by Brenda Novak
“I don’t know.”
She’d wanted it to be positive as much as he had. She was just cautious not to set herself up for the disappointment that wanting a baby and not being able to have one could cause, so she wouldn’t admit it. At least, he thought there was an element of that in what she was feeling.
“I must be tired from all the short nights I’ve had the past few weeks,” she explained, quickly gaining control.
“Tired,” he repeated.
“Exhausted.”
He tugged her toward the door. “Then let’s go to bed.”
Lately, she’d wanted to make love almost every night, so it didn’t surprise him when she went for his jeans as soon as they reached the bedroom. He got the feeling she found the intimacy comforting and enjoyable in the way most people did—only, with her, there was an added element. She was reassuring herself that she could not only have sex, but she could also want it, even crave it, which had been beyond her ability at one time. As she learned what she liked and what she didn’t like and how certain motions and positions helped her to climax, her confidence grew. Essentially, she was making up for lost time, and he didn’t mind being the unwitting beneficiary.
“You’re so good in bed,” she told him as he slid his hand down her pants and inside her panties.
He could have told her the same thing. She had a hold of him, was caressing him exactly as he liked. “What can I say? You turn me on.” He was gaining confidence, too—confidence in the fact that he could touch her without frightening her.
“Good thing,” she told him. “Because I probably couldn’t make love with anyone else.”
“I think you’re underestimating yourself, but you don’t need anyone else. I know all your little pleasure spots.”
She moaned as he hit a favorite. “Yes.…”
“All the more reason to stick with me, babe,” he teased.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Her response grew breathy as the pleasure intensified. “You’re all I want.”
Feeling her fingers tighten around his hard shaft, he lowered his voice, his mouth at her ear. “Tell me how bad.”
Nudging his hand away, she pushed him back on the bed. “Let me show you instead,” she said, and peeled off her clothes before straddling him.
26
Evelyn woke from a deep sleep. As she blinked against the darkness, she realized that Sigmund was on her pillow not far from her face and Amarok seemed to be everywhere else. She smiled as she remembered how crazy they’d gotten while making love—sex was getting to be so much fun for her, and he didn’t seem to mind that she was gaining interest.
The ringing of the phone cut through her muddled thoughts. The noise had to be what’d disturbed her.
“Who’s calling?” Amarok muttered, but he wasn’t quite coherent. Taking most of the blankets with him, he rolled over to face the other direction.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get it,” she joked.
He didn’t respond. He was dead to the world again.
Because she didn’t want to take it in the bedroom—no way would he be able to continue sleeping if she did—Evelyn got up and grabbed her robe, belting it as she slipped out of the room.
Caller ID suggested it was Teralynn. At least, that was what Evelyn’s blurry eyes registered when she saw the area code. “Hello?”
“Dr. Talbot?”
It was Teralynn, but the fear in her voice dispelled the grogginess that was making it so difficult for Evelyn to function. “Yes?”
“He keeps calling me.”
“Who keeps calling you? Detective Lewis?” Makita came out of the room to join her as she yawned. “He needs a statement.”
“Not Detective Lewis! I went in and gave him my statement before work this evening. I’m talking about Lyman Bishop!”
Evelyn straightened. “What does he have to say?”
“He’s furious that Beth is gone.”
“Does he know she’s safe?”
“Yes. Adult Protective Services left an official letter on the table telling him he’d been removed as guardian.”
“So why doesn’t he call them in the morning?”
“Because he’s freaking pissed off, like I said. Maybe he’s drunk, too. He’s not sounding like the man I remember. He keeps asking me if I know where she is, why they took her. And he knows you had something to do with it. He curses every time he mentions you, wants me to give him your number.”
Evelyn had made no secret of her efforts to get Beth out of the house. “He can call Hanover House tomorrow. The main number is on the Internet.”
“He doesn’t want the main number. He asked if I have your home phone.”
“What’d you tell him?”
“That I don’t.”
“Thanks. Please don’t give it to him, no matter how insistent he gets. Have you called the police?”
“I left a message for Detective Lewis, but it’s four o’clock in the morning. He’s not at the station. And whoever I talked to said they’d have someone look into it, but I’m not sure they took me seriously enough.”
“Where are you?”
“At the lab.”
Bishop could easily go there, was familiar with the property. Perhaps he wanted to get that bag he’d hidden behind the piano. From his perspective, that would be smart—to get it back under his control. He wasn’t aware it’d been found. “How does he know you had anything to do with Beth?”
“I was the last one to help out with her, so he’s assuming someone would’ve talked to me.”
“How many times have you spoken to him?”
“Only once. He’s called back three times since then, but I haven’t answered.”
“The safest thing you can do is play dumb.”
“But he hates me! He said if I would have taken care of Beth like he asked me to, none of this would’ve happened. It’s because she was on her own that you got involved.”
Evelyn could easily imagine Teralynn’s fear. “Tell me a locksmith rekeyed the lab after Lyman went to jail.”
“They did. Of course they did. Until that business about the panties came out, everyone around here thought he was a serial killer. But … new locks or no, I’m afraid to finish up and leave. He could be waiting for me!”
Evelyn rubbed her right temple. “He doesn’t know where you live, does he?”
“No. He’s never been to my house.”
“Good. Listen, you’ve got to reach out to the police again. Tell them you’ve been receiving harassing phone calls from Lyman Bishop and you need an escort home. I’m sure they’ll send a patrol car to ensure you arrive safely.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’m done here. I’m calling them now.”
Evelyn hung up feeling confident that the police would protect Teralynn tonight—but she knew the janitor would have to return to work tomorrow.
* * *
Lymon Bishop had been digging at his cuticles so incessantly they were beginning to bleed, but he barely felt the pain. He hadn’t won. Those few exhilarating hours in Hilltop, when he’d thought he’d left Evelyn disappointed and empty-handed, had been an illusion. Even with everything that had suddenly shifted into his favor, the revelation of what the detective had done suddenly breaking in the news and everyone scrambling to apologize and get him released, Evelyn had not only stuck to her agenda; she’d managed to best him. A mere woman had done that, and a woman who believed in psychiatry—quack science, as far as he was concerned. Thanks to Dr. Talbot, he’d never be able to touch or speak to his sister again. And Beth had been his greatest victory! None of his other lobotomies had turned out quite so well. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to match his first success. He’d been trying to duplicate what he’d done to Beth ever since—with disappointing results.
He’d keep trying, however, wouldn’t accept defeat. And he’d get even with Evelyn along the way. He’d told her to leave Beth alone, and he’d meant it. He’d start his revenge by driving two ice picks so deep int
o Teralynn’s brain that she’d never recover. That would show Evelyn that she’d made a mistake getting someone else involved!
Wearing a heavy coat, hat and gloves to protect him from the cold, he sat in Teralynn’s neighbor’s hunk-of-junk car, which had been unlocked since it was up on blocks and couldn’t be stolen anyway, waiting for her to come home. He’d left his Prius several blocks away and walked into the neighborhood—had had no trouble finding her place. She’d put her home address on her application for the cleaning position two years ago, and he’d been the one to interview and hire her. So he’d been here before, many times, trying to weigh the risks against the reward of taking Teralynn as his next victim.
Ultimately, he’d decided to choose someone else. He worked with Teralynn, would be questioned by police if she went missing. But he’d considered her as a possibility for quite some time. She’d be such an easy victim.
Something he was about to prove …
As soon as a pair of headlights rounded the corner, he slid down beneath the level of the window so that he couldn’t be seen. This had to be her. She would’ve gotten off twenty minutes ago—the perfect amount of time to make the drive—and not many other people were up and cruising through residential neighborhoods at three in the morning.
Once he heard the car pass, he removed his hat and lifted his head enough to see her pull into her driveway. She sat there for several moments, looking around as if she was afraid to get out, and only opened the door when another car came down the street—a cop car.
Lyman ducked again and waited.
The cop got out and went inside the house for several minutes. Then the beam of a flashlight bobbed as he checked the side yard of Teralynn’s house and went into the back. When he returned, Lyman could hear the drone of voices as the cop spoke to Teralynn at the front door. No doubt the police officer was assuring her that he hadn’t seen anything to be alarmed about.
Lyman chuckled as the cop got back into his squad car and left. Teralynn would be feeling reassured at this point, would never see him coming. A year ago, he’d made a copy of the key she used to keep beneath the planter on the front porch, so even if she’d removed the spare since, it didn’t matter. All he had to do was wait for her to go to sleep and let himself in.…
He watched her house for thirty minutes—until all the lights went off. Then he waited another half hour. The cop hadn’t returned, but Lyman thought he might do an occasional drive-by, so he’d been watching the road, as well.
At four-thirty, he slipped out of the wreck he’d been sitting in and walked quickly and quietly to the front door.
Teralynn’s bedroom was in the back, on the right of a short hallway. He knew because he’d used his key before. He’d gone through her clothes and pictures, smelled her panties, even worn them. He’d also masturbated in her bathroom.
The floor creaked as he walked, but the heater camouflaged the noise. He got all the way to her bedroom, was about to turn the knob on her door, when he heard her say, “Hello? Is someone there?”
The fear in her voice was gratifying, but the fact that she wasn’t asleep posed a problem. If she were to call the police before he could subdue her, they could return before he was out of the house—
“Dr. Bishop, is it you?… Hello? Is someone there?”
Lyman fingered the ice picks he carried in his coat pocket. He longed to speak up, to let her know he was there and had a surprise for her. But then headlights flashed through the front window of the house, and he had to flatten himself to the wall to be sure that he wasn’t seen.
His heart raced as he waited. Had he walked into too precarious of a situation? Although the car out front seemed to have driven away, he couldn’t be sure.…
He’d never attempted anything like this, had always worked from the advantage of being unexpected. Was he making a mistake? Being overly confident? Too bold? He’d waited years and years to get revenge on his mother. He’d be foolish to act too impulsively here. It was the waiting, the planning, the control he’d exhibited in the past that’d served him so well. If Detective Gustavson hadn’t cheated he never would’ve been caught.
But since he had been caught, he was working at a distinct disadvantage, and he needed to take that into consideration. If he killed Teralynn, the police would come after him right away—everyone would be looking for him. Why not take advantage of being able to move freely about?
He stood silent and still for what seemed like forever—until he felt certain that Teralynn had to have relaxed and gone to sleep. Then he let himself out of her house and walked straight back to his car. He was frustrated that he hadn’t achieved his goal. Since he had the key to Teralynn’s house, killing her had seemed almost too perfect to resist. But he was glad he had resisted. It was Evelyn he wanted. He’d be a fool to do anything that would make reaching her any harder.
The moment he got home, he booked his flight to Alaska.
* * *
The next morning, Evelyn checked with Detective Lewis as soon as she got to the office. He told her that a squad car had followed Teralynn home and that he’d have a couple of uniforms keep an eye on her during the investigation. Her testimony about how and where she found that “kidnap” bag could be important, and once Bishop learned that he was under scrutiny again—that because of Teralynn the police might have something legitimate on him as far as forensic evidence—there was no telling what he might do.
Lewis suggested, and Evelyn agreed, that to be safe Teralynn shouldn’t talk to any reporters, including Sebring Schultz from The Star Tribune, until Bishop had been arrested. And they couldn’t arrest him until they came up with a solid link between him and that bag with the ice pick.
Detective Lewis acted as though he had the situation under control. Evelyn had every confidence that he was working as fast as possible to have the items Teralynn found tested, but police work took so long. And having Bishop out on the street was dangerous. He’d killed Jan Hall as well as the others whose murders he’d been charged with; he could easily kill again.
After she hung up with Detective Lewis, Evelyn called the facility where Beth was staying.
“Hello?” Bishop’s sister sounded as though she had her mouth full.
“Beth?”
“What?”
“This is Dr. Talbot.”
“Who?”
“Dr. Talbot. Remember me?”
The chewing grew louder. “No.”
“I’m the one who sent Louise Belgrath to help you move. You remember Louise, right?”
“You’re the one who gave me this room? And these donuts?”
Evelyn tried not to laugh at the level of enthusiasm that came into Beth’s voice. “Sort of. In a roundabout way, I guess.” Regardless, it wasn’t worth trying to explain. “How are you doing?”
“My bed is here—and my blanket. I have my clothes, too. All of them, even my underwear.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want you going anywhere without those,” Evelyn said wryly, but Beth wasn’t listening. She was still talking.
“And I have a mirror. And I have my toothbrush. And I have a TV. And I have a channel changer.”
Evelyn smiled and checked her e-mail while they talked. “So you like your new place.”
“I do! They have cookies here!”
“I can tell you’re excited about that, but I hope they’re not letting you eat too many sweets. Donuts, cookies—and it’s still early in the day.”
“Because it’s a special occasion, I can have one donut and four cookies,” she said.
“What’s the occasion?”
“Lyman can’t hurt me anymore.”
“No, he can’t.”
“Did I tell you they have cookies? One, two, three, four. That’s how many I can have. And I don’t have to take off my clothes—’cept to wash.”
The fact that Beth had been rescued from Bishop made Evelyn glad she did what she did for a living. She often wondered if she was making a difference. There were ti
mes, many of them, when the small successes didn’t seem to be enough. But she told herself that if she could improve just one person’s life she should be satisfied. Today it was Beth who made all the risk and sacrifice worth it. “I’m happy to hear that—”
“Louise!” Beth cried. Then she said into the phone, “Guess what? Louise is here!”
“Can I talk to her?” Evelyn asked.
There was a long pause, during which Evelyn could hear Louise greet Beth. She could also hear Beth telling Louise about how many cookies she could have each day—counting again. Finally, Louise got on the phone.
“Sounds as though she’s adjusting well,” Evelyn said.
“Like a fish to water,” Louise responded. “I’m very proud of her.”
“I was worried. Who knows if it’s true, but Bishop told me things didn’t go so well the last time she was institutionalized.”
“You mean ten years ago?”
“Yes. According to him, it wasn’t a great experience for the poor thing.”
“Her experience was a lot better than anything she’s ever known at home.”
“You’ve looked into it?”
“Of course. Files are kept on that sort of thing. Lyman had a girlfriend then—one of the few love interests he’s had in his life. So he wanted to get rid of Beth. She was suddenly in the way.”
“That’s scary, considering how he gets rid of people,” Evelyn said.
“I doubt she was in danger of … you know. He wouldn’t want to answer the questions that would arise if she turned up missing. And he likes the way having a sister like Beth makes him look—so magnanimous. His work associates have given him a lot of praise over the years for taking care of her. They always have him bring her to holiday parties and such. I’m guessing she was still valuable to him, but he was hoping to get serious with his girlfriend. Anyway, he put her in Sunset Homes Adult Care, and she was doing really well until Lyman’s girlfriend broke off their relationship. Then he wanted her back.”
Evelyn felt as if she could guess the reason. Who else would he have to suck his tummy banana? “So he went to get her.”
“Yes, and threw a big fit, acting as if she hadn’t been treated kindly. That provoked an investigation, but there was never any evidence to suggest she’d been mistreated in any way. And we now know what was going on under his roof.”
