by Brenda Novak
And there was something else that struck her as a little odd. If he was having prospective pet owners come here, why didn’t he at least sweep the floor? She could see trash and busted egg cartons at his feet. Apparently, he just waded through it. “Okay. Sorry for bothering you.”
“No problem,” he said.
She rubbed her arms. She should’ve brought a jacket. Thanks to the rain, it was unusually cold for June. But when she’d driven over to see why her mother wasn’t answering the phone, she hadn’t been planning to stay out all day. She’d just wanted to share the news she’d received yesterday afternoon—that she was expecting a baby. She felt it would lift Edna’s spirits, give her something to look forward to, especially because, unlike her other grandchildren, this child would be geographically close to Edna so she could be more involved.
When Ada reached her car, she stopped and turned to look back. She assumed her mother’s renter would’ve gone inside, but he hadn’t. She found him still in the doorway, watching her with an expression that made her feel … uneasy.
It probably seemed weird to him that she was rambling around, looking for her mother. But Edna refused to get a cell phone and didn’t have a computer. She wasn’t open to new technology, wouldn’t tackle the learning curve, so there was little that Ada could do to find her except go out and physically search.
She forced a smile as she waved and called her sister on Bluetooth the moment she drove away.
“Any word?” Nadine asked as soon as she answered.
“No. None.”
“What do you think has happened to her?”
Ada felt like crying. “I don’t know. I’ve looked everywhere. I’ve been to the grocery store, the gas station, her hairstylist, her dentist. I’ve called all her friends. No one has seen her.”
“You sound like you’re panicking.”
“I am.” She still couldn’t shake the strange feeling she’d had while visiting the egg ranch.
“Then what I have to tell you isn’t going to help.”
Ada tightened her grip on the steering wheel. It was Nadine who’d been telling her to calm down, that everything would be fine in the end. And yet she could tell her sister was now as worried as she was. “What is it?”
“I spoke to the Merriweathers.”
“The neighbors across the street from Mom? They came home?”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t they call me? I left a note.”
“When I got hold of them, they’d just walked through the door and were rushing to get their suitcases. They’re leaving for California for two weeks. Scott said he was going to call you from the car. They were afraid they might miss their flight otherwise.”
“But they took the time to talk to you?”
“They didn’t have much to say, so it didn’t take long.”
Ada swallowed around the lump that was rising in her throat. “Have they seen Mom?”
“No. And they said her car hasn’t been in the drive since Sunday.”
22
Minneapolis, MN—Tuesday, 7:30 p.m. CST
Amarok had been hoping to come across some evidence of a woman in Emmett Virtanen’s life. A photograph. A number on the fridge or counter. Makeup in the bathroom. Someone he might’ve talked to who’d know where he was and what he might be doing. Before she was kidnapped, a woman had called Evelyn, posing as his mother. If he could find her, maybe he could find him.
But there was nothing in Emmett’s Spartan-like apartment that indicated he had a girlfriend. From what Amarok could tell, Emmett seemed to care only about his sister, his niece and nephew, weight lifting and working out. The pictures he had were of family, and his cupboards were filled with protein powder and supplements. Which made Amarok wonder if Bridget had been the woman to call Evelyn, pretending to be Alistair.
Someone had to have done it, and she was the most likely choice.
If only he could get her to talk. If he thought he had even a remote chance of that, he’d be knocking on her door again today. But her familial connection made her cooperation unlikely, especially if she was the female who’d impersonated his mother.
When he couldn’t find anything to advance the investigation, the reality of what Evelyn was likely going through—if she was still alive—once again threatened to drown him in a sea of despair. As he searched, he kept remembering everything they’d been through together in the past three years—how skittish she’d been at first about even letting him touch her. Getting her to trust him enough to make love for the first time hadn’t been easy. He’d actually given up, had thought it would never happen.
But all that had changed over time. The Evelyn he’d known most recently was emotionally healthy, happy, loving, even physically demonstrative. And she’d finally agreed to settle in Alaska with him and become his wife.
They’d been so happy.
If he got her back, would all of that be undone? What would she be like after what she’d been through this time? And what would it mean for their relationship and their child? Would she even want to stay with him? Be a mother?
He tried to block out those questions as he went through Emmett’s car. It was sitting in what was probably his designated spot in the parking lot, unlocked. But there was nothing helpful there, so, hoping to find something he’d missed, he returned for a final walk-through of the apartment, only to be disappointed there, too.
He was just on his way out when Lewis arrived with the warrant and three other officers to help him perform the search.
“What are you doing here?” the detective demanded, shocked when Amarok met them at the front door.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“Wait, you didn’t break in here. You realize that’s a crime, not to mention you doing that would threaten the legitimacy of my investigation. I could have you arrested,” he said, getting angrier as the possible ramifications sank in.
If he was charged, Amarok knew he could wind up suspended, or worse. Considering the situation, the DA would be unlikely to act on the charges, but there was always the risk that he would.
Amarok loved his job, had never been in trouble before, but every moment he waited for that warrant was another moment Evelyn had to endure whatever she was going through. Five or ten minutes, one or two hours, could be the difference between finding her alive and finding her dead. “You wanted me to sit around and wait?”
“That wasn’t my choice to make! According to the law, it wasn’t yours, either. Don’t you care if what we find here is deemed inadmissible? Thrown out of court?”
“Hell yeah, I care. But I have to save my fiancée’s life! We don’t have the luxury of time—or of being too cautious.”
Although Amarok knew the rules and, under any other circumstances, would’ve obeyed them, he refused to let proper procedure—or anything else—cost him Evelyn’s life and the life of his unborn child.
Still, he’d put the detective in a terrible position, and he knew it.
Lewis turned to the officers behind him. “Please escort Sergeant Murphy off the premises.”
“Nothing’s here,” Amarok told them as the men stepped forward. “So at least I can save you some time.”
That he’d found no evidence made the whole inadmissible thing a moot point, but Lewis was so angry he wouldn’t let it go. “I’m done working with you!” he snapped. “Get your ass back to Alaska.”
“Look, if there’s a fall, I’ll be the one to take it,” Amarok said. “I’ll freely admit that I broke in without your knowledge, that you had nothing to do with it. And if it costs me my job, so be it. I’ll do whatever it takes to find Evelyn, and you’d do the same if it were the woman you loved.”
Lewis scratched his neck as the other officers glanced at one another in indecision. It took a moment, but finally, the detective released an exaggerated sigh. “I probably would. We probably all would. Them too.” He gestured at the men surrounding him. “That’s why this is so hard. I sympathize, Amarok
. I really do. But I can’t let you break the law. How’d you get in, anyway?”
Amarok lifted his eyebrows as he turned to look at the broken window. “Do you really want to know?”
Lewis shook his head in exasperation. “No, I guess I don’t.” He pointed at the door. “Go.”
Amarok didn’t move. “What about Virtanen’s car?”
“What about it?” he snapped.
“Did you include it in your warrant?”
“Of course. Along with his computer and his mail, which the manager is bringing as we speak.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why? Did you find a computer?”
“No. There’s no computer and no laptop. And I didn’t take anything else.” He lifted his hands to prove he had nothing.
“You didn’t search his car, too, did you?”
“I may have done that,” he admitted. “But you’ll be happy to know I didn’t have to break in. It wasn’t locked.”
Virtanen must’ve taken an Uber or some other ride service to the airport, which made sense, since he’d been gone so long. His neighbors claimed they hadn’t seen him for weeks.
“You didn’t find anything there, either?” one of the other officers asked.
“No, it was clean. Just like this place.”
“Get out!” Lewis said.
Amarok did as he was asked but turned back at the door. “What about the warrant for his phone records?”
“You heard me. Get out!” he yelled instead of answering.
Amarok narrowed his eyes. “You’d better call me as soon as you hear from the phone company.”
“Or what?” the detective responded. “Now you’re going to threaten me?”
“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he admitted. “It’s never smart to test a desperate man.”
Lewis’s face flushed red as he started forward, but one of the other officers grabbed his arm. “Hey. The guy’s just trying to save his fiancée. And his unborn child. If there was no evidence here, or in the car, no harm, no foul, right?”
Lewis cast the guy a dirty look as he shook him off. “You’re not in charge here. Do you remember what happened to the detective who worked the Lyman Bishop case before me? Do you know where he is now? He’s working at a fucking pizza parlor!”
“We all know,” one of the others said. “But this isn’t the same.”
“Yes it is. He was doing the wrong thing but for the right reason. That’s exactly the same.”
Amarok wasn’t going to keep battling. Not now. Not when there wasn’t anything to be gained. If Lewis had the phone records, he would’ve reacted differently when Amarok asked about them.
With a quick nod for the guy who’d stepped in to show him some empathy and had the balls to speak up, he walked out and let the door slam behind him.
He was striding angrily to his rental car when he saw a short, heavyset woman with bleached-blond hair, a ring through her nose and sleeve tattoos hurrying toward Virtanen’s apartment carrying an armful of mail.
Grateful for the timing, he muttered, “Maybe there is a God,” and intercepted her. “I’ll take that from here,” he said, pulling out his badge.
Since the police were there with a warrant, or maybe it was the authoritative way he’d spoken, she didn’t hesitate to hand it over. “What’s going on?” she asked, obviously flustered by the activity in her complex. “What has my tenant done?”
“We think he kidnapped a woman in Alaska,” he admitted to keep her preoccupied and a bit off-kilter as he shuffled through the stack.
He was just being thorough by checking the mail and didn’t really expect to find anything. These days, snail mail consisted mostly of solicitations and possibly a few bills. Even those came electronically for a large percentage of the population, what with the popularity of online banking.
The apartment manager was talking a mile a minute, expressing shock and horror at the seriousness of the crime for which they were investigating the tenant in Apartment #216, when he caught a glimpse of something that made him pause. It was a letter to a John Edmonson in care of Emmett Virtanen from someone—a woman, he assumed—named Edna Southwick. But it wasn’t the name that jumped out at him. It was the return address.
She lived in Alaska.
Taking the letter, he handed the rest of the mail back to the woman who was still yapping about Emmett—that he’d seemed like such a nice man, that he always paid his rent on time, that he didn’t bother his neighbors, that he kept his apartment clean and always parked in his designated spot.
“I’m afraid I’m in a hurry,” he told her as he slipped the Alaska letter in his pocket. “Can you take the mail to Detective Lewis inside the apartment?”
He’d cut her off mid-sentence, but he didn’t care. He needed to get out of there before Lewis caught wind of the fact that he’d beaten him to the mail, too.
“Oh. Of course,” she said, obviously taken aback by the interruption as well as his brusque manner.
“Sorry I don’t have the time to explain further,” he said as he circumvented her.
“No problem!” she called after him. “I understand. You have a job to do. I hope you find the woman who’s missing. What should I do if Mr. Virtanen comes back here? What if I see him?”
He stopped and returned to hand her his card. “Call me immediately.”
Anchorage, AK—Tuesday, 4:40 p.m. AKDT
Evelyn was hungry again, but she had no idea if they’d get another meal anytime soon. She assumed he was scrambling to get them moved, that relocating had stolen his attention, and hoped he was struggling with the logistics and wouldn’t be able to do it no matter how long he had to focus on that and leave them hungry. The moment they were taken away from here, their chances of being found went down dramatically.
It was her turn to sleep, so she was lying on the bed with her eyes closed. Her hand rested on her stomach just in case the baby moved. She wanted to feel it, needed the reassurance of a small kick or jab.
But she felt nothing. She couldn’t drift off because of that. She was too miserable, too worried and too intent on listening for sounds outside the room that might indicate Lyman was going to bring them dinner. Not only did she want to put a stop to the hunger pangs in her stomach, and for Edna to be able to eat, too, she also craved the chance to talk to him, to get some idea of what was going on in his mind as well as in the world outside their prison.
Finally, with a sigh, she gave up trying to sleep and opened her eyes to find Edna watching her from where she was sitting in the corner, using the angles to help support her back. “Are you feeling okay?” she asked. “Do you need to lie down?”
Edna shook her head. “Aren’t you worried about the baby?”
“Of course,” Evelyn replied. “What mother wouldn’t be?”
“What are you going to do if you go into labor while we’re being held captive?”
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
“You’ve said yourself that this is a high-risk pregnancy. With all the stress and what we’re going through, it could happen anytime.”
“Edna, please.”
She ignored that entreaty. “You have no idea how long he plans to keep you. Even if the baby survives, and you do, too, you can’t raise a child in this situation.”
“We’re going to get out before I go into labor.”
“I don’t want to watch a baby die,” she stated flatly.
Evelyn winced. “Don’t—don’t say things like that.”
“I’m sorry. I just … I think I’m losing my mind. I can’t cope with this. I can’t bear it much longer.”
“We don’t have any choice,” Evelyn said firmly. Edna wasn’t bouncing back as Evelyn had hoped she would, and Evelyn desperately needed her to quit making matters worse. “We have to toughen up, do everything we can to encourage each other and stay alive.”
“He’s going to kill me. I’m useless to him. You’ll be around longer, but it’ll be a terrible existence.” She lowered her voice. “I
n case you’re wondering, I’d rather be me.”
“We’re both going to make it,” Evelyn argued. “I’ve told you before, Amarok will find us. You’ll see.”
The slot opened, surprising them both by its suddenness, and Lyman pushed several bottles of water into the room. One burst open as it hit the floor; Evelyn hurried to retrieve it. He was being so sporadic with the food and water she didn’t dare waste a drop, had no idea when they might get more. “Are you also bringing us something to eat?” she asked.
He bent to peer in at her. “I’m working on that!” he snapped as though it should be obvious. He’d been sulking ever since he’d tossed Edna into the cooler with her. He had such low frustration tolerance, and that seemed to be worse after his hemorrhage.
“Has something happened to upset you?” she asked.
“That’s none of your business,” he replied.
“I’m just being friendly. You want me to be friendly, don’t you?”
He didn’t answer. Leaving the slot open, he walked away.
Hearing his footsteps recede in the unique pattern of step slide that had become his gait, she ventured closer, trying to see more from inside the cooler than she’d been able to before. “It’s light outside,” she told Edna.
“That doesn’t tell us much. It’s light twenty hours a day this time of year,” Edna responded.
“Yes, but it feels nice to see the sun. Would you like to take a look?”
She shook her head.
“Come on,” Evelyn coaxed, motioning her over. “You can smell what he’s cooking. Maybe you can help me identify it.”
Reluctantly, the older woman crept closer, took one whiff and said, “Hamburgers.”
“And onions,” Evelyn said, closing her eyes as she breathed in the welcome scent.
“Maybe even with cheese,” Edna added with a reluctant smile.
“I’m hoping for some nice, salty potato chips to go along with that burger.”
“A dill pickle would be nice. You’d probably like that, right?”