by Brenda Novak
“Do you have any idea who might’ve done it?” She wondered how much it was going to cost, and if this would mean they’d have to delay the opening. That certainly wouldn’t help her new venture get off to a smooth start.
“’Fraid not.”
She was trying to decide if he was taking any pleasure from this unfortunate occurrence, but that wasn’t easy to determine over the phone. “Interesting...”
“Why would it be ‘interesting’ as opposed to some other word?” he asked.
“Because the only person I can name who hasn’t been excited about the benefits of having such a tremendous influx of federal money injected into the local economy is...” She caught herself before she could actually accuse him. She was reacting to the sting of rejection she felt as a result of that graffiti, and the fact that she didn’t want someone she was attracted to knowing—or telling her—that she wasn’t wanted. It wasn’t often she experienced the kind of sexual awareness Amarok evoked. At least 6’2”, with broad-shoulders, a muscular build, thick black hair and the most gorgeous blue eyes she’d ever seen, he was beyond handsome. All he had to do was look at her to make her weak in the knees. But she had no romantic notions where he was concerned. She hadn’t had sex with a man, with anyone, since Jasper. He’d ruined her in that way, made it impossible for her to overcome the memory of his abuse long enough to become intimate.
Besides, if she had to guess, she’d say Amarok was only twenty-seven or twenty-eight. That meant he was nearly ten years her junior, which made even dating him unlikely.
“Because the only person you know who isn’t excited you’re coming to town is...” he prompted.
She could tell he wasn’t fooled, that he knew exactly what she’d been about to say. “Never mind. Are you-are you going to look into it? Will you try to find those responsible?”
“Of course.” He sounded offended that she’d even ask. “Whether I’m excited to have Hanover House as my new neighbor or not, it’s my job to protect it now that it’s here. I’m calling you to suggest you get some security, though. It’s a miracle whoever trashed the place didn’t take that copper.”
Suddenly far more fatigued than she’d been a moment earlier, she rubbed her face in spite of her makeup. “Since they left it, I’m guessing they were trying to make trouble, not money.” And if the press printed something about it, maybe they would be successful. Sometimes it only took a spark to start a firestorm, which was why she’d been so worried that what Hugo had done would reach the media.
That could still happen, and now she had to worry about this too. But she’d known, when she first set out to establish Hanover House, that it wouldn’t be an easy undertaking.
“I agree,” he said. “Problem is they could always change their minds and decide to get a bit more out of it. Or someone else could come along, now that it’s such easy pickings. I can’t sit out there around the clock and guard it. I have other responsibilities.”
When she said nothing, his voice softened. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes. Thank you for calling.”
He didn’t hang up right away. “Are you...okay?”
That he could tell she wasn’t feeling her best surprised her. That he’d asked rather grudgingly didn’t. “Of course.” She put more effort into speaking stridently, confidently. “I’ll be fine. I’ve come this far, haven’t I?”
“When will you be back here?”
She thought of her trip to Pennsylvania next week. If she flew to Alaska as soon as possible, maybe she could offset any future troubles before they cropped up and return in time to keep her appointment with the prison that caged the next psychopath on her list. “I’ll be there as soon as I can catch a flight.”
“You’re not going to let anything stand in your way, are you,” he said.
It was a statement, not a question.
She let her breath go in a long, silent sigh. “No, I’m not.”
Chapter 4
She was dead.
“Andy Smith” frowned as he gazed into the sightless eyes of his latest victim. He’d been planning to kill her eventually. But he’d expected to have a few more days to play with her.
Damn! She’d spoiled his fun. How could he have thought this woman to be anything like Evelyn? This bitch didn’t have half the strength. It’d taken less to kill her than any of his other victims—except the girl he’d kidnapped from the bus stop in Georgia. That one had had diabetes. He’d been curious to see what would happen to her without insulin, so he’d removed her pump—and found out within twenty-four hours. Once she’d gone into a coma, it didn’t matter how much insulin he injected. He couldn’t get her out of it.
He paced back and forth across the dirt floor of his hideaway. What should he do now? He’d been so excited to arrive this morning, so relieved when Hillary had agreed to put the kids into an “after camp” program so he could attend the “technical training” he claimed to have registered for. She didn’t expect to see him until dinner, which gave him all day.
So maybe he’d have some fun with the corpse.
He sat next to it on the old iron bed. He supposed he could see if there was any satisfaction to be gained. As far as he was concerned, she deserved whatever he could devise. Normally after a kill, he experienced such a tremendous release that he could go months before the tension began to build again.
But she’d denied him that, left him hanging—and after he’d gone to the trouble of building this damn shack so that it would be almost identical to the one where he’d kept Evelyn. He wished he could’ve built in the same spot, but even if it wouldn’t have been risking too much, there were houses there now. The most he could do was drive through the area every once in a while and allow himself to enjoy the memory.
He’d never experienced anything more fulfilling or gratifying than those three days with Evelyn. The look of shock on her face when she found her friends dead had been priceless. And that first rush of freedom, when he’d decided he’d do whatever he wanted regardless of what anyone had to say about it... Wow!
After cutting the woman’s hands and feet loose, he took off the blood-encrusted gag. Then he removed the banana he’d shoved into her rectum. He had something else he planned to put there, wanted one final hurrah...
But his body wouldn’t cooperate. This dead woman no longer appealed to him, no longer reminded him the least bit of Evelyn, so he didn’t care to touch her. He figured he might as well vacuum her body with his battery-powered vacuum, sprinkle it with lime, wrap it in plastic and bury it like he had all the others.
Or maybe he could put off the disposal until later this afternoon. He was sort of curious to see what rigor mortis might do. He hadn’t had the time or the space to experiment with that sort of thing in the past. His wife before Hillary had made good money, but she’d been on him like white on rice...
If he put off the digging, he could spend the morning watching Evelyn’s parents’ house. That also encouraged him to wait. According to what he’d read in the paper, Hanover House was scheduled to open in November. That meant he had only a few months to find Evelyn—and to show her that she wouldn’t have to worry about moving so far away after all.
***
It was Evelyn’s mother who gave her a ride to the airport. Lara wasn’t happy that Evelyn was leaving again. She made that clear with a lecture on how Evelyn should take better care of herself, which Evelyn did her best to tolerate. She’d asked her father to drive her since she’d known Brianne, her younger sister, had to work, but he’d had a tee time that conflicted. To be helpful, he’d lined up Lara, and once her mother had agreed, Evelyn didn’t feel as if she could change her mind and take her own car. That would not go over well after the difficulty they’d had getting along on their trip to San Francisco.
“You still have stitches in your head,” Lara complained as they reached Logan Airport.
“They won’t be there long,” Evelyn responded, watching the signs for the various airlines slip pa
st.
“Do you know a doctor in Hilltop? Who will take them out?”
Evelyn shrugged. “Maybe I’ll do it myself. It can’t be hard.”
Her mother shot her a dirty look.
“Okay, I’ll drive to Anchorage and have a professional do it.”
At last, they reached the drop off and Lara pulled to the curb so Evelyn could get out.
Claiming she was going to miss her flight if she didn’t hurry, she said a quick goodbye and grabbed her luggage.
She’d rushed off so fast she thought she’d forgotten something when Lara called before she could get on the plane.
“Mom?” She stepped out of the boarding line so that she wouldn’t hold anyone up. “Don’t tell me I dropped something in your car.”
“No, nothing like that.”
“And you haven’t run out of gas...”
“Of course not. Your father would never allow me to take the car if it didn’t already have gas.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Maybe nothing. It’s just that...some guy honked at me a few seconds ago, and when I looked over, he flipped me off.”
Evelyn wasn’t sure how to respond to this. Her mother wasn’t that great of a driver. She drove too slow or changed lanes at the worst possible moment, so Evelyn could understand someone getting frustrated enough to make a crude hand gesture. “Did you cut him off?”
“No! I didn’t do anything! I was driving along in my own lane when he came up on the side of me. And it wasn’t as if he was angry. He was grinning like...like he knew me and was excited to see me again.”
A smile didn’t sound in keeping with the road rage her mother normally inspired. “But you didn’t know him.”
“I’ve never seen him before in my life.”
“So...why do you think he did that?”
“I have no idea.”
A woman’s voice came over the intercom. “This is the final boarding call for Alaska Air flight number 1261 to Anchorage...”
Evelyn was out of time. She had to go. “It could be that he thought you were someone else, someone with whom he might joke around. Maybe he was trying to be funny.”
“I guess,” she said.
Evelyn pictured the worried face that would go with that voice. “Where is he now? Can you see him?”
“No. He sped away.”
Then it had to be nothing, a simple case of mistaken identity. None of the psychopaths she’d worked with over the years knew her mother. They didn’t live in the same place they had when she was attacked, and they kept their number unlisted. It would be difficult for anyone to find them, especially randomly, on the road, but if someone was targeting Lara for nefarious purposes, he’d remain in the vicinity, most likely follow her. “Just keep an eye on your rearview mirror, be aware of what’s around you at all times, and keep your phone handy,” she said. “If you see him again, call the police. It’s better to be wrong and safe than right and sorry.”
“Okay,” she said.
All the other people on the flight had boarded and the attendants were getting ready to close up the plane. “I’ve gotta go,” Evelyn said. “I love you.” Then she sighed and turned off her phone. Since Hilltop didn’t have cell service, she wouldn’t be able to use it much in Alaska, not once she left Anchorage.
But she’d had her landline installed at the bungalow, she reminded herself. She could check in on her mother that way.
***
The surgery had paid off. Lara hadn’t even recognized him. When he’d honked and given her the finger, she’d looked over at him, completely baffled. It was about the funniest thing he’d ever seen.
Everything else had paid off, too, “Andy” decided. He’d stayed away from Evelyn and her family for twenty excruciatingly long years and, in that time, he’d carefully set up the perfect cover, complete with a wife who supported him financially and step-kids who made him look no different than any other family man. And now his patience and planning were going to bring him exactly what he’d craved since he was seventeen. He’d found Evelyn. He’d finally fucking found her, just like he’d always dreamed!
Suddenly, Andy could’ve kissed his latest victim, whether she was dead or not. If she hadn’t croaked, he wouldn’t have gone to Evelyn’s parents’ house quite so early. He wouldn’t have been sitting there when her mother came out. He wouldn’t have been driving behind Lara when she traveled to the gated condo complex where Evelyn must live.
He’d stayed outside the gate, hadn’t dared push his luck that far. But he’d made a note of the unit Lara had gone to, and he’d seen Evelyn in the passenger seat when they passed him.
He couldn’t believe it. He’d been within fifty feet of her. It was almost too good to be true, seemed like just another of the many fantasies he created around her. But it wasn’t. This time it was real. And she’d looked so beautiful, like she did on TV.
He couldn’t wait until he could get close enough to touch her...
That was coming, he promised himself. They’d driven to the airport, where Evelyn had stepped out. It was obvious she was leaving Boston. But that didn’t scare him. Her parting with her mother hadn’t been an emotional one, so he doubted she’d be gone long. And now that he knew where she lived, he could be waiting for her when she got back.
Or...maybe he’d go after her. She’d been dropped off at Alaska Air. He could easily guess where she was going—off to babysit her new “facility,” as he’d heard her call it on TV, currently being built an hour from Anchorage.
Such a remote setting offered so many possibilities, so much privacy and space. He could tell anyone who asked that he was an author, writing a book on the criminal justice system. With the interest Hanover House had been receiving, no one would even question it. He was too good of a liar. And if he was working for himself there’d be no way for someone to check his credentials, even if they did question his story.
It was brilliant. And there was one more thing. If he went to Alaska, he wouldn’t have to come home to Hillary at night, which was a bonus. He’d be alone with Evelyn until he had his fill...
He adjusted himself. Now he was getting excited. He just needed to devise a lie convincing enough to get his wife to buy him a plane ticket to California. His parents would give him money once he got there; they always did. And that would enable him to fly to Alaska.
Imagine the fun he could have with Evelyn if time wasn’t an issue...
Chapter 5
Fortunately, Evelyn had slept for most of the ten hours she’d been on the plane. Without her mother sitting next to her, brooding, it’d been a lot easier to relax.
After she reached Ted Stevens International Airport in Anchorage, she had to grab a bite to eat, rent a car and drive an hour to Hilltop—and yet, because of the time difference, she arrived before nine-thirty, when the sun was just setting. In June, on the longest day of the year, Anchorage received twenty-two hours of sunlight. But from the beginning of August to the end, the days grew rapidly shorter—by almost three hours.
Evelyn had yet to visit Alaska in mid-winter. There’d been no reason to brave the weather. It wasn’t as if she needed to decide whether she’d be willing to come; she knew she’d go wherever the government built her a facility. She’d heard a great deal about the prevailing darkness, however, and wasn’t looking forward to it.
She called Amarok as soon as she spotted the straggle of buildings that constituted Hilltop from the ridge above, and asked him to meet her out at Hanover House, which was ten minutes on the far side of the valley. He agreed, but she beat him there, and she was glad. It gave her an opportunity to stand alone in the dwindling sunlight—before she had to view the damage he’d told her about—and admire the huge stone edifice where she would soon be spending the bulk of her time. Her dream was becoming a reality; this proved it. Fortunately, she couldn’t see any graffiti on the front. The portable toilets weren’t here, either. She could only guess all of that was inside or in the back.
She heard a vehicle pull into the lot behind her and turned to see Amarok get out of his government-issued 4x4, which sported a winch and a snowplow. When she saw that he was dressed casually in a flannel shirt and a pair of worn jeans instead of his uniform, she realized that she’d probably pulled him out of whatever he did for enjoyment on a Friday night.
“I’m sorry, I—if you were busy, you should’ve said something,” she told him as he came toward her with that long, confident stride of his. “This could’ve waited until tomorrow.”
His lips twisted slightly. “Don’t tell me you’re surprised that other people don’t work twenty-four hours a day.”
She couldn’t help noting the sarcasm and feeling slightly defensive at the implication. “I don’t work twenty-four hours a day.”
He cocked an eyebrow as if he’d refute that statement, so she glanced away to remove the challenge. That was an argument she’d most assuredly lose. “I agree I work too much,” she admitted, “but there’s no need to exaggerate my hours to that degree.”
“From what I’ve seen, if you’re not working, you’re thinking about work. It’s sort of one and the same.”