by Brenda Novak
Her hands were swelling, further hampering her efforts.
She almost gave up—several times. But the harder she tried, the more she bled, and, in the end, it was the blood that made the difference because it acted as a lubricant.
When she finally managed to pull her hands free, she almost couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t untied the rope, but she’d stretched it just enough.
At first, having her hands free did nothing for her. They were too unwieldy—like trying to use two bricks. But that wasn’t the worst of what she was experiencing. As full circulation returned, her fingers and hands began to feel as though they were on fire.
Resisting the urge to rip the gag out of her mouth first thing, she curled into herself, trying to endure the pain without so much as a whimper. She needed the ability to feel if she was going to find something in the back of the van to use as a weapon. The glow of the instrument panel didn’t reach into the back and it was too dark to see much of anything. There was nothing she could do but wait it out.
Regaining feeling took longer than she would’ve expected. Or maybe it was just that every minute in the van felt like an hour. She couldn’t accurately judge time when she was this frantic; she was too afraid they’d arrive at their destination and her opportunity would be lost.
Once she was capable, she again considered removing the gag. She was dying to do it, to be able to wet her mouth and breathe normally. But she resisted the urge, in case he happened to glance back at her.
Evelyn thought of coming up behind him with the rope he’d used to tie her, putting it around his neck and pulling until he was no longer a threat to anyone. She was just desperate and angry enough to do it.
Problem was the attempt could cause a wreck that would kill them both. And while she would’ve risked it, it wasn’t only her life that hung in the balance. She planned to get her and her baby out of this.
Intent on grabbing a tire iron, an ax or something else she could use as a weapon instead, she slowly and quietly began to feel around her.
She found a sack of groceries.
And some bedding. That wouldn’t help her escape, but she was even angrier that he’d had blankets and yet he hadn’t used them to pad the van before tossing her inside. Bastard.
She also found a toolbox. But everything inside it was so small: nails and screws and a level. There were several other things she couldn’t identify by touch alone, but she did manage to find a screwdriver and a hammer. Both could be lethal, under the right circumstances. She just wasn’t in those circumstances. She preferred a weapon she could brandish that would keep him at a distance, preferred something that gave her much higher odds of success.
Too bad there was nothing. Since she had to take what she could get, she chose the screwdriver. With that as her weapon, she could thrust upwards at least. Without leverage, a hammer would be less effective. She’d have to pretend she was still unconscious until he opened the back to get her out and then ambush him.
Remembering how terrible a close encounter like that was—how nerve-racking the mere sound of Emmett entering the cooler had been, how hard it had been not to freak out as he approached and give herself away, and how the adrenaline flowing through her body had threatened to turn her arms to rubber before she could even strike—made her nauseous.
But she had no choice. If she wanted to escape, she had to wait until Bishop was right next to her. It was just as it had been with her homemade shiv. Only this time there was even more at stake. Because if she tried to stab him with the screwdriver and somehow failed, Bishop would for sure give her a lobotomy, regardless of the baby.
This would be the end—one way or the other. Either she would escape or she’d become someone even she didn’t recognize, if she survived at all.
26
Anchorage, AK—Thursday, 1:00 a.m. AKDT
Steeling himself for what he might find, Amarok crept toward the back of the processing plant, Edna Southwick’s daughter close on his heels. After the gruesome sight of Emmett’s decomposing body in the chicken coop, he felt certain Bishop had been here. He could still be here. There wasn’t a vehicle on the premises—not one he’d seen—but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Bishop and Evelyn could be in the plant.
The alternate scenario—that something had spooked Bishop and he’d either killed Evelyn and driven off or taken her with him—was also a possibility, one that was too upsetting to contemplate.
And what about Ada’s mother? Where had she gone?
Once again using his service pistol, a Gen4 GLOCK 22, Amarok motioned for Ada to hang back a bit more as he approached the window. Although he typically preferred using his rifle, was more accustomed to it since it was better for the types of things he usually policed, that wasn’t the case here. He had to rely on his sidearm. He missed Makita, too. Approaching danger without the superior eyes and nose of his dog made him feel slightly handicapped.
He’d called Phil as soon as he’d found the address for the chicken ranch at Edna Southwick’s and asked him to return to Anchorage. If Phil had left right away, he and Makita should both arrive soon. But he couldn’t stand around and wait. If Evelyn was on the premises and she was still alive, he wouldn’t want Bishop to return before he could set her free.
“Do you see anything?” Ada whispered as he tried to peer into the room.
Although the light was on, a navy blue sheet covered the window, making it difficult to determine what, if anything, was going on inside. “No.”
“So what are you going to do?”
He eyed the door that was boarded shut. It would take too much time to rip off the boards and enter from behind. Even if he could do it quickly, which he couldn’t, the noise would give his presence away.
But would it be any smarter to go in through the store? Breaking glass might be fast, but it wouldn’t be any quieter.
Maybe it was unlocked. Since the gate had a padlock on it, which was why he’d had to climb over the fence in back, he doubted Bishop had left the plant open, but it was worth a try.
He gestured for Ada to remain silent as they slipped around to the side. He had to concentrate so he didn’t miss something that could get one or both of them killed.
Fortunately, with it being light in the building and dark outside, he had a slight advantage, despite all the windows.
Although he’d made it clear she wasn’t to talk, Ada murmured, “The van’s gone.”
“What van?” he asked.
“The one that was here before—in the carport.”
“Was it a blue carpet-cleaning van?”
“No. It was spray-painted black.”
That didn’t rule out the carpet-cleaning van. Anyone could spray-paint a vehicle. That gave him hope everything was coming together as he peered into the store.
“See anyone?” she asked.
“No,” he breathed. “Is there a way in where I don’t have to break anything?”
“Yes.” She pulled a key from her pocket.
“You have a key?” he said in surprise.
“I took it from my mother’s house.”
He gaped at her. “You were going to go in by yourself?”
“I don’t know. I brought it just in case.”
She could easily have landed right in Lyman’s lap, which wouldn’t have been a good place to find herself. But he didn’t say anything. He was glad he’d bumped into her out here. Thanks to her, he was finally catching a break.
The front door opened almost silently, no jingle to announce their arrival. He supposed all of that, if it had once existed, had been disabled when the chicken ranch went out of business.
“You know the layout of the building?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
Her eyes were round and watchful as she nodded.
The light from the hallway filtered in well enough that he didn’t need his flashlight to see the garbage at their feet. It didn’t smell good in here, but at least he didn’t catch the nauseating stench of deco
mposition. “What’s up ahead?” He motioned to the doorway leading to the rest of the plant.
“There’s a cooler and a bathroom to the right and a staff room with a small kitchenette to the left.”
Bishop and Evelyn, if they were here, would probably be in the staff room, or so he thought until he saw the heavy chain dangling from the handle of the cooler.
He nudged Ada to get her attention and pointed toward it.
When she realized what he was trying to show her she covered her mouth and turned in that direction, but he shook his head. He had to clear the rest of the building first.
Fortunately, the place was small enough that wasn’t a difficult task. He didn’t find Bishop, Evelyn or Edna. But after seeing that ominous chain hanging from the handle of the cooler, and the slot that had been cut into the door, he knew she hadn’t been kept in the staff room.
“He’s gone,” Ada said.
Yes. They were too late. Bishop wasn’t just gone, he wasn’t coming back. The place had been cleaned out.
“You’d better stay here,” he told Ada as he moved toward the cooler.
Her throat worked as she struggled to swallow. “You think my mother’s in there.”
“I’m not sure who or what I’ll find, but, knowing Bishop, it won’t be pretty.”
Her face creased with worry as she stopped at the end of the hall and hugged herself while he continued. He tried to think of her and how devastated she’d be if her mother was dead. But Evelyn could be inside the cooler, too. Maybe Bishop had decided to take his revenge and hit the road. It would be so much easier to travel without someone he had to care for or restrain, especially a woman who was about to have a baby in a few months.
He hauled in a deep breath and, bracing for the worst, peered into the opening.
A woman was lying on the floor of the cooler, but it wasn’t Evelyn.
“Call an ambulance,” he barked out.
“What do you see?” Ada’s voice rose with the level of her panic.
“I think it’s your mother.”
“No!” she wailed, and came rushing in behind him.
He tried to catch her. He saw a trickle of blood rolling from Edna’s head toward the drain in the center of the room and thought it was too late. He didn’t want this to be the last memory Ada had of her mother. But she refused to be denied. Ripping herself out of his arms, she immediately dropped down beside Edna.
“Mom?” she cried, bursting into tears. “Mom?”
Amarok called the ambulance himself. He thought he should be contacting the medical examiner, but he wasn’t a doctor, so he wasn’t going to make that decision. He was holding out hope and, a moment later, he was relieved he hadn’t fully accepted Edna’s death because everything changed when she moaned.
Between Anchorage and Fairbanks, AK—Thursday, 1:30 a.m. AKDT
Lyman Bishop told himself that what’d happened in Anchorage didn’t matter. He refused to even think about it. Put the past behind him, and everything upsetting, too—that was his motto. He was better off leaving the ranch and cutting ties with anything associated with Emmett Virtanen, anyway. Now that he was out and away from the corpse decomposing in the chicken coop, the dogs, which he had no idea how to take care of beyond giving them food and water, and he no longer had to worry about a nosey landlady, her daughter or the police circling like vultures, he was happier than he’d been in several days.
He was free! And even though he’d had to spend three hours and a significant chunk of money visiting the worst part of Anchorage in order to get an unregistered semiautomatic handgun before he left, it was worth it. Now he’d be able to control Evelyn even if she woke up earlier than expected.
He glanced at the pistol sitting on the passenger seat, where he could easily grab it. He had plenty of reason to feel hopeful and relieved. But he wasn’t quite sure where he was going. He didn’t have the house in Fairbanks yet. The property management company had told him earlier that they were processing his paperwork, but perhaps going there would speed things up. If he appeared at the office tomorrow morning and showed them how well-mannered, educated and trustworthy he was, maybe it would make all the difference.
That kind of approach had worked before. He’d had a great deal of success with it in the past—one of the benefits of looking absolutely average, harmless and nondescript—so that was his new plan. The only problem was that he didn’t quite know what he’d do with Evelyn while he was in their office and running other errands, making sure they’d have what they needed. He couldn’t drug her again. She’d be wise to that now, would probably refuse to eat, even for the sake of her unborn baby.
He could keep her bound and gagged for a day or two, though. Although he couldn’t imagine that would be good for a woman in her condition, either, he didn’t have a lot of other options.
Quit dwelling on the negative. That never helped. He needed to remain optimistic. To march boldly forward. This was his chance to start over and, for the first time in his life, he was going to have a companion who was worthy of him.
He twisted around to look in the back of the van. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman. He’d always had such a strong libido, missed sex more than anything else since the hemorrhage, so he’d spent a great deal of time thinking about it, wanting it, craving it. And Evelyn was still unconscious, completely incapacitated. If he acted now, he wouldn’t have to worry about overcoming any kind of resistance. He’d also get to experience Evelyn as a whole person, see the intelligence in her eyes as she looked up at him—an opportunity he wouldn’t have for long.
He checked his mirrors. No one else was on the road. There wasn’t anything or anyone waiting for him in Fairbanks. And if she woke up? He had the gun. He could simply put the muzzle to her head and demand she lie still.
With all of that in his favor, why not pull over and consummate his relationship with the mother of the child he would soon make his own?
Anchorage, AK—Thursday, 1:40 a.m. AKDT
Makita kept rubbing up against Amarok’s leg to show his excitement at their reunion. Amarok was equally relieved. He wasn’t accustomed to being without his dog. But he was too focused on saving Evelyn to give Makita any real attention. Before the paramedics had arrived, Edna had roused enough to tell him—in a hoarse and broken whisper—that Bishop had probably taken Evelyn to Fairbanks. Apparently, she’d heard him say he was trying to rent a house there or something.
It was difficult to understand her, and she was too injured to provide any other information. He didn’t know if Evelyn had also been hurt or if she still had the baby—only that she was alive.
Amarok wished he could’ve gotten a few more details, like how long ago Bishop had left with Evelyn or anything about the house he was renting. Any detail could help narrow his search. At this point, he couldn’t even rule out a condominium, a duplex or a ranch house on a lot of land.
Fairbanks was 350 miles away. And it wasn’t nearly as small as Hilltop. Bishop could easily blend in there, making it difficult for Amarok to ever find him, especially if he wasn’t using his real name, which he would never be stupid enough to do.
“Mom, please relax,” he heard Ada say as he, Makita and Phil passed the paramedics, who were loading her mother into the ambulance. They’d pulled into the driveway after using a pair of bolt cutters to get onto the property, and Edna had roused again now that they were transporting her, kept mumbling incoherently and crying. “Don’t try to talk anymore. Everything’s going to be okay,” Ada added.
Edna had bruising all around her neck. No one had said anything, but it was clear that Bishop had choked her and left her for dead. It was a miracle she’d survived, especially at her age, because she also had a head injury, which was still bleeding. If they hadn’t found her when they did, who could say what might’ve happened? He admired her daughter for coming after her, in spite of the risk. Ada was a fighter. She reminded him of Evelyn.
“There’s a body in one of the
coops in back—the one on the end,” he told Phil as Phil walked him to his truck. “Anchorage PD will be here soon. So will the medical examiner. Stay to meet them. Then you’re free to head home.”
“Where are you going?”
“Fairbanks.”
“Right now? It’s the middle of the night! And it’s a six-or seven-hour drive.”
They’d reached his truck. Amarok opened the door and Makita jumped into the cab. “Assuming he waited until it was dark or almost dark to leave, Bishop has a two-or three-hour head start. Maybe longer, if he didn’t wait until dark.” He hoisted himself into the driver’s seat. “It’ll only get harder to find him later.”
“It won’t be easy now,” Phil said, one hand on the open door. “In case you’ve forgotten, Fairbanks is a big city.”
Certainly not to the rest of the world, but it was to them. “There can only be so many houses for rent.”
“There could be a lot more than you think, especially if he was referring to the Fairbanks area and not Fairbanks proper. Or maybe he said Fairbanks but has since changed his mind. It’s even possible that the old lady wasn’t remembering correctly when she passed you that information. She has a nasty head wound.”
“I’ve come this far. I can’t lose Evelyn now.”
“But without something else to go on, you’ll just be spinning your wheels.”
“I have to start looking.”
“How?”
“I’ll go to each rental listing until I find the van.”
“And if he’s already ditched the van?”
“He has Evelyn with him. Until he gets another place to put her, I doubt he’ll have the mobility to do a whole lot.”
“He could leave her in the van while stealing another car, and then come back for her.”
Amarok jammed the key in the ignition. “He doesn’t know I know he has the van. Why would he risk getting caught by trying to steal another one? He might not even have the skills. It was the dead guy in the chicken coop who stole the van, remember?”
