by Brenda Novak
“He came to the house—when Bishop was there with me?”
“Yes. It’s a fucking miracle—that’s what it is, excuse my language,” he added.
“I’m not worried about your language.” She had much bigger things on her mind.
“Can you imagine stumbling into something like that?” he marveled.
She tried to laugh but couldn’t quite manage it. “We’re very lucky Andy Smith was able to handle himself.”
“It could’ve ended much differently.”
She’d been saved by a guard at HH, a new hire. What were the chances of that? “Please tell me he didn’t get hurt.…”
“Apparently not. Bishop got the worst of it.”
She leaned her head back as she tried to absorb this news, to use what Phil had told her to fill the time gaps in her mind. “How bad off is Bishop? Because Amarok can’t let him get away. After what he just tried—he’ll go back to prison. We’ve got him; we’ve got the son of a bitch.” She managed a grin. “Excuse my language.”
Phil smiled, too, and seemed to relax. “I doubt he’ll be going anywhere. I’m pretty sure he’s dead, or I’d be driving him to Anchorage along with you.”
“Dead?” she echoed in surprise.
“Can’t say for sure. Haven’t seen him. I radioed Amarok as he was about to leave town with you and offered to take you instead.”
“That was nice of you.”
“Don’t make it into anything selfless.” His smile turned grim. “I couldn’t bear to be in charge any longer, couldn’t bear to see Sandy lying there with her family wailing all around.…” His words fell off.
“I’m sorry it happened. So sorry.” She thought he might say something about Hanover House, something accusatory, but he didn’t. “Anyway, you were right to offer to take me,” she added. “Amarok needs to be there. But I’m awake, so … can you turn around?”
Phil looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Now?”
“Yes.”
“Hell no! Amarok was very clear. He’ll never forgive me if I don’t get you to a hospital right away.”
“I’m fine, Phil. What I feel, it’s the drugs. I’m having some sort of reaction to whatever Bishop used, that’s all. It’s not as if that kind of thing is good for a person.” And this was the second time it’d happened to her. Jasper had used a similar substance to subdue her when he’d abducted her eighteen months ago—before she got away.
“Makes no difference.” Phil wasn’t remotely swayed. “He made me promise to do exactly as he said, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
Evelyn didn’t want to be gone, not when she was convinced that Amarok could use her help and support. Poor Sandy. Amarok would mourn her as much as anyone. But when Evelyn continued to argue, Phil called Amarok on the radio and his response was as resolute as Phil’s. “You’re going to the hospital to get checked out,” he said. “I’ve got my hands full, but I’ll be able to handle it much better knowing you’re seeing a doctor.”
“I’d rather be there with you.”
“I’ve got it. There’s nothing left on this end except cleanup. Both Sandy and Bishop are dead. You coming back won’t change that. Now we know who killed Sandy, there won’t even be an investigation.”
“Phil said someone by the name of Andy Smith saved my life.”
“It’s true,” Amarok said. “We owe him a lot—everything.”
* * *
Amarok had allowed Sandy’s family to take her body home, so they could prepare it for burial in the small cemetery some of the older families used outside of Hilltop. He’d also sealed off the broken window at his place and driven over to his trooper post to get a tarp he could use to wrap Bishop’s body in. He figured he might as well load Bishop into the back of his truck and take him to the State Medical Examiner tonight. The roads were slick and it was getting late. He would’ve waited until morning to make the drive to Anchorage, but he planned to go to the hospital to see Evelyn as soon as he’d finished cleaning up in Hilltop, anyway.
When he bent to roll Bishop onto that tarp, however, he realized that the man was still breathing and jumped back. “What the hell!” How could he be alive? Amarok had checked. As soon as Phil had offered to take Evelyn to the hospital, Amarok had transferred her to Phil’s truck and gone home to find Bishop slumped in the corner with an ice pick protruding from his right eye. Amarok hadn’t been able to find a pulse. Neither had he been able to detect the slightest breath escaping Bishop’s mouth. But he couldn’t imagine anyone surviving having an ice pick jammed so far into one eye. So maybe he’d felt only what he’d expected to feel.
Bishop moaned, dispelling any further doubt. He was alive, all right. Regardless of how Amarok had arrived at the conclusion that he was dead, he’d been wrong.
“Help me,” Bishop rasped. “Please.”
As the man’s good eye focused on Amarok, Amarok’s heart leapt into his throat. This was a whole different situation. The psychopath who’d killed Sandy and all those other women was alive, even though he didn’t deserve to be. Bishop had also attacked Evelyn. If not for Andy Smith, Evelyn would be no different from Beth right now, if she survived the procedure Bishop had intended to perform in the first place.
Amarok was tempted to do nothing, to let him die. Surely it wouldn’t be long. He deserved to be taken out of this world. Everything would be so much simpler. There’d be no money wasted on his medical bills, his trial, his incarceration.
But Amarok had no interest in playing God. That was what made him different from men like Bishop. At the end of the day, he had to live with himself. He was a cop, and he was determined to be a good one. That meant he had to uphold the law and allow the justice system to do the rest.
“Do you know where you are?” he asked Bishop.
“Yes.… Please…”
“And you know who I am?”
He managed to nod.
“It’s fortunate that you still have your faculties.”
“Why? Don’t tell me…”—Bishop gasped for breath—“… you won’t help me.…”
“I might be persuaded—if you make it worth my while.”
Bishop struggled to gather the strength to speak. “How?”
“Tell me where you disposed of Jan Hall’s body. Evelyn would be encouraged to have that information, and, as far as I’m concerned, you owe her that much.”
His good eye slid closed.
“Are you checking out?” Amarok asked. “Because I have to admit, that would make my job a whole hell of a lot easier.”
“How do I know … how do I know I can trust you?” Bishop asked without looking at him.
“You don’t,” Amarok admitted. “But this is your only chance. So I suggest you take it.”
Bishop didn’t answer right away. After a moment, however, that eye opened again and, with great effort, he said, “Okay, I … I’ll tell you.”
EPILOGUE
“How are you, babe?”
Evelyn opened her eyes to see a beam of pale yellow sunlight drifting into her room from the window on her right and Amarok standing over her bed to the left. “I’m okay, I think.” She touched her forehead. “My head still hurts. But I got some sleep last night. What about you?”
He motioned to the chair in the corner. “I grabbed several hours myself.”
“Where’s Phil?”
“I sent him home, said I’d look after you from here on out.”
“When did you get here?”
“Last night.”
“You’ve been here that long and you didn’t let me know?”
“I didn’t see any reason to wake you. The doctor had given you a sedative, because he felt you needed to sleep and not be awakened by all the noise and commotion around here. I decided to respect that.”
“So … what time is it?”
“Mid-afternoon.”
“I’ve slept all day?”
“Most of it. But that’s okay. That’s what you were supposed to do.�
�
“What happened last night? Did you get Bishop’s body to the medical examiner?”
“No. He may not wind up at the medical examiner’s.”
“What do you mean?” She shifted to be able to sit up, but he pressed her back.
“Relax. Bishop is alive, Evelyn. He’s in the hospital here with you—under guard, of course.”
“Wait. Phil made it sound as though—”
“I thought he was dead. I couldn’t see how anyone could survive what happened to him in that fight with Andy Smith. But he’s a stubborn bastard, won’t give up.”
She grimaced. “I can’t say I’m excited to hear he’s still breathing.”
“I didn’t think you would be. But”—he lifted her hand and kissed her fingers—“don’t despair. I’ve got something that might make his still being in the world a little easier to take.”
She felt her eyebrows go up in expectation. “This sounds interesting.”
“It is. Bishop gave up where he put Jan Hall’s body.”
This time when Evelyn insisted on sitting, he raised her bed. “Where’d he put her?”
“Behind a warehouse on the edge of town, back in a copse of trees. That’s the gist of it, but he provided the exact location, as well.”
“Are you sure she’s there? That he wasn’t lying?”
“He wasn’t lying. I called Minneapolis PD as soon as I got to Anchorage last night. Detective Lewis went out first thing this morning, and, sure enough, he found a body buried right where Bishop said it’d be. There was no identification or clothes on the body, but there was a necklace that belonged to Jan. They’re pretty sure it’s her. Testing will confirm it.”
“That’s why you finally woke me.”
He grinned. “I just got the call, couldn’t wait to tell you.”
“That’s wonderful!”
“I thought you’d be happy.”
“Have you told Jennifer?”
“I was hoping you’d get to do that, but the detective blew it.”
“He called her?”
“As soon as he recovered Jan’s remains.”
“I can’t blame him. He had to be anxious. After what happened with Gustavson, the whole police department has to be eager to save face.”
“No doubt. I wish he would’ve waited, but I got something else out of Bishop while we were driving to Anchorage last night, so maybe that’ll make up for it.”
“I’m just happy Jennifer can put her sister to rest while her mother is alive. That’s such a relief.”
“So you don’t want to hear the rest?” he teased.
“Stop. Of course I want to hear. What else did he tell you?”
“He did give his sister a lobotomy.”
“I knew it!” she exclaimed. “And the MRI, when they finally get around to it, will prove it.”
A knock sounded at the door. A man with thick sandy-colored hair and blue eyes, wearing the uniform of a Hanover House CO, entered the room carrying a bouquet of flowers. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“No, now’s a good time,” Amarok said. “Evelyn, this is Andy Smith, the man who saved your life.”
Evelyn accepted the flowers Andy handed to her and took a moment to admire them before setting them aside. “How nice. I’ll have the nurse bring me a vase first thing. Thank you—especially for what you did last night.”
“It was no trouble,” he said. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“We’re both grateful to you,” Amarok added.
Andy waved him off. “Like I said, it was no trouble. Thank God I showed up in time.”
Evelyn studied Andy Smith a little closer. “Have we ever met before?”
“Not that I know of. Why?” he responded. “Do I remind you of someone?”
“No one I can name off the top of my head.” She looked to Amarok, but he shook his head as if he had no idea what she was talking about. “There’s just … I don’t know … a certain familiarity.”
He grinned and scratched his neck. “I must have a common face. I get that a lot.”
Evelyn supposed it was nothing. She’d met a lot of people over the course of her career. Andy Smith probably reminded her of a former classmate, a colleague, a reporter, or a CO.
“I’d better go,” he said. “I don’t want to be a nuisance. I just got off my first shift at HH and was on my way home, thought I’d stop by to make sure you’re recovering nicely.”
“I’m good as new—thanks to you,” Evelyn said.
His lips curved into a gratified smile. “I’m happy to hear it. I feel bad for what happened to that other woman, though. Wish I could’ve stopped him sooner.”
“I’m sorry about Sandy, too.” She squeezed Amarok’s hand. He’d known Sandy better than they did, had to feel even worse. “It’s not fair.”
Andy folded his arms across his broad chest. “I hope the people of Hilltop won’t blame HH.”
Some were bound to. Some would even blame her. Evelyn wasn’t looking forward to trying to overcome the animosity Sandy’s murder would inspire. Getting the locals to trust her, to like her, had been difficult enough. “He wouldn’t have returned to Hilltop, if not for me.”
“If not for you, he would’ve returned to Beth and continued to torture her,” Amarok said. “He would’ve continued to murder other women, too. And maybe he would never have been caught.”
“But this is a woman you know,” she said softly.
“All those other women would’ve had friends and family, too,” he responded.
“What makes men like Lyman Bishop do what they do?” Andy asked. “I can’t wrap my mind around it.”
Evelyn shoved her hair back, out of her face. “That’s what I’m hoping to find out.”
“I’m excited to be a part of it.” He took out his keys. “To help in whatever small way I can.”
“We need good men like you,” she said. “Welcome to Hanover House.”
Also by Brenda Novak
HER DARKEST NIGHTMARE
Praise for Her Darkest Nightmare
“The first in the new Dr. Evelyn Talbot series proves that bestselling Novak is as equally adept at crafting dark, intense suspense novels as she is at writing emotionally compelling love stories.”
—Booklist (starred review)
“Novak is a master of suspense. She writes … so well that readers will have a hard time putting this book down. A well-written work of art by a true master of the genre.”
—RT Book Reviews (Top Pick, 4½ stars)
“Her Darkest Nightmare is as stimulating as it is gripping, and Novak has crafted an exceptional new series that will leave you wanting more.”
—Real Crime magazine
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
BRENDA NOVAK and her husband, Ted, live in Sacramento and are the proud parents of five children—three girls and two boys. When she’s not spending time with her family or writing, Brenda is usually working on her annual fund-raiser for diabetes research, a cause for which she’s raised $2.6 million so far. Her novels have made the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists and won many awards, including five Rita nominations, the Book Buyer’s Best, the Book Seller’s Best, and the National Reader’s Choice Award.
Visit her website at: http://brendanovak.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Also by Brenda Novak
Praise for Her Darkest Nightmare
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
HELLO AGAIN
Copyright © 2017 by Brenda Novak.
All rights reserved.
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St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / October 2017
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