What had Terry accomplished? Nothing. He wasn’t very smart. He didn’t know that his wife was going to leave him, even though, judging from what Lyman had heard of their arguments, he could tell that she was halfway out the door.
“I’m happy for you,” Terry said sarcastically. “But I can’t sit around and chitchat. Bridget will be home with the kids any minute. I’ve got to figure out a way to tell her I lost my job without it turning into another knock-down, drag-out.”
“Oh. Okay. No problem. I just thought that maybe, since I’m here for the day anyway, you’d want to meet me and get your money. I was hoping it might help to have a wad of cash on hand when you talked to Bridget. That’s why I called.”
“You think we should meet up?” He sounded more interested. “I thought you said that would be too risky.”
“It won’t be if we can find a secluded spot. We wouldn’t want anyone to see us together, but—”
“That won’t be a problem,” he broke in. “I’ll leave a note for Bridget, tell her I had to run a quick errand. Where are you? Where should we meet?”
Bishop gazed complacently at the traffic that surrounded him in St. Paul. “Have you heard of Swede Hollow?”
“No.”
“It’s a ravine just off Seventh Street, near the old Hamm’s Brewery.”
“I know where that is.…”
“Then you can find it easily enough. Pick me up at the Metropolitan State University off Seventh, which is right by there, too, and I’ll pay you. Then you can take me to the airport.”
“I thought you said your flight doesn’t leave until Saturday morning.”
“It doesn’t, but I don’t want to worry about getting a room and another ride. I’ll wait there.”
“Okay, but why are we going somewhere so close to downtown? Won’t there be scads of people?”
“Swede Hollow is very secluded. Did you know it used to be a shantytown until the 1950s, when the city knocked it down and kicked out the squatters? Hardly anyone even knew it existed, but there’d been people living down there without any electricity or water for over a hundred years.”
“No. How do you know all that?”
“Oh, an article I once read.” Lyman saw no need to tell him that he’d buried a body in the park once, a woman by the name of Starr Hoffman, who’d never been found. Not only was it quiet and wooded, it was also close to where he used to live. He’d always liked the place, mostly because of Starr, a student at the university who’d been so sweet and kind to everyone, including him, until he tried asking her out.
“Whatever. Listen, I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting.” Lyman disconnected and stretched out his arms along the top of the bench, enjoying the fresh air until it was time to go meet Terry.
He arrived at MSU first, because he hadn’t been far away to begin with. But he was surprised when Terry drove up shortly after, even sooner than expected, and rolled down his window.
“Why are you wearing that?” he asked without so much as a hello, indicating the sweatshirt Lyman had put back on since leaving the park. “Aren’t you sweltering in this heat?”
Lyman waited for Terry to unlock the door and got in. “Being partially paralyzed makes me distinctive. I’d rather not draw attention to myself.”
Terry snorted. “You will, though, wearing a sweatshirt in June.”
“It’s dark in color. No one has said a word.”
“Fine. Go ahead and suffer,” he said. “So … you want me to go into the hollow? How do I get there?”
“Through the improvement arches,” he said as Terry pulled out of the university on Seventh.
“You’ve got my money, right?”
“Of course. But if you’re in that much of a hurry, just stop here.”
“On the street?”
“Why not? I’d like to take a look at the ravine. From what I remember, it’s very steep.”
Terry pulled to the side of the road, but he made no move to get out. “I don’t care about seeing the ravine. Just pay me. Then you’ll have to find your own way to the airport. I need to get back to Bridget.”
Lyman opened the sack he’d been carrying with him. “Okay, but make sure there’s no one looking.”
As soon as Terry swiveled his head to check, Lyman pulled out the butcher knife he’d purchased that morning and plunged it into Terry’s heart.
“W-why?” Terry gasped, his jaw sagging in stunned disbelief as he gazed down at the handle protruding from his chest.
“You should’ve done your homework,” Lyman replied. “You would’ve known I don’t have any money. My legal defense took almost everything I had. And I can’t have you and Emmett going to the police, telling them you know where Evelyn Talbot is.”
A desperate, choking gurgle was the only reply Terry could make. Which was fine with Lyman.
“It sounds like Emmett found the perfect place. I might want to stay there a while. But don’t take it personally,” he added. “It’s me. I’m a fastidious person, can’t leave any loose ends.”
“Emmett will … k-kill you … for this,” Terry somehow managed to say as his body began to convulse.
“Not if I kill him first.” Lyman pulled the knife out and wiped it clean with some paper towels he’d also purchased and put it all back in the sack. Then he got out, walked around to the driver’s side and opened the door.
The knowledge that he was absolutely powerless registered on Terry’s face, along with the pain and fear. He clutched his chest as blood spread over his shirt like a blooming flower, and he tried to get out of the car. Perhaps he intended to flag down a passing motorist. There were plenty of other vehicles flowing past, all oblivious to what was occurring right in front of their eyes.
Bishop blocked him in, standing casually as though he were merely talking to a friend who’d dropped him off. One person honked; the driver didn’t like that they were partway in the road, but after flipping the bird, he simply went around.
“I guess I haven’t lost my touch,” Bishop said when Terry quit moving and stared sightlessly through the windshield. “Surprise provides such an advantage.”
Whistling as he reached in to put the transmission in Drive, he closed the door, pulled his hood back up and started to walk away as though he’d had no part in sending the car rolling over into the ravine.
When it crashed a few seconds later, the noise drew some attention, but the few who heard it were so shocked and so clueless as to what could’ve happened that Lyman was stepping inside a taxi on Payne Avenue and heading to the airport before a crowd could even form.
Sometimes doing things right in the middle of the day, and in plain sight, raised far less suspicion.
Hilltop, AK—Thursday, 11:40 a.m. AKDT
Amarok had spent the time since he’d been back from Anchorage pulling Evelyn’s old files down from the garage and searching through them. He heard a knock at the front door while he was just getting another box. Makita started to bark, but he didn’t want to take the time to answer it. He wouldn’t have, if his visitor hadn’t continued to knock.
“Come on, Amarok!” Phil yelled from outside. “Open up!”
With far more irritation than he had a right to feel, Amarok trudged back through the house, dropped the box he was carrying in the living room, told Makita to shut up and sit down and picked up Evelyn’s cat, so that Sigmund wouldn’t get outside as he wrenched open the door. “I’m busy. What is it?”
“I have a surprise for you. Can you come on over to the Moosehead?”
“No.” He closed the door and put the cat down, but he didn’t lock it, so Phil let himself in and followed Amarok into the living room.
“Finding anything?” He gestured at the boxes Amarok had searched so far, looking for a mug shot of a guy with a scar over his eye.
“No.”
“Well, I hate to take you away from this. But it can wait thirty minutes or so, can’t it?”
“I’m afraid not,” Amarok insisted. “I have to do everything I possibly can, and I have to do it right away.”
Phil propped his hands on his hips. “Amarok, you’re demanding too much of yourself. You’re not superhuman. Look at you—you can barely stay on your feet.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted gruffly. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep, even if I tried.”
“I doubt that’s true. You’re about to keel over right in front of my eyes, so why don’t you let us help?”
He peeled the lid off the new box. “Who’s ‘us’?”
Phil put the lid back on so that Amarok would have to look up at him. “You’ll see.”
Amarok’s eyes were burning, but he resisted the temptation to rub them. He didn’t want to give Phil any more fuel for his side of the argument. “Fine,” he said. “But whatever it is, you’d better make it quick.”
As Phil pulled him out of the house, Amarok whistled for Makita behind him, but Phil wouldn’t let him get into his own truck. “You’re not driving anymore, buddy,” he said, and all but shoved Amarok into the passenger seat of his new SUV before letting Makita in the backseat.
“Then hurry.” Taking any time away from his search made Amarok feel he was letting Evelyn down.
When they pulled into the Moosehead, the parking lot was full, even though it was mid-morning—a time when Shorty rarely opened, especially on weekdays. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“I’ve arranged a search party.”
It took a second for that to register. Amarok was crashing hard after the caffeine pills he’d taken in order to drive safely back from Anchorage and remain functional since. “Where are you going to search?”
“Both here and in Anchorage. We’ll be looking for any sign of the man with the scar—or anyone who’s seen him, the van or Evelyn—and we’ll cover as much ground as we can for as long as we can keep our volunteers.”
The more people who were looking, the better chance Evelyn had. Amarok couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of gathering so much help himself. It was proof that he was considering this more of a personal problem than a crime. “That’s a good idea,” he said, conceding.
Phil gestured at all the cars. “When I put out the call, I had no idea we’d get this level of response. I doubt there’s a single person who knows you who isn’t inside the bar right now. Some have even closed their shops and businesses. We’re serious about this.”
Amarok gazed at the jumble of vehicles, so many of which he recognized. He’d grown up with these people and, when his father had moved to Anchorage, they’d become his surrogate family. That was never more apparent than now. “But some of them don’t even like Evelyn,” he said.
“Granted, there are those who aren’t happy that she brought a prison like Hanover House to the area. But they aren’t doing it for her,” he said softly. “They’re doing it for you. You’ve always been there for us. Now we’re going to be there for you.”
The support softened the anger that had been driving Amarok so far. The community was coming together right when he needed them most, and that meant a great deal. Maybe it would make all the difference. Maybe they’d find Evelyn—or the stolen van so that he could find Evelyn.
He thanked Phil, who’d had more sleep than he’d had since Evelyn went missing but still not a great deal, and managed to get through the next thirty minutes, during which he created two different searches, one for Anchorage and a smaller one for Hilltop. He appointed search captains, explained how to make a grid and walk shoulder to shoulder through any wilderness area with avalanche probes or other poles to poke through the undergrowth.
Although he did it all mechanically, trying to distance himself from the raw emotion he felt, that all changed when the Ledstetters walked in. He thought they might be coming to cause trouble but soon felt terrible for ever doubting them. They got in line to take an assignment just like everyone else.
Amarok waited until Davie and Junior were heading toward the door to intercept them. “You don’t have to do this,” he said.
Davie exchanged a look with Junior. “If we can save you from suffering the way we have, we’d like to help,” he said, and Amarok’s throat tightened as Davie gave him a bear hug with a couple of quick thumps on the back.
12
Hilltop, AK—Thursday, 3:30 p.m. AKDT
The call to the Talbot family wasn’t one Amarok was looking forward to. He sat at his desk, his eyes so dry he could barely move them, hoping Phil would bring word that the searchers had found something. He clung fiercely to the belief that Evelyn was still alive—and wanted to wait to reach out to her family until he had more information. But the volunteers had just started. He’d been out there with them, making sure the search commenced as quickly as possible, but getting them going had still taken much longer than he’d anticipated.
He couldn’t put off notifying her folks any longer. Evelyn’s disappearance hadn’t hit the news yet, but it was only a matter of time. Penny had called to let him know that Ted Bell, a beat reporter from Anchorage, had been trying to reach Evelyn all morning and was growing suspicious because Penny kept putting him off. No doubt he’d heard Evelyn’s name in the chatter on his police scanner last night, when Officer McGowen and the others had been called out to the strip joint, and that had started him digging.
With a sigh, Amarok stared across the room at Makita, who was lying on his dog bed, as he picked up the phone. The Talbots hated that their daughter lived so far away. They wanted her back in Boston, which was why he wasn’t very confident they were happy she was marrying him. Knowing how they felt made delivering the news he had to give them that much harder. They’d no longer believe he could take care of her.
He rested his head on one fist while he listened to the phone begin to ring. Why didn’t he do more to protect her while he had the chance? How could he have let this happen?
He knew those questions weren’t entirely reasonable. He’d had no idea that something might go wrong, no warning, but he couldn’t help asking himself why he hadn’t been more cautious, just in case. Since Jasper had been caught, he’d relaxed too much.
“Hello?” Evelyn’s mother sounded excited but slightly harried at the same time.
Standing in preparation for the punch this conversation was sure to pack, he cleared his throat. “Lara, it’s Amarok.”
“Oh, I’m so glad you called!” she said. “Is Evelyn there with you?”
He winced. “No, she’s not. I’m afraid—”
“Oh darn!” she broke in, obviously not hearing anything besides no, she’s not. “I just tried to reach her at the prison but couldn’t get her, and she’s not answering at home. Where is she?”
Amarok hesitated. “Lara, I—”
Apparently, she wasn’t truly committed to the question, because she didn’t give him a chance to finish what he was about to say before continuing, “I need to reach her. Brianne’s in labor. I’m heading over to the hospital right now.”
Amarok had been up for so long, he felt as though he were ten feet underwater and everything was coming at him through the distortion of
that medium. For a moment, he even wondered if he might be hallucinating. He’d never been awake for so many days at one time. It was scrambling his perception, his thoughts and, most of all, his emotions.
He pulled the phone away so he could look at it just to be sure it was solid and real.
“Hello?” she said impatiently. “Did you hear what I said?”
He pulled the receiver back. “I did.”
“You’re probably calling to talk about the wedding, and I can’t wait to hear all about it. I know you were supposed to meet with the people from that Moosehead place to get a price on food. Evelyn insists that you two are paying for the reception there, that she’s too old for us to foot the bill. But that’s nonsense. She’s our girl, and we’re going to give her a proper wedding. Never mind that there will be two receptions. They’re both on us. We’re the ones who requested a second event in Boston, and you’re having to take time off work and travel all the way across the country.”
Someone spoke in the background. Amarok could only suppose it was Grant, Evelyn’s father.
She covered the phone. “I know, I know! I’ll be right there.” She came back on the line. “Grant’s starting the car. I have to go if I don’t want to miss the birth of my first grandchild. Can you tell Evelyn about Brianne? I’ll update her from the hospital, if I can. I’ll have my mobile with me, but when I went to visit my friend who had her knee replaced in that same hospital a few months ago, I couldn’t get any reception. I don’t have the foggiest idea why. There’s too much equipment in that place or something. Grant doesn’t believe me, but that’s what I think it is. Anyway, I wanted to get word about the baby to Evelyn before I left, just in case I can’t reach her from the hospital.”
Amarok was speechless. Brianne’s baby was coming now? He couldn’t tell Lara that Evelyn had been abducted for the second time in her life. After what the Talbots had been through before, it was their worst nightmare. The moment he said a word, what they’d endured more than two decades earlier—the knowledge of how Evelyn had suffered—would come back to them, and it would ruin this moment, which was supposed to be special and belong exclusively to Brianne.