by Brenda Novak
He said nothing, but he no longer bothered to pretend he was the cowed, soft-spoken, innocent scientist, no longer bothered to put up the façade behind which he hid from others. That polygraph test had crushed any hope he had of fooling her, and he knew it. But the people he encountered in his regular life had no reason to look close. She had no doubt he’d go back to what had worked for him before.
“She had some interesting things to say,” Evelyn continued.
“She doesn’t make sense half the time,” he responded. “Nothing she tells you can be taken seriously.”
“Even if it involves your ‘tummy banana’?”
A muscle ticked in his cheek, but, other than that, Evelyn could see no sign of distress. He was hanging on to the news that he’d soon be released, believed he had everything under control despite what she thought of him. “What’s a tummy banana?”
“Even if you didn’t already know, you should be able to figure that out.”
He gestured dismissively. “Not necessarily. Beth’s full of inane chatter. That’s all she’s capable of.”
“Since the lobotomy, you mean.”
That tic in his cheek grew more pronounced. His pupils narrowed, too—filled with hate. “I have nothing to say to you. I want to go back to my cell.”
“You’ll go back when I say,” she responded. “I’m in charge here. Not you.”
“And you claim psychopaths like control…,” he muttered under his breath.
“Are you contradicting me?”
“You’re the psychiatrist. You’re the one who’s done the studies,” he replied with a shrug.
“Isn’t that what the lobotomies were about, Dr. Bishop? Power and control? Creating the perfect victim? Someone who could never leave you? More women, like Beth, who have no ability to argue or fight—or even tell on you?”
He gazed at her from beneath half-lowered eyelids. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never performed a lobotomy.”
“And, despite what your sister told me on Saturday, you’ve never forced her to perform fellatio on you?”
“Of course not. That’s disgusting,” he replied, but she could tell he didn’t find it disgusting at all. What he found disgusting was the fact that she’d dare question him on it. That she’d dare interfere in his relationship with his sister, whom he felt he “owned.”
“I suppose you’ve never banged her head into the wall or tied her up, either.”
He blinked at her, seemingly untroubled. “Why are you out to get me? I’ve never done anything to you.”
“That may be true. But you don’t have to do anything to me. I stand up for all victims, especially those who can’t stand up for themselves.”
His chains rattled as he shifted to cross his legs. “I suggest you mind your own business.”
“That would make life easier for you, wouldn’t it?”
“It might make life easier for you, too,” he mumbled, but he was shifting again and spoke so low Evelyn could barely make out the words.
“Excuse me? Was that some sort of threat?”
“A few words to the wise.”
She folded her arms as she studied him. “I’m having a doctor look at your sister. I hope, for your sake, she has no scars or other injuries.”
“Even if she does, you won’t be able to prove she got them from me.” He came to his feet. “And, like I told you before, you can’t rely on her testimony. So why waste your time? It’ll only drive you crazy, thinking she’s some unfortunate I’m using for my own pleasure when you can’t do anything about it.”
Evelyn straightened her spine. “Seems you’ve thought of everything. But if you’ve been abusing her, I’ll prove it. And I’ll make sure you never get the chance to hurt her again.”
He approached the glass. “Stay out of my life, Evelyn.”
“Or…”
His eyes seemed to bore into hers. “I think you already know.…”
“Why don’t you spell it out for me?” She needed him to reveal himself on tape, to show his true nature as much and as many times as she could get him to do it.
A half smile curved his thin lips. “You wouldn’t want to provoke the wrong person.”
She got up and crossed over to the plexiglass, stopping when they had only that between them. “After what I’ve been through, you don’t scare me.”
He didn’t come back at her, didn’t lose control or outright threaten her, as she hoped he would. He glared at her, remaining mute no matter the challenge she tossed out, no matter how many times she asked him what he’d done to his sister—and his mother. His eyes gave away everything he wouldn’t, but how could she ever sell that to the police, or a jury?
Those flat, cold eyes. She recognized them, had seen similar “dead” eyes when she was being tortured in that shack by Jasper.…
Finally, she stopped talking. They remained locked in a silent power struggle for several long minutes—until she chuckled as if he were some kind of joke and pressed the button that would call the COs.
After they took him away, she stopped the recording and sank into her seat, glad that she had a few moments to herself. She couldn’t have dealt with any inconsequential conversation right now, couldn’t have continued to hide how upset she was.
She’d riled Bishop up, all right. But she was afraid nothing good would come from it.
* * *
Charlotte Zimmerman Pine didn’t like being out after dark. Ever since Mandy had died and Evelyn Talbot had contacted her to warn her that she could be in danger, she felt as if she had a target painted on her forehead. She’d read the true crime book a man named Daniel Piedmont had written about Evelyn’s experience, would never forget some of the chilling details he’d related about the torture she had endured—and how much Jasper had enjoyed inflicting that pain. Charlotte found it difficult to believe the boy she’d flirted with in biology class could be the person Piedmont had described, but there was too much proof to deny it. Jasper had committed three murders besides what he’d done to Evelyn, and he’d disappeared right after.
Was he the one who’d killed Mandy? Would he come after her next? She thought of Evelyn in that shack, watching her best friends decompose in the heat while knowing Jasper would be back to rape and torture her again as soon as he got out of school.…
Gripping the steering wheel with both hands, she turned out of the neighborhood. She couldn’t imagine going through what Evelyn had been through, knew she wouldn’t have held up nearly so well. Dealing with the regular ups and downs of life proved difficult for her. She’d been on antidepressants and anti-anxiety drugs ever since she’d landed her first high-pressure job, with a law firm, right out of college. She wouldn’t risk going anywhere tonight, except her friend—another paralegal in the firm where she worked, who was also a single mother and new to the area, with no friends or family—had a sick kid she needed to take to the emergency room and she’d asked Charlotte to stay with the baby. How Charlotte was going to get through the night if that hospital visit took very long she didn’t know. She was terrified to be alone, especially in a strange house. But she couldn’t let her husband join her, as he’d offered. She preferred he stay with their own kids. Although they were old enough to stay alone, she didn’t want to risk anything happening to them. And she kept telling herself that she’d be safe, too. If she was at someone else’s house, how would Jasper ever find her?
That was how she’d felt before leaving the house. But only a block away, her eyes flicked, time and again, to the rearview mirror. That terrible feeling was back—the creepy sensation that she was being followed.
Was it merely apprehension, getting the best of her?
When she came to a stop at the first light, she glanced down at her cell phone, which she’d pulled from her purse and placed on the console between the seats for easy access. She had no good reason to call and alarm her husband. She hadn’t seen anyone who looked like Jasper—no one who looked remotely dangerous or was acting suspicious.
There was a blue minivan behind her. Had she seen it before? Driving down her street?
It seemed she had, but she couldn’t be sure. There were so many blue minivans in Boston.…
Quit freaking yourself out. If she wasn’t careful, she’d fall into a full-blown panic attack, and she couldn’t let that happen. Maxine needed her. Besides, Evelyn had admitted that there might not be any danger. I’m just being a big baby—jumping at shadows.…
The light turned green. With a final glance at the driver of that minivan, Charlotte gave her Acura some gas and tried not to let her fear grow beyond her ability to rein it in. The minivan turned off before she reached the entrance to the freeway, which made her feel more comfortable. That meant, even if she had seen it before, it didn’t matter, because that minivan wasn’t following her.
Her husband called as she took the entrance ramp. “You there yet?”
She adjusted her Bluetooth as she accelerated. “Not quite. GPS says I have ten minutes. What’s going on?”
“I thought you might want to talk while you drive. Thought it might calm your nerves.”
Hearing his voice helped. So much that she forgot about watching her rearview mirror. She began to feel more and more like herself as they discussed whether or not he’d get a raise from the accountant he worked for, what their daughter needed to purchase for her art project at school and if they should allow their son to go with a friend and his family to Disney World over spring break. Before she knew it she’d reached Maxine’s house and was parking at the curb.
“I’m here,” she told him with a sigh of relief.
“Good. Should we keep talking?”
“Not now. Let me greet Maxine and help her get on her way to the hospital. Then I’ll call you.”
“I’ll be here.”
She hit the disconnect button, gathered her purse and climbed out. With her attention solely on reaching the front door as quickly as possible, so she wouldn’t hold Maxine up, she almost didn’t see the van. She was about to step onto the porch to knock when a flash of blue in her peripheral vision caused her to turn as it rolled slowly down the street.
Was that the same vehicle that’d been behind her when she left her house? The one she thought had turned off?
Couldn’t be, she told herself. As she’d acknowledged before, there were a lot of blue vans in Boston. She watched it disappear around the corner, then paused before knocking to see if it might come by again, but she didn’t get the chance to wait very long. Maxine, her twentysomething face too young to be as pinched and tired looking as it was, opened the door.
“Saw you pull up,” she explained. “Thanks for coming.”
Charlotte yanked her gaze away from the end of the street, where she’d been watching to see if that van reappeared. “No problem. Is there anything I should know? It’s been a while since I had a baby in the house.”
“I made a bottle and put it in the fridge, in case Ariel wakes up. But she’s nearly a year old now, so that shouldn’t happen. She typically sleeps through the night.”
Sympathy welled up as Maxine bent to pick up her three-year-old boy. He was in footie pajamas and his cheeks were flushed with fever. “How’s he doing?”
“Not so good. I’ll feel better when he’s seen a doctor.”
Charlotte took the heavy bag that kept falling off Maxine’s shoulder and gathered the boy’s blanket and a stuffed animal he was crying to take along and helped get everything into the beat-up Ford Escort that was Maxine’s only vehicle. “I hope he’s going to be okay.”
“Me, too.” Maxine got behind the wheel and put the key in the ignition.
“Call me when you learn what’s wrong,” Charlotte said.
“I will. I really appreciate you coming, especially on such short notice. I don’t know what I would’ve done if—”
Her voice wavered, telling Charlotte she was close to tears. The strain of her recent divorce, the move, her son’s sickness—it was all taking a toll. Because of that, Charlotte didn’t dare mention that she had her own worries. “It’s nothing,” she broke in. “I’ll make sure everything’s okay here. Don’t worry for a second. Just take your time and do whatever you need to do.”
With a grateful smile and a quick nod, she started the engine and backed down the drive.
Charlotte watched her go. Then she checked one end of the street as well as the other. No van.
Thank goodness.
Hurrying into the house, she closed and locked the door before peeking in on the baby. Ariel seemed to be sleeping soundly, so Charlotte went back to the living room and called her husband.
“Maxine’s off to the hospital.”
“That’s good. How’s her son?”
“He’s definitely ill. I hope it’s nothing serious.”
“So do I.” They chatted as she wandered around the house, trying to familiarize herself with the layout. But they didn’t get to talk for long. After a few minutes he had to help their daughter with homework, so Charlotte told him to check in with her later and turned on the television.
Maxine didn’t have cable or satellite. She probably couldn’t afford the expense, so there wasn’t much to choose from. Even if there’d been a better selection of programs to watch, Charlotte wasn’t sure she would’ve been able to completely relax. She kept getting up to peer out the window, looking for that blue van.
She didn’t see it, but about thirty minutes later a thump at the back of the house made her catch and hold her breath.
What was that?
She was just creeping down the hall, trying to figure out the source of that noise—to make sure the baby hadn’t tried to climb out of her crib and fallen to the floor—when the sound of breaking glass nearly turned her knees to water. The fear that swept through her was so arresting, so debilitating, she had to grab on to the walls to keep from sinking to the carpet.
Her phone! She was digging it out of her pocket when the baby started to cry.
It was too late to call anyone. She needed to get out of the house. Right away. But she couldn’t leave Ariel behind.
Somehow Charlotte found the strength to remain upright and moving. She burst into the child’s room to find Ariel standing up, hanging on to the slats of the crib with one chubby hand while rubbing her eyes with the other. She cried even harder when she saw Charlotte, whom she didn’t recognize, but Charlotte didn’t hesitate. She scooped the child out of her bed and turned to run.
But he was on her before she could even get back into the hallway.
19
That night Evelyn stayed late to help Jim Ricardo make some progress on the brain scans. She felt like she had to mollify him before his frustration boiled over and she ran into staffing problems again. She’d already had to cancel her and Amarok’s attendance at his wife’s dinner party, since Amarok had been out of town, and Jim hadn’t been pleased. He’d been counting on Evelyn’s support to help make Annie happy.
Not too long after they got started, however, Annie called, demanding he come home to eat. At that point, he hurried out without so much as a backwards glance. Evelyn was just shutting down her laptop so she could take it with her when Stacy Wilheim, the only other female on the mental health team, poked her head into the room.
“I bumped into someone named Samantha Boyce when I was in town a few minutes ago. Have you met her?”
Refusing to grimace at the name, Evelyn kept her expression neutral. “I haven’t met her, no.” She’d seen her, though—in those pictures in Amarok’s attic and in the flesh that one night at the Moosehead.
Stacy came inside and took the seat across the desk. “You’re aware of who she is, though.”
“I am.” Although she’d been trying not to think about Amarok’s ex, especially since she’d allowed Amarok to make love to her without any birth control, which made their relationship more serious than it’d been before, she’d
be lying if she said the woman hadn’t crossed her mind about a thousand times in spite of everything that was going on with Bishop and Jasper and the recently deceased Moores.
“Can’t say as I like her,” Stacy said.
Although it wasn’t kind to feel any sort of satisfaction at hearing that comment, Evelyn figured, in this type of situation, it was natural. “Why not?”
“She’s so damn pushy and assertive! Too assertive, in my book.”
“I guess that doesn’t come as too much of a surprise. From what I hear, she can hunt and fish as well as any man. That would take a certain level of … boldness. Why? Where’d you meet her? Don’t tell me you were having a drink at the Moosehead.…”
“Are you kidding?” she scoffed. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in there. Too many drunken clouts stumble around that place for my taste.”
Stacy had the luxury of having her husband and her dog to keep her company. She was also intrigued by and devoted to their work, and she fell into the demographic that preferred a good TV program before bed to a raging party. Not everyone was so easily satisfied. “We are living in Alaska. There’s not a lot for folks to do here during the cold months, except drink away their boredom and wait for spring.”
“The only thing more plentiful than weapons is booze. Far as I’m concerned, that’s not a good combination.”
The people in this part of the world were typically far more conservative in their politics than most of her colleagues from the East Coast. “That’s why Amarok has to spend so much of his time there,” she said. “It’s a far different life than the one we knew back in the Lower 48. So where did you meet Samantha? At the Quick Stop?”
“The gas station. I stopped to fill up on my way home. Then I realized I’d left the files I’d been planning to take with me in my office. So I had to drive back. You never know when another storm’s going to roll in. I don’t want to get stuck without my work.”
“Did Samantha introduce herself to you or what?”
“Sort of, except the exchange wasn’t nearly that polite. Let’s say she engaged me. Had all kinds of questions about what we’re doing here and what we hope to accomplish. Made sure to let me know she doesn’t believe our work will amount to a hill of beans, that Hanover House would never have been built if she’d been in the area. Blah, blah, blah.”