by Brenda Novak
He hesitated. Then he said, “It wasn’t me.”
Amarok had never thought it would be. “Then who was it?”
“Don’t know,” he said, but he sort of mumbled it, which told Amarok he knew more than he was saying.
“You haven’t heard anything?”
Ken focused on Makita again. “I can ask around, see what I can find out.”
“I’ve been asking around. No one’s talking.”
“Because they know you’ll have to do something about it if you catch the guys who are responsible, and I don’t think too many people are keen on seeing them punished.”
“I can’t turn a blind eye when someone breaks the law, Ken. And I’m sure Evelyn would be grateful. She’s understandably upset about the damage.”
The big man took off his ball cap and scratched his head. “I know. She mentioned it last night. She believes she’s going to be able to do so much with that place.”
Amarok rocked back in his chair. “It’s her hope for making sense of the world, making sense of what happened to her.”
Ken rubbed his chin with his thick, callused fingers. “That puts Hanover House in a different perspective, doesn’t it?”
“I guess it does,” he agreed.
“What kind of man could slit a woman’s throat?” Ken asked, crouching to give Makita another pat.
“The kind of men she’s bringing to town,” Amarok said. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate anything that might hurt her or Hanover House. Maybe you should pass the word along.”
“I will,” Ken said.
“So you’re really not going to tell me who did it?” Amarok asked.
Ken’s eyes widened. “Come on, Sergeant, I’m no narc. I’m surprised you haven’t heard already. They were bragging about it at The Moosehead right after they did it. They thought you’d be glad they were fighting back. It wasn’t until yesterday, when everyone figured out you weren’t happy that they clammed up.”
“I’ve never allowed anything like that to go on. What would make folks think I’d start now?”
“Because it was Hanover House! Because you don’t want it here, either!”
“We had our chance to stop it. We didn’t do enough, and now we have to live with the outcome.”
“I understand. And I’ll make sure everyone else does, too.” He started to go but Amarok called him back.
“It wasn’t Chad Jennings and his brother, was it?” Amarok had sort of wondered that from the beginning. They were only nineteen and twenty and wild enough that they were usually to blame for whatever hell-raising went on in Hilltop.
When Ken said nothing, Amarok came to his feet. “Damn it! Their parents have been through enough.”
“It’s not them,” Ken muttered and hurried out.
Although Ken hadn’t been very convincing, Amarok couldn’t help hoping it wasn’t the Jennings boys. There was no way they’d have the money to make restitution. And if they went to jail, it’d be their parents who suffered. Chad and Tex were paying the bills since their mother had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and their father had quit his job to take care of her.
With a sigh, Amarok sat down and picked up the phone to call Evelyn. Because so many of Hilltop’s residents felt unsure about Hanover House, he thought it would still be wise to hire a security guard for the next few weeks, until the construction crew could get the perimeter fence up and secure the premises. Someone else, someone with more criminal intent than the reckless Jennings boys, could come by for that copper. So he wasn’t going to stop her from establishing some security, but he did want to assure her that the vandalism wasn’t part of a bigger scheme to make sure Hanover House never opened—and that he’d keep a close eye on the people who might’ve done it to be sure they weren’t stupid enough to do anything like that again.
Chapter 9
So this was Hilltop. How was it that Evelyn thought she could tolerate such a place? It wasn’t much more than a trading post. And the people! Nothing but stupid hicks.
He was going to have a field day here, “Andy Smith” decided as he cruised slowly down the main drag. It only lasted for a few blocks. Then he had to turn his rental car around to drive back the other way. He’d spotted one small motel with a chain of twelve rooms at the far end. It wasn’t fancy, but he supposed it sufficed for the hunters and fishermen who came here, so he figured he could get by with it, too. At least there was some place to stay. The farther he drove from Anchorage, the more he’d begun to worry that there would be no lodgings.
While braking at one of the three intersections that heralded the main crossroads of this remote dot on the map, he took a second to check his reflection in the rearview mirror. It was the first time he’d be putting his new face to the test. Well, he supposed returning to the States fifteen years ago had been one sort of test. And flipping Evelyn’s mother off had been another. But instead of mingling with masses of people who may only have seen pictures of his former self on TV or the internet, or flashing his mug to someone in a car, he’d be confronting the one person who knew him better than anyone else. The one person who knew what he was capable of and had lived to tell about it.
Of course, when the time came and he was ready to make his move, he’d wear a ski mask until he could subdue her. These days, he always wore a mask until he’d secured his victim. But he could bump into her by accident before then—maybe at the diner—and he felt certain that if anyone would recognize him despite the surgery, it would be Evelyn.
So coming here raised the stakes considerably. He’d be hiding in plain sight—which was daring but exciting too. He’d been waiting so long to be able to see her up close, to touch her, that he was ready to take the gamble. And he was fairly confident. Not only had the surgeon done his job well, twenty years had passed since they’d been together in that shack. He’d put on a good twenty pounds of muscle and kept his hair dyed brown to cover the blond. The color of his eyes was the only thing he hadn’t been able to change—colored contacts looked so ridiculous they drew more attention rather than less, so he didn’t bother with them.
Besides, most people had brown eyes. He hardly considered that a distinguishing characteristic.
He rolled down his window to test the air. It had to be in the mid-sixties—a nice day for somewhere notorious for being cold. He figured he’d check into the motel using an old ID, from one of his earlier identities. Then he’d grab a bite to eat. He needed to familiarize himself with the area, figure out the best places to hide, should he ever need to hide, and where every road led, even the nondescript dirt ones. From looking at a map, he was pretty sure if something went wrong he’d have to get back to Anchorage in order to have half a chance of disappearing again, but having only one escape route wouldn’t give him many options. He’d be wise to do some investigating and open up other possibilities—at least find a few places where he could hide until he could use that main road.
Some of the people he passed on the street watched him drive by. Obviously, they noticed when there was a stranger in their midst. But he wasn’t worried. It was hunting season, so he doubted his was the only unfamiliar face. And, thanks to Hanover House, he had the perfect cover.
He wondered if it might be possible to hold Evelyn hostage at her own house, if she had one...
Why not? he asked himself. Who would stop him in this two-bit town? He doubted there was any law enforcement to speak of. Even if there was, he couldn’t imagine the force would be very well trained, not way the hell out here. If he could outsmart the best cops in the lower forty-eight, he doubted Hilltop would have anything he’d need to be afraid of.
He imagined sitting on Evelyn’s couch, waiting for her to come home late one night, and chuckled.
Wouldn’t that be the best?
***
Amarok thought Evelyn might call him to report on whether she’d managed to hire any security at Hanover House. But he didn’t hear from her. So he went over to The Moosehead. He was hoping she
’d show up, even though he knew it was highly unlikely. She wouldn’t go to a bar on her own; she’d told him as much. After last night, she’d probably be even more cautious about that than she’d been before. He just didn’t have any excuse to drive over to her side of town, which was what he wanted to do, and thought the bar might offer a distraction.
He proved himself right—that she wasn’t at The Moosehead. Then he hung out for a while, drank a beer and listened to the music.
“Hey, where’s your pretty doc tonight?” Shorty asked when he came to collect Amorak’s empty glass. Shorty’s sister, who was visiting for the summer, had poured his beer, but she was in the back, probably doing dishes.
“My pretty doc?” Amarok said.
“I heard you two were making out in the corner last night.” Shorty leaned over the bar, which wasn’t easy for such a small man, and pushed Amarok’s collar back by a few inches. “Yep. There’s proof.”
Amarok fixed his shirt before anyone else could take notice. “You can’t make anything out of a little monkey bite. She was drunk, didn’t know what she was doing.”
“And yet she remained selective.”
“Meaning...”
“She chose you, didn’t she? It’s not as if she tried to suck on Ken’s neck, although he was dying for it.”
So he and Evelyn had a physical attraction. That didn’t mean it’d go anywhere. Matter of fact, she’d pretty much told him it couldn’t. “She might’ve given Ken a hickey if he’d been dancing with her at that particular moment.”
Shorty lowered his voice. “You’re saying there’s nothing going on between the two of you.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Amarok said.
The bartender’s grin widened. “Ralph Hazard told me earlier that he saw your truck out at the doc’s place this morning.”
Amarok stiffened. He knew he lived in a small community, and that he stood out because of his job, but this was getting ridiculous. “Doesn’t anyone mind their own business anymore?” he asked. “What was Ralph doing way the hell out there?”
“Picking up a couch for sale next door.”
Amarok didn’t question that; he’d known Ralph his whole life. But what were the chances he’d have reason to be in the area? Evelyn had built on the far side of town, where there were only a handful of people, and very few houses. “She got sick on the ride home,” he explained. “I only stayed over to make sure she was going to be okay.”
“Of course,” Shorty said. “You were just doing your civic duty.”
Amarok leaned closer. “Stop with the sarcastic bullshit.”
“What sarcastic bullshit? We’ve all been wondering when you’d meet a woman capable of catching your eye.” His grin slanted to one side. “Or, failing anything more serious, putting the rest of you to good use. I know many have tried and failed. Watched it all play out here at the bar. At least now we know it takes a beautiful, whip-smart older woman to get our diligent state trooper excited.”
Amarok came to his feet. “For Christ’s sake, she’s not that much older than me!”
Shorty hooted with laughter. “I thought that might get a rise out of you. You’ve got it bad.” He lifted a warning finger. “But I can’t imagine she’s going to like it if she ever learns that you’re not too keen on her baby.”
“Her baby?”
“Hanover House.”
“She knows. I haven’t kept my feelings on that a secret.”
“And now your feelings for her aren’t much of a secret, either,” he said with another laugh. Then someone called for a shot of tequila and, with a wink, he hurried off.
After that, Amarok wasn’t interested in hanging out at The Moosehead. It was always a good place for law enforcement to be. If there were going to be problems after the sun went down, it was generally at the bar, which was why he dropped in most weekends. Typically, he enjoyed that aspect of his job, despite the number of fights he had to break up, but tonight he couldn’t quit thinking about Evelyn. So he gave up trying to hold out and drove over to her place, just to make sure she was okay.
Once he parked in front of her house, however, he almost changed his mind. On the drive, he’d told himself there wasn’t any reason they couldn’t be friends. She’d soon be living in the area; he might as well accept her, get used to having her around for however long she might stay.
But he wasn’t really interested in friendship, and he knew she couldn’t give him anything else.
“So why are you here again?” he mumbled to himself, but he climbed out of his truck anyway.
She was wearing gray sweats when she came to the door. They weren’t revealing—not by a long shot—and yet he preferred the way the soft cotton hugged her curves to the harsher lines of the business suits she normally wore.
“Apparently you do dress down occasionally,” he said.
A few strands had fallen from the messy bun that held the rest of her hair back. He liked that, too.
She tilted her head back to look up at him. “You’re not suggesting I should’ve worn this to The Moosehead...”
“No.” It was just nice to meet the woman behind the “tough girl” mask she normally showed the world. She was so defensive—she had good reason to be—but it made him want to peel back the layers until he could get through to the soft part she was trying so hard to protect. “How’d it go today?” he asked. “Did you manage to find someone to stand guard over at HH?”
“I have a couple of possibilities, but I didn’t want to hire anyone without getting your opinion first, since you probably know both men.”
He found it oddly gratifying that his opinion mattered to her. “Did you call me?” He couldn’t imagine she had. Since there was no cell service in Hilltop, he didn’t own a smart phone. But until he’d left for The Moosehead, he’d checked the voicemail connected to his land line after every time he went out, just in case. There’d been no word from her.
“No. I got caught up in some psych evals I had to do, and by the time I finished, I was afraid it was too late. I blew your Friday night; I didn’t want to ruin your fun on Saturday, too.” She gave him a sheepish grin. “Since you’re here, however, do you have a minute to come in?”
“Sure.”
When she stood back to admit him, he was careful not to touch her as he brushed past, but that wasn’t because he didn’t want to. He was determined to give her plenty of space. He felt it was important that she come to him—like she had last night.
He just wasn’t sure she ever would...
“So who responded to your ad?” he asked. “Who do we have to choose from?”
“Jayden Willoughby.”
He’d been crossing her living room, but at this he pivoted to face her. “Jayden hasn’t even graduated from high school yet.”
“True. He’ll be a senior. But he’s got two weeks before school starts, and he said he could come out on nights and weekends if I need him longer. The construction crew is there the rest of the time, so that could work.”
He did nothing to hide his skepticism. “Is he even eighteen?”
She gestured for him to sit down. “Yes. Had his birthday in June.”
“And option number two?” he said as he dropped onto her couch.
“Mason Thornton.”
Amarok remained seated but shoved himself forward. “He’s an alcoholic!”
“I could tell by the way his hands were shaking. He also volunteered that information, which I respect. He said he’s trying to sober up, so I thought giving him some work might help.”
She was considering someone who had such an obvious problem? Amarok shook his head.
“What?” she said.
“You are so much kinder than you seem.”
“Yeah, well, don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my image.” She gestured toward the kitchen. “Would you like a drink?”
“What do you have?”
“Not a lot. Actually, nothing, except milk or water.”
He made
a face to let her know he wasn’t impressed with the selection, and she laughed. “Sorry, I haven’t really stocked my fridge or my cupboards, since I won’t be here on a permanent basis for another month.”
“So what have you eaten today?”
“I had some canned soup earlier.”
“What else?”
She shrugged. “A few crackers?”
“That’s it?”
“Like I said, I don’t have a lot in my cupboards, and once I took off my makeup and washed my face, I wasn’t about to drive to town. If you’re thirsty, water should work.”
He got to his feet and pulled out his keys.
“You’re leaving?” she said.
“Yes, and you’re going with me.”
“I just told you—I’ve already taken off my makeup. I don’t want to be seen in town.”
“I like the way you look—and nobody else matters.”
Her jaw dropped, as if he’d surprised her with that statement. “Okay, but...where are we going?”
“To get a bite to eat, of course.”
“This late? There’s nothing open!”
“Shorty serves a limited menu. We’ll go to the back of The Moosehead, right by the kitchen, and his sister’ll grill us a burger.” He extended his hand.
She eyed it. “Amarok—”
“Take my hand, Evelyn.”
“I can’t.”
“Sure you can.” He ran a finger lightly down her arm. “Going to get a burger with me is harmless.”
She looked slightly troubled as she stared up at him. “But what I feel when I look at you isn’t.”
Carefully, but very obviously, he weaved his fingers through hers. “See? This isn’t so bad, is it?” he murmured and felt a certain warmth when she let him lead her from the house.
***
Evelyn put her feet up on the dash of Amarok’s truck and stared at the stars beyond his windshield, which were so much more vivid in Alaska than anywhere else. She was fairly certain she’d never tasted anything as good as the bacon and cheddar quarter pounder he’d brought her from Shorty’s kitchen—or felt more secure or happy than kicking back with him in the parking lot of The Moosehead, where they could hear the music from inside drifting out onto the cool evening air.
