by Brenda Novak
“How bad is he?” She finally posed the question that was on her mind, despite her fear of their response.
Dr. Bernstein glanced over. Originally from Seattle, he’d accepted the position as head of their medical staff because he loved the wilderness and wanted to hunt and fish in Alaska. He’d once told her it was like getting invited to work where he most wanted to play. Almost all the management and medical staff came from the Lower 48, or Anchorage, including the warden. For the most part, Hilltop had only provided employees who could be trained on-site: some of the COs, administrative assistants, kitchen help, janitorial and maintenance crews.
“He’s sustained two stab wounds,” he replied. “One in the upper right quadrant of the heart, the other in the lower sternum. The blade’s lodged in there, possibly causing a tamponade.”
Evelyn had been to med school. Although she’d never practiced as a medical doctor, and definitely wasn’t a surgeon, she understood how serious a cardiac tamponade could be. Hugo needed to have his chest opened, his aorta cross-clamped and, if necessary, his pericardium opened to relieve the fluid gathering in the sac around his heart. “You’ve removed the shank?”
“No, I don’t dare. Not here. I’m afraid it would do more harm than good.”
“So … where’s the handle?” They’d covered Hugo with a blanket to keep him warm, but she would’ve expected to see some evidence of the knife protruding from his chest.
Bernstein maneuvered around the nurse. “Gone. Broken off.”
Another one of the many downsides to homemade weapons.
Evelyn tightened her grip on the railing of Hugo’s gurney. “Is there any danger of him bleeding out?”
“We’re doing our best to make sure that doesn’t happen. I’ve already given him six liters.”
Shit. That was all a human body typically contained.
With a sigh, Evelyn read the chart the nurse had left on the table: Pt verbally responsive, HR 82, RR 28, AE clear bilaterally, HS1 + 11 clear, no neck vein distention, ECG Lead QQ NSR, SPOO2 96% on Fi02 1.0. “Will he be able to hang on until he arrives at Alaska Regional?” she asked.
Bernstein had been too busy preparing Hugo for transport to stop working while they talked. But at this, he paused. “Maybe.”
“Did he tell you anything about the incident?”
“No.”
“Did he speak to you?” She turned to the nurse, since it was the nurse who’d noted that the patient had been verbally responsive when he arrived.
“He told us who did it,” she replied as she added more tape to Hugo’s hand to prevent his IV from coming out should the tube get snagged.
“Let me guess—Anthony Garza,” Evelyn said. “Is that what he said?”
“If that’s ‘the new bastard.’”
“That’s him.” But what she wanted to find out was … why? And how did the stabbing come about? She could see Anthony shanking someone in the yard, but it was too coincidental that the victim of that attack would be Hugo. What connection did they have?
None that she knew of. She could only guess, as she’d just said in her office, that Fitzpatrick had put him up to it. Or maybe it was Dean Snowden or Steve Dugall, one of the COs on Danielle’s list who would lose his job for allowing the inmates to have sex with her. That there were other possibilities made her regret accusing the one person who’d helped her bring Hanover House into existence. She couldn’t really believe he’d do such a thing, and yet … someone had signed that transfer order. Would Dean or Steve dare be so bold?
Tough to guess. She didn’t know them that well, but they both had families, so it said something about them that they’d have sex with Danielle.
“It doesn’t make sense,” she mumbled.
The nurse was too busy to comment. Evelyn was talking to herself, anyway.
“Evelyn.”
That wasn’t the doctor’s voice. Hugo was looking at her with those strange, flat eyes of his. Even while he was fighting to survive she could find no real warmth in them. In her mind, that was probably the most distinguishing characteristic of psychopaths. Not only had she noticed that commonality herself, she’d heard about it many times from other victims: There was something with his eyes. They were so devoid of emotion.
“How are you?” she asked.
“Not so … good.” He groaned. “Did you … did you get my letters?”
She hadn’t technically received them, but, thanks to nosey Russ, she knew the gist of what he’d written.
“Yes.”
“Will you … will you forgive me?”
When he reached for her hand, she let him take it. Chances were he wouldn’t make it through the night. No matter what kind of individual he was, she couldn’t bring herself to treat him poorly on his deathbed, especially when she was feeling partially responsible for his plight. Maybe she hadn’t put Garza in the yard, but, as Fitzpatrick had so emphatically pointed out, she was the one who’d brought him to HH.
“Of course.” She battled the despair that tugged at her like gravity. “Why did this happen, Hugo?”
He wet his lips as he gathered the strength to answer. “No clue. Don’t … even know the guy.”
“There was no insult or reproach? No demand for something you wouldn’t give?”
“None. He came … out of nowhere.”
“We’re ready to take him up,” Bernstein announced.
Evelyn put out her free hand to hold the doctor off. The helicopter couldn’t have arrived yet. They were merely making sure they had Hugo in place for when it landed. This was the first time they’d ever had to use the helipad. Just before the medevac unit was due to set down, Bernstein would push the button that would cause the cover on the roof to roll back. She hoped the groundskeepers had kept that cover clear of snow, since it was their most important responsibility.
“There has to be a reason, a trigger,” she told Hugo, trying to keep him focused.
Bernstein touched her arm. “He really shouldn’t exert himself, Dr. Talbot.”
She understood the risk. But she also understood that she might never have another chance to get the answers he could give her. And she had to have them. This went far beyond her job. If they didn’t figure out what was going on, even more people could die.…
Ignoring Bernstein’s disapproval, she continued to cling to the bed but bent close to make it easier to hear Hugo’s broken speech. “Think!” she whispered to him. “Why did he come at you?”
“Maybe because … I told you … about…”
“Fitzpatrick?” she prodded.
The way he gasped for breath made her fear he’d go into cardiac arrest and that would be the end of him.
“Dr. Talbot!”
The rebuke in Bernstein’s voice caused fresh alarm. As intent as she was on getting answers, she didn’t want to make matters worse.
“It’s okay, Hugo,” she said, straightening. “Don’t try to talk. We’ll … we’ll cover this later, when you get back.”
They both knew it was highly unlikely he’d be coming back, so he fought to speak despite her words. “It … had to be Fitzpatrick. He … he wants to destroy you. I … swear it!”
Chills rolled down Evelyn’s spine. For all Hugo knew, he wouldn’t live more than a few minutes. Would he confirm such an outlandish lie on his deathbed? And so emphatically—when he had nothing to gain by it?
Could he despise Fitzpatrick that much?
“How do you know?” she asked.
Bernstein had had enough. Forcing her to step back, he started rolling the gurney away. But Hugo grabbed her arm.
“You believe me … don’t you? Tell me … you … believe me. You’re not safe.”
She moved with them so she wouldn’t slow them down. “It’s not Jasper?”
“Who’s Jasper?”
In Hugo’s more lucid moments, he would know. He’d said it was Jasper right before the COs pulled him out of the cell after he attacked her. He’d made a study of her life, found it fu
nny to return the scrutiny she gave him. He often told her psychiatrists were worse than psychopaths.
“Never mind,” she said. “Just … pull through, okay? Hang on. We’re going to get you taken care of.”
“Evelyn?”
When he used her first name for the second time, Bernstein’s scowl darkened. “That’s ‘Dr. Talbot’ to you,” he said, but she let it go. In light of what Hugo had suffered, what he was still suffering, she figured she had to put everything in its proper perspective. It was upsetting that Lorraine and another woman had been killed. It was upsetting that someone had forged her name and Hugo had been stabbed as a result. It was upsetting that a man she relied on and trusted might be to blame for all the trouble.
At the moment, having an inmate call her Evelyn didn’t even rank in the top ten.
“What?” she said to Hugo.
“I know … you don’t think I’m … capable of love. But…”
His eyes closed and she thought he’d stop right there. She was more than happy to let him. This sounded like further proof of his infatuation—or, rather, his fixation—with her. She feared what he was about to say would only make her uncomfortable. But the nurse stopped pushing the gurney to double-check the flow coming from the IV bag and that gave Hugo the chance to continue.
“But if I’ve ever loved anyone or anything … it was you,” he finished.
Evelyn felt like crying but refused to let herself. “I appreciate that.”
“I hope … you’ll miss me.” He managed a grimace that passed for a smile. “At least a little,” he added, and then the doctor and nurse wheeled him into the hall, moving quickly toward the elevator.
Evelyn stayed in the emergency bay and gazed through the small slit that passed for a window, wondering if the helicopter coming from Anchorage would be able to land. It wasn’t snowing, but large gusts of wind swayed the trees beneath the bright perimeter lights along the fence.
The mental image of the helicopter crashing into the side of the building made her shudder.
Please, God, don’t let that happen. No way did she want to feel responsible for any more loss of life.
“Maybe I won’t miss you, but … I’ll certainly never forget you,” she muttered to Hugo, finally answering his question even though she now stood alone.
18
What I did is not such a great harm, with all these surplus women nowadays. Anyways, I had a good time.
—RUDOLF PLEIL, GERMAN SERIAL KILLER
Archie Rubin sat inside Amarok’s truck, which he’d left running to help ward off the cold. This wasn’t an interview Amarok felt comfortable conducting inside the man’s home. His wife was there and his kids would soon be back from school. But Amarok couldn’t afford the time it would take to drive him down to the trooper post, not when he had so many people to interview.
“What’s going on, Amarok?” Archie looked nervous. “Mia’s got to be wondering why you’d want to talk to me.”
Archie’s wife stood at the kitchen window, gazing out at them, making her curiosity apparent.
“For your sake, it’s better to let her wonder than to allow her to listen in on our conversation, Archie,” he said.
He began to fidget. “Am I in trouble?”
Amarok didn’t answer. Archie would probably be in trouble with his wife but not necessarily from the law. “I need you to tell me the last time you saw Danielle Connelly.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Down at the Moosehead a week ago last Friday, why?”
“You haven’t heard?”
“She’s gone missing. Everyone in town is talking about it. But I didn’t do anything to her. I swear. I’ll take a lie detector test or whatever you want to prove it.”
Amarok studied Mia through the window. “It’s not that easy. Did you have sex with Danielle?”
He cursed as his gaze fell to his boots.
“Is that a ‘yes’?”
A sheepish expression stole over his face. “I’d had too much to drink. And I was with Bill Tate. You know how Bill is.”
“Everyone knows how Bill is.” A boisterous, barrel-chested man with a long beard, Bill was the life of any party. “Problem is … I wasn’t asking about Bill.”
“I know you weren’t. But he said all the guys were doing it, that she put out every time she showed up at the Moosehead.” He sighed as he raked a hand through his hair. “She liked getting down and dirty, liked it rough. What I did with her, though … it didn’t mean anything.”
“But you did have sex with her.”
“Mia and I have been having problems since I hurt my back and can’t work. We’re struggling to pay the rent, buy groceries, gas … and that’s causing some strain. You understand how it is. I hadn’t had a woman act like she wanted me in”—he let his words fade before starting up again—“in a long time. That was a powerful temptation. But I love my wife,” he added. “I-I want to work things out with her if I can.”
Amarok frowned. “I doubt this will help.”
His hands flexed and released. “Does she have to find out?”
The pleading in his eyes made Amarok uncomfortable. “The way this is going? The whole community will probably learn what’s been going on.”
“But … I got kids, man.”
Amarok didn’t comment on that. He hated to see one stupid act destroy a family, but Archie’s employment record was another strike against him. He worked as a roughneck when he could get on with one of the oil companies that drilled nearby, but it seemed as if injuries, or personality differences, always got in the way.
“Who else spent time with Danielle that night?” Amarok asked—and how the hell did he miss that nearly the whole male population of his hometown were screwing the new girl?
He’d been too focused on his love-hate relationship with Dr. Talbot and HH, he supposed. He’d been watching them both from afar, blind to everything except his own desire and frustration—desire for the doc and frustration that he’d allowed a prison housing the worst humans in the country to be built so close to his home.
Archie chuckled without mirth. “You’re kidding, right? Almost everyone at the bar. I didn’t want to be the only one to miss out. Some of the other guys were married, too.”
“I know.” Amarok had them on his lists—both the one he’d culled from Danielle’s and the one Shorty had provided. They were adulterers, for sure, but Amarok couldn’t believe that any of the men he’d known for so long had suddenly turned into a cold-blooded killer. He was more suspicious of what might have changed in Hilltop over the past several weeks—the new folks who’d entered the area—and hoped the men who’d been with Danielle could tell him what was different. “Were there any strangers at the Moosehead that night? Anyone you didn’t recognize?”
“There were a couple of COs from Hanover House who sat in the back room with her, watching the whole thing.”
“They didn’t participate?”
“Maybe before I got there. When I went in, they were just coaxing her to have another drink.”
“Would you say they acted like they were orchestrating the whole thing?”
“No. They didn’t charge any of her … partners, if that’s what you’re getting at. Or, if they did, I didn’t hear about it. No one asked me for money, which is why I thought it wasn’t that big of a deal and it could just … fade into the past.”
Amarok adjusted the heat before checking the house to see that Mia was still looking out at them. Even if Archie hadn’t been charged any money, there’d be a price.… “Participating in a train is pretty disgusting. You weren’t worried about catching a venereal disease?”
“They had condoms—a whole bowl of them. But she was wearing a birth control patch on her arm—plain for all to see—so a lot of the guys didn’t bother.”
More proof of her addiction to risk, to adrenaline. A birth control patch didn’t protect her from AIDS and other venereal diseases. “What about you?”
“I wore a rubber. I didn’
t want to bring anything home to my wife—especially after I heard Danielle joking about getting it on with the inmates at Hanover House.”
“She was joking about that?”
“She said none of us could fuck better than they could.”
Hanover House. Again. As far as Amarok was concerned, it was a cancer to the whole area. “Those men are locked up, Archie. Did she say how she was spending private time with them?”
“The COs must be helping. They were getting quite a kick out of it all. One chimed in that the inmates would do anything for a few minutes with Danielle.”
“Do you remember the names of those COs?”
“Kush. One was Kush. I can’t recall the other. I’m not sure I ever heard it. He wasn’t from around here.”
Amarok rested his hands on the steering wheel. “Is there anything else I should know, Archie?”
He shook his head. “It was a quick bang and that was it. Except…”
Amarok eyed him, waiting for him to continue.
“Except before she’d let me touch her, she insisted on measuring my … my cock. She said she was looking to screw the biggest one in Alaska.”
“She was that open about it?”
“She had no shame—none whatsoever. And I was too drunk and horny to care.”
Amarok took a picture out of the manila folder sitting between them. “We’ve found part of another body—a hand. Does it look familiar to you?”
“I wouldn’t be able to recognize—” he started, but fell silent the moment he saw the picture. Then he opened the door and stuck his head out as if he might vomit.
“You okay?” Amarok asked.
He seemed to overcome the impulse, but he left the door hanging open as if he was eager to get the hell out of the truck and away from that image. “No, I’m not. That’s got to be her hand. She was wearing the same purple fingernail polish when she … when she brought out the damn ruler.”
* * *
Evelyn was functioning on pure adrenaline. She hadn’t spoken to Fitzpatrick, the psychologists she worked with or Penny, not for the three hours since she’d left them in the administration center, but she’d kept in touch with Warden Ferris by radio. The medevac had landed safely on the roof and carried Hugo off to Anchorage. At best, he had a ten-minute flight—at worst, twelve-or thirteen. She didn’t see how he could last another quarter of an hour with a homemade knife broken off in his chest. A cardiac tamponade, if he had one, put too much pressure on the muscles of the heart.