Sweet Dreams Boxed Set (95 page)

“Your mom loves you, you know,” he said.

She nodded, absently looking for anything that might be out of place. “We’ll work through it.”

He propped his hands on his hips as if he might say more. But he must’ve realized that nothing would convince her to change her mind.  She was going to Alaska no matter what. So, after a sigh, he put his arms around her.

“We
both
love you,” he said. Then he was gone and she was left to lower the blinds and listen to the settling noises of her condo while wishing she’d insisted they take the time to stop by her sister’s to pick up her cat. The house felt so empty without Sigmund...

Evelyn wondered how many women, like her, had to feel afraid, even inside their own homes. Probably not a lot per capita. But there were other survivors out there. They understood.

She took her gun from the kitchen drawer and went through her nightly ritual where she checked every nook and cranny that could possibly hide a human being. Only when she felt confident that no one was going to jump out at her did she put her gun on the counter, slip off her shoes and turn on the TV.

The nightly news came on. She watched for a few minutes, trying to relax so that she could sleep. She wanted to see if anything about her experience at San Quentin would be reported. But hearing about a missing woman and then a murder downtown didn’t help her anxiety. She kept glancing at the darkness beyond her windows, wondering if someone was out there—and if that someone might try to get in before morning.

She’d just walked over to fix herself a drink when her phone rang.

The Alaskan area code told her it had to do with Hanover House. It was four hours earlier there, so not too late to be calling someone. But Bob Ferris, the warden she’d hired, had taken his family to Hawaii for two weeks, before he had to start work in earnest, so who could this be? A member of the mental health team who’d gone to Alaska to oversee the building of his or her home?

“Hello?”

“Dr. Talbot?”

The deep voice on the other end of the line gave the caller’s identity away before he could provide his name. It wasn’t a member of the team. It was Benjamin Murphy—or Sergeant Amarok, as the locals called him—the handsome Alaskan State Trooper who served as Hilltop’s only police presence, other than the two part-time Village Public Safety Officers he designated each summer to help him enforce the hunting and fishing regulations, which was the bulk of his job.

“Sergeant, what can I do for you?” She caught her breath, feeling that odd rush of excitement that came over her whenever he was around. She wasn’t often attracted to someone like she was attracted to him—and had been from the first moment she’d set eyes on him. Especially someone who didn’t particularly like her in return.

“I’m afraid there’s been some vandalism at the prison,” he replied. “I received a call from the construction crew this morning, and went out to have a look. I left you a voicemail, but when I didn’t hear back, I thought I’d better try again.”

She’d been flying all day, hadn’t yet checked her messages. “
Some
vandalism?” she echoed nervously. She didn’t need trouble. What she was trying to accomplish was difficult enough...

“Yes. The copper pipes, tubing and wiring have been ripped out,” he explained.

“That sounds more like theft.”

“Except they didn’t steal it. They dumped it on site. And they smashed the windows on the office side, knocked over the portable johns, which created a sickening mess, and spray-painted the walls with...I’ll just say...unfriendly messages.”

“Geared toward who or what?”

“‘Keep your crazies in the lower forty-eight,’ that sort of thing, only with slightly more explicit language.”

“So it was directed at
me
.”

“Since one word began with a ‘C’ and was used repeatedly, I can only assume whoever did this wasn’t directing their remarks to the men involved in this project.”

“I see.” She rubbed her arms, feeling chilled even though it wasn’t cold. Some of the people in Hilltop were leery about the kind of facility she was building in their backyard, but it was primarily Sergeant Amarok who’d revealed express opposition. Did that mean anything here? It certainly jumped out at her right away. He’d lobbied against the prison—quite vocally—until the mayor and a handful of other key citizens managed to convince him to back off for the sake of the jobs Hanover House would create.

At that point, Amarok had gone silent, as if he’d considered himself outvoted, but Evelyn wasn’t under the illusion that he’d changed his mind. He didn’t want her in his town. He scowled if they ever happened to bump into each other, or had occasion to attend the same meeting—and there’d been several instances when she’d found it necessary to sit down with the mayor and the city council, as well as various prominent Hilltop “influencers.”

Once, when she’d gone to eat at the local diner, Amarok had been there too. She’d thought he might approach her, as a professional courtesy if nothing else, but he hadn’t. He’d remained in his own booth, watching her as if he didn’t trust her a whole lot more than she trusted the psychopaths she studied.

“Do you have any idea who might’ve done it?” She wondered how much it was going to cost, and if this would mean they’d have to delay the opening. That certainly wouldn’t help her new venture get off to a smooth start.

“’Fraid not.”

She was trying to decide if he was taking any pleasure from this unfortunate occurrence, but that wasn’t easy to determine over the phone. “Interesting...”

“Why would it be ‘interesting’ as opposed to some other word?” he asked.

“Because the only person I can name who hasn’t been excited about the benefits of having such a tremendous influx of federal money injected into the local economy is...” She caught herself before she could actually accuse him. She was reacting to the sting of rejection she felt as a result of that graffiti, and the fact that she didn’t want someone she was attracted to knowing—or telling her—that she wasn’t wanted. It wasn’t often she experienced the kind of sexual awareness Amarok evoked. At least 6’2”, with broad-shoulders, a muscular build, thick black hair and the most gorgeous blue eyes she’d ever seen, he was beyond handsome. All he had to do was look at her to make her weak in the knees. But she had no romantic notions where he was concerned. She hadn’t had sex with a man, with anyone, since Jasper. He’d ruined her in that way, made it impossible for her to overcome the memory of his abuse long enough to become intimate.

Besides, if she had to guess, she’d say Amarok was only twenty-seven or twenty-eight. That meant he was nearly ten years her junior, which made even
dating
him unlikely.

“Because the only person you know who isn’t excited you’re coming to town
is
...” he prompted.

She could tell he wasn’t fooled, that he knew exactly what she’d been about to say. “Never mind. Are you-are you going to look into it? Will you try to find those responsible?”

“Of course.” He sounded offended that she’d even ask. “Whether I’m excited to have Hanover House as my new neighbor or not, it’s my job to protect it now that it’s here. I’m calling you to suggest you get some security, though. It’s a miracle whoever trashed the place didn’t take that copper.”

Suddenly far more fatigued than she’d been a moment earlier, she rubbed her face in spite of her makeup. “Since they left it, I’m guessing they were trying to make trouble, not money.” And if the press printed something about it, maybe they would be successful. Sometimes it only took a spark to start a firestorm, which was why she’d been so worried that what Hugo had done would reach the media.

That could still happen, and now she had to worry about this too. But she’d known, when she first set out to establish Hanover House, that it wouldn’t be an easy undertaking.

“I agree,” he said. “Problem is they could always change their minds and decide to get a bit more out of it. Or someone else could come along, now that it’s such easy pickings. I can’t sit out there around the clock and guard it. I have other responsibilities.”

When she said nothing, his voice softened. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes. Thank you for calling.”

He didn’t hang up right away. “Are you...okay?”

That he could tell she wasn’t feeling her best surprised her. That he’d asked rather grudgingly didn’t. “Of course.” She put more effort into speaking stridently, confidently. “I’ll be fine. I’ve come this far, haven’t I?”

“When will you be back here?”

She thought of her trip to Pennsylvania next week. If she flew to Alaska as soon as possible, maybe she could offset any future troubles before they cropped up and return in time to keep her appointment with the prison that caged the next psychopath on her list. “I’ll be there as soon as I can catch a flight.”

“You’re not going to let
anything
stand in your way, are you,” he said.

It was a statement, not a question.

She let her breath go in a long, silent sigh. “No, I’m not.”

Chapter 4

She was dead.

“Andy Smith” frowned as he gazed into the sightless eyes of his latest victim. He’d been planning to kill her eventually. But he’d expected to have a few more days to play with her.

Damn! She’d spoiled his fun. How could he have thought this woman to be anything like Evelyn? This bitch didn’t have
half
the strength. It’d taken less to kill her than any of his other victims—except the girl he’d kidnapped from the bus stop in Georgia. That one had had diabetes. He’d been curious to see what would happen to her without insulin, so he’d removed her pump—and found out within twenty-four hours. Once she’d gone into a coma, it didn’t matter how much insulin he injected. He couldn’t get her out of it.

He paced back and forth across the dirt floor of his hideaway. What should he do now? He’d been so excited to arrive this morning, so relieved when Hillary had agreed to put the kids into an “after camp” program so he could attend the “technical training” he claimed to have registered for. She didn’t expect to see him until dinner, which gave him all day.

So maybe he’d have some fun with the corpse.

He sat next to it on the old iron bed. He supposed he could see if there was any satisfaction to be gained. As far as he was concerned, she deserved whatever he could devise. Normally after a kill, he experienced such a tremendous release that he could go months before the tension began to build again.

But she’d denied him that, left him hanging—and after he’d gone to the trouble of building this damn shack so that it would be almost identical to the one where he’d kept Evelyn. He wished he could’ve built in the same spot, but even if it wouldn’t have been risking too much, there were houses there now. The most he could do was drive through the area every once in a while and allow himself to enjoy the memory.

He’d never experienced anything more fulfilling or gratifying than those three days with Evelyn. The look of shock on her face when she found her friends dead had been priceless. And that first rush of freedom, when he’d decided he’d do whatever he wanted regardless of what anyone had to say about it... Wow!

After cutting the woman’s hands and feet loose, he took off the blood-encrusted gag. Then he removed the banana he’d shoved into her rectum. He had something else he planned to put there, wanted one final hurrah...

But his body wouldn’t cooperate. This dead woman no longer appealed to him, no longer reminded him the least bit of Evelyn, so he didn’t care to touch her. He figured he might as well vacuum her body with his battery-powered vacuum, sprinkle it with lime, wrap it in plastic and bury it like he had all the others.  

Or maybe he could put off the disposal until later this afternoon. He was sort of curious to see what rigor mortis might do. He hadn’t had the time or the space to experiment with that sort of thing in the past. His wife before Hillary had made good money, but she’d been on him like white on rice...

If he put off the digging, he could spend the morning watching Evelyn’s parents’ house. That also encouraged him to wait. According to what he’d read in the paper, Hanover House was scheduled to open in November. That meant he had only a few months to find Evelyn—and to show her that she wouldn’t have to worry about moving so far away after all.

***

It was Evelyn’s mother who gave her a ride to the airport. Lara wasn’t happy that Evelyn was leaving again. She made that clear with a lecture on how Evelyn should take better care of herself, which Evelyn did her best to tolerate. She’d asked her father to drive her since she’d known Brianne, her younger sister, had to work, but he’d had a tee time that conflicted. To be helpful, he’d lined up Lara, and once her mother had agreed, Evelyn didn’t feel as if she could change her mind and take her own car. That would not go over well after the difficulty they’d had getting along on their trip to San Francisco.

“You still have stitches in your head,” Lara complained as they reached Logan Airport.

“They won’t be there long,” Evelyn responded, watching the signs for the various airlines slip past.

“Do you know a doctor in Hilltop? Who will take them out?”

Evelyn shrugged. “Maybe I’ll do it myself. It can’t be hard.”

Her mother shot her a dirty look.

“Okay, I’ll drive to Anchorage and have a professional do it.”

At last, they reached the drop off and Lara pulled to the curb so Evelyn could get out.

Claiming she was going to miss her flight if she didn’t hurry, she said a quick goodbye and grabbed her luggage.

She’d rushed off so fast she thought she’d forgotten something when Lara called before she could get on the plane.

“Mom?” She stepped out of the boarding line so that she wouldn’t hold anyone up. “Don’t tell me I dropped something in your car.”

“No, nothing like that.”

“And you haven’t run out of gas...”

“Of course not. Your father would never allow me to take the car if it didn’t already have gas.”