Face Off

by Brenda Novak

  It was also interesting that Jasper hadn’t bothered to torture this victim. He’d slit her throat and possibly raped her, either pre- or postmortem, but that was it. And unlike most of his other victims, she didn’t look like Evelyn. She had bleached-blond hair and was significantly overweight.

  Jasper had seen her as merely a means to an end, he decided. That was the feeling he got. But what end? What was Jasper up to now?

  Amarok had ordered Makita to stay outside so the dog wouldn’t muck up the scene. He squatted in the small room and stared at the body. Did Jasper have another victim in his truck? Someone he hadn’t yet killed? If so, there was nothing Amarok could do about it. He’d driven to a handful of other cabins, farther up the road, but he could tell no one had been up that way, not since the last snow. There were no tracks, and these roads weren’t plowed.

  So he’d come back here to see if he could find something that would give him more information about who Jasper was and where he might be.

  He was just trudging out to his vehicle to get the rest of his forensic equipment when the satellite phone he’d carried in with him went off. Because it had to have a direct line of sight to the sky, it didn’t work that well inside or where there were a lot of trees. Phil hadn’t even been able to give him all the information Andy had provided. Amarok still needed a good description of the vehicle, the driver and the woman. But none of that mattered right now. It was waiting for him; he could read it himself later.

  He strode out into the open in order to get a clear signal. “Hello?”

  “Amarok?”

  Transmission still wasn’t the best, so Amarok moved farther into the road. He thought it was Phil, but he couldn’t be sure. “Yes?”

  “You’re not … believe … Andy Smith.”

  It was Phil. He could determine that much. Everything else was too garbled. With a frown, he plugged his free ear. “What’d you say? Something about Andy Smith?”

  “I’ve been … on the manifests.”

  “You’ve been through the manifests?”

  “Yes. Once I … Andy Smith … I searched … on all flights.”

  With a curse, Amarok moved to yet another spot. “Say that one more time.”

  “I’ve found something I think you should know about on the manifests!”

  At last, Amarok could hear what Phil was saying. “Calm down. I finally have decent reception.”

  “There’re two people who appear to have flown from Phoenix to San Diego to Boston and back to Phoenix on these manifests.”

  “Then we’ll have to take a look at both of them.”

  “We might not have time to approach this too carefully.”

  “Because…”

  “The name of one of them is Andy Smith.”

  Terror blew up inside Amarok with the force of a hand grenade, and his knees went so weak he nearly crumpled to the ground.

  “You don’t think it could be our Andy Smith, do you?” Phil said. “I mean, that’s a common name, but it’s also quite a coincidence.”

  Fighting through the sudden weakness, the dread and the fear, Amarok whistled for Makita and started running for his truck. He was leaving part of his forensic kit and that poor dead woman behind, but that didn’t stop him. Nothing could stop him. He’d sent Andy to look after Evelyn. Andy was with Evelyn at their own house.

  And Andy was Jasper.

  Bits of memory flashed through his mind. Andy carrying Evelyn when Amarok came to the house last year. Evelyn telling him about Andy callously tearing up the photograph of that inmate’s dead grandmother. Andy’s complete self-absorption and the fact that no one really knew anything about him until he showed up in Alaska eight months ago.

  Amarok was willing to bet that, if they had time to check, they’d find out he’d come from Arizona.

  “That’s no coincidence,” he managed to say as he wrenched his door open and waited for Makita to jump in. “Get over to my house. Now!”

  29

  Phil was standing in the yard looking dumbstruck when Amarok turned down the street. He glanced toward Amarok’s headlights as he pulled up but didn’t approach. He returned to staring at the house, hands shoved in the pockets of his coat, shoulders hunched against the cold.

  The panic Amarok had been feeling during the entire trip had his stomach tied in knots. Evelyn’s SUV wasn’t in the drive, but Andy Smith’s F-250 was. Where was her vehicle? Had he taken it? Was it already too late?

  If Andy—or, rather, Jasper—was gone, it had to be too late. Amarok knew it was when, after ordering Makita to stay in the truck, he jumped out and saw the expression of defeat on Phil’s face and the tears streaking down his cheeks.

  Amarok grabbed him by his coat. “Evelyn?” he asked, her name a question pregnant with all the hope that’d fueled his race back to Hilltop.

  Phil shook his head, couldn’t even meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, Amarok. She’s gone.”

  Amarok clutched his own chest as he stumbled back. “No!”

  “No one could’ve survived what he did to her. There’s blood everywhere. And the cruelty!” Phil tilted his head back and squeezed his eyes shut as though he couldn’t bear the mental image of what he’d witnessed. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I felt for a pulse, just in case. I wanted to … to do what I could if she was still alive. For you. For her. But it was too late.”

  “You didn’t see him.”

  “No, he was gone.”

  Just that fast. A murderous rage rose up inside Amarok. He would find Jasper. He would hunt him to the ends of the earth if he had to, no matter what the cost, no matter how long it took, and he would annihilate that monster.

  As he started toward the house, Phil, suddenly galvanized into action, came after him. “No, Amarok! Don’t go in there. You don’t want to see what I saw. You’ll never”—his voice wobbled—“you’ll never forget it. It’s better to remember her as the beautiful, intelligent, vibrant woman she was.”

  Phil was right. Amarok didn’t want to see the woman he loved mutilated like some of Jasper’s other victims, especially since he’d failed to recognize Andy Smith as the threat he’d been.

  But he couldn’t remain where he was, couldn’t leave Evelyn alone in the house simply because he was too much of a coward to face what had happened. He was drawn to her side by something far more powerful than reason. He had to touch her in order to believe she was really gone, had to gather up what was left of her and hold her in his arms one last time.

  He managed to shake Phil off as he continued to the porch. He could hear Phil calling his name and, more dimly, Makita barking in his truck. But he ignored them, left them both where they were. He had to do this.

  He could see footprints in blood before he even crossed the threshold. He didn’t know if those footprints belonged to Jasper or to Phil, but it made him light-headed, nauseous, to know that it was Evelyn’s blood.

  And yet he went in, compelled beyond his ability to resist.

  The house was eerily quiet. Why had he taken Makita with him? If only he’d dropped the dog off here at the house, maybe Evelyn would’ve had some protection. Instead, he’d left her completely vulnerable.…

  That thought, more than any other, tore him up inside. Tears began to cascade down his cheeks as he followed those bloody footprints down the hall to their bedroom. Jasper had killed Evelyn in Amarok’s own bed, where she’d learned to make love again after what Jasper had done to her so many years ago.

  Hand shaking, he pushed the door, which had swung partway closed, open enough to be able to catch a glimpse of the naked and bloody corpse lying across the bed. “Oh God.”

  Amarok had never seen so much blood. Spatter covered the walls, even the ceiling, bathed Evelyn’s body red and soaked the blankets and mattress. Jasper had beaten Evelyn so badly he’d completely obliterated her face, and her hair was so matted it didn’t look the same color anymore.

  As a cop, he knew better than to touch the body. He needed to detach himsel
f emotionally, photograph the scene, start gathering evidence, go after her killer. But he wasn’t a robot; he couldn’t think like that right now. He’d been reduced to nothing more than a brokenhearted man who’d loved the woman lying dead in front of him.

  He knelt beside the bed and took her hand. The defensive wounds on her arms made his gut hurt so badly he felt as if someone were stabbing him. She was still warm but not alive, and that made everything worse. He’d tried to do all he could to stop Jasper, but he’d let Jasper outsmart him in the end. He’d never dreamed Jasper, or anyone, could be quite that diabolical or quite that bold. Andy Smith had pretended to be a hero last year when he saved her life. That must’ve been his way of covering up when Amarok arrived to find him carrying Evelyn out of the house, but it’d seemed so believable at the time. He’d been wearing a Hanover House CO’s uniform, and he’d told such a convincing story!

  “I’m sorry,” Amarok whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  Jasper had played his part well. Amarok wished he could go back and redo the past eight months, wished he could’ve spotted something that would’ve given the son of a bitch away. But the small things that seemed to reveal Andy Smith’s lack of character had seemed too insignificant. He and Evelyn had both rationalized—

  Suddenly Amarok pulled back. The ring on the hand he’d kissed wasn’t Evelyn’s ring. Where did she get that? Had Jasper put it on her finger? Was it some sort of final “gift”?

  No. Amarok stiffened as he stared down at it. Although it was difficult to judge with all the blood, when he looked more closely, he could tell that the hand he held wasn’t Evelyn’s, either.

  As grotesque as the sight was, he studied what used to be the woman’s face, searching for other signs. A little lower down he saw a mole on her shoulder.

  Evelyn didn’t have a mole there. He’d touched her shoulders enough to know how smooth they were. But, like the ring, he’d seen that mole before, recognized it …

  Her feet were tangled in the bedding. He yanked the comforter away so he could see the rest of her. Her toes, the color of the polish on her toenails, the shape of her legs, the size of her body. None of it was right.

  This wasn’t Evelyn.

  It was Samantha.

  * * *

  The door to the house stood open, Makita was barking like crazy in Amarok’s truck, which was parked next to Andy Smith’s F-250, and Phil stood beside his own vehicle, hanging his head, when Evelyn pulled up.

  “What’s going on?” she asked as she got out.

  Phil gaped at her. “Evelyn? But I thought—”

  “What? You thought what? Where’s Amarok? And why do you have blood on your coat? Is he okay?”

  “He—”

  Phil didn’t have time to explain before Amarok came charging out of the house. He had even more blood on his coat than Phil did, but he seemed to be moving normally, as though he was unharmed.

  “Amarok—” she started, but he didn’t give her a chance to speak. He pulled her into his arms and held her tight.

  “Where have you been?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

  “At the prison,” she said into his shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t call, but I never expected to be this late. I was getting in my car when one of the COs came running out to stop me. Brianne was on the phone, and she was in tears. She’d just told Mom and Dad about her broken engagement and the baby. I couldn’t leave her like that. So I’ve spent the past hour and a half trying to help her and my parents.”

  “You were there the whole time?”

  She looked up at him. “Yes. My sister was having a complete meltdown, so I didn’t feel comfortable asking her to hang on. I knew you’d assume I got involved at work again, that you’d call if you were getting anxious and someone at Hanover House would tell you. I tried calling the trooper post as soon as we hung up, but I was over an hour late by then, and no one answered. So I called here. No answer, either. I even tried your satellite phone.”

  “It’s in the truck with Makita. The reception isn’t good unless I’m in the open. Or maybe you tried to reach me after I got here and went into the house.”

  She glanced between him and Phil. “Where’s all this blood coming from? Has someone else been hurt?”

  “Samantha’s dead,” Amarok told her.

  “Dead?” she echoed. “How do you know? Where’d you find her?”

  “Right here, in our house.”

  “How can that be?”

  “I have no idea, but it was Jasper. There’s no question this time.”

  Evelyn had difficulty absorbing the fact that Amarok’s ex-girlfriend had been murdered. And by Jasper! “He killed Samantha.…”

  “Yes. I feel terrible that she’s dead, but I’m so glad it wasn’t you.”

  “Poor Sam,” Phil said.

  Evelyn shook her head. “I don’t understand!”

  “Andy Smith is Jasper Moore,” Amarok explained.

  “No.” She stumbled back. “It can’t be! Andy saved my life last year—”

  “Or did he just save you from Bishop?” Amarok broke in. “Was he trying to carry you off himself when I stopped him? What would he have done if I hadn’t come home when I did?”

  She couldn’t answer that. She’d been unconscious at the time, had no recollection of when Andy had interrupted Bishop. “We’ve been grateful to him ever since!”

  “And what a fine joke he must’ve thought that was. But what I can’t figure out is … why didn’t he try again? Why would he allow us to live in relative peace and happiness for so long?”

  “He had to be planning something.” Evelyn covered her mouth. “I know this is minor considering what happened to Samantha, but poor Brianne. She slept with him!”

  “That isn’t the worst of it. He could’ve killed her so easily, and he knew how badly that would hurt you.”

  “But if he’d hurt her, we would’ve known he was dangerous and he would’ve had much less chance of getting me.”

  “He was waiting for the perfect opportunity, the perfect set of circumstances.”

  “And he had plenty of time. We had no clue who he was. He could’ve stayed in the area indefinitely.”

  “If not for those murders.”

  Evelyn’s mind raced as the pieces came together. “He thought he could get away with what he did to Katherine. Then he thought he could hide it by killing Sierra. When it didn’t go that way? I’m sure he felt some anxiety.”

  “We were closing in on him with those manifests,” Amarok said. “We would’ve gotten him.”

  “That’s why he had to make his move. Still, he’s exhibited far more patience than I ever would’ve thought possible for someone like him. Where is he now?”

  Amarok spread his hands. “He could be anywhere. He was gone when Phil arrived. I got here after Phil did.”

  “We can’t let Jasper get away again!” she cried. “I can’t keep going through this. I need to know he’s no longer a threat. My family needs that. Have you called Anchorage PD?”

  “Not yet,” Amarok said. “I just barely realized the woman I was holding wasn’t you.”

  “Her face … it’s destroyed,” Phil explained. “And there was so much blood.”

  She started for the house. “We have to call them now!”

  “Don’t go in there.” Amarok let Makita out and grabbed his satellite phone from the truck. “Call the prison and get Andy Smith’s home address from his personnel file. I’ll give it to Anchorage PD. They could have someone at his place in minutes.”

  She frowned. “If he’s stupid enough to go back there.”

  * * *

  Shit! Shit, shit, shit! Jasper smacked the steering wheel so hard he broke a blood vessel as he drove Samantha Boyce’s Subaru through the mountains to the small town of Butte. After all the hard work he’d put in! After the perfect résumé he’d crafted in Arizona! After moving here and going to all the work and expense of building his torture chamber! After getting on at Hanover H
ouse and working for Lieutenant Dickey (who was so aptly named everyone referred to him as Lieutenant Dick)!

  How could his time in Alaska end like this?

  Everything had gone wrong, beginning with Kat’s unsatisfying death. She’d died far too easily, on a day he wasn’t prepared for it and had to be at work—the bitch. Because of that, he hadn’t had time to dispose of her body, so he’d decided to go back to the cabin where he’d hidden her. By then someone had already discovered her remains, which had forced him to kill again, and on and on. He couldn’t catch a break. Even when he should’ve been able to shoot Amarok, he’d missed!

  If he believed in divine intervention, he’d assume a higher power was working against him. Tonight had been nothing but a huge clusterfuck. Those headlights hadn’t belonged to Evelyn; they’d belonged to Samantha Boyce. Why she kept driving by, hovering around Evelyn’s and Amarok’s house, Jasper couldn’t say, but it pissed him off to think she was watching him. He probably wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been so intent on keeping an eye out for whatever might be coming his way, but when he’d caught her sneaking around the back to peer in the window he’d made her sorry.

  After he’d grabbed her and dragged her in the house, she’d told him she loved Amarok, that she’d deliver Evelyn to him if only he’d let her live. She’d claimed that she wanted what he wanted—Evelyn dead—and she’d been quite passionate and convincing. But by then he’d known it was too late; he had to run. Evelyn hadn’t arrived home as expected, and he was out of time. The whole structure he’d so carefully and painstakingly built here in Alaska was crashing down on him. Better to get out while he could and live to fight another day.