Her Darkest Nightmare

by Brenda Novak

  Russell Jones rapped on the doorjamb. “I just checked with Dr. Bernstein in Medical,” he announced. “He was about to contact Warden Ferris when I called down to see what was going on. They’re trying to decide whether to summon a medevac. Bernstein thinks Hugo Evanski needs to be airlifted to Alaska Regional Hospital.”

  Evelyn covered her mouth. “No.…”

  Russell shoved his hands in his pockets, which was how he always stood. “That’s what they said. They’re afraid the shank nicked his heart. And that’s more than we can handle on-site.”

  “Did Ferris give the okay?” Fitzpatrick spoke as if he had a sour candy in his mouth.

  Russell nodded. “I’m sure he did. It might be the only way to save Evanski’s life.”

  Fitzpatrick shot her a dirty look. “This will be so damaging. Think of the publicity. It’ll make us look like we’ve let the power we hold go to our heads. Or that we’re being irresponsible or careless with the violent criminals who have been entrusted to our care. I can’t believe you did this to me. You got me up here under false pretenses, and now you’re running amok.”

  Evelyn threw up her hands. “What are you talking about? I didn’t get you up here under false pretenses!”

  “I wouldn’t have made such a poor decision otherwise. But I won’t embarrass myself by returning to Boston with my tail between my legs.”

  “You’re tempted to give up already? This is our first serious incident—”

  “We’ve only been open three months!” he broke in. “You can’t tell me this won’t add furor to the reports that are spreading across the nation about the murder of Lorraine and that second victim!”

  He was right. She couldn’t refute it. “Whoever forged my name meant for something like this to happen,” she said. “My work here is being sabotaged.”

  Fitzpatrick’s eyes narrowed. “Sabotaged, Evelyn?”

  She lifted her chin to let him know she wasn’t about to back down. “That’s right.”

  “Who made you go into that cell with Hugo yesterday—after I specifically warned you not to?”

  “No one, but … that isn’t what I’m talking about.”

  He advanced on her. “Okay, who made you transfer Anthony Garza here in the first place?”

  She’d done that on her own, too. But bringing a known psychopath to Hanover House, when they already had a prison full of them, didn’t change the fact that she hadn’t exposed the inmates in the yard to Garza. “I didn’t sign this transfer order!”

  “You were pretty upset,” Penny said softly. “Maybe … maybe you were hoping Anthony would teach Hugo a lesson.”

  “What?” Shocked that this interpretation would come from her own assistant, she whirled around to confront Penny. “That’s not true!”

  Fitzpatrick took over. “Lorraine’s murder has thrown you into a tailspin.”

  Evelyn felt like she was being attacked from all sides. “And it hasn’t you? A wonderful woman is dead. Danielle’s probably dead, too.”

  A muscle flexed in his cheek. “While tragic, that doesn’t affect me as deeply as it does you. I wasn’t nearly as close to Lorraine, and I barely knew Danielle.”

  He wasn’t close to anyone here in Alaska. Maybe that was why she’d been so shocked when he tried to build a more intimate relationship with her. “If you are accusing me of caring about Lorraine, it’s true,” she said. Lorraine certainly would’ve shown her more loyalty than Penny just had.

  “It’s not only your sadness over these tragedies,” Fitzpatrick said. “You told me yourself you think Jasper is back.”

  “He could be!”

  “Really?” Russ acted as if he would find that particularly fascinating. “After last summer, I wondered if you had anything to worry about.”

  Fitzpatrick frowned at their heavyset colleague but spoke to her. “You’ve been exhibiting some erratic and uncharacteristic behavior, Evelyn. We’ve all seen it. Maybe”—he paused as if to collect his thoughts and rein in his emotions—“maybe you should take some time off.”

  And go where? Do what? He was trying to take the lead—to run Hanover House without her—just as he’d been doing since he’d realized they would not be a couple. But she wouldn’t allow that. It was her energy, her initiative and her vision that’d propelled them this far. Maybe he’d endorsed her, which had helped at a critical time. As a young psychiatrist relatively new to the field, she’d needed the added credibility in order to get key people to listen to her. But he hadn’t worked half as hard as she had, and he didn’t care nearly as much—about the men they studied or the innocent people they were trying to protect by doing the research.

  “I hope you’re kidding,” she breathed.

  “I’m afraid not. Maybe if we tell the press you signed that transfer order by mistake, and that you are now on suspension, they’ll be appeased—”

  “It’s not up to you to put me on suspension!” That would have to come from Janice Holt, their boss at the Bureau of Prisons, and Janice was in New Zealand, attending her daughter’s wedding. Unless she saw a news report or someone from the BOP called to alert her, Evelyn wasn’t sure she’d hear from Janice until Janice returned to work next week.

  “We have to do something to relieve the pressure until the FBI can figure out who’s committing the murders,” he said.

  Evelyn curled her fingernails into her palms. “The FBI isn’t coming, Tim.”

  “Why not?”

  “They aren’t convinced they’re needed.”

  He threw up his hands. “Then heaven help us all!”

  Evelyn lifted her chin. “Don’t act as if everything is lost. Amarok can handle this.”

  “Sure he can.” Fitzpatrick rolled his eyes. “Don’t let your infatuation get ahead of you.”

  “Dr. Talbot’s infatuated with Sergeant Amarok?” Penny asked as if that were beyond comprehension.

  He didn’t answer that question, and neither did Evelyn, but she wanted to. The anger coursing through her was difficult to control. Fitzpatrick was jealous. She could hear it in his voice. For all his pretense of having been only mildly interested in her, in having tried to kiss her merely because they spent so much time together and they were a “logical” match, he was hurt that she’d rejected him.

  That realization caused something else to occur to her. “Wait a second,” she said. “You were aware that I met privately with Hugo.”

  He seemed taken aback by the sudden shift in her tone. “Everyone’s aware of it. Word spreads fast in such a contained world, especially when you give reason for people to talk.”

  She ignored that jab. “But I told you first. And I told you why.”

  “So?”

  “You knew he claimed to have information on the murders.” She hadn’t told him about Danielle’s little black book, but he could’ve stumbled onto the corruption. Was he now afraid that word would get out and put a stain on his life’s work? Maybe that was why he regretted coming here. He was afraid of what that decision would ultimately do to his reputation and his prospects.

  “I tried to set you straight,” Fitzpatrick was saying, “tried to convince you that whatever he said would be nothing more than a ploy to get his hands on you—and he proved me right. He lured you over to his side and attacked you.”

  Not exactly. He’d kissed her, but he hadn’t hurt her. “Did you watch the video of the incident?” she asked.

  She could see him weighing the consequences of both possible answers. “Yes or no!” she demanded. “Which is it?” It would be easy enough to do. Thanks to the digital age, the entire library of their sessions could be called up on any computer, as long as the person snooping around had the proper username and password. Only the surveillance video shot in the prison recycled every month, since it required far more storage space.

  He buttoned his lab coat. “Of course I watched the video. Part of the reason we record our meetings is so that we have more than human memory to catalogue what transpires. It enabled me t
o see exactly what occurred and how badly you were traumatized. You hold quite a bit of power here, Evelyn. It’s important that you remain capable of wielding it wisely.”

  That was the second time he’d mentioned power. “Or you’ll wield it for me, is that it? If we can’t run Hanover House together, as a couple, you’ll punish me for refusing your advances and take over alone?”

  Something she’d never seen before flickered in his eyes. “Now you’ve gone too far!”

  “Are you the one who signed that transfer, Tim?” she asked.

  “You’re accusing me of forging your name in an attempt to make you look bad?”

  “Or worse. Were you trying to shut Hugo up?”

  Fitzpatrick gaped at Penny, then turned to Russ. “Oh my God! Now there’s no doubt that the trauma has gotten to her. She’s completely lost touch with reality!”

  “Tim…” Russ made an attempt to calm him down, but Evelyn knew the younger man wouldn’t be committed enough to make an impact. He wasn’t about to stand up to his mentor, someone more experienced and twenty-two years his senior.

  “Do you think I’m the one who’s out of line?” Fitzpatrick asked Russ. “What have I done that’s against our policies and procedures?”

  Sure enough, that was all it took to get Russ to back off. “I’m just saying we should tread lightly until we know more,” he mumbled.

  Fitzpatrick confronted her again. “Are you suggesting I had a man stabbed because I was afraid of what he might say?”

  Evelyn wanted to support what she’d said by telling him about Danielle’s list, but she didn’t dare, in case the Tim listed there was the janitor. She’d already caused irreparable damage to their relationship. But she feared she’d done that weeks ago, when he’d tried to kiss her. “If you knew what Hugo told me, you might understand why I’d make that claim.”

  “And what did he tell you?”

  She glared at him. “That you’re the one who killed Lorraine.”

  The shock of her words acted like a tranquilizer dart. Everyone went silent and still. But a second later, Fitzpatrick really let loose. “That’s ludicrous!” he shouted.

  Russ hurried to get between them. “Come on, Evelyn.” He lifted his hands in a soothing manner. “You know better.”

  Tears were gathering in Penny’s eyes. “Why would Dr. Fitzpatrick want to kill anyone?”

  “Dr. Talbot didn’t mean that,” Russ explained. “It’s the fear and the tension talking.”

  But Evelyn wasn’t so sure. Someone had forged that transfer order. And Dr. Fitzpatrick could’ve done it easier than anyone else. Maybe he hadn’t been trying to get Hugo killed, but it was entirely possible that he’d been hoping to embarrass her, discredit her or make her sorry she ever rejected him.

  “I’m not taking any time off, Tim,” she said quietly. “And it’s not your place to try and make me. You don’t have that kind of authority.”

  He grabbed a paperweight from the top of the filing cabinet and flung it at her desk. “Fine!” he yelled as it hit with a solid bang. “Work yourself to death. We can all see what it’s doing to you.”

  “What it’s doing to me?”

  “You’re being completely unreasonable. Accusing innocent people of heinous crimes. Forgetting that you signed certain papers. Refusing to take responsibility for the problems you’ve caused.” Even more menace entered his voice. “Or maybe it isn’t the stress. Maybe you were never capable of running this institution in the first place and it was a mistake for me to put so much trust in you.”

  “I’m just as capable as you are!” she snapped, and marched through the middle of them to the door. “I’m going to check on Hugo. At least one of us should be there to monitor the situation. After all, a man’s life is on the line.”

  Fitzpatrick gave her such a chilling look she got the impression even murder wasn’t beyond him.

  17

  I wish the entire human race had one neck, and I had my hands around it!

  —CARL PANZRAM, SERIAL KILLER, ARSONIST, THIEF, BURGLAR AND RAPIST

  “Tell me you didn’t know what was going on.”

  Shorty wouldn’t look Amarok in the face. He wiped down the bar, then turned to throw his rag in the sink.

  “You did know what was going on,” Amarok said. “You’re a Public Safety Officer, damn it! Why didn’t you say something to me? Tell me there was a girl putting out for everybody who came in?”

  An expression of chagrin yanked Shorty’s lips down, but he wasn’t completely contrite. “Because as far as I could tell, she wasn’t breaking any laws. She was of age. I carded her to be sure. She wasn’t charging anyone. And it was all consensual.”

  “She was young, new to the area and living alone. That kind of behavior, with so many men cooped up here for the winter, almost all of whom carry guns, is dangerous!”

  “I’m telling you, she couldn’t get enough! She once asked me to set up a train—even wanted me to tell the boys to play it rough, like … like a rape. It was crazy.”

  Amarok felt his muscles bunch. “Did you do it?”

  “Of course not!”

  “But you didn’t stop her.”

  “I didn’t feel as if I had that right!”

  “She was fucking everyone she could on your property for Chrissake!”

  He poured himself a cup of coffee. “I wasn’t using the best judgment, I admit, but we all have to make a living, Amarok. The boys would come out and they’d buy a hell of a lot of booze when she was around.”

  “You’re talking about a girl who’s very likely dead, Shorty.”

  He stretched his neck. “So you said. I feel terrible about that. Wish I would’ve stopped it now. But it didn’t seem to be hurting anything or anyone at the time.”

  Amarok took a sip of the coffee Shorty had poured for him when he first sat down. “Can you tell me how often this went on?”

  “Whenever she came in—and she came in whenever she could.”

  “Did she have regulars?”

  “I don’t know if you’d call them regulars, but they’d sure as hell get back in line.”

  “Any strangers around when that shit was going down?”

  “Of course. We always have hunters and trappers and survivalists and people filming documentaries coming through here, even in the winter. I didn’t make them sign a logbook.”

  Amarok slid the picture of Jasper he’d pulled off the Internet across the bar. Evelyn’s attacker hadn’t been seen since his murderous rampage in Boston. And she hadn’t gotten a look at his face when he attempted to kidnap her last summer. So this picture was an old likeness, and no one knew how his looks might’ve changed. But it was all Amarok had. “What about this man? Do you recognize him? Has he been here?”

  “You mean boy?”

  “He’s not a boy anymore.”

  Shorty shook his head. “Naw, I don’t think so.”

  “That’s too bad.” Reluctantly, he put it back in his coat pocket. “Did anyone ever get too possessive of Danielle—or think he had more of a right to get in her pants than the next guy?”

  “No, Sarge. I swear it. It was all in good fun or I would have come to you straightaway.”

  Amarok rubbed his chin. He couldn’t believe this had been going on right beneath his nose. It was just too sordid. “I need you to make me a list.”

  “A list?”

  “Of every guy you know who touched her.”

  He scowled. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m dead serious. We’re talking about murder here.”

  “But some of the guys, they’re…”

  Amarok played innocent. “What?”

  “Married. If what they did with Danielle comes to light, it could break up their families.”

  “Glad you pointed that out. Start with the ones who have the most to lose.” He had Danielle’s little black book and planned to speak to everyone, but Shorty didn’t know that. Amarok figured it wouldn’t hurt to see if Shorty’s list conta
ined all the same names—or a few new ones.

  “This is terrible bad.” Sorrow filled Shorty’s voice as he smoothed his apron. “Terrible bad for everyone.”

  “So’s having a crazed psychopath running around,” Amarok told him.

  “Is that what we got?”

  “Until I can prove Lorraine Drummond and Danielle Connelly were murdered in a jealous rage—or come up with some other scenario—we can’t rule it out.”

  “Wait.” Shorty gestured toward Amarok’s coat. “Now I know why you showed me that picture and said that kid was no longer a boy. He’s the bastard who slaughtered Doc Talbot’s friends all those years ago, right? The one who slit her throat and left her for dead when she was just a teenager? Surely you don’t think he’s come to town.”

  “It’s possible. He came after her again last summer, didn’t he? And considering he probably no longer looks anything like this picture”—he patted his pocket—“how would we know?”

  Shorty whistled as he shook his head. “Holy shit.”

  * * *

  Hugo had his eyes closed and wasn’t moving. Evelyn stood by his side, feeling … she didn’t know what. Confused by her own emotions, maybe even disappointed in them. She knew too much about what he’d done before being incarcerated not to despise him for it, at least to some degree. She’d been a victim of someone like him, which made it difficult to experience the compassion that would normally attend a man who’d just been stabbed. And yet she wanted to feel more than panic for how this might threaten her own situation. Praying for him to live only so that she wouldn’t come under criticism and possibly lose her grip on HH made her almost as narcissistic as he was.

  The nurse and doctor who bustled around the room had acknowledged her with a nod when she walked in but hadn’t taken time to address her. Their daily grind consisted of handing out meds—for depression, high blood pressure, high cholesterol or other chronic ailments—and taking care of minor injuries, like the broken nose suffered by a CO thanks to Anthony Garza. This was their first major emergency, and Evelyn could tell they were feeling the seriousness of it.