by Brenda Novak
“I’m hanging up now, Tim. I’m sorry that you’re not actively engaged in a project you enjoy, but with your background and your talents, there are plenty of opportunities out there. You need to find one and forget about Hanover House.”
“Wow,” he said. “How ungrateful can you be?”
“You’re the one who destroyed my trust.” She hung up, but before she could even catch her breath Penny knocked and came in to drop off a file she’d requested.
“How’d it go with Dr. Fitzpatrick?” she asked.
Evelyn rubbed the goose bumps from her arms. “I shouldn’t have taken that call.”
* * *
It wasn’t easy to get hold of Teralynn Clark. Evelyn got her voice mail three times before Teralynn called back, and by then Evelyn was well into brain imaging and couldn’t pull away. The clock indicated five twenty when she finally connected with Lyman Bishop’s lab janitor.
“Teralynn, this is Dr. Evelyn Talbot at Hanover House in Alaska.”
“I’ve heard of you.” She sounded excited, as if Evelyn was some kind of celebrity. “I’m sorry I missed your earlier calls. I work nights, so I shut off my phone when I sleep during the day.”
“That’s perfectly understandable. I’m glad I didn’t manage to disturb your rest.”
“I’ve seen you on TV,” she announced.
“I’ve been in the news quite a bit over the past four or five years.”
“I’d say. People love to talk about you and what you’re doing—a young, beautiful female doctor studying all those serial killers in such a remote place. It’s … creepy.”
“I’m hoping a lot of good will come from it.”
“Me, too. But doesn’t it frighten you? If just one of those killers gets loose, you’re in trouble. Even if he doesn’t kill you, the government will probably shut you down.”
Evelyn stretched her neck. “I understand the threat.”
“How’s Lyman behaving?”
“He’s been rather … subdued, but we haven’t had him here long.”
“You’ll have to watch him closely. That one can fool you. I completely believed he was innocent, that he would never hurt a soul. I mean, I’ve been in his house. I’ve had dinner with him and his retarded sister.”
Evelyn stiffened. “I don’t believe that’s a term we use anymore.”
There was a slight pause, then a degree of bewilderment. “What are you talking about?”
“‘Retarded.’ ‘Intellectually disabled’ might be a gentler way to put it.”
Another pause. Then Teralynn said, “Is she on the phone with us? Can she hear me?”
“No, but I can.”
“You’re that concerned about his retarded sister? I mean … intellectually disabled sister?”
Evelyn waved as Penny stuck her head in to say good-bye. “Why wouldn’t I be? To my knowledge, she hasn’t killed anyone, has she?” she said to Teralynn.
“No, but she didn’t do anything to stop him.”
Evelyn rose to her feet and began to pace the short distance across her office. “Was she capable of stopping him? Did she even know what he was doing?”
“I bet she did. She didn’t challenge him in anything. Far as she’s concerned, he can do no wrong even still. I tried to tell her what a sicko he is, but she just covered her ears and shook her head. The sun rises and sets on her dear brother.”
“He has been the one to take care of her,” Evelyn pointed out. “She’s indebted to him in that regard.”
“I guess.”
“Have you seen any evidence to suggest he hasn’t taken good care of her?”
“No, but who can say what they’ve been doing in that house? For all we know, he’s been crawling into her bed at night, using her at will. A man who could rape and murder innocent strangers would probably have no problem sleeping with his own sister.”
Evelyn wasn’t sure why, but she was tempted to refute that. Teralynn was right; there was no telling what Lyman might’ve done to such a defenseless person. But there’d been no allegations of incest or that kind of abuse in his file. And ironically, considering the crimes he’d been convicted of, Evelyn preferred to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe it was because she hated his selflessness when it came to Beth to be tainted in such a terrible way.
Or maybe it was because she disliked Teralynn immediately. “Is that why you brought her to his trial?”
“No, I-I did that just to be nice,” she stuttered, taken off guard.
Evelyn pivoted at the wall. “Nice?”
“Yes, she wanted to go. She begged me to take her.”
To the trial? Or to her brother? After talking with Beth, Evelyn believed Lyman on this one. Teralynn had enjoyed the drama, liked feeling as if she had some role in it and didn’t mind that her actions weren’t in his sister’s best interest—or his, for that matter.
“You mentioned that you’ve been in the Bishops’ house, when Lyman was there.”
“Yes. Several times. Scares the hell out of me to think of it now.”
Evelyn found her chair again. “He never did anything … threatening? Never drugged you or tried to get you to stay over?”
“No. He was the perfect gentleman, acted grateful I’d be willing to come. But I bet he would’ve tried something if he thought he could get away with it. I bet that was coming.”
Evelyn began to doodle on the pad next to her phone. “He told me you looked after Beth once he was arrested.”
“I did. I took excellent care of her, too.”
“You must be a very kindhearted person.”
“I do what I can.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. Given the fact that she was paid and Beth was likely without food and heat since the money ran out, Teralynn’s high opinion of herself hardly seemed warranted. “Who’s looking after her now?”
“I have no idea. I suppose family of some sort.”
She’d mumbled the last part, making it difficult to decipher. “Family?” Evelyn repeated. “I wasn’t aware that Lyman had any close family.”
“He doesn’t. Not close family. But surely there’s someone … somewhere.”
Evelyn couldn’t detect a hint of conviction in those words. Teralynn knew otherwise. “When was the last time you saw Beth?”
“Just after Lyman was convicted.”
Since he hadn’t been transferred right away, due to some red tape regarding the cost, and then the weather in Anchorage, which had turned ugly, forcing them to postpone his flight, that was three weeks ago.
“I stopped over, made sure she had supper after the sentencing,” Teralynn added as if she’d been more than thorough.
Evelyn glanced at her calendar, even though she didn’t need to. “That was at Christmastime.”
“Yes. Two days after Christmas, to be exact.”
“Was someone else there at that time?”
She paused; then she said, “No.”
“Then how did you know it was safe to leave Beth on her own?”
“I assumed someone would be coming to take over for me. Lyman only hired me for a short time. It wasn’t as if I agreed to take the job indefinitely. He doesn’t have the money to pay me even if I was willing to pop over there every day. Matter of fact, he still owes me two hundred dollars.”
“Have you written to him about that?”
“Of course.”
“And what did he say?”
“He doesn’t have it. Where’s he going to get it now?”
“He said so?”
“No. He didn’t answer. That’s how grateful he is for my help.”
Her response didn’t ring true here, either. Lyman had mentioned writing Teralynn several times out of concern for his sister. Evelyn got the feeling the janitor was simply covering for her own selfishness and insensitivity. “I see. Okay. Thank you for your time.”
“That’s it?” she said. “Beth—that’s all you wanted to talk about?”
“Did you expect something else?”<
br />
“I thought you might ask me about Lyman. Don’t you study serial killers?”
“I do. How well did you know him?”
“I cleaned his lab for more than five years. We struck up a friendship of sorts, before I realized what kind of person he is and all that. I’m about the only friend he’s ever had.”
Even she hadn’t been much of a friend, Evelyn thought.
“Several reporters have called already, wanting to talk to me,” Teralynn added proudly.
“It sounds as though you’ve enjoyed the attention.”
“What?”
Evelyn had muttered those words beneath her breath. “I said, ‘What’s your opinion of him?’”
“He’s smart, but he doesn’t know the first thing about how to get along with people.”
“He was a troublemaker?”
“Not at all. He was just…”
“Easily overlooked?”
“Yeah. Mostly kept to himself. I’m not even sure how he got those women he murdered to go home with him.”
“But you believe he figured out a way.”
“They found all those panties in his house, didn’t they? Seven—or was it eight?—pairs of them.”
Evelyn felt a headache coming on, and talking to Teralynn wasn’t helping. Something needed to be done about Beth, and Evelyn could already tell that Teralynn wasn’t going to be part of the solution. Evelyn wasn’t sure she wanted someone like Teralynn taking care of Beth, anyway—wasn’t convinced she’d be humane enough. “It was eight. I’ll let you go. Thanks again.” She was about to hang up when she pulled the receiver back to her ear. “Ms. Clark?”
“Yes?”
“Did you ever see him with any of the victims?”
“Jan Hall. She came to the lab to help out whenever she could. She was fascinated by his work, wanted to do the same thing. I believe she was hoping to intern for him.”
“You clean the lab each night. Do you clean the rest of the building?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have an idea where he might’ve disposed of Jan’s body? Could there be any place at the college? Maybe a furnace room or a-a place where the trash goes?”
“There’s no body in the science building—at least none that shouldn’t be there,” she joked. “I would’ve found it by now—God forbid. Anyway, the police have already checked the entire campus.”
Evelyn tossed her pen aside. “I’m sure they did. Before you go, can I ask you one more question?”
“Of course.”
“Did you get the impression that Lyman cares about his sister?”
“I guess so,” she replied. “As much as he’s capable of caring. Psychopaths don’t really care about anyone, right? Isn’t that what I heard you say on TV?”
“They don’t care about others nearly as much as they care about themselves,” she confirmed.
“Even their families? That’s hard to imagine.”
“For those of us who have empathy and easily connect with others, yes, it is.”
“So … they fake it?”
“Sometimes they model the behavior they see around them, to fit in, to go unnoticed. You saw how he treated Beth. Did he seem kind?”
“Very. That’s what’s so surprising. I guess you never know some people, huh?”
That was true. Evelyn had had the same thoughts about Jasper. He’d turned out to be completely different from the perfect athlete, student and boyfriend he’d seemed to be, had shocked her and everyone else who knew him. And yet … there were signs, if she’d been aware or mature enough to spot them. For one thing, he’d loved being the center of attention and grew bored the instant the focus of any group he belonged to shifted elsewhere. And he’d never been the type to put himself out for the sake of someone else, not like Lyman Bishop had done for his sister. None of the men she’d studied were willing to care for another person as dutifully as Lyman seemed to have cared for Beth. Not beyond putting on a show for praise or to prove how great they were. Not when it was real work on a consistent day-to-day basis and there was nothing in it for them.
If Lyman enjoyed murder, why hadn’t he made his life easier and killed his sister? He could’ve gotten away with it. From what Evelyn could tell so far, no one had been keeping track of him or Beth. No one cared about them. Beth had been living on her own without anyone noticing for weeks, and Evelyn had no idea how much longer that would’ve gone on if she hadn’t had reason to call Beth.
But Lyman didn’t kill her. He didn’t even institutionalize her. He bought her the powdered donuts and Oreos she loved.
As far as psychopaths went, Bishop seemed to be unique.
6
Evelyn met with her new inmate several times the following week but didn’t feel any more settled about his culpability. Bishop’s many contradictions troubled her. Not only had he stood by his mentally handicapped sister, he’d gone to college and earned his degrees—she’d checked with his alma mater to be sure they were real—and he’d maintained a demanding job over a number of years with no problem. He even had an electric car, for crying out loud, and a solar system on his house—both of which indicated he was socially conscious. According to his rap sheet, he’d never even had a speeding ticket!
She hated the thought of an innocent man getting caught in a net cast for an evil soul who was preying on women, especially a man like Bishop, who could contribute so much to society otherwise. But then she reminded herself of the evidence police had recovered from his house. If he was innocent, where would he have gotten the victims’ underwear? And was it a mere coincidence that his mother had also been murdered?
Of course not. So it didn’t matter that he didn’t seem to fit the stereotype of a psychopath. Stereotypes were dangerous to begin with, something she couldn’t afford to be influenced by. No self-respecting psychiatrist or psychologist could. So while the much-used PCL-R, the guide designed by Canadian psychologist Robert D. Hare to assess the presence of psychopathy in individuals, focused on twenty personality traits that could, on the surface, appear to support a basic narcissistic stereotype, she had to take into account how diverse and unique human beings could be. Just because Bishop seemed functional in most areas of his life didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous or violent. He was smart enough to know what signaled trouble to those who’d be looking for it—and how to avoid exhibiting those traits and behaviors. That was all.
As she pulled into the only motel in town, a collection of lodge-like single-story cabins made of wood and strung together like the beads of a necklace, she looked for a parking space less encumbered by snowdrifts and found one close to the office. They’d just had another storm, one that’d come and gone without wreaking a great deal of havoc, which was nice. But they had a lot of winter yet to survive. She wasn’t overly optimistic that future storms would be so gentle. Not if last year served as any indication.
She couldn’t help recalling where she’d been twelve months ago on the morning after one of their worst snowfalls. She’d been with Amarok, identifying Lorraine Drummond’s severed head. Lorraine used to run the food service program at HH and had been such a nice person—
Blocking that memory almost as soon as it broke upon her mind, Evelyn got out of her SUV and waded through the snow in the rubber boots she wore over her shoes. Nothing as bad as what’d happened to Lorraine—and then Danielle—could happen again because Evelyn had weeded out the bad employees and gotten Hanover House running on a nice even keel. She missed Lorraine, would never forget her, but she couldn’t dwell on that loss, or the loss of Danielle, whom she hadn’t known nearly as well. She was waging a war against the conscienceless, could never weaken, give up or retreat. Someone had to do something, for the benefit of every person who’d ever been victimized.
Evelyn had been here before, twice earlier in the week, to check in on Jennifer. She knew where to go—to Room #8, in the corner. She waved at middle-aged Margaret Seaver, the diminutive manager who’d watched her pull in, as she mad
e her way carefully over the icy sidewalk.
“Hey, Doc, how’re things going over there at Hanover House?”
Margaret had come out to greet her, so Evelyn paused to chat for a moment despite the biting wind. She liked Margaret, so she would’ve taken the time anyway, but she also made an effort to build relationships in Hilltop in order to tear down the “us” versus “them” mentality she’d had to contend with when she and the rest of her team of doctors first arrived in town. Not everyone had accepted her—or them. Her Boston accent, her socioeconomic status and her Ivy League education made her too different. And many locals weren’t happy about the kind of facility she was bringing to town. Who’d want a bunch of serial killers living only a few miles away?
No one, which was why the federal government had chosen Alaska. The forty-ninth state in the union hadn’t had the population to put up much of a fight. So Evelyn couldn’t blame Hilltop’s residents for being a bit resentful, especially toward her. She was the face of the institution.
Fortunately, she’d made some friends here in spite of that rocky beginning. Of course, it helped that she was in a relationship with Amarok. Everyone loved Amarok, so if he thought she was okay, they were more tolerant.…
“All’s well at Hanover House,” she told Margaret. “How are things here?”
The streaks of silver in Margaret’s coarse black hair almost glittered in the floodlights bearing down on the parking area. It was always so dark in winter. “The same. Nothing ever changes. But I’m satisfied with my predictable life.”
She lived a simple life. That was what Evelyn thought most often—that life up here was simple.
“I hear you have a new inmate, a cancer doctor or something,” Margaret said before Evelyn could utter a quick good-bye and get on with her errand.
Margaret must’ve been talking to Jennifer or someone else in town. Nothing happened at Hanover House that wasn’t discussed, in great detail, in Hilltop. Evelyn often wondered what the locals had done for entertainment before she’d established the facility. “A geneticist, yes.”
