Sweet Dreams Boxed Set

by Brenda Novak

  “No, that’d be a right,” Mason Thornton corrected. “You go down to the bottom of the hill on Greenscape, make a left on Edison and then, after about five miles, take a right by the big water tower, where you’ll find a little street called Great Basin. Turn left there. Her house is the fourth one you’ll come across.”

  “That’s it. I guess I got turned around.” He smiled pleasantly. “But I’m sure I can find it now. Thank you so much for your help.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Thornton said, and Jasper waved as he walked back to his car.

  This was going to be too easy.

  Chapter 11

  Evelyn admitted she wanted to sleep with him. That was the part that drove Amarok crazy. She wanted him—and he wanted her. So it seemed as if they should be able to overcome all the rest, no matter what stood between them.

  “Dammit,” he muttered as he wandered listlessly around his house. It was getting late. He should go to bed. Tomorrow would be the start of another work week. But instead of heading down the hall and peeling off his clothes, he kept eyeing his keys and thinking about the beautiful psychiatrist who was staying for only a short time on the other side of town.

  She’d let him get a lot closer to her than anyone else, maybe since Jasper. He liked that she trusted him that much. He also liked the rather shy way she’d let him take her hand before they drove over to get that burger.

  But would what they felt go anywhere?

  He couldn’t remember another woman ever getting under his skin quite like this.

  Of course, he’d never met anyone quite like Evelyn Talbot. As much as he disagreed with the risks she took, he had to admit that she was something special, a woman unlike any other.

  When his phone rang, he hurried over to grab it, but it wasn’t her. Caller ID showed his father’s number.

  Amarok wasn’t eager to talk to Hank. Typically, they got along well. Amarok even liked his stepmother, Joanne, who was a fairly recent addition to his father’s life. But the three of them were in the middle of a disagreement over how he should handle his real mother.

  Amarok would’ve let it go to voicemail, except he figured it would give him something to think about besides Evelyn, and that seemed kind of important at the moment. “’Lo?”

  “What’s going on?” Hank asked.

  “Not a lot.”

  “Prison finished yet?”

  “No, and it won’t be for a couple of months.” He considered telling his father about the vandalism. Hank wasn’t the type to blab about it to anyone. Since he’d moved to Anchorage almost as soon as Amarok had become an Alaskan State Trooper, he wasn’t all that invested in Hilltop. But Amarok didn’t care to talk about anything that reminded him of Evelyn. The idea behind accepting this call was to forget about her for a while.

  “Are you still angry it’s there?” Hank asked.

  “I’m not excited about it.” Just the woman behind it...

  “So...have you decided?”

  Amarok could tell by the tone of Hank’s voice that he was changing the topic. “I gave you my answer when we talked last time, Dad.”

  “I was hoping you’d change your mind.”

  “No.”

  “Come on, Amarok. Your mother’s specifically requested that you be there, and she’s not getting any younger. What’s the point of holding a grudge? It’s time to forgive her.”

  Just last week his twin brother, Jason, had called from where he lived in Seattle to say the same thing. “She left me, Dad. She dropped me off at a friend’s house, took my brother and moved to Seattle without even telling us. I can’t believe you’re the one who’s asking me to forgive her.”

  “She wasn’t happy in Alaska. And since I didn’t have the money to go after her, I was just glad she didn’t take both of you.”

  He sank onto one of the chairs at his kitchen table. “She could’ve called me occasionally. Remained part of my life. But she didn’t. She’s the one who cut contact, not me.”

  “But don’t you see? That was something else I was grateful for. I didn’t want you begging me to leave Hilltop too—to go to your mother and brother.”

  “So you didn’t tell me I had a brother? You let me be blindsided when Jason called me on our eighteenth birthday?”

  The phone went silent. Then his father sighed audibly. “I’m sorry for that. I’ve apologized before. I figured what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “Dad, I love it here. It’s in my blood. I’ll never leave.”

  “I understand that now. I wasn’t as sure of it then.”

  “Yeah, well, thanks for the lack of faith.”

  His father ignored his sarcasm. “Then you won’t come to your mother’s 50th birthday party? We’ll all be there—for the first time in years.”

  “I won’t be there. I don’t wish her ill; I just don’t care to associate with her.”

  “All right. I won’t ask again,” he said. “So, will you be visiting Anchorage any time soon?”

  Amarok rubbed his forehead. His father seemed happier than he’d ever been. His seafood exporting business had been picking up, and Joanne treated him a great deal better than his first wife. Amarok was grateful for that, didn’t want to ruin it. “I’ll come this weekend or the next.”

  “Great. Let us know what day you pick. We’ll make you a nice dinner.”

  “Thanks,” he said. Then he told his father he had to go, that he had to be up early and took Makita outside before heading to bed.

  ***

  Evelyn felt uneasy. She wasn’t sure why. She supposed she was still getting used to her new home. She was also beginning to regret building where she had. While the other doctors on her team had chosen to live close together, in a small, rather exclusive enclave north of town, she’d come out this way to take advantage of the view. She’d also wanted some space, the ability to break away from those she worked with, at least at night. But the only neighbor she’d met so far had a mentally handicapped son who stared at her whenever she drove by, without blinking or waving or responding in any way. And that gave her chills, even though she knew it was just her background coming into play. She saw danger lurking around every corner. The mayor and several other people had told her that Kit was harmless and, when she was thinking clearly, she believed it.

  Determined not to succumb to the fear that could so easily creep into her consciousness, she tore her gaze away from the darkness behind the edges of the blind that covered her office window and continued to pore over the file she’d been reading on a man by the name of Cary Wolff. Like Jasper, Cary had started killing when he was only in his teens. Unlike Jasper, Cary had been caught and was currently in a Colorado maximum-security prison.

  She wanted to add him to the roster for Hanover House, but that meant she’d have to forego another inmate she’d already put on the list. She was just trying to decide which one to replace when a noise from outside brought her head up. It sounded like a vehicle had pulled into her drive, and yet, when she went out into the living room and parted the drapes to look out, she didn’t see anyone.

  Feeling even more anxious, she dug her cell out of her purse and stared at the “no service” message at the top. She hated that she couldn’t use her smartphone in Hilltop. She’d come to rely on it for almost everything, from email to directions to listening to music to reading and watching movies.

  At least she had a land line, she told herself. It wasn’t as if she was completely cut off.

  “Why did the government have to pick Alaska?” she mumbled and was about to head back to her study when she spotted a pair of headlights. She might not have thought anything about a car being in the area—she did have a few neighbors—but they were down the street to her right, not her left. Her street turned into a dirt road that led up into the mountains about a mile after her place. Why would anyone be up that direction so late at night?

  And it was odd the way they were angling their car, because it made the lights shine right on her
house.

  Could it be a couple of kids, making out? She could see someone parking on the hill to enjoy the few scattered lights of Hilltop below. But why would they park in such a strange fashion—and why wouldn’t they turn off their lights?

  Once again, she wished she’d brought her gun, knew she’d feel safer if she had it. But she’d been in too much of a hurry. When she traveled with it, she had to disclose that she had one even though she always checked it with her baggage, and that extended the time it took to get through security, because they had to search her bag to make sure it was in a locked case and that she’d conformed to their other rules and regulations.

  For this trip, she hadn’t been planning to be gone long, had figured the chances of anything happening to her while she was here had to be minimal. None of the psychopaths she was bringing to town had been moved yet, and Hilltop hadn’t had a murder or anything like it in years.

  Now she felt as if letting those practical concerns overcome her usual caution had been a mistake, however. Staring back at those headlights gave her the creeps. What was that person—or people—doing? Why were they there?

  She thought of Amarok, wanted to call him. She’d wanted to call him all night, but now she felt as if she might be justified. Like she’d told her mother, it was better to be safe and wrong than not safe and sorry.

  After staring at those headlights for another several seconds, during which that vehicle didn’t move, she hurried over to her phone.

  But when she lifted the receiver, she couldn’t get a dial tone.

  ***

  Jasper put on the backpack he’d prepared in Anchorage. Then he pulled on his ski mask. There wasn’t anyone around, but in case the worst happened, he didn’t need someone who knew what he looked like these days helping the police build a composite sketch, and he sure as hell didn’t care to set himself up for more surgery. With all the empathy his parents felt for others, they wouldn’t be able to justify helping him if they learned that he’d killed again. They’d only done it the first time because he’d told them he was high on acid when he killed Evelyn’s friends and thought they were zombies—and then Evelyn had surprised him, and he’d panicked.

  No, it was far more practical to protect his identity, to mitigate the risk. Although at first, he’d hated having to wear a mask, he’d used it so much in the past twenty years that it had become part of the fun. Feeling the heat of it, the scratchy fibers against his cheeks, signaled to his brain that he was about to engage in what he loved most.

  That excitement nearly consumed him now. He wasn’t going out to kidnap another woman who looked like Evelyn; he was going to confront Evelyn herself.

  He’d parked his car such that he’d been able to shine his lights on her house long enough to let her know something terrible was about to happen. He liked the idea of giving her a good scare, of making her wonder if her day of reckoning had come. Invoking that kind of terror was an important part of the foreplay, and he’d always been good at foreplay.

  Since then he’d moved his rental car down the windy street and parked it off the road behind some trees. He was a stranger in the area. He didn’t want anyone else to spot it. The more careful he was, the less likely it would be that he’d have to answer for this later—and what good would it do to finally finish off Evelyn if he went to prison for it?

  Careful not to make a sound, he crept around to the far side of the bungalow. He wasn’t concerned that she would figure out he was about to break in. She couldn’t get away, regardless. She couldn’t even call for help, since he’d cut her phone line. He was only being so quiet because he wanted to check things out before he made his move. He’d be a fool to underestimate her: She could be armed.

  If he could get another glimpse of her, it would help him know if she was carrying a weapon, he thought, as he moved silently from window to window...

  But she wasn’t in the living room anymore, where he’d briefly caught sight of her from the car. And he couldn’t tell if she was in the bedroom. There were blinds instead of drapes in the bedroom, and those blinds were down.

  “Where are you, Evelyn?” he breathed to himself and paused to listen. He even put his ear to the back door.

  Nothing.

  He figured he might as well break a window. Someone with her background would have deadbolts on all the doors, so he doubted he’d be able to kick one in.

  Closing his eyes, he reveled in a rush of anticipation while imagining how the next few seconds would go. If she had a gun, the noise he was about to make would most likely draw her to him—and he’d have to make sure, if she fired, that she missed. If she didn’t have a gun, she’d probably try to run.

  Either way, he’d have to move quickly to subdue her. But she’d be scared shitless. She’d have to be. And there was nothing more debilitating than fear. He’d seen it so many times: people who could usually think and act quite rationally freezing up in terror. Since Evelyn, of all people, would have a clear knowledge of what was in store for her, he didn’t think it would be hard to gain the advantage. Even if she had a gun, she’d be lucky to get off one shot, which would probably go into a wall or the ceiling, before he could shove the barrel of his own firearm in her mouth.

  He was fairly certain that would put an end to all resistance. Then he could put the gun in other orifices—and with someone as strong as Evelyn, the torture could last for days.

  It had before, hadn’t it?

  Choosing the widest window, he pulled out the small area rug he’d shoved in his backpack. It was thick enough to protect him from the broken glass, thicker than a blanket or a towel. But before he could lift the butt of his rifle, he heard the sound of a vehicle coming down the street. Then a car door slammed, a dog barked, and, almost right after, someone rang the doorbell.

  Chapter 12

  “Were you the one sitting down the street?” After checking the peephole, Evelyn had opened her front door to find Amarok, and the beautiful Alaskan Malamute she’d occasionally seen with him in town, standing on her front stoop.

  Amarok seemed taken aback. “Sitting down the street?”

  Pressing a hand to her chest in an effort to slow her heartbeat, Evelyn leaned out of her house to be able to see where that car had been. It wasn’t there any more. It had driven away ten or fifteen minutes earlier. She’d definitely taken note of that. But the memory alone made her uneasy. “Someone was parked right there.” She pointed to the spot. “They stayed for several minutes, but...I’m pretty sure it was a car, not a truck.”

  “It wasn’t me,” he said. “Did you happen to get the make and model of the vehicle?”

  “No. It had its headlights shining right on the front of my house. I couldn’t see anything for the glare.”

  “When I was driving here, I didn’t pass anyone on this street.” He looked at her with concern, as if he could tell she was badly shaken. “Are you okay? Did whoever was driving that car threaten you in any way?”

  She shook her head. “No. To my knowledge, they didn’t even come on to the property. But...my phone’s dead, which seemed significant, since there’s been no storm, no reason for it to go out—especially at the same time I have someone shining their lights into my house so late at night.”

  He glanced up and down the street, which was perfectly dark and quiet. “Go back in and lock the door,” he said. “I’ll take a look around.”

  She caught his arm. “Wait. How did you know?”

  “How did I know what?”

  “How did you know to come?”

  “I didn’t,” he replied.

  “So why are you here?”

  When he paused, she didn’t think he was going to answer. But then he lifted her chin with one finger. “I wanted to see you before you left. I was afraid you’d go back to Boston in the morning and decide”—he shook his head as if he wasn’t convinced he should continue, but he did—“decide to carry on as usual, without giving me another thought.”

  She didn’t know h
ow to respond to that. What she wanted and what she could allow were two different things. But she was glad he’d shown up when he did. She’d had herself talked into all kinds of craziness—that Jasper had finally caught up with her, or one of the psychopaths she’d evaluated over the years had come to kill her. Even with her phone out, that seemed like an overreaction now, but it’d felt incredibly real a few seconds earlier.

  When she slipped her arms around Amarok’s neck, she could feel his surprise. But then his hands slid up her back, and he held her against him. She needed the embrace, needed his warmth and the reassuring firmness of his body to help her stop shaking.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered as his lips brushed the temple that didn’t have stitches. “I’m sorry you were frightened. But nothing bad’s going to happen. I promise.”

  The problem was...she knew that something bad could always happen. “My phone’s out,” she said, going back to that. “Why would my phone be out unless—”

  “Don’t assume the worst,” he broke in. “I’ll check it, see what’s going on. But even if someone cut the line, what you’ve been through is no secret. Whoever did it could simply be trying to scare you.”

  They’d succeeded. It didn’t take much. Although she hated to admit it, those scars—the ones on the inside—made her so vulnerable. She’d probably always be easy to spook. A lot of times, even when she had her gun with her, she would lay awake at night, listening to every sound. “You think someone wants to scare me away from Hilltop? That it might be...might be the same person who vandalized Hanover House?”

  “That, or it’s possible someone just thinks it’s funny. But if I find out who that someone is, I’m going to make them awfully sorry.” He stepped back and told his dog to go inside with her. “Makita will stay with you until I check things out.”

  She nodded and closed the door so that Makita wouldn’t be tempted to follow his master.

  She would never be without her gun again, Evelyn promised herself, would never leave herself so vulnerable, even if she was going to miss her plane or be gone for only a few days.