by Brenda Novak
Funny thing was, she called what they were going through an amicable divorce, seemed to take great pride in the fact that they could split up without the typical ugliness that occurred when a marriage didn’t work. She didn’t have a clue that she was only getting out of the relationship so easily because she’d fulfilled her purpose and wasn’t standing in the way of anything he wanted.
He just had one more thing to do.
Stepping back, he shaded his eyes to take a final look at the RV. He hadn’t liked taking his victims here. The damn thing was too cramped, too limiting. And it stunk to high heaven. It was just the best thing he’d been able to find. The type of shack he’d used in Peoria wasn’t all that easy to find.
As he took the gas can out of his trunk and began pouring it inside, on the carpet and upholstery, he realized he had built some good memories here, though. He’d brought two victims to this place, would’ve brought three if that bitch who worked at the tattoo parlor hadn’t jumped out of his van while he was driving.
Anyway, he’d make better arrangements in Alaska. There he’d have far more freedom and range. Instead of worrying about his victims dying in the heat, he’d have to worry about them freezing in the cold, but he never let fear for their safety trouble him too much. He wouldn’t have a wife to placate in Alaska. Not while he was working at Hanover House and making his own money. That was why he might be able to keep Evelyn in his own basement. And if that didn’t work? He’d find another place—even if he had to build a small cabin out in the mountains. That Bishop dude he’d read about, the one who gave his victims a lobotomy, might’ve had the right idea. Once he sliced into Evelyn’s brain, she’d never defy him again. He doubted she’d ever even try to escape.
But after he did something like that, would she be the same Evelyn he knew? Making her into a zombie could take all of the fun out of it. Resistance was an important part of the experience.
He figured he could make that decision later. First he had to get close to her. The idea of working beside her, of rubbing elbows with her when she had no idea who he was, had to be the most exhilarating thing he’d ever dreamed up.
Nearly gagging on the gasoline fumes he left in his wake, he climbed out of the RV and walked the perimeter to make sure the graves he’d dug weren’t obvious. Then he returned and tossed the match.
The RV went up with a whoosh, creating a giant ball of flame that made a magnificent sight, especially against the backdrop of an Arizona sunset and the flat, unrelenting desert, which stretched for miles around.
Too bad there wasn’t anyone nearby to appreciate the spectacle. But it was privacy that had made it all possible.
And he’d have plenty of privacy in Alaska.
* * *
Amarok parked in the visitor lot, grabbed the sack he’d brought and braced against a powerful wind as he got out of his truck and headed toward the sally port at Hanover House. January had been bitter cold, and February wasn’t promising to be any warmer. He frowned at the sky, watching the dark clouds scuttle closer, while trudging through the snow that hadn’t yet been cleared away from this morning’s flurry. He’d left Makita at his trooper post and hadn’t bothered to put on any gloves or even his hat.
“Hey, Sarge…” “What’s up, Amarok?…” “Good to see you, Sergeant.”
Grateful for the warm air that embraced him the moment he walked through the main entrance, he nodded at the greetings he received from the COs who ushered him through Security.
The warden was standing on a landing one story above him. Since Ferris happened to look down, Amarok waved before getting into the elevator that would take him to Evelyn’s office. He didn’t come inside the prison very often. He had enough to keep him busy in town. But he knew Evelyn hated sloppy joes, which was what they were serving for lunch. She’d mentioned it on the phone this morning. So he’d brought her a BLT from the Moosehead.
Evelyn wasn’t in her office. Thanks to the interior window, he could see that as he approached Penny’s desk. Her door stood ajar besides.
“Sergeant Murphy.” Penny nearly spilled her coffee as she jumped to her feet. He smiled to try to calm her, but that didn’t help. Almost every encounter he had with Evelyn’s assistant proved awkward; she made it far too obvious that she had a thing for him.
“Hi, Penny. I was hoping to talk to Dr. Talbot. Can you tell her I’m here?”
“I’m afraid not.” Her eyes dropped to the sack, which smelled like the sweet potato fries he’d gotten along with the sandwich. “But you could wait in her office until she returns.”
“From…”
“She’s meeting with Lyman Bishop—told me not to interrupt for any reason, since this is her last chance to get anywhere with him.”
Amarok set the food on the edge of her desk. “You’ve received the order to release him?”
“Came this morning. He walks out of Hanover House tomorrow, first thing.”
So the moment Evelyn had been dreading had come.… “I’m surprised the paperwork took that long.”
“The red tape involved in the criminal justice world is astounding. At least that was what Dr. Talbot had to say a few days ago. But she also said this was one time she was grateful for that.”
He hated bureaucracy. That was part of the reason he lived in this far-off corner of the world. There was much less red tape in Alaska than in the overly regulated and overly legislated Lower 48.
“How will he get to Anchorage to catch his flight?” he asked. Hanover House hadn’t been around long enough for anyone to be released under normal circumstances, let alone a vacation order. He was interested in how it all worked, but he was also asking because he wanted to know how quickly Bishop would be gone from the area. No way would he feel comfortable with a man Evelyn believed to have murdered at least eight women—not to mention the lobotomies he’d performed before committing those murders—running around Hilltop.
“I heard Dr. Talbot tell Dr. Ricardo that one of the COs will drive him, providing the roads are open. With the storm that’s coming in, he may have to hole up at The Shady Lady for a day or two.”
Evelyn had been fighting like crazy to get Beth a new guardian, but the doctor who’d checked Lyman’s sister hadn’t found any injuries, at least none that he could say, without a doubt, were caused by abuse. And, as Evelyn had predicted, they refused to do an MRI. They didn’t want to add insult to injury when it came to Lyman Bishop. The woman Evelyn had been working with at Adult Protective Services, Louise Something, had said that going so far would make it look like law enforcement was out to get him.
Once Evelyn had learned she’d have no ally in the doctor or the system in Minnesota, she’d gone up the chain of command all the way to the governor. But he wouldn’t return her calls. He didn’t want to touch Bishop’s case, didn’t want to get involved in the political hot potato it had turned out to be.
Bottom line, because of what Detective Gustavson had done, everyone was being very careful to give Bishop the benefit of every doubt. He’d probably sue the state for what Gustavson had done; no one else wanted to be involved in that.
So now Bishop was going to be let loose to do whatever he pleased. And to make matters even worse, he’d be right here in Hilltop until they could transport him to the airport in Anchorage.
“Shit.”
“I know,” Penny said. “It’s scary, right? I mean … what if he’s guilty?” For no apparent reason—not one that could be tied to the conversation, anyway—a crimson blush crept into her cheeks when she met his gaze, and she looked away.
“What room are they in?” Amarok asked.
Penny seemed taken aback. “You–you’d like to join them?”
“I’d like to meet him, yes.” Amarok figured he might as well get a feel for the guy. Once Bishop was released, he’d be Amarok’s problem—until he was at a safe distance.
“Okay.” She fumbled around, obviously nervous, as she made the arrangements. But a few minutes later a CO arrived to s
how him to the correct location within the facility.
Before Amarok left the reception area, he pointed to Evelyn’s lunch. “Can you put that on Dr. Talbot’s desk for me, please?”
Her smile widened as if she was only too happy to accommodate him. “You bet.”
After escorting him over to the prison side, the CO came to a stop in front of a beige metal door with the number five stenciled on the outside. “They’re in there, sir,” he said.
Amarok thanked him and stepped inside to see Evelyn sitting behind a utility desk facing a rather nondescript man on the other side of a thick piece of plexiglass. Lyman Bishop reminded Amarok of a shy bean counter. He sure as hell didn’t look dangerous.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t.
“Amarok! What are you doing here?” Evelyn asked in surprise.
He decided not to mention the lunch. She’d see it when she returned to her office. “Penny told me that Lyman Bishop will soon be leaving the facility. I came to offer him a ride to the airport.” Amarok kept his eyes trained on the man in question, who now moved without the hindrance of cuffs or chains. They’d kept him on the other side of the plexiglass from Evelyn, thank goodness, but they’d done away with many of the usual security measures since, for good or ill, he was about to be released and would have them off in a matter of hours, anyway.
“That won’t be necessary,” Evelyn said. “One of the COs who lives in Anchorage will give him a ride. The warden said he’d arrange it.”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather escort him myself.”
“It’s not the same to me,” she said.
She didn’t want him anywhere near Bishop. That’s how much Bishop frightened her. But Amarok felt as if it was his job. He didn’t want to hear about Bishop boarding that plane; he wanted to see it with his own eyes. Only then, once he knew the Zombie Maker was out of Alaska, could he rest easy. “I’ll make that decision,” he said firmly.
“What do we have here?” Bishop asked. “A lovers’ quarrel? I’d hate to be the cause of that.”
He’d picked up on the fact that there was more at play here than a psychiatrist speaking to the local law enforcement.
“This is Sergeant Murphy, the state trooper who’s stationed here in town,” Evelyn explained.
“Ah, yes. I’ve heard about him. You’re living with him.”
Evelyn didn’t confirm that, but she didn’t deny it, either. Like Amarok, she probably felt as if their personal relationship was none of Bishop’s business.
He came to the glass and looked Amarok up and down—mostly up, since he was a great deal shorter. “Why do you want to give me a ride?”
“Just to make sure everything goes smoothly.”
Bishop folded his arms. “You want to shuttle me out of town as soon as possible.”
“I’m sure you’d like to get home.”
He pursed his lips. “Except it’s not like that. This is no … courtesy. Evelyn’s convinced you that I’m a killer, that I might hurt someone in your town if you don’t send me packing right away. You’d rather get me out, make me Minnesota’s problem again, right?”
Amarok manufactured a pleasant expression. “I have a truck with a plow, so I can get through when others can’t.”
Bishop gestured toward Evelyn. “Wow. Just goes to prove that once your reputation has been compromised, there’s no getting it back. You both look at me like I’m some kind of … of cockroach.”
“You could change the way we look at you easily enough,” Evelyn said. “We’d be grateful if only you’d tell us where you put Jan’s body.”
“Listen to her!” Bishop flung his hand out emphatically. “She won’t give up.”
“Jan’s family has been through quite an ordeal,” Amarok said, trying to help.
“So has mine,” he responded. “But neither of you gives a damn about that. And, as I’ve explained to Dr. Talbot many times, I can’t help her. Only Jan’s killer could provide that information.”
The sparkle in his eyes when he made that statement didn’t match his words. The incongruity of the two sent a chill down Amarok’s spine. This man was toying with Evelyn, all right, rubbing her nose in the fact that she knew the truth—and was powerless to do anything about it.
“If you didn’t kill her, who did?” Amarok asked.
“Wish I knew,” he replied with a shrug. “I guess the police will have to figure that out. If they can. To be honest, I don’t have a great deal of confidence in them. They seem pretty … useless to me.”
Amarok got the impression Bishop was purposely including him in that statement, but Evelyn spoke before he could respond. “And Beth?” she said. “What will happen to her?”
A smug expression claimed Bishop’s face. “What do you think? I’ll continue to take care of her, of course.” His head jutted forward as he stared at her. “I’m not generally the type of person to gloat, but I admit I’m pleased by the fact that you lose all the way around.”
Evelyn came to her feet. “It’s not over.”
He started to laugh. “Yeah, I think it is,” he said, and turned his attention to Amarok. “My official release is at eight. I’ll see you then.”
* * *
That evening Amarok found Evelyn’s SUV parked out front of their bungalow. He’d gone by the prison so that he could drive her home like he usually did when it was storming, but Penny told him she’d left not long after meeting with Bishop. Taking the afternoon off was unlike her. He hoped she’d done so to beat the storm—something a lot of people did in these parts when the forecast called for so much snow. But she usually didn’t let the weather stop her from putting in a full day. Nothing stopped her, which was why he generally had to take the plow over there.
Surely she hadn’t learned of another murder in Boston. Her parents had refused to leave their home, had said they wouldn’t allow their fear to drive them out of where they preferred to be, wouldn’t allow Jasper to have that kind of control over their lives. Amarok secretly admired their stance, but he knew that Evelyn had been worried about them and her other friends. For good reason. Whatever was going on in Boston wasn’t good.
Fortunately, everything had been quiet there—no one had been murdered since Charlotte—but whether that was because the police were keeping a close eye on Fitzpatrick remained to be seen. They still believed it was him, were working on gathering more evidence, and Evelyn had been playing along, letting Tim give her his ideas on the killer’s psyche, which she recorded and turned over to the police—at their request.
When Amarok walked in with Makita, he could hear Evelyn on the phone and breathed easier despite the alarm in her voice.
“Beth, listen. If you can’t give me something solid—some kind of proof—for what Lyman has done to you, I won’t be able to get you out of there. Do you understand? This is important. I’m trying to keep you safe, but I need a little help from you.… Forget about donuts. There will be plenty of donuts when I get this resolved, okay?… I’ll send you some myself. I promise.”
Amarok watched as she tried to allay her frustration by closing her eyes and massaging her temples.
“Do you understand what I’m saying—what’s happening?” she continued. “We’re releasing your brother tomorrow. That means he’ll come home, and he’ll force you to … to do things you don’t want to do.… Because if it makes you cry, you don’t like it, right? And he has no business making you do it. You could live somewhere else, somewhere you don’t have to do those sorts of things.…”
Amarok had to go back out and help Phil. The snow was falling so fast one plow couldn’t get the job done. He’d just stopped by to grab a sandwich to take with him and to check on Evelyn, to make sure she was safe and in for the night.
As he got the bread and lunch meat out of the fridge, he listened to her plead and placate and try to explain, in ever simpler terms, what types of things might constitute “proof.” But he could tell she wasn’t getting anywhere. By the time she
hung up, she was almost in tears.
“Damn it!” she said, smacking her fist onto the table.
“She won’t help?”
“It’s hard to make her understand how to help—and even harder to get her to trust me enough to try. Now that she knows her brother is coming home tomorrow, she’s too terrified. And I don’t blame her. He’ll punish her for telling me what she did. I shouldn’t have let him know. But I never dreamed I wouldn’t be able to get her out of there, that APS would be so busy protecting itself it wouldn’t protect her! That’s what the agency is for!”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.” She sighed. “If I can’t get proof, I’m all out of options, and that’s hard to face.”
Amarok recalled Bishop’s taunting smile. “What about that woman you were telling me about—the lab janitor who cared for Beth during Lyman’s trial?”
“Teralynn Clark? What about her?”
“Beth knows her, right?”
“Yes, but…”—Evelyn made a face—“… she’s not much kinder than Bishop.”
“Still, Beth knows her,” he repeated. “That’s what’s important. It means she’ll probably let her in.”
Evelyn nibbled at her bottom lip. “You’re saying I could use her in some way.”
“As your liaison. Tell her you need help, make her feel important. Offer to pay her, if that’s what it’ll take. But get her to go over there tonight and comfort Beth, figure out some way to befriend her so she’ll talk. Maybe she’ll divulge some detail that will help. Teralynn could record the conversation. She might even be able to look around. There’s got to be proof of Bishop’s perversions somewhere in that house.”
