by Brenda Novak
Amarok didn’t seem surprised that she was wide awake, didn’t even comment on it. “She claims to have seen some shadowy figure hanging out in the alley behind her store, was afraid it was Jasper, stalking her.”
Evelyn frowned into the darkness. “Do you think it was Jasper?”
“Honestly? I don’t think it was anyone.”
“Samantha was just looking for your attention.”
“I wouldn’t put it past her.”
Neither would Evelyn. Of all the people in Hilltop—granted, that wasn’t very many, but still—how was it Samantha who’d spotted the man Amarok was searching for? Evelyn hated how she constantly threw herself across his path, but she didn’t say that. “How’d the autopsies go?”
“They were put off until Wednesday, and then it took until this morning to be able to get the notes.”
“Why so long?”
“Someone was sick in the office, but that doesn’t make my job any easier.”
Evelyn pulled the blankets higher. “What about the DNA evidence—the blood you found in the snow and on that tree? Have you heard anything from the lab in Philadelphia?”
“Nothing, but they said it would take a week or so.”
“Has Anchorage PD been able to identify the body of the woman found with Sierra Yerbowitz?”
“Yeah. Name’s Katherine Sharpe. She was a thirty-two-year-old prostitute.”
“So a completely different profile from Sierra Yerbowitz.”
“Completely.”
“Why do you think the perpetrator chose her?”
“Because she was accessible, her disappearance was unlikely to be noted and…”
“And?” she prompted.
“She had your basic coloring.”
“Of course.” Evelyn had been waiting for that. They’d already established that Jasper’s “perfect” kill was any woman who looked like her. This provided even more reason to think it might be him. “Have you talked to Leland about her? Did he or Sierra even know her?”
“They didn’t.”
“Then how did both women wind up dead and dumped in the same area?”
“They had the same murderer.”
She hugged her pillow so she wouldn’t succumb to the desire she felt to touch Amarok. “Were they killed in the same manner?”
“No. Sierra was strangled.”
“And the other girl?”
“Don’t even ask.”
Evelyn couldn’t help flinching. “She was tortured.”
He said nothing, which told her she was right. She closed her eyes in an attempt to stop the images that bombarded her brain—images of the shack where she’d been tortured herself—but it was no use. “Again, that indicates Jasper.”
“I think so, too,” he said. “I think he’s here, and I’m going to catch him.”
He sounded more determined than ever, and she was trying to maintain the same confidence. But it was difficult to believe anyone could catch Jasper when he’d gotten away with so much for so long. “I appreciate how hard you’re trying,” she murmured.
He stared up at the ceiling. “I’m going to do it,” he said again.
Rather than risk discouraging him by conveying her doubts, she went back to the subject of what he’d found so far. “What do you make of one victim being tortured and the other strangled?”
“He enjoyed killing Katherine. Drew it out as long as possible. But Sierra’s death was quick and purposeful. I’d say he killed Sierra because he felt he had to.”
“She got in the way, and he had to act quickly because he knew her brother and his friends were coming back.”
“I can’t say he knew who she was with. I see no evidence that he was watching the cabin. But it would’ve been an easy bet that she wasn’t out there alone, so he figured someone would be coming back.”
“The luggage would’ve indicated that.”
“Among other things. There was no vehicle at the cabin when she was kidnapped and/or murdered, three beds had been slept in, the amount of garbage, et cetera.”
“So she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“That’s what the evidence seems to suggest. The wear and tear on the posts of one of the downstairs beds says someone was restrained there. Only Katherine has any ligature marks. Sierra’s hyoid bone was broken, which indicates she was strangled.”
“So the blood on the mattress we found probably belongs to Katherine.”
“The lab that Anchorage PD is using is testing it, so it’ll be a while, but I have no doubt that’s what they’ll find.”
“She was tortured and killed at the cabin.”
“Yes.”
The memory of the vomit in the shed made Evelyn sit up. “And, for some reason, he didn’t dispose of the body right away. Maybe he had to be somewhere, or planned to prepare a place for it. So he cleaned up, just in case, and put the corpse in the shed. Then he changed the lock on the shed so no one could get in there before he could get back.”
Amarok laced his fingers behind his head as he continued to gaze at the ceiling. “That’s what it looks like to me—that he didn’t expect the cabin to be rented so late in the year or, even if it was, that the renters would need more firewood than he’d left out.”
“But with that storm coming, Sierra did need more wood, so she used the ax from the mud room to break in—”
“That’s when she found Katherine’s corpse.”
“And threw up.”
“Yes.”
“Okay, so if Katherine’s from Anchorage, doesn’t that suggest her killer is, too? Why would he bring her to a cabin way out here? How would he even know about the Barrymore rental?”
“Our killer is familiar with Hilltop,” he said. “That’s obvious from the scalp Easy found hanging from his rear axle. One of the victims, maybe both, were temporarily stashed along the road leading to Hanover House.”
“You think the perpetrator lives in Anchorage but works here?”
“Or vice versa.”
“But I haven’t seen anyone who looks like Jasper. Wouldn’t we have run into him somewhere?”
“Maybe he doesn’t work anywhere. Maybe he’s just hiding out.”
Evelyn lay back down. She wanted to rest her head on Amarok’s shoulder, as she’d done countless times before when she needed comfort, but she wasn’t sure he’d want to hold her. He was too consumed with building up his defenses, trying to protect himself against what he was going to feel when she left. “So it was sheer bad luck that the killer returned for Katherine’s body while Leland and his friends were out hunting and Sierra was there alone.”
He adjusted the blankets. “That scenario seems to fit the facts as we know them so far.”
“But if he hid Katherine’s body and killed Sierra once he realized she’d discovered his dirty secret, he didn’t want his activity in the area to be exposed.”
Amarok finally turned to look at her. “Which means what?”
“If it’s Jasper, killing those women wasn’t part of his plan. He was just trying to relieve the tension that builds up between kills and created a bit of a mess.”
“A mess…”
“A euphemism, but that’s how he would look at it.”
“You’re smiling,” he said in astonishment. No doubt he could hear the pleasure in her voice.
“Damn right I am. For once, maybe he’s going to pay for what he’s done. I can’t tell you how much I hope that he’s the one you shot. Even if the bullet didn’t kill him, he deserves to feel a little of the pain he enjoys inflicting on others.”
“His days of doing whatever he wants—and getting away with it—are numbered. He now has Anchorage PD on his ass. That’s four police departments, if you don’t include me.”
She reached over to smooth the hair off his forehead, but when he didn’t react, didn’t soften and draw her to him, she knew she hadn’t been imagining his withdrawal and pulled her hand back. “I heard from my attorney friend tonight—Ash
ton Cooper.”
“What’d he have to say?”
“He’s been in touch with Fitzpatrick, gotten everything signed so he can represent him. And Detective Dressler is sending samples of all the unmatched DNA found at Charlotte’s murder site to the lab in Philadelphia where Jasper’s DNA is waiting for comparison.”
“He moves fast.”
“That’s what I like about him.”
“How long did he say the testing would take?”
“A few days,” she said. “We may learn as soon as the first of next week.”
“Great. If we get a match, I’ll go after the flight manifests.”
“We’ve got to catch a break at some point.”
Amarok closed his eyes as though he was drifting off, but Evelyn knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. She felt more unsettled than ever. “You haven’t mentioned what Brianne did,” she said.
He looked over at her. “Brianne isn’t a child. What she does is her own business.”
“I wish I could see it that way.”
“Why can’t you?”
“Because I’m her sister, and I’m worried about her. That isn’t normal behavior.”
He sighed. “Which is why you’re going home, right?”
“Part of the reason. You know there are other reasons, too.”
He ignored her response, didn’t seem willing to engage in a conversation about her leaving, and she knew that was probably for the best. “Does she like him?” he asked. “Is she going to see him again?”
“Sounds like it. She’s invited him over for dinner tomorrow night.”
“Did you tell her you don’t like him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t have a good reason. He’s been nothing but nice to me.”
“What about that photo incident at the prison?”
“I’ve decided the warden is right—it could’ve been caused by the stress of the job. Prison guards are only human. It’s difficult to face aggressive, combative prisoners all day and not react. Perhaps he had some pent-up resentment and he lost control for a few seconds.”
“So you’ve forgiven him.”
“To be fair, I feel I have to give him another chance.”
Silence fell again, during which he rolled onto his side, facing away from her.
“Will you be here for dinner tomorrow?” she asked.
“Probably not. Tomorrow’s Saturday, so a lot of people will be at the Moosehead. I should be there to see who’s in town and what they’re up to.”
“I love you, Amarok. I hope you know that,” she said, but he didn’t reply.
* * *
Ever since Evelyn had told him that she was going to take a leave of absence and return to Boston, Amarok had felt as though he were free-falling through space, as though the ground had suddenly given way beneath him. He knew if she left now she’d probably never get her job back, which meant returning would be unlikely. She had to know that, too.
When he and Samantha had broken up, he’d felt more relief than anything else. He’d wanted to move on. But it was different with Evelyn. She’d become such an integral part of his life; he wasn’t sure how he’d go on without her.
Angry at his inability to apprehend Jasper and at Jasper for being such a terrible excuse for a human being in the first place, he clenched his fists. He had to admit he was also angry with Evelyn—for not loving him enough, he supposed. But when he thought of all she’d been through, that hardly seemed fair. She was just trying to find peace, happiness, a respite from the pain of her past. She’d told him that loving her wouldn’t be easy, had tried to warn him away. It wasn’t as if she’d ever been anything less than honest. He’d been the one who’d pursued her from the beginning.
And now … here he was.
His house was going to be so empty without her clothes in the closet, her makeup in the bathroom and her computer and files all over the kitchen and living room.
Hell, he was even going to miss her cat.
Part of him wanted to make love to her while he still could. No one else tasted or felt quite so satisfying to him. But he knew it wouldn’t be the same. He’d rather preserve the memory of making love to her when he’d still been optimistic that she’d spend the rest of her life with him.
“I love you, too,” he murmured, but he could hear her steady breathing and knew she was already asleep.
24
Jasper’s arm didn’t hurt much anymore—not unless he bumped into something or put too much pressure on it. He was healing quickly, with no sign of infection. Provided that continued, the wound would soon be nothing more than a small scar, and he didn’t mind that. Not many people had taken a bullet and lived to tell about it. He could invent a story about how he’d been shot while interrupting a home invasion or bank robbery, something that would make him look like a hero, and he’d have the proof of where the bullet had gone to help convince everyone. A fellow CO at the prison where he’d worked in Florence, Arizona, had a jagged scar on his torso. He’d loved showing it to the other guards and telling them he’d been bitten by a shark. It was all bullshit, though. That guard had once told Jasper that his father had thrown him through a plate glass window when he was nine, but he’d been drunk when he’d made the admission and denied it afterwards.
Jasper liked the shark story better, anyway. Now he’d have a conversation piece of his own—once he left Alaska. He couldn’t let anyone know about the bullet wound while he was here, of course. And it might be a while before he left. Thanks to Brianne, things were looking up. If only he could keep her interest, befriend her through the pregnancy, when she was vulnerable and open to his attention, he’d become so familiar to Evelyn and Amarok that he’d be above suspicion—until it was too late. Even after Evelyn went missing, Amarok would never suspect him. At that point Jasper would be like a member of the family. He might even keep up his association with Brianne while he was raping and torturing Evelyn in his basement. That could add a whole new element.
A knock sounded at his front door while he was unpacking the head harness with a ball gag he’d purchased off the Internet, so he quickly set it on the bondage bed he’d built in the far corner—surrounded by mirrors and video equipment—and took the stairs two at a time to the main floor. Who could be coming by this late?
He locked the basement and shoved the key in his pocket.
A strung-out Bambi stood on his stoop, her mascara smudged from tears. “Hey.”
He eyed her suspiciously. How the hell did she find her way back to his house? She’d been so high when he brought her home. When he’d dropped her off at her place as he drove to work he’d never expected to see her again, not unless he returned to the club. “What are you doing here?”
She hugged herself against the cold. Although she had on a heavy coat, she had bare legs and was wearing strappy heels. “I was wondering if you might have some more—oh!” She nearly toppled over but caught herself on the doorframe.
He was fairly certain she was drunk. “Drugs?” he said, finishing her sentence.
She gave him a sheepish, pleading look. “Just a little something. Like last time.”
“I don’t have anything.”
“Are you sure?” Her voice—a high-pitched whine—got on his nerves. “I could come in, stay the night.”
Except she hadn’t been worth what he’d spent on the coke she’d consumed and she was already messy drunk. He didn’t find that appealing, not after being with Brianne. “Sorry, not interested.”
“Come on.” She stopped the door as he tried to close it. “Don’t be like that. I’ll let you cuff me this time. I trust you more now that I know you better. You can whip me, too.” She grimaced. “Just don’t do it too hard.”
“No.” He had the smell of Brianne on him, didn’t want to trade that for some lowlife stripper. “You’re not worth it.”
Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. “How can you say that?”
“
Look at you. You’re pathetic!”
Her jaw dropped in outrage. “I just heard that a friend of mine’s been murdered! How do you think you’d—”
“Who was your friend?” Jasper broke in, suddenly more alert.
She sniffed. “Katherine Sharpe.”
“The girl who was found in the woods.”
“Yeah. Did you see it on TV or something?”
“I saw a short clip of it on the news.”
“Then you knew before I did. I didn’t find out until a police officer showed up at the club tonight, wanting to talk to me and the other girls.”
What were the chances that Bambi would know Kat? Jasper asked himself. But when he really thought about it, he decided it wasn’t that much of a coincidence. Anchorage didn’t have a big red-light district. This wasn’t New York or LA. Most of the girls who worked the streets or danced in the clubs had probably met somewhere along the line. “How’d you know her?” Jasper asked.
Bambi’s teeth were starting to chatter, but Jasper didn’t invite her in. He didn’t want her to stay; he just wanted her to tell him what she could about the investigation. “She used to dance at the Foxhole,” she said. “We both did, last year. Then she got fired for missing too many shifts and I met the owner of Dick’s, who talked me into working for him.”
“What’d the police want?”
“They’re interviewing everyone who knew her. They asked when I saw her last, if she was dating anyone, if I could name someone who might’ve wanted to hurt her, that sort of thing.”
Now that Jasper’s wound was healing, it was beginning to itch. He scratched over the fabric of his shirt, trying to get it to stop—to no avail. “Did they say if they’ve come across any good leads?”
“They think it might be the serial killer who murdered the friends of that psychiatrist who runs the prison in Hilltop.”
“Evelyn Talbot.”
“That’s her name. Can you believe it? A serial killer?”
“Did they say why they think it’s the same guy?”
“No, but they warned us not to go home with any strange men—like we’d be able to eat or pay rent if we didn’t.” She rolled her eyes, but more tears welled up as she continued, “Anyway, I feel so bad. Kat was a nice person. She didn’t deserve what happened to her. The police officer secretly told me she died an ugly death.”