by Brenda Novak
She used her radio to ask the CO in the observation deck at the center of the pod to unlock Interview 4. He gave her a, “Roger that,” and a thumbs-up through the bulletproof glass that surrounded him. Then she heard the typical hum of an electric charge, followed by a resounding clang, and the door rolled back.
The exultation on Hugo’s face when she stepped into the room nearly stopped Evelyn dead in her tracks. Suddenly she was sure this was all an elaborate game. That she’d fallen into his trap.
But her determination to let nothing stop her or get in her way, that hope against hope that this would provide the results she needed, held her for just a second too long.…
13
Take your worst nightmares and put my face to them.
—TOMMY LYNN SELLS, SERIAL KILLER
He was on her immediately. Evelyn managed to get her hands up in an attempt to protect her neck, but he didn’t try to strangle her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her up against the wall. Then he used his body to pin her in place while his mouth came down on hers, hot and wet and invasive.
Twisting her head from side to side, she struggled to avoid his tongue. But that open, seeking mouth seemed to be everywhere.
The door slid wide and footsteps echoed in the room. Kush. Would he peel Hugo off her before Hugo could get her skirt up?
Already Hugo’s hands were circling around to cup her ass, but it wasn’t until he thrust his erection against her pelvic bone that the real terror set in. She couldn’t get away, couldn’t move or stop him. And Kush was a thick-around-the-middle family man trying to handle an inmate who spent almost all of his waking hours working out.
Help, she thought. Now! But just before Kush gained control, Hugo quit trying to kiss her and put his lips to her ear.
“It’s Fitzpatrick,” he whispered. “He’s a twisted son of a bitch, a true sadist. And he hates you, wants to see you destroyed.”
That was all he could get out before Kush started wielding his baton. Evelyn could hear the thud of each blow, the grunts coming from both men as Kush drove Hugo into the far corner. Then the scene turned into a blur of noise and commotion as other COs arrived.
Someone helped Evelyn to stand. She hadn’t even realized that she’d crumbled to the floor. She was too busy cursing herself for allowing this to happen, cursing the fact that she could still be so gullible, so hopeful, so damn desperate.
The same guard who set her on her feet—Paul Bramble, a CO not on Danielle’s list, thank God—tried to guide Evelyn out of the room, but she resisted his efforts.
“Stop,” she managed to say amid gulps for breath. “Make them … stop!”
He glanced over his shoulder at Kush and the others.
“Now!” she cried.
Reluctantly, he called them off. She knew the COs were protective of her, that they would view this as a breach for which Hugo should be severely punished, but she didn’t want them to go too far.
When Kush twisted around to face her, his expression confirmed what she’d assumed in that regard and so did his words. “Let us teach this bastard a lesson.”
She shook her head. “No. That’s enough. See if he needs medical attention. Then take him to his cell.”
“It was worth it.” Although he was doubled over, with blood running from his nose and mouth, Hugo cackled with glee, supremely pleased with himself. “Hot damn, she tasted like candy! Those few seconds will give me a woody for weeks!”
Feeling like the biggest fool in the world, Evelyn righted her clothes. She’d known better. She’d even been warned. “I won’t be meeting with you again,” she told him. “I’ll assign you another therapist.”
She’d thought he would expect as much, let it go at that, but he didn’t. His countenance changed completely.
“Wait! Why?” Grimacing in pain, he straightened. “I kept my end of the deal. I didn’t hurt you. One little kiss! What was one little kiss for a guy who’ll be locked up for the rest of his life? It was a small price to pay for the truth, wasn’t it?”
Using the back of her hand, she wiped the saliva off her cheek. “You expect me to believe what you said?”
“You have to believe it!” he cried. “I’m trying to help you. It was Jasper, like I said. I swear to God!”
Now he was saying it was Jasper? She rolled her eyes. “Get him out of here.”
They dragged him away, but even that didn’t shut him up. “Just wait!” he yelled. “You’ll see!”
* * *
Evelyn sat in Amarok’s tub/shower, letting the hot water pound down on her. Above her was a rack containing his razor, shaving cream and mirror. It smelled more like Amarok in this small space than anywhere else in the house—and that was the best comfort she could find.
Glumly resting her chin on her knees, she watched the water swirl around the drain. She’d been in the bathroom too long, needed to get out. She was wasting hot water. But she couldn’t bring herself to face the world beyond this small room. After that incident with Hugo, she’d had a brief confrontation with Fitzpatrick, then somehow walked out of the prison on her own power, at which point she drove to Amarok’s house and used the key he’d given her to let herself in. But once she was safely ensconced in his space—thankfully alone since he wasn’t yet home—she’d fallen apart.
She lathered up as if another round of scrubbing would remove all traces of Hugo, especially the memory of that revolting kiss. But it didn’t matter how many times she washed herself; she didn’t feel any better, couldn’t seem to get clean.
Damn him! Damn them all!
What was a nice girl from Boston, someone with a doctorate in psychiatry, doing in snow-buried Alaska, spending all her time talking to men who were, at best, indifferent to her and, at worst, hoping to rape or kill her in the most violent manner possible? Could she really make a difference working with the “untreatable”? Save someone who might’ve been murdered had she not?
It didn’t seem that way. She felt responsible for Lorraine’s death and Danielle’s, too, if only because she’d brought Hanover House into existence. If she hadn’t fought so hard and so publicly, if she’d simply gone on her way and lived her life without starting a war against the conscienceless, maybe this wouldn’t be happening—or it would be happening without her.
Closing her eyes, she lifted her face to the spray. Quit punishing yourself. Block it out. She’d created the institution, not the monsters who called it home. Someone had to tackle the psychopathy problem.
There was a knock on the door. “Evelyn? You okay?”
Shit. Amarok was home, and she wasn’t prepared to deal with him. “I’m”—she hated the nasal sound of her voice because it gave evidence of her tears—“fine.”
“I heard about what happened at Hanover House.”
Although she hoped he wouldn’t berate her, as she deserved, sympathy would be worse. Criticism might make her defensive, but sympathy would cause fresh tears. “Who told you?”
“Fitzpatrick. I stopped by to talk to the employees in the dining hall who saw Lorraine last and ran into him on my way out. He said you’d been attacked.”
Did he also say it was because of her inability to stop others from manipulating her emotions?
Once again, she heard the harsh whisper of Hugo’s voice. It’s Fitzpatrick. He’s a twisted son of a bitch, a true sadist.
She could see where Hugo might come up with such a thing. Fitzpatrick studied pain and how it affected psychopaths. But did Hugo really expect her to believe Fitzpatrick had killed Lorraine?
She’d risked her life, her peace of mind, for more of a psychopath’s lies.
“It was my own fault,” she admitted.
Amarok didn’t argue with her. “What I don’t understand is … why? Why did you take such a risk?”
She’d refused to explain to Fitzpatrick, but she was staying in Amarok’s house, felt as if she owed him some answer to that question. “Our sessions are recorded. For obvious reasons, he couldn’t
tell me why he was on Danielle’s list in our regular session. He needed privacy. And he claimed to have information on the murders.”
There was a moment of silence. Then Amarok said, “Did he share anything important?”
“No.”
“I’m sure almost every one of those guys would claim whatever he had to in order to be able to lay hands on you.”
But it wasn’t just the promise of information. Hugo had suggested that Amarok might be targeted, and she’d already lost too many people she cared about, couldn’t bear the thought that someone might try to take the first man she’d been attracted to in years. “You need to be careful,” she told him.
“Excuse me?”
“Jasper. If he’s here, if it’s him, he-he kills the people he believes matter to me.”
“I can take care of myself, Evelyn,” he said. “No one’s going to hurt me.”
But Amarok didn’t understand what Jasper was like. “I’m saying if it’s Jasper, and he thinks … if he thinks there’s something between us, even a … a close friendship, he could—he could—”
“Whoa, if that’s what you’re sitting in there worrying about, stop. I’ll be fine.”
“But you wouldn’t be in danger, if not for me. I should never have come to Hilltop. You were right.”
“You would’ve built Hanover House somewhere else eventually. Do you think the situation would be any better if you were going through it in Texas or … or Wyoming?”
A tear plinked into the bathwater. “At least it would be warmer.” And they’d be more likely to have an experienced homicide division. But she didn’t say that.
“You’re tough enough to handle the cold,” he told her.
Was she really?
She heard him sigh, even through the door. “I didn’t want this fight,” he told her. “But … now that it’s here, it’s here. Regrets won’t help. And this bastard has pissed me off. I’m going to catch him if it’s the last thing I do.”
If only she could have faith in Amarok’s eventual success. But far more experienced detectives had tried and failed, at least when it came to Jasper. Why would Amarok be any different? “What did Kit have to say?”
“Nothing. He knows who you are, but he can hardly talk. Nothing he said made sense, although I did hear the word ‘cat.’”
“Sigmund. He’s been fascinated with my cat since I moved in. Sometimes he surprises me by coming into the garage when I’m unloading my groceries. And all he’ll say is, ‘Here kitty, kitty,’ until I get him the cat.”
“Are you okay with letting Penny keep Sigmund for a few days? Or should we bring him here?”
“I thought you said Makita might hurt him.”
“We could keep them separate. Maybe … maybe you need him.”
“No, I don’t. I feel as if Sigmund is better off staying away from me right now. I’m not sure I can protect him, and I can’t face the thought of anything or anyone else getting hurt.”
“Right.” There was a brief pause. “We’ll catch this guy, Evelyn. Maybe I’m not some big-city cop who has a whole forensics unit at his disposal. Hell, I don’t even have a crime scene for any forensics people to examine. But … this guy’s on my turf now. No one knows this area like I do.”
She shook her head even though he couldn’t see her. “I want to believe that—but you have no idea what a psychopath is really like, what Jasper’s like.”
“Maybe I haven’t done the research you’ve done, but dangerous is dangerous. That’s all I need to know. You’ll help with anything else. So come on, let’s eat. I brought dinner.”
“I’ll be out soon,” she said, but even after she made that commitment she couldn’t bring herself to move.
Amarok returned in a few minutes. “Evelyn, the water’s still running.”
She should apologize. She was being a rude guest. He had only one bathroom. Maybe he needed it.
“I take it you’re not getting out,” he said before she could decide how to react.
Hoping her sniffle was indistinguishable from the sounds of the water, she managed a broken, “I’m … trying.”
After a slight pause, he said, “Why don’t you do me a favor?”
She wiped her eyes. She couldn’t seem to stop the tears. “What’s that?”
“Reach out and unlock the door so that I can get to you, okay?”
That felt far too risky.
“Evelyn?”
She swallowed hard. “I-I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t reach the door.”
“Sure you can.”
“And I don’t want you to see me,” she admitted.
“I’ve seen you naked before—or felt you. This is nothing new. I won’t turn it into a sexual encounter of any kind. I promise.”
This made her feel even sillier than she’d felt a moment before. “I meant that I didn’t want you to see me crying,” she admitted, and heard him chuckle.
“So what if your nose is red? Tears show you care about what’s happening. Let me in. I’ll get you out of there so you can have something to eat and go to bed.”
She squeezed her eyes closed. “I doubt I’ll be able to eat.”
“You have to try. And you need some rest.”
Listen to him, she told herself. But she was paralyzed by that old, debilitating fear. After last summer, Jasper felt so close—it was almost as if he could be on the other side of the door instead of Amarok.
She shouldn’t have come here. But where else was there to go? Fitzpatrick’s? Would she feel any better if she were with him now?
No. Given the romantic interest he’d assumed she felt toward him when they first arrived, she’d be even more uncomfortable.
“Evelyn, will you let me help you?” Amarok asked. “Please?”
Makita whined as if he was standing at Amarok’s heels, beseeching her, along with his master, to cooperate. “I can’t … I can’t quit thinking about Lorraine’s head and that arm and Hugo’s hot mouth all over my face.”
“You’re supposed to be thinking about turning the lock. The lock, Evelyn. One click. It’s that easy.”
Drawing a deep breath, she managed to stand and grab a towel, which she wrapped around her before turning the button. She didn’t want to force him to break into his own bathroom.
The door opened slowly. “I’m coming in.…”
She didn’t answer. She just stood there, clutching that towel, hair dripping down her back.
“Can I get an ‘okay’?”
He was trying to draw her out, keep her mind occupied. But she wasn’t feeling particularly compliant.
“There you are.” Acting no different than if she were fully clothed, he stopped a foot or so away and studied her face. “No bumps or bruises?”
“No. I-I guess I should be grateful for that.” She attempted a laugh, but it came out sounding rather choked. “This is embarrassing,” she admitted, hugging the towel closed in front but still feeling exposed.
“What’s embarrassing?”
“I’m normally not such a crybaby.” And, when she did feel like crying, she didn’t have to worry about having an audience. Much to her family’s chagrin, Alaska had provided a heightened degree of privacy, allowing her to crawl that much deeper into her “cave,” as they put it.
You’re being swallowed up by your fascination with the soulless, and it can’t be good for you, her mother had said just a few weeks ago.
“No one’s ever had to drag me out of a bathroom before,” she told Amarok.
“We all have our moments.” He turned off the water. Then he swung her into his arms and carried her out into the living room. She thought he was going to sit her at the table and insist she eat, even though she’d said she couldn’t. But he didn’t. He sat on the couch in front of the fire and held her on his lap.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “I’m getting you wet.”
“Shh … it’s okay.”
Her heart was poun
ding in her throat as he pressed her head against his shoulder. “What’s okay?”
“To let me hold you. Maybe it’ll be good for you.”
“I can’t—I can’t be restrained.”
“I’m not restraining you. This is called comfort. There’s a difference.”
Her chest was so tight she could hardly breathe. “I know the difference. I just can’t help … can’t help thinking that, as soon as I lower my guard, you might turn on me.”
“I won’t hurt you, Evelyn. Maybe if I say it enough you’ll believe me.”
Makita was milling around. He provided a nice distraction, especially when he came over to lick her toes.
“You sure you’re not hungry?” Amarok asked.
She worked to shove Lorraine’s death, Danielle’s probable death and the Hugo incident into the furthest reaches of her mind, where she’d tried to bury all her memories of Jasper. But every upsetting thing remained very present, and she couldn’t help thinking Amarok was partly responsible for that. Attractive or not, he was physically and mentally powerful.
Like Jasper.
“That was a question,” he said.
Food. He’d asked about dinner. “I’m sure.”
“Are you cold?”
“No.” Not anymore. She wanted his arms around her, so it was odd that she also wanted to throw them off. Part of her was even tempted to try making love with him again. Maybe she should just go for it. Force it to happen. Punch through that emotional barrier.
The other part warned her to shut him out. She couldn’t fail if she didn’t try. Fear was costing her a great deal of what others enjoyed in life. But there was as much logic to keeping her distance as there was to giving in. Although he may never turn out to be anything close to what Jasper was, Amarok could still reveal himself to be less than what he seemed. Anyone could.
Even if he turned out to be someone she could love, would he be able to cope with the baggage she carried as a result of Jasper?
“You seem to be relaxing. Are you okay with this?” he asked.
“With being held down?”
He angled his head to see into her face. “With being held.”
Not entirely. The weight of his arms caused a flight reflex she overcame only by telling herself, again and again, to ignore it, to override it.
