by Brenda Novak
“Listen to yourself!” Fitzpatrick snapped. “Since when did I become your enemy? I’m merely asking that you take some time off, get some sleep, figure out if you can handle working with … with the memories this must be conjuring. That’s all.”
He was being far more diplomatic than she’d expected, but when his gaze riveted on Preston she understood why. Fitzpatrick hoped to gain Preston’s support but wasn’t quite sure he’d managed it.
“Tim, Emilio Kush went directly to you when I asked him to bring Anthony Garza to be interviewed, and you both decided that I shouldn’t be allowed to speak to him.”
“See?” Fitzpatrick responded. “Even the COs are beginning to question your judgment.”
“They wouldn’t if you weren’t encouraging them to do so,” she retorted. “You are the one who contacted Warden Ferris and asked him not to act on any of my orders, aren’t you?”
“Yes! But only because you’re not yourself these days and we can’t suffer another incident like that stabbing in the yard.”
Evelyn could hardly speak for the anger that welled up. “I told you. Someone forged my name on that transfer order. Whether you believe me or not, that’s the truth. No matter how distraught I was, I would never have transferred Anthony into gen pop. Not in a million years.”
Fitzpatrick took a copy of the document in question out of a folder on the table. “And yet we have proof,” he said, holding it up for all to see.
“I didn’t sign that,” she repeated.
“You think it was me.” His words were more of a taunt.
She managed a shrug despite the tension in her body. “I don’t know for sure. But I plan on finding out.”
Spit shot out of his mouth with the hard consonant of his second word. “I can’t believe you would even consider it a possibility!”
She looked from Tim to Greg to Preston. “At this point, I don’t have the luxury of ruling out any possibilities. That’s what murder investigations are all about.”
Fitzpatrick gripped the back of his empty chair. “You’re not leading the investigation. Sergeant Murphy is. And yet, yesterday, you accused me of murder!” Fitzpatrick eased up on that chair long enough to gesture at his old grad student. “Russell heard it.”
“It’s Hugo who claims you are behind the murders,” she said.
“But you believe him.”
“I have yet to find proof either way.”
“He’s a psychopath, for crying out loud!”
“And yet he sounded quite credible,” she responded. “Especially when he reiterated the same thing on what could’ve been his deathbed. I find it highly suspicious that someone moved Anthony Garza out of isolation and into gen pop, that it happened almost as soon as you learned Hugo had been talking and that Hugo, of all the people Anthony could’ve attacked, was the one who got stabbed.”
Fitzpatrick threw up his hands. “Listen to her. I told you. She’s lost her mind.”
Russell turned his coffee cup around in its saucer. “Evelyn, I hate to say this, but I agree with Tim. You’re sounding more and more unstable. Why not take some time off? You can’t be thinking clearly if you believe that he had anything to do with what happened in the yard. I’ve known him for nearly a decade. He would never do anything like that.”
“You’d rather think I caused that stabbing?” Evelyn asked. “That I couldn’t take a little groping from Hugo and went after revenge?”
“It is your name on that transfer order,” Russell said.
“Are you sure about that?” she asked. “Have you looked at it? Compared it to my usual signature? If you will, I think you’ll see the difference.”
“So you won’t let me take the lead until you’re feeling better,” Fitzpatrick said.
Evelyn’s heart was pounding when she stood. She’d never dreamed she’d have to take on the team she’d helped create. But she knew in her heart she’d never have the freedom to study what she intended if she let Fitzpatrick take over. “No.”
Fitzpatrick looked to Preston, but when Preston remained mute—merely rocked back in his seat and crossed his legs—Fitzpatrick rounded the table. “You may not have any choice.”
She lifted her chin. “I can always fight back.” She motioned to the transfer order. “I’m going to find out who signed that and why. And then we’ll talk about who will or won’t be working here.”
Fitzpatrick whirled to face Greg. “Don’t you have anything to add?”
“I’m afraid I have to support Tim on this one, Evelyn.” Greg frowned as though he was at least trying to be objective.
“This one?” she echoed with a laugh. “Let’s face it, Greg. You support him on every issue. You’ve decided he’s the stronger horse in this race and don’t want to back a loser.”
Greg scowled. “You’re hanging on by a very thin thread. It would be better for everyone, including you, if you would just—”
“What?” she cried. “Step down? Let Tim take over my position just because he thinks his way of running HH is better than mine?”
“Yes!” Greg responded. “Get some rest and a new perspective on your work—”
“Losing Evelyn, even for a short time, would be a tragedy,” Preston broke in, finally entering the conversation and causing everyone to gape at him. “I personally think you’re barking up the wrong tree,” he said to Fitzpatrick.
“Because…” It was Russell who spoke, and his surprise that Preston would take her side was apparent in his expression.
“Evelyn would never do anything that would threaten HH,” Preston said. “We all know that.”
“She may not have realized what she was doing,” Fitzpatrick retorted.
“So you’ve said,” Preston went on. “I still can’t believe she’d sign that transfer order. Doing so would risk everything she’s created. Why would she want Hugo to be hurt?”
“Because he attacked her!” Fitzpatrick said. “You saw it for yourself. We watched the video.”
Evelyn curled her fingernails into her palms. Fitzpatrick had done his homework, but all his preparation didn’t seem to be having the desired effect—not on Preston.
“On which I saw a traumatized woman get back on her feet almost instantly and retain control of a difficult situation,” Preston said. “If she wanted Hugo to be punished, why would she risk her career by transferring Garza into gen pop when she could simply have delayed calling off the COs? Instead, she stopped the violence before much of anything could happen. Someone who does that isn’t going to send Anthony Garza out into the yard to shank Hugo Evanski, especially when she knows she’ll get the blame. It makes no sense.”
There was an uncomfortable silence during which Fitzpatrick turned to Greg and Russell. Evelyn thought he might address the real issue—who had forged her name. But he didn’t. He kept pushing his agenda. “I still say she should take some time off. You two agree with me, don’t you?”
“I don’t believe it matters one way or the other who agrees—at least in this room.” Preston spoke before they could. “You don’t employ her; the federal government does. And even if this were a voting matter, I’m fairly certain Stacy, if she were here, would argue in favor of Evelyn’s sterling reputation and her dedication, insightfulness and self-sacrifice when it comes to this institution. That splits the team right down the middle.”
“That’s what you have to say?” Fitzpatrick cried. “What about the way she transferred Garza here as if … as if her opinion was the only one that mattered?”
“As far as I’m concerned, if she wants to work with Garza, she has that right. The bureau doesn’t mandate that we agree on our subjects. That was something you put forward, and we went along with it because it’s a good rule of thumb. Collaboration makes us more cohesive as a group, but … this is the first facility of its kind. That’s partly what drew each of us to this particular job—the chance to branch out, do something new. If we weren’t willing to step out of the norm once in a while we wouldn’t be here. So
, as far as I’m concerned, it’s not a crime that she cut through the red tape you put in place.” He stood. “I can understand you being slightly irritated, of course, since you’re so big on policies and procedures, but you’re taking it too far. Now, I have a busy day—and I’m sure Evelyn’s eager to get on with finding out who put her name on that paper. So if we’re finished here, I’d like to start work.”
Fitzpatrick intercepted him. “I’ll go to the Bureau of Prisons.”
“That’s your prerogative,” Preston said, but as he spoke he gestured toward Evelyn. “I wouldn’t start a ‘me’ or ‘her’ type of battle, if I were you, though. You have no idea how passionate she is about this place if you think you could ever beat her. Should it come to your job or hers…” He didn’t finish. He just gave a shrug and walked out.
Evelyn had never expected Preston to defend her. He was so preoccupied with raising his four teenage boys, whom he and his wife had brought up here for a homesteading experience, Evelyn hadn’t realized he’d noticed her level of dedication. But she was grateful to him. For once, he’d gotten behind her on an issue that really counted.
“As Preston mentioned, I have pressing matters to attend to,” she told the others as if that was that and grabbed her briefcase.
They said nothing when she left, but Penny waved her down before she could reach her office. “Courtney Lofland is on line one.”
Evelyn didn’t immediately recognize the name. Her mind was too preoccupied with what had just taken place and how she might go about discovering who was behind the forged transfer order. She hoped Glenn might still be able to uncover something. Working over on the prison side, he heard and saw things she didn’t. “Courtney who?”
“Anthony Garza’s last wife?”
“Hold all my other calls,” she said, and closed the office door behind her.
* * *
There was a guard posted at Hugo Evanski’s door. Were he in any better shape, there would be two. It was a testament to how poorly he was doing that the government had decided against expending the additional man-hours.
Amarok showed his ID, received a curt nod and shouldered open the door.
Hugo had his eyes closed and didn’t move at the sound of Amarok’s entry. Amarok felt bad for disturbing a man who was barely hanging on to life; Hugo was almost as pale as the sheet he was lying on. But Hugo’s poor condition was part of the reason Amarok had made the trip. He felt as if he should talk to Hugo while that was still an option.
“Mr. Evanski?”
There was no response. Amarok gave Hugo’s arm a gentle shake. If he was going to drive all the way to Anchorage despite the myriad things he needed to be doing in Hilltop, he couldn’t wait for Hugo to rouse on his own. The time Amarok spent here had to count. “Hey.”
Finally, the other man opened his eyes. They didn’t seem particularly clear or focused, but he was on a lot of medication, so Amarok couldn’t expect too much.
“I’m Trooper Murphy from Hilltop.” He rested his hands on the bedrail. “I drove over here to speak to you because I think what you know might be important.”
Hugo’s throat worked as he swallowed. Then he said, “Sergeant Amarok.”
Amarok had never met him, so he was surprised by the recognition. “How do you know me?”
“You’re the law in Hilltop. That means you get mentioned now and then at Hanover House. Besides, you’re popular with the ladies. Especially Danielle. You were all she could talk about. She was dying to fuck you. You were the unattainable.”
Amarok scowled. “She didn’t even know me. Not really,” he said, but if he’d learned anything about Danielle, it was that knowing a man didn’t matter. He just wanted to keep Hugo talking.
“She’d seen you. That was enough. She was convinced you had the biggest cock in Alaska.”
“She didn’t seem to have any complaints about yours.”
“You know about that?” He managed a feeble smile. “Some things are just God given and can’t be taken away, I guess.”
Amarok pulled over the only chair in the room. “You had sex with her, then?”
“Not as often as I would’ve liked,” he replied. “The bastard guards charged too much.”
“So you had to pay.”
“Course. The only free sex I’ve ever had in prison is called rape.”
Amarok didn’t ask if he was the victim or the perpetrator. Hugo didn’t seem capable of having a long conversation, so Amarok wasn’t about to veer off the subject. “How and where did these encounters take place—with Danielle, I mean?”
“It wasn’t complicated. I paid the guards a hundred bucks, and—”
“Where would an inmate get that kind of money?” he asked, shocked at the amount.
“We manage, when we want something bad enough.”
“How?”
“I have an uncle who puts a couple hundred bucks on my books every now and then. Some take what they need from others. Some save up, but that’s the hardest route to go, given the wages we’re paid.”
“So you’d come up with the money and then…”
“Kush or Petrowski would pull me out of my cell or call me over if I was out in the yard.”
“And?”
“They’d take me into a pantry or a toolshed. Something like that where they could guard the door and she’d be waiting.”
“Danielle wasn’t scared of you? Wasn’t scared of how dangerous it was to be putting out for a known killer?”
“Hell no. She loved the adrenaline rush. One time she even had Kush tie her up.” He grinned. “I loved that.”
Leaning back, Amarok folded his arms. “What happened after you had sex with her? You’d just slip back into the prison population?”
Hugo was tiring out. It took several seconds for him to be able to gather the breath to speak. “It wasn’t quite that simple. For an added price, we could get … other things.”
“Like…”
“We could … do a line of coke beforehand. Or … take a friend in. You name it. She was … open to anything, which was fortunate for … for Kush and his buddies. They could put a high price on the kinkier shit.”
“You never said anything to Dr. Talbot about what was going on?”
His eyes closed, then opened, and Amarok could tell he was once again summoning his strength. “Why would I?”
“I’m under the impression you care about your therapist. If she gets fired, she moves away, and you never see her again.” Neither would he.…
“I didn’t want to blow a good thing.”
“So why are you talking about it now?” Amarok asked.
He wet his lips. “Party’s over. Danielle’s dead.”
“Maybe, given enough time, Kush and his friends would’ve tried to replace her with someone else.”
“Who?” Hugo scoffed. “It isn’t … like they could … smuggle in some prostitute. Danielle worked … at the prison. No one … questioned her presence. That’s what … made it all possible.”
Amarok hadn’t expected Hugo to be quite so forthcoming. “So now that Danielle’s gone, you want to see the guards get what’s coming to them, is that it?”
He lifted a hand to his chest, touched it gingerly. “Why not? I”—it took a second for him to continue—“owe them.”
“Are you suggesting they could’ve stopped you from getting shanked?”
“Sure. Instead, they … put that animal in the yard … with me.”
“How do you know they did it on purpose?”
“Garza … the guy who stabbed me … didn’t even know me. He had no … reason to want me … dead.”
Amarok shifted on the hard seat. “Who else spent time with Danielle?”
“Anyone who … could afford it.”
“Including the COs? Did they ever participate beyond collecting the money?”
Sweat was beginning to pop out on his face. “Kush would … sometimes take her from behind while … someone else was in front. She thought
it was … funny to have a guard and an … inmate at the same time. That’s the type of … wild shit that really … turned her on.”
“What about Fitzpatrick? Did he ever come out to play?”
“Not when … I was there. But I bet he was involved … at the top.”
Amarok covered a yawn, then rubbed his face. He wasn’t bored, just feeling the effects of getting so little sleep the past few nights. “Who killed Danielle?”
“Not an inmate. I can”—he had to wet his lips again—“promise you that. None of us … wanted her dead.”
“A CO, then?”
He shook his head. “They were making … too much money and … having too much fun. That’d be like … killing the goose that … laid the golden egg.”
“You think it was Fitzpatrick.”
Hugo threw renewed effort into his side of the conversation. “Yes, he must’ve … feared I’d tell Dr. Talbot what was going on.”
“Murder’s a big step for a prominent psychiatrist to take.”
“I’m guessing he wasn’t about to … go down for … simple prison corruption.”
“That doesn’t explain what happened to Lorraine.”
When his eyes closed, Amarok worried Hugo was fading into unconsciousness. “You still with me?”
“I can’t explain that.” He forced his eyelids open again. “Except”—his breath rattled in his chest—“he knows that Dr. Talbot … loved Lorraine, and this … was also a way … for him to strike out at her.”
“Why would Fitzpatrick have anything against Dr. Talbot?”
Hugo couldn’t respond right away. That required a laborious swallow. “He … hates her.”
“For no reason?”
“Because she’ll … never love him, not the way … he loves her.”
The file Fitzpatrick had put together on Evelyn revealed a certain level of fascination. But was it love? “Wouldn’t she have some inkling of it if he was upset that she wouldn’t get involved with him in that way?”
Hugo shook his head. “You don’t understand how … Fitzpatrick works.”