Her Darkest Nightmare (29 page)

Her radio went off. “Dr. Talbot?”

It was Warden Ferris. She recognized his voice, but she was almost too afraid to respond. Was he about to inform her that Hugo had died en route to the hospital?

Fortunately, when she forced herself to reply he told her the opposite.

“Hugo Evanski has reached Alaska Regional.”

“Alive?”

“For the moment.”

She covered her face. “Thank God.”

“I thought you'd be relieved.”

“I am.” She drew a deep, calming breath. “I appreciate you letting me know.”

“No problem.”

She was about to set her radio aside when she heard the warden say, “There's one more thing.”

Puzzled by the change in his voice, she straightened in her seat. “What is it?”

“Dr. Fitzpatrick just paid me a visit.”

Her heart started to pound again. “What did he want?”

“An update on Hugo.”

That wasn't so unusual. Like her, he had to be concerned about the ramifications of this morning's tragic incident. So … why did she get the impression there was more to it? “Is that all?”

The warden made a sound that suggested he was struggling with what he was about to say. “Not quite.”

“What is it?”

“He indicated that … from now on…”

“Yes?”

“He'll need to approve any transfer orders you submit.”

Evelyn couldn't believe her ears. Her hands began to shake as she wondered what she could do to counteract this brazen attempt to seize control. She was young, and she'd been through a lot. Maybe he thought she wouldn't put up much of a fight. That in the midst of the painful and frightening investigation of Lorraine's death, and the attempt to identify that second victim, she would be too distracted and upset to stand her ground.

But she wasn't about to let him take over.

“What did you tell him?” she asked, carefully modulating her voice so that the warden wouldn't hear her panic or anger.

“I didn't tell him anything. He didn't give me the chance. He stated the directive as if I had no business questioning it and left.”

Typical, arrogant Fitzpatrick.
“That's fine, Warden. I'll handle it from here.”

There was a significant pause. “Is … everything okay between you?”

“Of course.” She tried to sound positive, but when the door banged open on the opposite side of the room and Anthony Garza swaggered in, chains dragging, she knew her day was likely to get even worse.

 

19

One thing I know for sure. It was a definite compulsion because I couldn't quit.

—JEFFREY DAHMER, THE MILWAUKEE CANNIBAL

Evelyn fixed a placid expression on her face. “Please, have a seat.”

Garza glared at her. She guessed he wasn't going to comply. But then he sat down without argument, as if to prove he could be as civilized as she was.

She slipped on her glasses, opened her notebook and picked up a pen. Wanting this interview to seem like any other, she hoped her professionalism would disarm him, at least to a degree. He'd met with prison psychiatrists before. She'd read their notes in his paperwork. If she was lucky, he'd settle into the routine of it and abandon the theatrics that'd marked his earlier behavior.

But she wasn't counting on it. She hadn't been very lucky of late.

“I hear you've had a busy morning,” she said.

A satisfied smile revealed those jagged teeth. “I prefer to think of it as …
productive
. Did that piece of shit I stabbed die?”

He didn't seem very invested, either way. If he'd attacked Hugo out of anger, or because of a personal slight, she felt he would've shown some sign of it. “Fortunately for you, no.”

“You mean fortunately for
you
.” He tilted his head, mocking the way she was sitting and looking at him. “I'm in prison for life. There's nothing more you can do to me.”

“You enjoy solitary confinement?”

“I won't let the threat of it control me. I won't let
anything
control me.”

She adjusted her position. Worry and upset ran like acid through her veins, especially after that radio conversation with Ferris. But she could show no sign of it. The information she received from Anthony Garza would depend on how well she played him. As always, it was a chess game and she had to outsmart her opponent.

“Is that why you stabbed Hugo Evanski?” she asked. “In some misguided attempt to lash out at
me
?”

Because his wrists were cuffed, he had to raise both hands to pick something out of his teeth. “Stabbings get reported in the papers.”

She wished she could wipe that smug look from his face. “Not always.”

“This one will.” His smile widened. “And you can't afford the publicity.”

“Why not?”

“Come on, you don't need me to explain it to you. I may be a psychopath according to that Hare quack and his ridiculous test, but I'm not stupid. I heard about the murders,
Evelyn
.”

“That's ‘Dr. Talbot' to you,” she said coolly.

“It's whatever I want it to be. You can't stop me from talking.”

“I can stop meeting with you and leave you in your cell alone indefinitely. Is that what you'd like?”

Ignoring the question, he continued to taunt her. “Pretty soon you'll be hanging on to this pile of bricks by the hair of your chinny chin chin. People are already spooked by its existence.” He moaned like a ghost and wiggled his fingers at her. “So many hobgoblins all in one place. Sort of gives you the creeps, doesn't it?”

His laughter did sound ghoulish. “You've launched a personal vendetta against me, then?”

“Why not? At least it'll make my life here in Alaska interesting. If I can't have a lover, I might as well have an enemy. I doubt you'll be tough to destroy, but … we'll see.”

She pretended to have some emotional detachment, as if she found what he had to say only slightly amusing. “And all of this hatred is coming from…”

He threw up his hands. “If you're going to lock me up in the middle of this godforsaken wilderness and poke and prod and study me like some kind of lab rat, I'm going to get my paybacks any way I can.”

Sliding her chair back, Evelyn crossed her legs. “Has someone been poking and prodding you that I'm not aware of, Mr. Garza?”

He rolled his eyes. “Not yet. But that's what's coming.”

“You don't have to participate in our studies if you'd rather not. Our research programs operate on a volunteer basis. They provide you with opportunities to acquire goods and services you would have little or no access to in a regular facility. Most of the men are eager to sign up.”

“They're idiots. Just because you're offering me a prize, like some dumbass kid who gets a sucker at the doctor's office, doesn't make it right. Am I supposed to be
grateful
for your generosity as you pick me apart piece by piece?”

“A dumbass kid getting a sucker at the doctor's office. That's an improvement over your lab rat analogy.”

“It's all demeaning!” He leapt to his feet and smacked the glass, moving so fast, so explosively, she experienced a burst of panic, as if he could reach her. It took a second to realize he couldn't—and in that second Officer Kush hurried into the room.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his hand on his baton in case he had to subdue Garza.

Part of Evelyn wished Kush would use it. No one deserved a few blows more than Garza. But Kush was
hoping
she'd need his help. He wanted to feel vindicated for trying to derail this interview before it ever happened. Maybe, if he had to intervene, he'd even report it to Fitzpatrick.

“Mr. Garza, are you ready to calm down?” Evelyn asked. “Or would you like to accompany Officer Kush back to isolation?”

Nostrils flaring, chest rising and falling as rapidly as if he'd been exerting himself, Garza cursed. “I won't let you mess with my mind,
Dr.
Talbot,” he said. “I'm not interested in your theories, your judgments or your high-handed self-righteousness. Are you really that sure you're so much better than me?”

When she raised her eyebrows as if she wasn't impressed enough to even formulate a response, he grumbled, “I'd rather have your abhorrence.”

“You most certainly have that.”
He
hates
feeling impotent,
she realized. Most psychopaths were quick to take offense, quick to react to any hint of reproach. Their tempers could flare with little or no provocation. But she believed this went a bit deeper than those typical reactions. Even more than most psychopaths, Garza dreamed of being a big man, someone others treated with respect and admiration.

“So are you going back to solitary now?” she prompted. “Or would you like
me
to make the decision?”

Again, he didn't answer. “Tell me something,” he said instead. “How do you know
I'm
the one who's not right in the head? How do you know it's not
you
? Or this asshole?” When he jerked a thumb at Kush, Kush lifted the baton, but Evelyn waved him out.

Kush didn't move. Only when she insisted did he return to his post, but he stood right outside the door, staring in at them through the viewing slot.

“For starters,
I
haven't murdered anyone,” she told Garza.

“Neither have I.” He spoke flippantly, obviously expecting her to react with outrage. When she refused to take the bait, he shrugged and added, “At least no one who didn't deserve it.”

“Your ex-wives deserved to die?”

Suddenly as calm as he'd been angry, he shrugged. “Hell yeah.”

“But not your last wife.”

His eyes narrowed until he was glaring at her so intently she thought he might start banging the glass again. “I told you I won't talk about her.”

Did that mean she should let it go? Or push the subject? There was a greater chance he'd reveal more about the stabbing, his past deeds and the type of person he really was when overcome by emotion. But with the echoes of her argument with Fitzpatrick still ringing in her ears, and the angst of knowing Hugo might die on the operating table, Evelyn wasn't in any shape to deal with what could happen if she antagonized Garza. According to a battery of tests his exasperated parents had paid a specialist to administer to their “difficult child” when he was a young teen, he had a decent IQ. She needed to be in better control of her emotions when she dug that deep.

But she couldn't send him back to his cell, couldn't miss this chance to hear his thoughts while the stabbing was fresh in his mind. Maybe she could find out if Fitzpatrick, or someone else who had access to the transfer orders, was involved. According to one of Garza's former psychologists, one who'd interviewed him several times when he was first incarcerated, he liked to talk, liked to be the center of attention. She figured she should at least shine the spotlight on him, let him brag, taunt, tease, say whatever he liked—in case she could discover some tidbit that would help her unravel the mystery.

“Fine,” she said. “We'll talk about something else.”

“Like?”

“Where would you rather serve your time than here?”

For the most part, his calm returned. “
Now
you're asking? Send me back to Colorado. I had conjugal visits there.”

“I didn't realize you were married.” That hadn't been in any of his paperwork.

“Just tied the knot two weeks ago.”

“With…”

“Some fat chick,” he said.

So the marriage had taken place
after
his file had arrived.…

“You don't know her name?” As illogical as it seemed to most people, serial killers received a great deal of romantic attention. The more notorious they were, the more offers of marriage and/or sex they received.

“What does her name matter?” he asked. “I only married her because she was stupid enough to come to the prison and spread her legs for me. And she had nice tits.” He curved his hands as if he were hefting them. Then a thoughtful expression overtook the lascivious one. “I wonder if she's pissed that I gave her herpes.”

Evelyn folded her arms. He was trying to get a reaction. “Why would she be mad? Doesn't every woman want herpes?”

Although he laughed at her sarcasm, he quickly sobered. “See what you did to me? There's no way she has the money to fly up here. S-sh-i-t,” he said, drawing out the word. “Chances are slim I'll
ever
get another piece of ass. I mean, I'll take guys if that's all I can get, but”—his eyes moved over her body—“I prefer women.”

She felt sorry for
anyone
he came into contact with, even the other psychopaths at HH who might not be capable of standing up to him. He didn't care who he dominated so long as he dominated
someone,
which meant he'd be as much a predator inside prison as he was out. Those in charge tried to watch for that type of behavior, to protect the victims, but most inmates refused to report sexual assaults. They couldn't. Prison justice was too quick and ruthless. The consequences for divulging what slipped past the watchful eyes of the COs could be worse than the abuse the prisoners were hoping to avoid.

“And if they're pretty, like you, that's all the better,” he added softly.

She managed a benign smile. “Thank you.”

His eyebrows shot up. “For what?”

“For the compliment.”

He hadn't meant to flatter her. He'd meant to intimidate her. She knew the difference. But she also knew it would be a mistake to let him feel as if he'd been successful.

“You're not afraid of me?”