Hello Again

by Brenda Novak

  Evelyn squeezed her eyes closed. “I understand your frustration and anger, Mom. Still, we have to do what we have to do. See if Brianne can arrange to be gone for a month.”

  “A month?”

  “Yes. If necessary, you can always stay another few weeks.”

  There was a long silence. Then she said, “One month. Two months. Will it ever be safe to come home?”

  Not as long as Jasper was out there.… But Evelyn did what she could to reassure Lara, promising, at the end of their conversation, to call in the morning.

  After she hung up, she explained what was going on to Amarok and then she called Fitzpatrick.

  Her fellow psychiatrist answered on the first ring. “Finally!”

  Evelyn wished he’d quit inserting himself into her life, even if he was trying to help. “What’s going on? Why’d you call my parents?”

  “They’re not safe, Evelyn.”

  “Because…”

  “Do I really need to answer that? No one who’s close to you is safe. I told you Jasper would strike again. And he has.”

  Evelyn heard that scratchy voice in her mind, Hello … “You’re talking about Charlotte.”

  “Yes.”

  Bowing her head, she closed her eyes. “What’s happened? How do you know she’s been hurt?”

  “When I drove past her house tonight—”

  “You drove past her house?” she interrupted.

  “Yes. I’ve been doing that every night since … since I found a certain picture in your junior yearbook.”

  “The picture where I’m making a Homecoming sign with my friends.”

  “That’s the one. It stood out to you, too?”

  “It did.” She’d guessed he’d come across that. “But why were you looking through my high school yearbook, Tim?”

  “I was trying to prevent another murder!” he snapped. “I kept thinking, wondering, if I could stave off another attack. Or, at the very least, get a license plate number or some other piece of information that might lead us to Jasper before he can strike again.”

  Tim didn’t get that he shouldn’t even be thinking of her or of anyone associated with her. He’d always shown more interest than she welcomed. But maybe this time he really was trying to do a good thing, trying to make up for before. “I’m sorry, I just—”

  “This isn’t about you and me anymore, Evelyn. We need to put our differences aside and work together to catch Jasper—or more people could be killed.”

  “You mean other than Mandy and … and Charlotte.”

  “Yes.” He made an attempt to sound sorrowful, but he came off more vindicated for having predicted Charlotte’s demise. That bothered Evelyn, but she supposed she could see why he’d feel as he did.

  Amarok pulled another bar stool over and sat next to her, turning the phone so that he could hear, too.

  “How’d you find out?” she asked.

  “There was a cop car parked out front of her house with flashers on. I guessed something terrible had happened, so I went to the door. And I was right. The whole house was in upheaval. They’d just been told that…”

  “Charlotte’s dead,” she finished.

  “Yes.”

  Evelyn felt Amarok’s arm go around her. “How’d it happen? Please tell me it wasn’t her children who found her.”

  “No. She was stabbed to death, but it didn’t happen at home.”

  “Then where? And who discovered her body?”

  “I’m trying to tell you. Apparently, when a friend couldn’t reach her, they called the cops. The cops got hold of her husband, who told them she was babysitting for a work associate. But by the time they could get to that work associate’s house, she was dead.”

  Evelyn was that “friend,” the one who’d called the cops, but she didn’t enlighten him. “How many kids was she babysitting?”

  “Just one. A baby, less than a year old.”

  Her breath caught as she came to her feet. She feared the answer to the question that rose to her lips so much, she almost couldn’t ask it. “Please don’t tell me he killed the baby, too.”

  “No, fortunately, the baby was found next to her body. But she was crying in a puddle of blood. It’s not as if he took the time to make sure she’d be safe. He didn’t care one way or the other, didn’t bother to put her back in her crib or anything.”

  “He was in a hurry.” He’d spoken to Evelyn, knew she’d sound the alarm. So he did what he’d gone there to do and got out without allowing himself to be distracted—and without a single thought for the family Charlotte would leave behind or the baby she was watching. As far as he was concerned, nothing mattered except what he wanted.

  20

  I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to hear your voice—

  Evelyn woke in a cold sweat. She’d been dreaming—of that voice on the phone, of babies wallowing in blood, of her own baby being cut from her womb, of finding Amarok crumpled in a heap on the front drive when she got home, his body cold as ice.

  Taking measured breaths, she slid her hand over the mattress, relieved when she encountered him and he was plenty warm. His chest lifted and fell in a regular rhythm, which also helped calm her.

  Still, she couldn’t go back to sleep. She stared, wide-eyed at the oppressive darkness, knowing it would linger long after the clock indicated it was daytime. Alaska had so few hours of sunlight this time of year. She’d been coping with that just fine until last night, but now, suddenly, she hated the pervasive darkness, felt as if she couldn’t survive here—as if she had to go back to where the sun made a longer appearance each day.

  What time was it, anyway?

  Shifting carefully, so she wouldn’t wake Amarok, she checked the alarm clock on the nightstand. Three. She’d only slept, in fits and starts, for four hours. But there wasn’t any point in continuing to lie in bed. She couldn’t go back to sleep, and if she kept tossing she’d disturb Amarok. Why let that happen? One of them might as well get some sleep.

  Sigmund remained curled up at the foot of the bed, but Makita stirred from where he’d been dozing on the floor as soon as he heard her get up. The tags on his collar jingled as he walked over to investigate. She felt his wet nose on her bare leg before she could pull on a robe to protect against the cold.

  “Hi, ’Kita,” she whispered, and let him out of the room with her.

  She figured she’d only drive herself mad if she flipped through TV channels or rambled around the place, waiting until it was time to go to work. She preferred not to face Amarok when he got up, anyway, preferred not to have to acknowledge that she’d had a bad night, since it seemed like she always gave him reason to be concerned about her. She couldn’t help thinking that Samantha probably wasn’t having nightmares, wasn’t stirring at this late hour …

  Once she was showered and dressed, Evelyn took Makita out, shoveled the snow behind her SUV and scraped off her windshield. She hadn’t even realized it’d stormed last night, but waking up to more snow than they’d gone to bed with wasn’t unusual.

  Once she started her SUV and backed out of the drive, she hoped she’d feel some sense of relief that she was at least off on her own and not cooped up at the bungalow, trying so hard to keep from waking Amarok, but she didn’t. An isolated, lonely feeling swept over her as her headlights fell on the thick drifts that lined the roadway and the snow-draped buildings of Hilltop. There wasn’t another vehicle on the road—just a few parked here and there along the sides as she passed by, all buried in snow. The residents here basically rolled up the streets once the Moosehead closed down, and some nights the tavern closed earlier than others, depending on the weather and how many people were eating or buying booze. There was no such thing as standard operating hours in this little outpost.

  The sign for The Shady Lady Motel, where Jennifer Hall had stayed, glowed orange as Evelyn passed it. The sign for Quigley’s Quick Stop, several blocks down, glowed white. They were the only businesses this far from Anchorage that even att
empted to stay open all night. But it was mid-week and mid-winter, so they were deserted, too. Evelyn longed to grab a cup of coffee at the Quick Stop but figured coffee wasn’t reason enough to drag Garrett Boyle, the tough old widower who owned the store and lived in the back of it, out of bed to let her in.

  “All the conveniences of home.” She missed Boston—and that made her once again consider the possibility that she might be pregnant. Surely she wasn’t. Why worry about that on top of everything else?

  Once she arrived at Hanover House, the guards were surprised to see her, of course. “What are you doing here at this time of morning, Doc?…” “Getting an early start on it, huh?…” “Didn’t you just leave?… Jeez, I know you work hard, but this is ridiculous.”

  She responded vaguely to the first few comments and laughed at the last as they checked her through. Then she hurried up to her office. But she didn’t stay there. She dropped off her briefcase and made her way over to the prison side of the institution.

  She wasn’t sure what drew her to Lyman Bishop’s cell. She supposed she was paying him a visit because he would soon be gone and she’d no longer have the chance. She still thought she could learn something of value, some way to more effectively combat Jasper. Who better to tell her what one killer might do next than another?

  Several of the inmates snored loudly as she made her way down the long corridor. A few others coughed or even talked in their sleep. There was no sound coming from Lyman Bishop’s cell, but she stopped there, at D-128, and gazed through the bars, taking in as much as she could in the dim light. It was never totally dark in prison. Darkness was too dangerous.

  “Is there something I can do for you?”

  Evelyn started when he addressed her. He sounded wide-awake even though she hadn’t said anything. She hadn’t expected that, was still trying to decide how to respond when he followed up with, “Evelyn?”

  “How’d you know it was me?” she asked. “That it wasn’t a CO doing a routine bed check?” After all, he was lying down and couldn’t see her yet.

  “Your footsteps have a higher pitch than the heavy boots worn by the guards.”

  “I see.”

  “I try to remain very aware of my surroundings,” he added. “I think that’s prudent in here. Don’t you?”

  “I would say so, yes.”

  “Do you always haunt the prison at night? Or is there something about this night that’s particularly troubling for you?”

  “Every now and then, I have difficulty sleeping.”

  “Ah. Of course you do. As you might’ve guessed by now, I’m a night owl myself,” he said, but he wasn’t a night owl at all, not in the harmless sense that idiom was typically meant. He was a predator. “What brings you to this side of the facility?”

  “You,” she replied.

  “I’m the one keeping you up at night? I’m flattered. But why? Don’t tell me you’re worried about Beth.”

  “I’m definitely worried about Beth.”

  “Have you come here to plead with me to put her in an institution?”

  “I haven’t. I know you won’t give her up. I’m just hoping you’ll be honest with me.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be? I can trust you, right?”

  “At least as much as I can trust you,” she replied with an equal amount of sarcasm.

  He laughed.

  “You’re not going to deny that you’re my enemy—continue to pretend otherwise?” she asked.

  “You said you came here for some honesty. I might be able to afford you a bit of that, since it’s only the two of us, with no cameras, no recordings. Having someone to talk to during such a long night is better than sending you away. What’s on your mind?”

  “Jasper has murdered another one of my high school friends.”

  “You thought he’d stop?”

  “Killing? No. I’m not quite that naïve. But he’s getting bolder. Targeting people who are connected to me personally, even though that removes part of the ‘random’ element that’s made it so hard for the police to catch him in the past.”

  “He likes to imagine how what he’s doing affects you. Knowing he’s upsetting you, frightening you, brings him pleasure. That’s what makes it fun. The risk doesn’t matter in light of the reward.”

  She rested her hand against the cold, gritty cinder-block wall. “I guess not. But … what’s next?”

  “You’re the end goal, of course. You don’t need me to tell you that. He’s just taking his time, enjoying the chase.”

  “How will he do it when the time comes? And who else might he hurt in the meantime?”

  “I wish I could tell you that,” he said. “But this isn’t the movies.”

  From the wry humor in his voice, she guessed he was referring to Jodie Foster’s relationship with Hannibal Lecter in Silence of the Lambs. “I understand that. But you’ve studied Jasper. I know you have. When you were sentenced to Hanover House, you read everything you could find about me and my case.”

  She heard movement. Fortunately, he was merely sitting up and didn’t walk over to the cell door. He seemed content to give her some space, to have this quiet conversation in the semidark as if he wasn’t excited by the thought of getting closer to her. “How can you be so sure?”

  Judging by his reaction, he was curious, maybe even a little impressed. “You’re the kind of man who would educate himself. Like you did with the polygraph.”

  “We were just getting along. Let’s not bring up that sore subject.”

  “You were trying to manipulate me into believing you were innocent. You can’t blame me for trying to fight fire with fire.”

  “You’re right, of course. I did prepare for that polygraph and hoped it would go much … smoother. And I studied everything about you, including Jasper, as you said.”

  “So now you are being honest.”

  “I am. You’re very good at what you do, you know.”

  She blinked several times, surprised by the compliment. “Thank you.”

  “The problem is … Jasper’s even better at what he does. And what he does is kill.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she admitted. “You have no suggestions for how the police might catch him?”

  “None. I can only tell you to be on your guard. He’ll come for you eventually.”

  She shivered as she recalled the nightmare she’d had earlier, where she’d found Amarok dead on the driveway. “Even here? Where he’d stand out?”

  “He’ll figure out a way to fit in.”

  Of course. She’d known he’d follow her to hell if he had to—that there would be a reckoning someday. That was why she’d been so sure he was back last year. “I’m sorry I disturbed you,” she said, and turned to go.

  “Evelyn?”

  She hesitated.

  “Leave Beth to me,” he murmured.

  “And if I don’t?”

  “You won’t have to worry about Jasper.”

  She stared into his cell, trying to make out the barely discernable shine of his eyes. “You’ve made that threat before.”

  “It’s not a threat.”

  It was a promise.… “Your sister has no other defender,” she said. “That leaves me no choice.”

  “Then you’ll leave me no choice. I hope you realize that.”

  A debilitating fear welled up, far more powerful than if he’d been screaming obscenities at her and threatening her life. She heard plenty of that from the men she worked with—an explosion of temper, the result of impotent fury. But the inmates who typically screamed those things weren’t about to be let out, where they could act on their threats. Bishop’s quiet words carried such conviction. She had no doubt he meant them. And she had so much more to lose these days, so much more than she’d ever had.

  Still, she couldn’t allow the fear he inspired to get the best of her, couldn’t allow Jasper or Bishop or any other psychopath to rule over her, or what was the point of having survived when she was sixteen? Of gaining
the education she had to help combat the problem? Of being here, in the middle of nowhere? “May the best person win,” she said, and walked away.

  * * *

  When Amarok woke up, Evelyn was gone, but he found a note stuck to the coffeemaker: Took Makita out to go potty so he’d let you sleep in. Hope you got to do that. Talk to you soon. XO

  He hadn’t heard her leave, wondered how long ago that was. She’d had a rough couple of weeks. First her friend Mandy had been murdered. Then they’d received news of the double homicide of Maureen and Stanley Moore, which eliminated their best source of information and, along with it, their best hope of finding Jasper. As if that weren’t bad enough, last night Charlotte had been stabbed to death. Evelyn had to be feeling she was losing the battle she waged against Jasper. He seemed able to strike at will and take anyone he wanted—in any state. Even her parents and sister could be in danger.

  Amarok believed Evelyn would’ve been much better off moving to some quiet corner of the Lower 48 and going into private practice, like her parents wanted. Maybe then she could’ve escaped all of this. Until eighteen months ago, Jasper had seemed content to remain in hiding and do his own thing. It was possible he would’ve looked for her, come after her again, eventually. But the publicity surrounding Hanover House had made that far more likely. Not only did seeing her face on television remind him that she was still living and breathing, the news coverage gave away where she was and what she was doing. Someone like Jasper would view that almost as an invitation.

  Amarok hated that Evelyn was so exposed. But if she hadn’t made the choices she did—if she hadn’t come to Hilltop to get Hanover House off the ground—he never would’ve met her.

  The danger of her work wasn’t the only thing bothering him today, anyway. He couldn’t help feeling as though he’d let her down. He’d promised her so much, and none of it was coming through. Now that Maureen was gone, he wasn’t sure how he’d stop Jasper. He’d never faced a rival or a challenge he couldn’t beat—not if he put enough effort into it. But this … this had to shake Evelyn’s confidence in him and in their future.

  Hell, it was undermining his own confidence.…