by Brenda Novak
Then Sierra might’ve had a couple, as well, but even more wouldn’t have been excessive, given the amount of time they’d been here. There was certainly no evidence of heavy drinking.
“Find anything?” Amarok called.
“Not really. Unless there are more cans outside, they didn’t bring much beer.”
“They didn’t put any trash outside.”
“How do you know?”
“The rental company would’ve warned them not to.”
“Oh. Of course. Because of the bears.” Amarok handled their garbage, so she’d momentarily forgotten that refuse attracted some formidable animals here in Alaska. “Then we have twelve cans for four people over three days. That tells me it’s highly unlikely Sierra was drunk, especially in the middle of the day, when the guys might come home and wonder what she’d done with all the beer.”
He said nothing.
“And the lack of drugs and drug paraphernalia indicates she wasn’t high,” she added. “I wish I could suggest that she did tangle with a bear, except I can’t imagine her going outside without her coat and boots.”
“Maybe, instead of going to the trouble of suiting up again, she just ran out to grab a few more sticks of wood.”
“And a bear got her?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t see it,” she said. “Why wouldn’t she take a few seconds to pull on her coat rather than let herself get soaked? And why would she run out in the cold to get more wood when she’d already carried in an armload, most of which is still by the stove?”
“I shouldn’t have brought you,” he replied. “You’re a pain in the ass.”
She chuckled because she knew he was just messing with her, and started to wander around the rest of the cabin, searching for anything that might be amiss. Besides the kitchen and living room, she saw two bedrooms, one bathroom and a small mudroom off the back, leading on to a porch that was quite a bit deeper than the one in front.
Sierra had taken the sheets off the beds so she could pack them, but she hadn’t folded the blankets that would be left behind. She hadn’t washed the dishes or picked up the plates littering the coffee table. She hadn’t done any of the usual scrubbing, even though leaving the cabin as it was would cause her, Leland and the others to forfeit whatever they’d paid as a cleaning deposit.
What Evelyn saw confirmed what she’d thought before. Sierra had been anxious to leave—so anxious she’d shoved everything, including shampoo, soap and toothbrushes, into the suitcases, and she hadn’t bothered to fold anything or empty the fridge and cupboards.
Sierra didn’t seem to care whether they left the cabin fit for future renters. That seemed significant. So … why the hurry?
“Evelyn?”
When Amarok called her name, she poked her head into the hall from the back bedroom so he could hear her reply. “What?”
“Come on up here.”
“Where’s here?” She walked toward his voice. It sounded as though he’d discovered something important.
“The loft.”
Evelyn had noticed the ladder in the living room. She’d planned to go up when she finished with the downstairs, but he’d beaten her to it. “What did you find?” she asked as she climbed up after him.
He lent her a hand so she could get off the ladder. Then he gestured to the small area around them, which had a ceiling so low he couldn’t even stand upright. “You smell anything?”
She sniffed. “Bleach.”
“That’s what I smell, too.” He shook his head. “I didn’t come all the way into this room when I was here before. Still I don’t know how I missed it.”
“It’s not that strong, but I can definitely smell it.”
“Someone’s been cleaning up.”
True. But if Sierra didn’t clean downstairs, she wouldn’t go to the trouble up here.…
Evelyn curled her fingernails into her palms. “Why, in a room like this, would you ever need bleach? You wouldn’t want to risk spilling it and ruining the rug. And there’s only a bed and a dresser. I could understand smelling furniture polish, but … bleach?”
“Can you go see what cleaning chemicals are downstairs?” he asked.
“Sure.” She scurried back down the ladder but couldn’t find any bleach, only some dusting cloths, window cleaner, a powdered cleanser, dishwashing soap and a small vacuum.
When she came back, Amarok was wearing a dark scowl and he’d turned over the mattress.
“That’s not a happy face,” she said when he was too preoccupied with whatever was on his mind to help her up again.
He gestured to the mattress, where she saw a big, red stain. “Does that look like blood to you?”
10
“We have a murder on our hands.” Amarok couldn’t believe it. It’d been barely eight months since Hilltop’s last murder. And the previous two were only a year before that. Three murders in eighteen months, after going years without a single homicide. He hated to admit it, even to himself—because he loved Evelyn—but he’d known all along that allowing her brainchild to be built so close to his hometown would not bode well for those in the area. That was the reason he’d been one of the few who’d tried to fight it.
“Evelyn?” He turned to see her reaction. “Isn’t that what you make of this?”
Her eyes, round as saucers, never left the mattress, and she didn’t respond.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She didn’t look okay; she looked drained, pale.
“Evelyn?”
When she startled, he realized she hadn’t heard him before. “Yeah.”
That was what she said, but that wasn’t the impression he got. If he had his guess, she was struggling not to slide down the wall. “Are you sure?” he pressed, alarmed.
“No,” she admitted, and as upset and angry as he was to be dealing with such a serious problem again—because of what she’d brought to the place he loved most in the world—he couldn’t help pulling her into his arms. He supposed that was how he knew he loved her. She mattered more than anything else.
“Look at me,” he said.
It took a moment to get her to focus on him, but she eventually lifted her gaze. “We’re in the middle of a war, remember? That’s what you always tell me. There’s more than one battle in a war, and you don’t necessarily win them all. I need you with me as we go forward. I need you to remain strong.” He gripped her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Together we can come through this like we have everything else. Right?”
Tears filled her eyes. “I’m not doing so well, Amarok.”
Her words made his blood run cold. She’d never said anything like that before. “It’s because you’re working too hard,” he told her. “You need a break. Maybe you should go home and see your family, spend a couple of weeks in Boston decompressing while I deal with this.”
She stretched her neck to be able to see the blood on the mattress again. “No. I won’t leave you with this.”
She probably felt she had to stay and defend herself, defend what she’d built and what she was trying to do with it, but her overall welfare meant more than anything else. “I want you to go home,” he said. “If I know you’re safe, I’ll have some peace of mind, and I can handle this.”
“There’s too much going on at Hanover House. Janice won’t understand if I take off right now. I have my first female inmate arriving on Monday. And once Janice hears that we’re very likely looking at another murder…”
She didn’t finish.
“You don’t want anyone to know you’re struggling,” he said.
“I can’t let anyone know, Amarok.”
He held her closer and rubbed her back. He hated what she’d been through, hated that he couldn’t make everything better, no matter how hard he tried. If he could catch Jasper, perhaps things would be different. Of course things would be different. Then she could heal without being thrust back into the nightmare that had started her down the path of researching the conscienceless. Bu
t knowing Jasper was out there, just waiting for his chance, meant she could never fully relax, never fully trust that the future would be everything they were hoping to build.
“Then we have to do something,” he murmured.
“Like what?”
She needed more emotional support. A piece of home that she could hang on to like a security blanket. But he knew better than to invite her parents to town. Her mother struggled with depression and was constantly nagging Evelyn to come home. Evelyn always looked relieved, if not exhausted, when they hung up. So Amarok couldn’t see how having her parents in town would help.
What about Brianne? Evelyn had mentioned, several times over the past few months, how much she missed her sister.
“You told me Brianne’s been talking about coming to visit.”
“So?”
“Let’s make it happen. Have her come out, right away.”
“In this weather?”
“Why not? We should be able to get her in and out. It’s not like the whole state shuts down when it snows. We’re used to this. Technically, it’s not even winter yet.”
“But…”
He tilted her chin up so he could look into her eyes. “But what?”
“What if this is Jasper?”
She thought Jasper was responsible for everything that went wrong, and he could understand why. “We were afraid the other murders we’ve dealt with over the past couple of years were Jasper, too. And they weren’t. None of them. This one might not be him, either.”
“What if it is?” she repeated stubbornly.
“Then having Brianne around will help keep you safe. I’d rather you weren’t alone at the house while I’m out investigating. I’ll be pulling a lot of late nights over the next few weeks or for however long it takes to figure out who’s responsible for what happened here.”
He thought she’d continue to argue. Having company meant she couldn’t put in her usual long hours, and she was so driven. There never seemed to be a good time to interrupt her work. She definitely fit aspects of the “mad scientist” stereotype, and he often teased her about it. But she mumbled, “Okay,” and pressed her cheek against his chest. Her agreement told him he had real reason to worry about her. Even she knew she needed someone.
“We’ll call her as soon as we get home.”
“She’ll probably be too busy to just up and leave. She has her own work to worry about. And her own man.”
“The wedding isn’t until spring.”
“That doesn’t mean she won’t be hesitant to leave Boston.”
He and Brianne had only ever talked on the phone, hadn’t actually met. But he felt confident she’d make the necessary arrangements—once he let her know Evelyn needed her, which he’d do secretly if he had to. “She’ll come.”
* * *
“Hey, handsome, why so glum?”
Jasper pulled his gaze away from his drink long enough to glance at the blonde sliding onto the stool next to him. Her name was Bambi, or maybe that was just her stage name. She danced here at the club, typically came on right before Vivian, the raven-haired beauty he liked to watch. Bambi had shown interest in him before, but he’d never found her particularly appealing. With bleached hair, tattoos covering both arms, a ring in her nose and fake boobs that bordered on caricature, she didn’t look anything like Evelyn. But a sexual outlet was a sexual outlet. He’d only allowed himself to take one victim since moving to Alaska; he had to show some restraint if he hoped to achieve what he’d set out to achieve—so he had to relieve his powerful and constant lust somehow.
He offered her the smile that’d gained him so many conquests in the past. “Had a rough day.”
Her bottom lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout. “Poor baby. What was so bad about it?”
Besides having to dispose of two dead girls? Nearly freezing his balls off in the process? Knowing some car was driving around with part of one victim’s scalp on its axle, the discovery of which would intensify the investigation into Sierra’s disappearance and focus it on Hilltop, when he’d be much safer if that connection was never made? “I won’t bore you with the details,” he said, and couldn’t help chuckling at his own euphemism.
She seemed to take his levity as a hopeful sign. “Ooh, you’re not only handsome, you’re mysterious.”
He laughed outright. “I’ve got more secrets than you could ever imagine.”
“I’m intrigued.”
“Tell me something.”
She tossed her hair back. “What’s that?”
“Is your name really Bambi?” He was trying to picture the kind of parents who’d give their daughter a name like that.
“Of course it is,” she said, but her coy smile suggested the opposite.
“Nice name,” he said with a shrug.
“Why not?” She took a sip of his drink. “It’s sexy and yet … innocent.”
“There’s nothing about you that’s innocent,” he said as he reclaimed his glass.
“Some guys think they want innocence, but experience is a hell of a lot more fun,” she said with a laugh. “Anyway, I can play stupid if you like.”
She was stupid. She just didn’t know it. She proved that when she leaned so far into him the tassels on her pasties brushed his arm. “Want to take me home tonight?” she whispered.
He made no move to touch her, careful not to show too much interest. “Sorry. I don’t pay for sex.”
Immediately backing off, she scowled at him. “What are you, a cop?”
“No. I just refuse to pay for something I can get for free.”
The smile slid from her face. “Then you might want to find a different place to hang out, sweetheart. The girls in here are professionals. We expect a little something for our time.”
He caught her arm before she could slip off the stool and move on to someone else. “I’m not ungenerous.”
She glared at the hand holding on to her. “What does that mean?”
“I have a dime bag of coke.” He didn’t have too much time to devote to getting what he wanted tonight. He had to be at work by four in the morning. But this would only take a couple of hours. Fortunately, he didn’t need much sleep. He rarely slept more than five hours a night.
She lowered her voice. “You wanna get high?”
“No, you wanna get high.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And you want something else.”
He tugged on one of her tassels. “You don’t have to play the innocent for me. I prefer a girl who doesn’t mind a little kink.”
She smacked his hand away. “What kind of kink?”
“Light bondage. A few toys.”
She pursed her lips. It was a slow night, which meant she didn’t have many options. And he was a regular, familiar enough that she didn’t seem concerned about what he’d just said. She was assuming he wouldn’t go too far, and he wouldn’t, but only because he couldn’t upset or harm anyone he associated with. That would be the quickest way to get caught.
“Let’s see if you have more than coke to promise me,” she said, and grabbed his crotch.
He knew she couldn’t really tell whether he was well-hung, not with his jeans in the way. She was trying to pretend she was in control. She seemed to think acting bold would turn him on, but it enraged him instead. The challenge in her eyes, playful though it was, reminded him that, despite all the penis extenders he’d tried over the years, he wasn’t as impressive in that area as everyone seemed to expect from his general good looks and physique.
“Well?” If she made fun of him, he’d kill her. Which would be a mistake, but at that point it’d be worth it. He refused to allow anyone, especially a woman, to make him feel inferior.
Lucky for her, she didn’t laugh. “Let’s go have some fun,” she said.
* * *
After they got back from the cabin, Evelyn went straight to the prison. Not only was she behind she also needed to stay busy in order to take her mind off what had most likely happened at the c
abin. She didn’t even stop to have dinner after everyone else went home. She worked until she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. Then she lay down in the conference room. Amarok had taken the evidence he’d collected to the lab in Anchorage, and she had no idea when he’d be back. If they closed the road, he might not get through until morning. She couldn’t bear the thought of spending another night in their home alone, not after seeing the size of the bloodstain on that mattress and sensing that whatever new menace they were facing was close. She needed to feel secure in order to get the rest she so desperately needed and, inside the prison, with its tall fences, razor wire atop those tall fences and even taller lookouts, manned by armed guards watching the grounds, she felt safe. Maybe one of the many psychopaths housed within the walls would get her one day, but not Jasper. He was the only one she truly feared, and he couldn’t get her here.
She was just nodding off when the phone began to ring.
That had to be Amarok, checking on her, so she made herself get up to answer it. “Hello?”
“You’re still at the prison?” he asked.
She steadied herself by leaning on the conference table. “Yeah. I’ve been trying to catch up on a few things.”
“Sounds like I woke you.”
“I was lying down, but I wasn’t quite asleep.”
“At the office?”
She tucked some hair, which had fallen from the tie holding the rest of it back, behind her ear. “The couch in the conference room isn’t a bad place to sleep.”
“So you’re not going home.”
“No. If you were there, I would, but…”
“That’s probably for the best. After what happened last winter, and what’s going on now, I’d rather have you at the prison.”
“When will you be back?”
“It’s going to take me a while. That’s why I’m calling. When I couldn’t reach you at home, I figured you’d be at work. I’m at my father’s place, and I’d like to stay over so I can talk to a detective with the Anchorage PD who’s supposed to be really good at solving homicides. I want to make sure I’ve covered all my bases at the crime scene, maybe even ask him to come out and double-check that I haven’t missed anything.”