Sweet Dreams Boxed Set

by Brenda Novak

  Heat rose to her cheeks. She found it frustrating that she could be in her thirties and still feel so young and shy. Even that was embarrassing, especially because she was the type of person who always liked to be in control of herself. But she nodded, because it was true, and he responded with a huge smile.

  “Good. We’ll get where we want to go,” he said. “Just call me tonight for your first lesson. For someone so buttoned up and proper, I have a feeling that talking dirty might not come as naturally as kissing.”

  When he stepped away and called Makita, she said, “You’re leaving?”

  “I think that’s a good note to end on, don’t you?”

  “What about breakfast?”

  “I’ll grab something in town.” He leaned in to give her a quick peck as if he felt like he had to steal even that simple of a kiss. “Nice job on the zero to sixty in nanoseconds, full-on openmouthed blow-my-mind kiss, by the way. Your skills in that area won’t require any work at all.”

  ***

  The next two weeks were probably the happiest of Evelyn’s life. Although she canceled her trip to Pennsylvania and stayed in Boston—Tim said he’d take care of that interview—she continued to work. She was too disciplined not to. But she had Amarok on her mind almost all the time, and she loved the long conversations they had on the phone at night. By the end of those two weeks they were talking even more than at night. He’d call her over lunch to say hello or to see how her day was going. Or she’d call him whenever she had a break in her schedule, just because she couldn’t wait to hear his voice.

  She’d never thought she’d be looking forward to moving to Alaska for any reason other than to dig in to the studies she had planned. But it now held a different kind of attraction, one that had her humming to herself for no particular reason, or staring off into space, smiling vacantly while reliving that kiss in the kitchen of her bungalow. Although she was frightened that she was finally starting a relationship, Amarok made it all seem safe, doable.

  But...maybe that was because he was so far away. Sometimes she wondered how they were going to fare, given her phobias and history, once she didn’t have a 3400-mile buffer.

  “You’re learning,” he’d told her last night, in a husky voice, after she’d described, in great detail, everything she wanted to do to him.

  “I’m growing bold since I don’t really have to act on my words,” she’d admitted with a laugh.

  “The thought’s there,” he’d said. “That’s where it all starts.”

  He was right. The thought was there. She could think of little else.

  “Focus!” she told herself, as, once again, she tried to draw her mind back to what she was doing. She’d been packing up her office all day and still had a lot to accomplish before leaving Boston. She even had several things on her list that didn’t include Hanover House business or preparing for the big move. Tonight, for instance, she had a cocktail party for Dr. Fitzpatrick—or Tim, as she was starting to call him. She wasn’t really interested in attending it. She didn’t like the attention she received in those types of social situations. But he’d invited her personally, and since he was closing down his practice to relocate to Alaska and help make Hanover House a success, she felt as if supporting his birthday party was the least she could do.

  She checked the time on her phone. Eight o’clock. Darn, she should’ve left already.

  With a sigh, she tucked her hair behind her ears and surveyed what she had yet to pack. She had to sort through her desk and box up the contents, but she didn’t have to be out for another few days. The lease didn’t expire until the 31st.

  Even with her busy schedule, she’d make it, she told herself, and hurried to the bathroom to repair her appearance for the party, which turned out to be far less crowded than she’d expected. It was only her, Tim and two colleagues she’d met at various forensic conferences, which made her especially glad she hadn’t bailed out. They talked about Hanover House, the list of psychopaths they were having shipped there, a few new and particularly gruesome crimes that were as yet unsolved and the type of person who’d probably committed those crimes. Then they talked about Jasper and where she thought he might be living these days. That he’d never been caught seemed to come up in whatever group she was with.

  Evelyn would’ve left after an hour, once she’d put in an appearance. But with such a small crowd, she knew it would reveal her lack of true interest. There was no melding into the background and slipping out in a gathering of four. So she stayed for several hours despite the fact that she was dying to get home and call Amarok.

  Even after holding out for so long, when she left, Tim seemed disappointed. “We were just getting started!” he complained.

  “I’m moving to Hanover House before you, and have so much yet to do. I’m sorry. I’ve really got to get some sleep.”

  He put his hand over hers in what she hoped was merely a “caring” gesture. “Then...should we call you a cab?”

  “No. I’ve only had a little wine.”

  He’d had much more, which was evident in the way he squinted at her glass. “Really?”

  “It’s mostly been soda water for me,” she said with a laugh.

  After she told everyone goodbye, she rushed to her car. Finally, she was free.

  As she got in and buckled up, she listened to the voicemails Amarok had left. “God, you’re all I can think about. Call me,” was message number one. “I can’t wait to see you again,” was message number two. And “Damn! Are you ever going to call me back?” was message number three.

  She chuckled to herself as she pulled out of the lot and used Bluetooth to call him back.

  “There you are,” he teased as if she’d been missing for days. “Where are you?”

  “Driving from Arlington to Chestnut Hill.” She told him about the cocktail party and that she’d almost finished packing up her office. And he told her that the parents of two young men—Chad and Tex Jennings—had come forward to turn in their sons for vandalizing Hanover House.

  “So we know who did it?”

  “I suspected them before, which is why I spoke to them and their parents.”

  “What kind of punishment can they expect?” she asked.

  “Restitution. Probably a fine on top of that. Maybe even a few days in jail.”

  “Are they also the ones who cut my phone line my last night in Hilltop?”

  “They claim they didn’t, but maybe they’re too scared to confess. They know they’re already in a shitload of trouble.”

  “It had to be them,” she said. “There’s no other explanation for it.”

  “I think so too.”

  “Did they say why they did it?”

  “They were just out acting stupid, which is sad, because their parents need the income they earn.”

  “Is this their first offense?”

  “They’ve done other petty stuff—taking a neighbor’s gnome from the yard and putting it up on the roof, skinny-dipping in hot tubs they don’t own, throwing parties that get a bit too loud when their parents have been in Anchorage for medical treatment. This is by far the most serious. Most of the time, I actually like them.”

  “If it would help to have me talk to the judge at sentencing, I will.”

  “We’ll see how it goes. Maybe they deserve a good scare. Maybe it’ll make them take life a little more seriously.”

  “I just feel bad for their parents.”

  “So do I. But I’m merely the enforcer. I don’t make the laws or have any input on the punishment.”

  She adjusted the heater. “Being a cop must suck sometimes.”

  “No more than being a psychiatrist. You must hear some terrible things.”

  “I do.”

  “How do you handle all the negativity?”

  “I look for answers in it—ways to improve our penal system. Someone has to—”

  “Just a sec,” he broke in and covered the phone. When he came back on he said, “Can I call you bac
k? I’ve got some hunters here who have questions.”

  “Of course,” she said and got off I-95 at the Yankee Division Highway. She was almost home, couldn’t wait to get inside and go to bed—and maybe visit with Amarok a bit more before falling asleep. She didn’t mind losing another thirty minutes if it meant she could talk to him.

  But she never made it home. Just as she came to a full stop at the traffic light a few blocks from her condo, a car slammed into her from behind.

  Chapter 14

  He’d chosen the perfect time. It was late enough that the roads were deserted. But he may have hit her too hard.

  Jasper waited to see if Evelyn would get out of her BMW and come to collect his insurance information and driver’s license number. What he’d done couldn’t be classified as a major crash, but he’d jolted her pretty good and rumpled both fenders. She should get out to at least view the damage—and when she did, he’d have her. It was too dark for her to see into his car, too dark for her to be able to ascertain that he was wearing a mask. He’d just keep his head down until she got close, as if he was hurt, and then he’d grab her. Even if she screamed, it should be okay because it would take only a couple of seconds to drag her into the car. They’d be gone before anyone could react.

  But she didn’t get out of the car. She remained inside even after the light turned green, as if she was shocked and uncertain—or maybe hurt...

  “Come on, damn it,” he muttered, but he realized in that moment that he’d underestimated her, after all. She was too smart to allow herself to be so easily fooled, too smart to make herself vulnerable despite normal protocol. She certainly wasn’t going to risk getting hurt over a little car damage. Maybe she’d even heard of this type of trick. Since she worked in the criminal justice world, she’d probably heard everything.

  Anyway, she didn’t get out; she punched the gas pedal and tore around the corner.

  Jasper had only a split second to decide what to do. Did he let her go again? Or did he chase her down?

  Afraid he may never have another chance, he stomped on the gas pedal and flew around the corner, too. She wasn’t going to get away from him this time, he decided. He’d smash her whole damn car, kill her that way, if he had to. How dare her think that she could stand up to him? That she could get away no matter what she did?

  He thought he would wind up killing her when he raced up to the side and swerved into her. He didn’t have time to mess around. He had to bring this little car chase to an end right away.

  He could see the terror in her eyes, could see her mouth open in a scream—right before he forced her car into the curb. It probably would only have stopped her, if she hadn’t been going so fast. Instead, it turned her car over.

  Was she dead? Maybe. But he wasn’t about to leave her there, wasn’t about to risk that she might still be alive.

  Slamming on his brakes, he skidded to a stop, shoved the transmission into park and rushed over before the noise he’d caused could drag the people in this quiet neighborhood from the depths of sleep. She was dangling upside down, but she wasn’t dead. She wasn’t even unconscious. She was moaning and grabbing her seat belt as if she wanted to get it off.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he said and cut the strap before pulling her out through the broken window.

  “My phone,” she mumbled. “The police.”

  The glass had cut her in several places. He could see blood rolling down her arms. But she seemed too disoriented to fully comprehend what was going on, which was fortunate. She only knew she was afraid.

  “I’ll call them for you,” he said and dragged her over to his car, at which point he threw her in the trunk and took off.

  ***

  As soon as he got a few blocks from where he’d left Evelyn’s car, Jasper slowed down and removed his mask. His desire to get away from the crash site as soon as possible had to be tempered by the threat of drawing attention for driving like a bat out of hell. It was important to act as if he was just an every day guy, someone with nothing to hide. He’d found if he could sell that well, most people would believe whatever story he told or whatever image he portrayed, and acting bold and confident contributed to his success.

  So he calmed down and pretended as if he hadn’t just kidnapped the psychiatrist so many people would recognize from TV.

  He hoped he’d escaped without anyone spotting his car. It seemed like it. No one had come running. But even if he had gotten away cleanly, there was the issue of his banged up vehicle. It was obvious that it had been in an accident. As soon as possible, he needed to get off the road and stay off the road.

  Which he planned to do as soon as he reached Waltham. That would take fifteen minutes. It’d be another five or ten before he could get to his hideaway.

  Jasper didn’t want to stop before he reached his safe spot, so he wasn’t pleased when Evelyn started to scream and kick at the trunk lid. He’d disabled the release the manufacturer had installed, so she couldn’t get out, but she could certainly draw attention, which meant he had to do something.

  After pulling into an alley, he opened the trunk and covered her mouth with a rag dosed in a homemade version of chloroform.

  “That should do the trick,” he muttered when she went limp, and hopped back behind the wheel.

  ***

  As soon as Amarok got home for the night, he tried calling Evelyn. It’d been only thirty minutes since he’d talked to her before, but he couldn’t reach her. “Hey, it’s me again,” he said as he turned on the TV and lay down on the couch. “You’ve probably gone to bed. You could use the sleep. Good luck finishing the move out of your office tomorrow. Wish I was there to haul things around for you.”

  When he hung up, he didn’t expect to hear from her until morning. So he was surprised to receive a call from her number only seconds later. “There you are,” he said, and silenced his TV with the remote.

  The person who responded wasn’t Evelyn; it wasn’t even a woman. “Who is this?”

  “Who is this?” Amarok responded.

  “Officer Pierce Schwartz, of the Arlington Police Department.”

  Amarok sat up. “Police department! Why do you have Evelyn’s phone?”

  “Can I get your name, please?”

  “Of course. It’s Sergeant Benjamin Murphy. I’m an Alaskan State Trooper living in Hilltop. I’m also a friend of Evelyn Talbot’s. What’s going on?”

  “I’m afraid she’s been in an accident,” came the response.

  Amarok’s stomach twisted into knots. “Where? How? Is she okay?”

  “We don’t know,” he said. “She’s gone.”

  ***

  Once he pulled deep into the copse of trees to make sure his car would remain hidden even if someone came out to this remote area, Jasper left Evelyn in the trunk and trudged down the hill to get the wagon he used to transport supplies. It was dark and there was no one around—he’d never seen anyone here—so he was breathing easier now that he was off the beaten path. But he was growing worried about the fact that she hadn’t woken up yet. Had he used too much chloroform?

  Those chemicals could be dangerous. And he’d been acting so fast. It wasn’t as if he’d had the opportunity to measure...

  As soon as he got her into the wagon, which wasn’t easy since it’d been created for children and her limp body sprawled all over, he checked for a pulse—and breathed a sigh of relief when he found one. Good. Her heart was beating. That was fortunate.

  Using a flashlight to avoid the briers and bigger rocks, he carted her down the hill and dumped her on the bed inside the shack.

  “Welcome home,” he said. “I think you’re going to like what I’ve done to the place. For one, I haven’t set it on fire yet, so that’ll be an improvement.” He’d been tempted. That visit Hillary had received from the police had sent him into a full-blown panic. But he was glad now that he’d held off and hadn’t gone too far. Since he’d been home he’d kept a close eye on the news. He’d also spo
ken to the detectives who’d come by, and they didn’t seem particularly suspicious of him. They were checking every car within a twenty mile radius of the kidnapping that had the same make and model as what the witness had seen and, fortunately, a lot of people in the Boston area had blue Toyota Camrys.

  “Can you believe we’re back together? After so long?” he said to Evelyn’s inert form. “It’s unbelievable, isn’t it? We haven’t seen each other since high school.”

  He took out the picture he kept in the secret compartment of his wallet and taped it to a chair, which he put in front of the bed. He wanted that to be the first thing she saw when she woke up, wanted her to know he’d be coming back for her. Then he set about tying her to the iron frame like he had the last woman. He didn’t think she’d mind the old, crusty pools of blood. It wasn’t easy to get a mattress down here.

  “I guess I can’t ask if that’s too tight around your wrists,” he said. Then he laughed, since he didn’t give a shit anyway. He hoped it was good and tight, hoped it cut off the blood and made her miserable. It’d give her a taste of what she had to look forward to.

  He was almost done when his cell phone rang. His wife had flown off to meet her sister in New York City so they could see a Broadway musical and spend the night at a hotel in the theater district. So what the hell was she doing calling him in the middle of the night?

  He hesitated, wondering if he should answer it. If he were asleep, he wouldn’t answer it. So he let it go to voicemail. Then he checked to see if she’d left a message.

  “What the hell’s going on?” she cried. “Chelsea just called me crying. She said she’s sick. That she’s throwing up, and you aren’t anywhere to be found.”

  “Son of a bitch,” he muttered and hurried up the hill to where he’d left the car so that he could get a better signal before calling her back. He’d given the girls some cough medicine that was supposed to help them sleep. He’d expected them to be knocked out until morning. So what was Chelsea doing up? He couldn’t have given her too much. He’d been careful about the dosage. But maybe she was allergic to it.