by Brenda Novak
She had a difficult day ahead, and it all started with this interview.
* * *
Brianne couldn’t sleep. It was four hours later in Boston, past noon. She wanted to drive over to Hanover House and see the prison. After all, that damn thing had cost her the company of her sister for the past two years—even more if Brianne counted all the days and nights Evelyn had been completely consumed with lobbying for it in the years before it was built. But Evelyn had told her Hanover House would be getting a new inmate today, so it wasn’t the best time. She’d had Amarok drop her off at work, leaving her vehicle for Brianne to use. She’d suggested Brianne explore the town today and wait until tomorrow to see the prison, when Evelyn would be available to give her the grand tour.
Brianne had agreed, but it wasn’t going to take long to see the town. If she blinked, she’d miss it. There were only a few blocks lined with rustic buildings and snow piled along both sides of the road. In other words, not much to hold her interest. The beauty of Alaska wasn’t in its architecture or its shopping. It was in the raw land—the towering mountains, clear rivers and lakes upon lakes upon lakes. It was also in the wildlife. She’d seen a moose walking down the street, just lumbering along as if it was no big deal, as she was driving away from Amarok’s house.
“A moose!” she muttered, and shook her head. She’d never felt so close to nature. And the air here! It smelled crisp and clean. She could see the appeal of such a place—with all the wide-open spaces, the freedom, the simplicity—and feared her sister could, too. Would the last great frontier, and the best-looking man Brianne had ever laid eyes on, tempt her sister into moving here permanently?
The answer to that question terrified Brianne. She’d been as tolerant of Evelyn’s passion for knowledge as anyone, had tried to support her and her goals even when their parents were negative about her getting involved in this kind of research. Brianne didn’t want to be a selfish jerk, but Evelyn had been gone long enough. She needed her sister. Who else was she going to turn to now that she’d be raising a child alone? She couldn’t rely on her parents. With what they’d been through, nearly losing Evelyn and then having to wonder for the past twenty-two years if and when Jasper might strike again, their mother was almost a basket case, and Lara’s many episodes of anxiety and depression took a toll on their father.
She passed a small motel, a diner, a guns and ammo store that looked relatively new and the bar where Evelyn had taken her last night. It had a big parking lot to one side—evidence that it was the most popular place in town—and moose antlers over the door. She stopped to take a picture, since it was light enough. She thought Jeff would get a kick out of this quaint place—and then reminded herself that she couldn’t send it to him. She’d made him choose, and he’d chosen someone else. He was getting texts and calls from the new woman in his life these days. He didn’t even seem to care that she was pregnant, which convinced her he’d never really loved her in the first place.
Besides, there was no cell service here. She couldn’t send pictures or texts to anyone, not from her phone, not unless the bar was open and she could go inside to use their Internet.
She frowned as she shoved her phone back in her purse. She hadn’t told Evelyn about the baby yet, hadn’t been able to bring herself to start the trip that way. But she should have. Last night hadn’t gone well. Evelyn had guessed something was wrong but hadn’t been willing to push, so they’d talked about everything except the real problem. Or, rather, problems …
Since she was at the edge of town, she almost turned back. But then she saw another building a little distance off. Once she realized it was some sort of grocery store, she kept driving.
“Quigley’s Quick Stop,” she read from a crude hand-lettered sign on top of the building as she pulled in to see what they had. Poor Amarok had been working night and day. And Evelyn was stressed out of her mind. So Brianne decided to make them dinner.
There were two other vehicles in the parking lot. A large, barrel-chested man walked out as she walked in. The driver of the second car had his back to her two aisles away as the clerk, an older gentleman, looked up and nodded in lieu of a greeting.
She selected what she needed to make meatloaf and mashed potatoes and approached the cashier at the same time as the other patron—a prison guard from Hanover House, judging by his uniform.
“You go ahead,” he said, even though he was carrying only a bottle of Tylenol.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m in no hurry.”
She smiled and thanked him. If she hadn’t been so brokenhearted and in such an unenviable situation, she might’ve found him attractive. Tall, with thick, dark hair, blue eyes and a close-cropped beard, he had a muscular build and a ready smile that revealed a set of perfect teeth.
The cashier, who had to be in his seventies, considering the gray hair, the slope to his shoulders and the fine network of blue veins in his nose, started ringing her up. “You new in town or just visiting?”
“Just visiting,” she replied.
He hesitated, one arthritic hand gripping her loaf of bread. “That’s a Boston accent I hear, ain’t it?”
“It is.”
“You come from the doc’s neck of the woods, then.”
“If you mean Dr. Talbot, yes. I’m here visiting her. I’m her sister, Brianne.”
He made a clicking sound with his tongue. “Hell of a time to come to town, Miss Brianne, with what we got going on.”
“You mean the missing woman…”
“I mean the murdered woman. Two bodies have shown up so far. Who knows what’s going on? We could be looking at even more.”
“True. But I’m sure you’re aware my sister is no stranger to violence.”
The scanner beeped as he ran the UPC symbol on the bread. “You’re not afraid?”
“Probably more than she is,” she admitted.
“How old were you when she was kidnapped?”
“I’m younger by two years, so I was only fourteen. I’ll never forget what it was like when she went missing.” Or what it’d been like when she was found. Brianne had sat with their mom and dad in Evelyn’s hospital room day in and day out, hoping and praying and wondering whether her sister would survive.
“From what I hear, it’s a miracle she lived through that first attack,” the man behind her chimed in.
She turned to include him in the conversation. “You work at Hanover House?”
“I do. Been there eight months.”
“How do you like it?”
“It’s a job.” He winked at her. “I certainly don’t feel as passionate about it as your sister does.”
“I’m afraid her passion for that place is going to get her killed,” Brianne grumbled.
“She might already be dead if not for him.” The cashier gestured toward the officer behind her.
Brianne lifted her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t know who he is?”
She glanced between them in confusion. “No.…”
“This is Andy Smith, the man who saved your sister’s life when Lyman Bishop came back for revenge.”
Smith modestly waved his words away. “My timing was good, that’s all. I just happened to show up at a critical moment.”
“You’re the one who interrupted Lyman Bishop?” Brianne asked. If she’d heard or read his name, she’d forgotten it.
“I was looking for the sergeant—and found Lyman Bishop trying to give your sister a frontal lobotomy. Like I said, it was a lucky interruption.”
“It was a very narrow escape for her.”
“She didn’t tell you about it?” The cashier sounded surprised.
“I saw it on the news. And I have a Google alert on her name, so I read about it online. But when I asked her about the incident, she said the media made it sound much worse than it was.”
“I’m sure she didn’t want you to worry,” Smith said. “How long will you be staying in Alaska?”
> “A week. I have to get back to my job after that.”
The cashier finished ringing her up and bagged her groceries. “Have a great stay.”
“Thanks.” She sent the Hanover House guard who’d saved her sister’s life a farewell smile. Almost all the men in Alaska seemed to be good-looking.…
She was just starting Evelyn’s Land Cruiser when Smith came out and tapped on her window.
She rolled it down so they could hear each other, and he handed her his card.
“My number,” he said with a grin. “And don’t worry. I’m not hitting on you, only offering friendship. I know your sister’s involved in what’s going on right now, and I’d hate for you to be left sitting around, bored, while you’re on vacation. There’s so much to see and do here. Just give me a call if you’d like me to show you around Anchorage. That’s where I live.”
Impressed that he’d make such a nice offer, she put the card in her purse. “I appreciate that,” she said. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
19
“Look at him. He looks positively haggard,” Samantha Boyce confided to her best friend, Hannah Wilson. “What’s that crazy woman he’s living with doing to him?”
Hannah twisted around to take a peek but had to wait for Cindy Brandt, one of the waitresses at The Dinky Diner, to step out of the way before she could see Amarok sitting at the bar, finishing an open-face turkey sandwich and drinking a cup of coffee. “He still looks pretty darn good to me,” she joked.
“Because he can’t not look good, but”—Samantha slid over in the booth to get a better view—“she doesn’t even cook for him! He deserves better.”
Facing forward again, Hannah stirred the ice in her soda with her straw. “I’m sure he can make his own meals. He’s probably just grabbing a quick bite so he can get back to work, right? He’s knee-deep in a murder investigation.”
“You mean another murder investigation.”
“He is the only police officer in the area. Who else is going to investigate?”
“No one would need to investigate if Evelyn Talbot hadn’t come to town! Because none of this would be happening. This type of thing never occurred here before. It’s the psychos she’s brought to the area. She’s putting us all at risk. Whoever killed Sierra Yerbowitz and that other woman could kill any of us.”
“Not you.” Hannah stabbed one of the slices of chicken on her salad. “You can use a gun as well as any man. Heaven help the burglar or rapist who tries to break into your house.”
Having her skills recognized would normally have brought her some pleasure, but Samantha was too morose today. Amarok seemed to be drifting further and further away from her instead of wanting her back, and yet, when she’d returned to Hilltop, she’d been sure they’d find the love they’d lost. “You’re not a bad shot yourself,” she told Hannah, adding a few more crackers to her clam chowder although she had little interest in eating it. “And you’re getting better all the time.”
Hannah gave her a salute. “Thanks to you.”
The guns and ammo shop Samantha had opened when she returned to town last winter was doing well. She taught others how to shoot as a sideline business but helped Hannah, who was like a sister to her, for free.
“Did he notice you when he came in?” Hannah asked. She’d been in the bathroom when Amarok arrived, so she hadn’t seen him wave.
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“He acknowledged me.” Barely. She’d hoped he’d walk over and say a few words, but he didn’t. Even Makita, after a quick tail wag to suggest he recognized her, stayed with his master.
She’d never experienced the kind of pain she’d endured since losing the only man she’d ever loved. It felt like he was putting her heart through a meat grinder every time she saw him.
Hannah set her fork down and leaned forward. “Have you told him how you feel, Sam? Maybe you should. Maybe it’ll make a difference.”
Samantha had tried, but he’d shut her down immediately, and she had too much pride to admit it, especially to Hannah, who’d always looked up to her. He was making a mistake, but he didn’t realize it. That was all. Samantha didn’t only want to be in his bed; she also wanted to be his wife, have his children, spend the rest of her life with him—and she felt she should have that opportunity. After all, she was willing to give him everything Evelyn denied him. Why couldn’t he see how much happier he’d be with her? “He’ll come back to me eventually.”
“I’m sure you’re right. You two are perfect for each other.”
“I’m better suited to him than Evelyn is.”
Hannah lowered her voice. “I know! I can’t imagine what he sees in her! I mean, she’s pretty, but so are you. And she’s seven years older than he is!”
“Not only that, she’s completely caught up in her work. When she first got here, he didn’t even want Hanover House in the area. If it wasn’t for everyone else talking about the jobs and the prosperity it would bring, he would’ve fought it much harder.” Samantha had been living elsewhere during that time, but she’d heard how it had all gone down—from the townspeople who, like her, were unhappy about the fact that they now had hundreds of psychopaths living a stone’s throw away. “She needs to go back to Boston.”
Hannah popped a crouton into her mouth. “Well, even if she doesn’t, you might not have to worry about her for much longer.”
Samantha held her spoon suspended in midair. “What are you talking about?”
“Haven’t you heard?” Her friend leaned forward so that no one else in the restaurant would be able to eavesdrop. “Everyone’s saying the psychopath who slit her throat when she was sixteen has come back to finish her off. That’s what these murders are all about. He’s leading up to the main event.”
Soup splashed as Samantha let her spoon clatter against the edge of her bowl. “Ugh! I wish that was true,” she said as she grabbed her napkin to wipe her hands. “I wish he’d kill her and get it over with!”
Hannah looked shocked. “You don’t mean that!” she chided, but Samantha wasn’t so sure. Evelyn had her man. She had to figure out how to get him back.
“Of course I don’t,” she said to avoid Hannah’s disapproval. “But Amarok needs to relax and let her fight her own battles. He’s running himself into the ground, even though she’s the one who’s waging a war against the ‘conscienceless,’ as she puts it. He never signed on for that.”
“With any luck he’ll find Jasper Moore or some shred of proof that it’s someone else who murdered those women, someone who isn’t a specific threat to Evelyn or our community. Then he’ll be able to relax.”
Samantha eyed Amarok again. Maybe Hannah had a point. Maybe the situation would resolve itself and things would return to normal. But she couldn’t tolerate “normal” anymore, couldn’t tolerate having Evelyn in the area.
What if the snooty psychiatrist stayed indefinitely?
It would ruin the rest of Samantha’s life!
“She doesn’t belong here,” Sam insisted. “Allowing Hanover House to be built, and having her and the other shrinks in Hilltop, it’s all a big mistake, and what’s happening proves that.”
“I agree. It was only last winter that Sandy was murdered, and a year and a half earlier two other people were killed!”
“Exactly! So we should quit complaining and do something about it,” Samantha said. “Stop letting her call all the shots.”
Hannah took a sip of her Coke. “There’s nothing we can do about it.”
“I’m not going to give up that easily,” Samantha said, especially because there was one way to get rid of her. If only Samantha could figure out how to hand Evelyn over to Jasper, he’d take care of her once and for all.
* * *
“Why don’t you tell me how you got here,” Evelyn suggested.
Mary Harpe, a heavyset middle-aged woman with a narrow, pointy nose, brown frizzy hair and thick glasses—a former pediatric nurse—sat across from her, behind a plate of
plexiglass. Their own Nurse Ratched, Evelyn thought. She didn’t feel Mary was much of a threat to her. From what she’d been able to determine so far, not just from Mary’s file but also from speaking to the prosecutors on her case and some of Janice’s staff when they were making the decision to have her transferred, she only took advantage of the very young. And she was sneaky about the harm she caused. She could be sullen and uncooperative but rarely confronted her enemies outright, which made Evelyn respect her even less than the men she dealt with who were openly menacing or hostile. Evelyn would’ve been willing to meet with Mary in a regular room, but, due to the nature of her crimes, Mary was classified as high risk, so Evelyn had decided to adhere to the proper protocol. She figured that was probably best. If she’d learned anything about psychopaths, it was that she couldn’t trust a benign appearance.
Ms. Harpe folded her arms and glared through the glass. “You know how I got here. I flew into Anchorage, and the marshals delivered me from there.”
Evelyn took her glasses out of her briefcase and slipped them on, simply to look busy while she let the conversation lapse. She’d found that talking less and listening more produced the best results. What was said when someone was trying to fill awkward silences could be revealing.
“Is that what you meant?” Mary asked, wearing a smirk.
Evelyn opened Mary’s file, which she’d brought with her, before glancing up. “What do you think I meant?”
“I think you know how I got here.”
“And you’d be right, of course.”
She lifted her chin in defiance. Now that concealing her true nature offered nothing to be gained—she was sentenced to ninety-nine years behind bars, which meant she’d never be getting out—she was more belligerent than Evelyn had heard of her behaving in the past. “You know what I’ve been convicted of, so it was a stupid question.”
“I’m trying to open a dialogue with you. I figured the beginning would be the best place to start.”
“A ‘dialogue.’”
