by Brenda Novak
“It’s beautiful here,” she said. Maybe Hilltop didn’t have a lot of other things to recommend it, but it certainly had stunning scenery.
“I like it,” he responded, following her gaze up into the sky.
“How long have you lived here?”
He was making quick work of his meal, much quicker work than she was. “All my life.”
She took another bite of her own burger. “What kind of a nickname is Amarok?”
“It’s Inuktitut.”
“The language of the Inuit people.” She’d read about some of the various Alaskan natives once she’d heard where Hanover House would be located.
“Yes.”
She selected one of the crisper French fries from the basket in the seat between them. “What does it mean?”
“Wolf.”
“Have you been called that all your life?”
He swallowed the bite he’d taken of his own burger. “For most of it. My friends gave me the nickname after some bully picked a fight with me in grade school.”
“You must’ve won that fight.”
“That kid never messed with me again,” he said with a cocky grin.
She stuffed another fry into her mouth. “So, let’s see...when that was happening to you, I was...what? In college?”
He slanted her a look that said he wasn’t happy with the topic of conversation. “We’re going there, are we?”
“Don’t you think we should?”
He scowled. “Definitely not.”
“Because?”
“What’s the point?” he said with a shrug. “As far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t matter.”
She sat up. “Of course it matters. Relationships are hard enough when both people are at a similar stage of life. And that’s when you’re dealing with ‘normal’ people. We both know I’m not ‘normal.’”
“Everyone has their challenges.”
She laughed without mirth. “Not many people have my challenges. We have too much stacked against us, Amarok.” As far as she was concerned, whatever spark they felt they’d be wise to smother right away. It would be far easier to end things now, before either one of them could be hurt—before they could get carried away with hope only to be disappointed by the limitations imposed by her dysfunction.
“That’s it, then?” he said.
She was fairly certain he’d never had a woman tell him no, and she could understand why. “Maybe I haven’t been clear enough, but”—she lowered her voice even though there wasn’t anyone else around to overhear her—“I can’t have sex.” She figured she might as well be blunt, get it out there. “I’m guessing that’ll be important to you.”
He wiped his mouth. “Important but not everything.”
Her appetite suddenly gone, she put her burger on the wax paper it’d been wrapped in. “You’re serious.”
“Is that all you think I want?”
She drew a deep breath. “I’m not sure what you want, but I’m pretty sure I can’t give it to you, regardless.”
He caught her wrist before she could come up with a napkin to wipe the ketchup and grease off her right hand. “I don’t believe that,” he said and proceeded to lick her fingers clean.
Something deep in her belly reacted so strongly to the sensual nature of what he was doing that Evelyn gasped. It felt like she’d just come screaming over the first hill of a roller coaster.
“See?” He knew she liked it; she could tell by his satisfied expression. “It wouldn’t be all bad.”
She was far more afraid of it being good. The physical element was one thing—that was a big challenge. But it was falling in love that terrified her most. Not only had Jasper hurt her body, he’d broken her heart, betrayed her trust and destroyed her confidence.
She pulled her hand away while she still had the will to do so. “It’d be a mistake to even try,” she said. “Please, take me home.”
He studied her for several long seconds. She could tell he was conflicted, that there were so many things he wanted to say. The obstacles she faced were difficult for someone who’d never been through the same type of trauma to understand. But he didn’t attempt to argue with her; he started the truck.
Once they reached her bungalow, Evelyn almost jumped out before he could come to a complete stop.
“Thanks for dinner,” she mumbled.
He caught her arm, then let go right away as if he’d reacted out of instinct but wanted to show her that he would never be forceful with her. “Will you do me one favor?”
Tamping down all the useless desire he evoked, along with the frustration of feeling that desire and not being able to act on it, she swallowed around the lump in her throat. Tears seemed to be her only outlet, but she wanted to get away from him before she broke down, didn’t want him to see her cry. “What’s that?”
“Just give me a chance,” he said softly.
“Isn’t it a little premature for...for this?” she asked. “You barely know me.”
“I figure, in our situation, it’s especially important not to play games. I’m putting my heart out there, trying to make it easy for you. That’s why I’m telling you so soon. I’ll help you get through whatever your issues are. I just need you to try and trust again.”
“I’ll think about it,” she responded and fled.
Chapter 10
It wasn’t until Amarok heard the word “vandalism” that he realized Eric Bilichek, a plumber he’d known for years who sat a few seats down from him, and the stranger next to Eric, were talking about Hanover House. Then he couldn’t help but eavesdrop, just in case they said something about who had damaged the building. Amarok didn’t want to charge the Jennings boys, if they were even to blame. But if they committed the crime, and he had enough evidence to arrest them, he had to do so. He was the law around here, and the law couldn’t turn a blind eye no matter the reason he might personally want to.
“So who did it?” the stranger asked, holding his morning coffee loosely in his hands.
“No clue.” Eric shoved what was left of his breakfast away from him, so that Sandy Ledstetter, the only waitress currently working the bar at The Dinky Diner, could pick it up. “I wouldn’t turn the guy in even if I did,” Eric added with a humorless chuckle. “He just did what we’ve all been tempted to do—make our feelings known. But the fact that it happened just goes to show that you’re right. Folks here are worried, not sure we should’ve let Hanover House come to town.”
“Can’t blame ’em for being skeptical of a place like that,” the stranger said. “I mean, who is this chick—Evelyn Talbot? And what does she think she’s going to be able to do, anyway?”
Eric wiped his mouth and put his napkin on his plate. “She’s supposed to be a pretty good psychiatrist.”
“Doesn’t matter how good she is. Psychiatry in general is a joke—a pseudo-science. No one can figure out what other people are thinking—or control behavior. And having Hanover House here will change the whole community, bring in a lot of outside attention. Is that what folks here want? Did anyone even bother to ask?”
“Some asked, but there aren’t a lot of ways to earn a living in such an out-of-the-way place. I think most people decided it could be a blessing to those who need the work.”
“A blessing!” he scoffed in disbelief. “You want to know what I bet? I bet before long she’ll be pushing the government to expand, maybe even build other facilities here. There’s a place in Arizona that has seven prisons. Can you believe that? They have more inmates than citizens.” He shook his head. “Whoever let that happen was crazy.”
“One prison is plenty,” Eric responded. “We don’t want any more.”
“Then you’re going to have to make sure Dr. Talbot doesn’t get her way again. Fight her and everyone who stands behind her. If the people in the lower forty-eight can dump all their human garbage where they no longer have to smell it, they will. And if just one of those bastards ever gets loose”—the stranger whistled—“you and
everyone else here will be totally fucked. It’ll be like shooting fish in a barrel!”
“Not necessarily. Most folks in these parts are armed,” Eric said. “I promise you—anyone who comes after me is going to get a bullet between the eyes.”
“Easy to say.” The man lowered his voice. “But have you ever killed a man?”
Amarok couldn’t help leaning forward to get a better look at the stranger’s face. He didn’t like his tone, or his bravado, either. He also didn’t see why someone from outside the area would have such a strong opinion on Hanover House. Why did this jerk care so much?
“Of course I haven’t killed a man,” Eric said. “But only because I’ve never had to.”
“It takes a certain kind of person,” the guy responded.
“Anyone can kill,” Eric argued.
“No way. You’ll never see it coming. These are hardened murderers we’re talking about, people who delight in fear and degradation and pain. There won’t be a damn thing you or anyone else can do, least of all Evelyn Talbot. It’s not as if she’s like some animal trainer who’ll have a special rapport with the men she counsels. She’ll probably be the first to take it in the ass and then have her head lopped off.”
Eric finished his water. “If one escapes, the police will catch up with him eventually.”
“What police? From what I hear, you have only one state trooper in the area—and he isn’t even thirty years old.”
Eric must’ve seen Amarok walk into the diner, because he turned and glanced down the bar with a “I didn’t say that,” kind of look. Eric was familiar with him, but the stranger would have no way of knowing he was that state trooper. It was Sunday morning, so he wasn’t in uniform.
“Sergeant Amarok’s all right,” Eric told the guy. “Believe me, what he doesn’t have in age, he makes up for in ability. He’s been an Alaskan State Trooper for at least eight years, and he’s done a damn fine job of it so far.”
“A damn fine job of handing out citations for hunting or fishing in the wrong places?” the stranger said. “Or removing animal carcasses from the road?”
Eric cleared his throat. “Maybe you didn’t notice me look that way a second ago.” Or he didn’t care. That was the impression Amarok got. “But that trooper you mentioned? He’s sitting right there. And he just heard you.”
The stranger leaned forward and met Amarok’s gaze, but instead of acting embarrassed or apologetic, he grinned with an insolence that made Amarok want to punch him in the face.
“I was just stating my opinion. That’s not a crime, is it, Sergeant?” he called down.
“No, it’s not a crime at all,” Amarok responded. “What brings you to town?”
“Oh boy. Now he wants to know what I’m doing here, which means I’ve gotten on his bad side.” The stranger’s smile widened, as if he was enjoying this exchange. “I’d better be careful not to speed or run a stop sign.”
Eric tossed his new “friend” a grimace. “Sorry, Amarok,” he said as he laid some bills on the counter. “I barely met this dude, didn’t realize he was such a prick,” he said and walked out.
The guy’s smile didn’t waver despite Eric’s words. “Oh no. Now I’ve also offended a friend of yours.”
“He merely stated his opinion,” Amarok said. “That’s not a crime, remember?”
Sandy had started toward them with the coffee pot but, hearing what was going on, she froze. “Excuse me, but we’re all friends of Amarok’s,” she said. “So I’d be careful what you say about him.”
Laughing softly, the guy came to his feet. “This place is great.”
After he paid his bill and left, Amarok got up to watch him climb into his car. It was a nondescript, white sedan—a rental car.
Sandy came around the counter to stand next to him.
“Have you ever seen that guy before?” Amarok asked her.
“No. Never.”
“Then you don’t know his name.”
“Actually, I do. Said his name was John. He was flirting with me before you came in. Told me he likes brunettes.”
Sandy was only nineteen. “He’s a bit older than you, isn’t he?” Amarok felt a bit hypocritical pointing that out after protesting the age difference between him and Evelyn, but this was a much wider gap.
“By like twenty years!” she said. “He seems to think a girl like me, stuck out in ‘the middle of nowhere,’ as he put it, should be happy to catch the attention of a guy like him.”
“You didn’t accept his offer?”
“No. He’s...I don’t know. Disrespectful. I’m not interested.”
Amarok rested his hands on his hips as “John” paused to wave before pulling out of the lot. “Did he happen to mention his last name?”
“No, but he said if I wanted to have a good time, I could stop by the motel tonight, so that must be where he’s staying.”
“Good information to have,” Amarok said. That meant Margaret Seaver down at The Shady Lady would be able to provide a full name and possibly a home address.
As soon as Amarok arrived at his trooper station, he called Margaret and got the information he wanted. Then he ran it through his computer. If John Hanson was hitting up innocent young girls like Sandy and weighing in on local matters, matters that shouldn’t concern him, Amarok figured it might be worth checking to see if he had any outstanding warrants.
But his record was clean. He didn’t even have any citations.
“Too bad,” Amarok muttered. It would’ve been an absolute pleasure to arrest him.
***
A security guard came out to meet Jasper almost as soon as he parked in the as yet unpaved lot at Hanover House. It hadn’t been hard to find the construction site. When he’d asked what the place looked like, several people had explained how to get to it, and no one seemed to find the fact that he’d be interested odd. Probably because Evelyn’s pet project had received so much outside interest already—from job applicants to activists to journalists. On top of that, almost everyone in town was talking about the prison and the vandalism that had occurred recently, so it was top of mind.
Jasper wondered how Evelyn had taken the news that not everyone here would welcome her with open arms. Had that come as a surprise? Or had she already known she wasn’t a popular figure?
Did she even care?
Yes. The girl he’d known would care. That was what had fascinated him so much. She cared about everything.
“Excuse me, sir!” The guard was almost jogging in his hurry to reach Jasper. “This is a construction site. It’s not yet open to the public. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
The red-nosed man seemed a bit over-zealous about his job. But he was also twitchy, nervous. Or maybe he wasn’t nervous so much as he was a drinker, Jasper decided. That made him an odd choice for a security guard, but Jasper supposed he shouldn’t be surprised by anything he found out here. The people in Alaska did things a little differently—not to mention there weren’t a lot of people in the labor pool to choose from, so maybe whoever had hired him hadn’t had much choice.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to alarm you,” he said. “Is Dr. Talbot around?”
The guard drew himself up short and calmed down when Jasper pretended to have a legitimate reason to be there. “No, sir. I’m afraid she’s not.” He lifted a hand to protect his eyes from the sun. “Was she...was she supposed to meet you here?”
“No. I was just hoping that I might be able to catch her.” He smiled with confidence. He hadn’t expected to encounter a guard, but once he’d seen that someone with a radio had been posted to look out for the development, he couldn’t turn around and leave. That would only make his actions more suspicious.
“She was here earlier,” the man said. “But she’s gone back to her place now. She can’t work without internet service, and there’s nothing like that out here quite yet.”
“Of course not.” He stood back to stare up at the building. “Would you look at this place?
” he said and part of him was sincere in his admiration. How had the broken girl, the girl he’d left on the dirt floor of that shack with blood pouring from her neck, managed not only to recover but thrive? To bring such a major project to pass?
“It’s going to be something,” the man agreed.
“It should definitely prove interesting.”
The way the guard hooked his thumbs in his pants and stood in a slouch gave Jasper the impression he no longer felt threatened. “Are you one of the psychologists who’ll be working with Dr. Talbot?”
“No, I’m a writer. I’ve read about this place, think I might like to include a bit about it in a book I’m doing on advancements in the criminal justice world. But I haven’t yet decided if I’d really call this an ‘advancement.’”
The red-nosed man rubbed his face. Then he said, “Because...”
“I’m not quite as convinced as Dr. Talbot is that there’s anything anyone can do to curb a man’s lust for killing.”
The guy blinked in surprise. “Why not?”
“Because everyone’s so different. Generalities cause problems whenever they are applied to humans. What may be true about some psychopaths might not be true about others.”
“I-I wouldn’t know about that,” he said.
Convinced that he’d already established a rapport, Jasper studied him. “What’s your name?”
“Mason Thornton. And you are?”
“John Hanson. From Texas, most recently.”
“It’s nice to meet you, sir.” The guard accepted his hand and shook it rigorously. “I’m sure Dr. Talbot will be sorry she missed you.”
“It’s not as if we had an appointment,” he said. “I wanted to do a bit of research before contacting Dr. Talbot. But I’m definitely interested enough to speak with her now. Maybe I’ll go by her place—if I can find it.” He gestured toward the road that’d brought him here. “I know I go out and turn toward Hilltop. Then I make a left at the first road—”
