Hello Again

by Brenda Novak

  That was what he loved about this place. Everyone was so helpful.

  Because he didn’t plan to stay at Evelyn’s for long, Jasper pulled into the drive. He figured it’d be easier to get her into his vehicle that way. He’d learned a few things about finding and subduing victims in his day. Skulking about drew undue attention and wasn’t necessary, but acting as if he belonged worked like magic. He would’ve gone right up to the door and knocked. He was wearing a heavy Hanover House coat over a Hanover House uniform, figured Evelyn would take him for a guard and open the door. He only needed her to trust him for a brief second, just long enough to give him a chance. But he saw a Ford Escape parked in front of the house that puzzled him. Did the trooper have two vehicles? Did Evelyn? Because there was also a Toyota Landcruiser under the carport.

  He wasn’t sure what their vehicle situation was like and didn’t care to run into any unpleasant surprises, so he decided to take a look around before making an approach. That was when he found the broken window. The sight of it puzzled him. Cold as it was, Amarok would not have left that window broken and uncovered for any length of time. He wouldn’t be able to. He and Evelyn would freeze to death in the sub-zero temperatures.

  That meant the breaking had to be recent. Really recent.

  The image of the dead woman, swinging from that tree in town popped into his mind. What the hell! Had someone created a diversion in order to get to Evelyn?

  What else could be happening? It wasn’t as if there were murders in Hilltop all the time. That woman had been hung in a place that suggested the killer wanted her to be found. And given the psychopaths Evelyn worked with, it wasn’t inconceivable that there’d be another man hoping to lay hands on her.

  Something was going down. The good news was that whoever broke that window wasn’t gone yet, or one of the vehicles would be gone, too.

  Fortunately, Jasper’s outerwear was thick enough that he could crawl through the window without getting cut. And since the noisy part—the breaking of the glass—had already occurred, he barely made a sound as he went in. Whoever else was in the house didn’t seem to be worried about visitors, anyway. Jasper could hear someone humming in the living room.

  Creeping carefully down the hall toward that sound, he saw the back of a middle-aged balding man sterilizing an instrument with rubbing alcohol. “I’m sure glad you had some of this,” that man said. “I had to be careful what I purchased in Anchorage, didn’t want to give myself away. I figured it was bad enough that I was buying rope. But it would sure be a tragedy if, after all this effort, you were to die of an infection. We’re going to have a wonderful life together, you and I.”

  Who was he speaking to? Jasper couldn’t see anyone else in the room. But when the man turned and lifted the sharp instrument he’d just cleaned, Jasper recognized him from his picture on the Internet.

  It was Lyman Bishop. And he was cleaning an ice pick!

  * * *

  Lyman didn’t know what hit him. One minute he was walking around the couch carrying his clean ice pick, thoughts of stripping Evelyn’s clothes off, of watching her rouse as he drove inside her, flowing through his head. The next he was sailing across the room. As he hit the wall, he assumed Amarok had come home. Whoever had shoved him was strong. But the person who rolled him over and lifted him by the shirtfront, his lip curled in hate and disgust, was not the Alaska State Trooper.

  “Who–who are you?” Bishop cried, using his arms to shield his head from whatever was coming next.

  The man didn’t stop to introduce himself. He punched Bishop in the face and kept punching him—again and again and again.

  At first, Bishop was so shocked he felt nothing. But pain burst upon his consciousness as the battering continued. A blow to the mouth knocked out two teeth; another broke his nose. He heard the bones crunch, could feel blood running from … everywhere, it seemed. The man was kicking him, too, right in the stomach, making him spit even more blood.

  Although he covered up as best he could, he was no match for the ferocious onslaught. He whimpered; he cried; he begged. Nothing seemed to stem the rage inside the other man. He didn’t deserve this. He hadn’t been able to plan for it because it was completely unexpected.

  Where had this person come from?

  “Please,” Bishop moaned, barely able to speak for the damage done to his face. “Stop. I’ll do anything. I swear. You’re going to kill me!”

  “You’re right,” the other man said, but the beating stopped. That made Bishop wonder if he’d gotten through to him. If there might still be a chance …

  He tried to scramble for the door, but his attacker caught him before he could go three feet, and this time he had the ice pick Bishop had dropped when he’d been blindsided with that first powerful shove.

  “What’s that for?” Cowering, Bishop used his legs to propel his body toward the corner, but he couldn’t escape. The rabid stranger advanced, wearing a gleeful, self-satisfied expression on his handsome face.

  “You know what it’s for,” he replied, and held Bishop’s head back against the wall as he shoved the ice pick through Bishop’s right eye.

  29

  As Amarok cut Sandy Ledstetter down, he had Phil use Makita to keep everyone back. He felt terrible having to be so firm. He knew these people meant well. They were her friends and family. Hell, he’d been her friend, too. She’d served him often at the diner, and he’d always liked her. But he couldn’t think like a civilian right now. He owed it to her to think like a cop, couldn’t allow anything to interfere with that, or he’d regret it later. He was all Hilltop had by way of police support. He couldn’t let them down, especially now.

  “This is a crime scene, Betty,” he said to her mother, but Betty was having none of it. She called him every name in the book as she fought to get to her “little girl.”

  “God, Amarok. This is terrible!” Phil yelled as he struggled to keep Betty away. “You tried to tell us not to let Hanover House be built anywhere close by. And you were right. First last year, and now this. I’m sure we all regret it now.”

  Phil assumed that someone attached to Hanover House had to be responsible for this. That had been the assumption last year, too, and it’d turned out to be true. Was this more corruption of some sort? Had someone escaped the prison? Or was this—

  Amarok froze as he was about to snap another picture of Sandy’s swollen face. He’d been so caught up in this tragedy that he hadn’t considered all the ramifications. He’d been too busy securing and photographing the crime scene and trying to keep the crowd under control so it wouldn’t get contaminated. He was doing his job. This was what he was expected to do. But that was just it. What if this was Jasper’s handiwork? What if he’d gotten to Sandy? It didn’t appear that she’d been raped or tortured. She’d been killed and strung up at the edge of a parking lot that bordered Main Street. Whoever did this knew it would cause an uproar. Was he also hoping it would divert Amarok’s attention away from whatever he’d usually be doing, which was going home to Evelyn?

  Shit! Whatever this crime was about, it wasn’t about poor Sandy. She was merely a means to an end. And he feared Evelyn was that “end.”

  “Anyone who comes within three feet of this body will be arrested!” he yelled. Then he grabbed Shorty and Shorty’s sister and told them to help Phil make sure everyone stayed well away.

  “Where are you going?” Shorty yelled when Amarok took off running for his truck.

  “I have to check on Evelyn,” he said.

  “Now?” Phil cried.

  “It could be a matter of life and death.” As Amarok jumped into his truck, he told himself that wasn’t really true. Evelyn was fine. The terror that nearly had his heart bursting out of his chest was completely unwarranted.

  Or was it?

  * * *

  “What a pathetic loser you are,” Jasper said as he gazed down on his handiwork. “And you got blood all over me, you stupid prick.” He considered going to the sink so that
he could wash off. He wouldn’t want anyone to see him like this. But that would take more time and make a bigger mess. He was better off getting the hell out of there. Evelyn was beginning to moan, would come to very soon. It would be a lot easier to transport her while she was still out or at least confused and groggy. He figured he had about thirty minutes until she was fully recovered.…

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got you,” he said as he lifted her from the couch. But the fact that the house was already getting cold reminded him that he couldn’t take her outside without some kind of covering. It was twenty below tonight.

  He put her down while he went to grab a blanket, which would be easier and quicker than a coat. Then he picked her up again and headed for the door.

  He was safe to leave the house like this, wasn’t he? he asked himself.

  Yes, he’d be fine. When Amarok got home, he’d find a broken window and Bishop’s vehicle out front, with Bishop dead on the floor and Evelyn gone. What would the scene tell him?

  Did it make any difference?

  Not if there wasn’t anything to connect the crime to Andy Smith. And there wasn’t. He hadn’t even taken off his gloves. There should be no fingerprints, no DNA, nothing to lead anyone to the prison guard who’d just hired on at Hanover House.

  He paused to look at the floor. No footprints, either. At least, none that he could see. Bishop had made it easy. Rarely did anything turn out like this. Jasper had been lucky, but he figured he deserved a bit of luck after waiting twenty-one years to get hold of Evelyn again. All the luck had gone her way eighteen months ago.

  She groaned.

  “Sh-h…,” he said as he fumbled to unlock the front door without dropping her. It was no small feat and took a moment, but soon the cold slap of the wind hit his face. He was rushing toward the driveway when a truck came flying down the street and skidded to a stop behind his Chevy Tahoe.

  Sergeant Amarok. In the split second it took for that to register, Jasper almost dropped Evelyn and ran. There was no other way out—unless he killed Amarok as he’d killed Bishop.

  Amarok approached with a rifle. “Freeze, or I’ll blow your head off.”

  “Wait! You don’t understand!” Jasper cried.

  Amarok’s eyes darted to Bishop’s vehicle. The fact that there were two SUVs that didn’t belong seemed to cause a bit of doubt—and that gave Jasper the split second he needed to think.

  “She–she needs a doctor!” he cried. “We have to get her to a hospital. I was just … on my way there. Help me, please. I don’t know what’s wrong with her. When I got here, she was crying for help. I knocked, but there was no answer, so I had to find my own way in—through a-a broken window there on the side.” He jerked his head toward the window Bishop had broken. “When I got in, I found some dude with your wife,” he said, purposely getting their relationship wrong in an attempt to make Amarok believe he wasn’t that familiar with Evelyn or her situation. “He had a sharp instrument he was about to shove in her head.”

  Amarok’s expression changed. There was still plenty of concern, but now Jasper saw more caution than fury and determination. “Where is this man?”

  “Inside, on the floor. We–we got into it. He might be dead. That’s how bad it got. He was using that sharp thing, was trying to stab me, but he was older and not too strong. I gained control, and then I … I freaked out I was so panicked and terrified. Might’ve hit him too many times. But he wouldn’t quit.”

  Amarok’s gaze flicked to Evelyn. He was tempted to take her. It was easy to see that he was worried about her, wanted to get her the help she needed. But he was smart, wasn’t going to drop his gun too quickly. “Who are you?”

  “Andy Smith. I’m a-a new guard at the prison.” He stuttered to appear rattled. “This was my first day. I had orientation a few hours ago. Can you believe it? Now look at me. I’ve got blood all over my uniform.”

  “I know you from somewhere. We’ve met, haven’t we? At the Moosehead?”

  “I think so. Must’ve been. I came here a couple of years ago, before Hanover House opened. I was thinking of applying for work then, but I was still married and my wife refused to come to such a cold place.”

  “This is your truck?” Amarok motioned to the SUV Jasper had rented until he could purchase a vehicle.

  “Yes.”

  Keeping a careful eye on Evelyn, Amarok stepped closer. “What were you doing coming by here in the first place?”

  “Looking for you. I saw a strange sight in town not too long ago. It appeared as if some guy was forcing a woman to do … something in the parking lot of The Dinky Diner. Because I thought it was suspect, I couldn’t just drive home to Anchorage as if I hadn’t seen anything. So I asked someone where I could find you, and they sent me here.”

  That did it—that and another moan from Evelyn. Amarok finally lowered his gun. “Put her in my truck,” he said. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “I have no idea.” He opened the trooper’s passenger door and deposited Evelyn on the seat. “I don’t think he had the chance to do any real damage. When I arrived, he was telling her she deserved whatever he was about to do. I’m guessing he drugged her.”

  Amarok didn’t ask any other questions. He was too eager to get help for the woman he loved, to take care of her, in case she was worse off than Jasper led him to believe. Besides, he felt he could relax, to a degree. Jasper’s uniform lent him credibility and his story made sense. There was no way the sergeant could guess the truth, not with Lyman Bishop in the mix. That muddied the water too much. “Thanks, Andy … Smith, did you say?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m really grateful for your help. I’ll probably have more questions, but later. After I know Evelyn’s safe, I’ll see what needs to be done with Bishop—and everything else.”

  “I can take her to the hospital for you, if you’d like,” Jasper said, stopping Amarok before he could get back behind the wheel. “I don’t mind.”

  Amarok seemed torn between his heart and his duty, was obviously hesitant to let Evelyn out of his sight.

  “You have a dead guy in your house,” Jasper reminded him.

  “Right.” He seemed about to relent. No doubt he could see the sense in taking Jasper up on his offer. But, in the end, he couldn’t do it. “I’ll take care of that when I get back. If he’s dead, he’s not going anywhere. The same goes for poor Sandy.”

  “Who?”

  He didn’t answer. Setting his rifle in its rack, he jumped in his truck and took off with Evelyn.

  Jasper stood in the cold and watched them go. “Damn it,” he said when he could no longer see their taillights. He’d missed out on the perfect opportunity. The fact that he’d been so close made his disappointment all the worse.

  But maybe this would turn out to be a good thing. What would make Evelyn—and Amarok—trust him more than the fact that he’d just “saved her life”?

  “There will be other opportunities,” he murmured, and chuckled as he imagined Evelyn and Amarok inviting him over for dinner to thank him.

  * * *

  When Evelyn opened her eyes, she was riding in a vehicle with Phil.

  “Where … where’s Amarok?” She reached for her head, which pounded so hard she thought it might explode.

  “He’s taking care of … of what’s going on in Hilltop,” Phil responded. “He didn’t want to let me take you, but it made no sense for him to drive all the way to Anchorage tonight, not when he’s needed at home.”

  There was a terrible taste in her mouth. “What happened?”

  “Lyman Bishop tried to give you a lobotomy.”

  A jolt of fear made her more lucid. “Did he manage it?” Could that be why her head hurt so badly?

  “No. Thank God. Amarok checked you over carefully. Bishop used chloroform or something else to knock you out. That’s why you feel so terrible. He was interrupted before he could get much further.”

  A snippet of memory floated before her mind’s eye—Bishop
standing over her, pressing a rag over her nose and mouth. “He … he used a trip wire.”

  “He what?”

  She couldn’t repeat what she’d said or explain it. Now that her fear had subsided, she was fairly certain she was about to be sick. She asked him to pull over so she could lean out of the truck and vomit on the snow. Afterwards, she began to feel a little better. “Where is Bishop?” she asked. “Does Amarok have him in custody?”

  Phil reached over to pat her hand. “Relax, Evelyn. Amarok’s on it. Don’t worry about anything.”

  “I need to know. I feel so … out of touch, so … disoriented.”

  “Amarok was in a hurry. He didn’t tell me much. All I know is that Bishop killed Sandy Ledstetter to create a diversion while he came for you.”

  “He what?” She swallowed, hoping to ease her burning throat. “Sandy’s dead?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “No.…”

  A sheepish expression claimed his face, which she could only see in the dim glow of the instrument panel. “I shouldn’t have told you,” he muttered. “Amarok told me not to.”

  “I need to know. Who found her?”

  “Bishop strung her up in town, where she’d be spotted. Hung her from that big Shore Pine right there beside The Dinky Diner. After someone sounded the alarm, and the whole town came running, he broke into your house.”

  How had she survived with her brain intact? “Then Amarok came home?”

  “Not Amarok. He was dealing with Sandy’s murder. A new CO at the prison, guy by the name of Andy Smith, saw something strange at The Dinky Dinner and was trying to report it. Didn’t know it had already turned into a murder and been discovered. He stopped by, looking for Amarok.”