Her Darkest Nightmare (18 page)

With a polite smile, she told Glenn good-bye and nodded to everyone else who addressed her as she carried Sigmund through the facility. She'd felt so fragile last night, so close to the brink of the dark, emotional abyss that had nearly swallowed her years ago, that she was surprised to find herself angry this morning. More than angry—fiercely determined. She'd beaten Jasper this summer, hadn't she? She was no longer an innocent sixteen-year-old girl who knew nothing of his psyche. She was a self-possessed adult, armed with an extensive education on human behavior. And because of his last attack, she knew he was still around, tracking her, watching her, making plans. She would not allow him to drag her back to that shack again, not even figuratively. She'd fought too hard to recover.

“Dr. Talbot, could I speak with you?”

It was Fitzpatrick. From the looks of it, he'd been milling around the reception area, waiting for some sign of her. He seemed upset
again,
but she didn't care. She was ready for her cantankerous co-administrator. She felt ready for anyone.

“Yes, come in.” She arranged for Sigmund to stay with Penny for a few days and handed off her pet. Then she led Fitzpatrick into her office. “Please, have a seat.” Motioning to the chair he'd taken before, she closed the door and crossed to her desk.

He ignored the chair and kept standing.

Determined not to let him rush her, she set her briefcase on the credenza, the coffee Penny had provided when she took Sigmund on the desk, and stripped off her heavy coat, gloves and hat.

“I have some more tragic news,” she announced, getting the jump on him lest he start in on whatever he'd come to talk about.

He made a face. “I hope it's not as tragic as what you told me yesterday.”

“I'm afraid so.” She wished he'd back up. She remained on her feet because, even with the desk between them, he was so tall and imposing it felt as if he was invading her personal space. “There's been another victim.”

His thin, pale lips parted. “Not another one of
us
…”

By that he meant someone from Hanover House. HH had only been open for three months, but already an “us” versus “them” mentality was developing—“them” being those among the townspeople who regarded the institution and those who ran it with distrust. It was almost as if Hanover House had become a small country of its own—Israel surrounded by enemy nations. And recent events would only foster more antagonism. Hanover House's opponents would finally be able to point to an actual incident like those they'd tried to warn everyone against.

“I believe it is,” she said. “This is just between you and me, since Sergeant Amarok hasn't officially identified the body that's been found, but I'm almost positive it's Danielle Connelly.”

What little color there was in his face drained away. “The girl who went missing a couple of days ago? The one who worked in the kitchen with Lorraine?”

“Yes.” She wondered if Tim was aware of Danielle's behavior, but she didn't bring it up. She saw no need to destroy the
victim's
reputation—not that Danielle's promiscuity was likely to remain secret for long with Amarok poking around, asking questions. Thanks to the number of men Danielle had been with, it couldn't be much of a secret
now,
at least in some circles.

“Don't tell me it was another decapitation,” Fitzpatrick said.

“Possibly. What we found was a severed limb—a hand with part of the arm attached. Nothing more, so far.”

He grimaced. “It's not Lorraine's arm.”

“No.”

“Where?”

Feeling light-headed at the memory, Evelyn sank into her seat in case she was about to pass out. “In my bed.”

Resting his knuckles on her desk, he lowered his face. “Not at your cabin!”

“Yes.”

After taking a few seconds to digest this, he backed into the chair she'd offered him earlier and perched, in a typically uncoordinated fashion, on the edge of it. “Tell me everything.”

She described the events of the previous night—getting home to a cold house with no alarm sounding and finding her missing cat in her bed with that hand and those taped fingers.

“Jasper,” he said.

He was almost as familiar with the details of her case as she was. All the doctors on the team had heard her story. She couldn't help but refer to Jasper, since she related everything she learned about psychopaths to her own harrowing experience. “I can't imagine who else it could be.”

“This must be …
extra
difficult for you,” he said. “I'm sorry.”

“I'm sorry for Danielle and Lorraine,” she responded. “It's bad enough that he killed them, but … if it was Jasper, if he followed me here, there will be more victims unless he's stopped.”

“What will you do?”

Only when he settled deeper into the chair was she able to relax. He always put her on edge. “What
can
I do? Be careful. Keep my eyes open. Press forward in my studies so that he doesn't take from me what I've managed to establish. And hope that Amarok can catch him before he hurts anyone else.”

“The sergeant is … young.”

No one knew that better than she did. Amarok was in the prime of his life. If she'd had any doubt, getting naked with him had proven it. The body she'd felt against her own when they'd nearly made love had been every woman's fantasy. “Young doesn't equate with stupid.”

“I was referring to his
inexperience
.”

Sure he was. She'd heard how patronizing he'd been to Amarok. “He's requesting permission from the Department of Public Safety to contact the FBI, to see if he can get them involved.”

He hooked one long leg over the other. “That's great to hear. But you can no longer remain in your cabin alone. You realize that.”

“I do. It would be a foolish risk to take, since it's so isolated.” And since her alarm had counted for next to nothing.…

“You're welcome to stay at my place.”

She would
never
go there, not after he came on to her. Just thinking of sleeping so close to him made her skin crawl. “Thanks. That's a very nice offer. But Amarok's taking my stuff to his place this morning. I'll be with him for a few days until … until we can figure out what's going on. That's why I asked Penny to care for Sigmund. Amarok has a dog who may not be thrilled to have a feline for company.”

He seemed to bristle at this response. “You'd prefer his place over mine, or someone else's on the team?” he added as if to cover for his displeasure.

“He has a gun and he knows how to use it.”

“A lot of people have guns, including you. You can shoot. You've told me so. Besides, you barely know Sergeant Amarok. Surely, you won't feel comfortable there. What about Stacy?”

The only female member of their team would be a likely choice, if the circumstances were different. “I called to check on her before I left the house. She's still in a lot of pain.”

“I bet she wouldn't mind having you in the house. She could probably use the company.”

“She has her husband with her. And her pit bull.”

“Maybe you can move to Stacy's once she's feeling better.”

Before Evelyn could say she had no plans to do that, he asked, “Any idea when she'll be back in the office?”

“None. My grandmother had the shingles a few years ago, so I know how they can linger. She's on a lot of meds for the pain, told me it'll probably be another two weeks.”

“There's always Russ. He has room for you.”

“Tim, stop. I'll be fine at Amarok's.”

He brushed a spec of lint off his pants. “I'm just trying to help, Evelyn.”

Sure
he was. “I appreciate that.”

“Did you tell Stacy what's going on?” he asked.

“I did. To warn her.”

He nodded but stiffly. “That's a good idea, but I still can't believe you'd rather stay with Sergeant Murphy than one of us.”

She ignored the censure in his voice. Besides the obvious jealousy, he seemed to feel as if anyone outside their small circle of academics would be too uncouth to associate with. “His place is closer to the prison. I'll be able to stay abreast of the investigation, help with it where possible.”

One eyebrow lifted above the other. “Is that all? Or is there something going on between you?”

Her love life was none of his business. She was surprised he would even ask after how quickly he'd backpedaled when she rejected him. “It's the wisest thing for me to do, for the time being,” she replied. “Anyway, now that I've delivered the bad news, what did you need to see me about?”

He seemed reluctant to proceed.

“Doctor?”

“It's Hugo Evanski,” he finally admitted.

Thank God it wasn't Anthony Garza.
“What about him?” She'd missed her session with him this morning. But certainly, after what she'd been through, Fitzpatrick wasn't going to harangue her about keeping her appointments. No one was more dedicated to HH than she was.

“Officer Whitcomb came to see me about him.”

“Glenn?”
Evelyn clasped her hands more tightly together. “Why would he do that?”

“He's concerned about your safety. He says Hugo spends an inordinate amount of time trying to convince you to meet with him privately.”

“I already meet with him privately, three times a week.”

He leaned forward again. “I mean while foregoing the usual safety precautions.”

Irritation bit deep. “Why did Officer Whitcomb carry his concerns to you?” As much as she liked Glenn, that felt like a personal betrayal.

“He's afraid you might someday agree.”

“Then he should've spoken to me,” she said. But she could see him thinking he was helping by trying to look after her, to protect her.

“He thought maybe I could have a talk with you, remind you that doing so would be a mistake.”

“I'm aware of the danger, Tim.”

“Good. Because whatever information Evanski is promising is merely an attempt to lure you into a compromising situation. You understand how these guys work. You'd be putting yourself in jeopardy for nothing. For lies.”

Normally, she would've agreed. But recent events had imbued Hugo's warnings and fears with an air of authenticity. Remembering how strongly he'd cautioned her of danger sent a chill down her spine. At a minimum, his behavior raised some questions.

“What if he does know something about what's going on?” she asked.

“He couldn't.” Fitzpatrick replied without even considering the possibility. “Like his fellow inmates, he's particularly adept at ascertaining the vulnerabilities of others. That's all. Don't let him play on yours.”

What Fitzpatrick said was probably true. Hugo had never met Jasper, would have no way of knowing whether her old flame was in Alaska. That right there told her Hugo was merely creating drama. Most psychopaths required more stimulation than regular people. Maybe this was how Hugo had decided to create some excitement.

“I can take care of myself,” she assured Fitzpatrick.

“Happy to hear it. After that Anthony trick … well, I thought it might be best to go over the rules.”

She bit her tongue when he sent that as his parting salvo. She hated rude comments that were delivered with a smile, and Tim used that tactic often. But she refused to take the bait.

Eager to be rid of him, she smiled back. She'd never really liked Fitzpatrick. There were several other prominent psychiatrists she would rather have worked with—but none who were willing to move to Alaska. She'd figured out early on that if she wanted HH to become a reality she'd have little choice in partners.

He headed for the door, but she stopped him. “What are we going to do about Lorraine? We can't limp along without her indefinitely. She was an integral part of the food service program.”

“Warden Ferris has placed an ad in the Anchorage paper. He's posted on Craigslist, too. He'll start interviewing as soon as possible.”

Evelyn had helped staff the center before it opened. But now she didn't have time to handle the interviews. She didn't care to be involved in finding Lorraine's replacement, anyway. It didn't seem fair that they could simply hire someone else and move on. No one would be like Lorraine; no one
could
be.

Still, Evelyn had to be practical, had to make sure the inmates were fed, and they could only get by with a skeleton crew for so long.
I'm sorry, Lorraine.
She touched her desk where Lorraine would've left a tray for breakfast had she been alive.
I'm going to miss you.

“One more thing.” Fitzpatrick's long fingers curled around the doorframe as he turned back.

Evelyn drew a deep breath. “Yes?”

“That detective from Utah that you've been keeping in touch with?”

“Detective Green?”

“He called earlier.”

“He has more for me on the Porn Poser investigation?”

“That's my guess.”

But how would Fitzpatrick know that the detective had tried to reach her? It wasn't as if
he
answered the telephones at the prison. “You spoke with him?” she asked in confusion.

“I had a call at the same time and picked up the wrong line.”

“I see.” She eyed Anthony Garza's file, which continued to rest on the corner of her desk. He'd been at HH for two days, but she hadn't yet had the chance to add her own evaluation. “Did Green say what kind of information he has?”

“No.”

“Okay.” She took a sip of her coffee. “How's Garza doing, by the way?”

“You don't want to talk about him. Not after what you went through last night,” he said, and disappeared.