Anchorage, AK—Sunday, 11:45 a.m. AKDT
Lyman Bishop knew from experience how easily having a disability could win trust and sympathy. He’d seen it happen with Beth. When she’d lived with him, he’d been admired and praised, mostly by his co-workers since he’d never had a wide circle of friends, for taking care of his mentally handicapped sister. Being Beth’s guardian had made him look good, created a perfect cover for almost anything he wanted to do. And now he could see that his own handicap—the difficulty he had walking and the paralysis in his face—would serve the same purpose.
He mumbled that he was a war veteran with a head injury and other people held doors for him, smiled and even hurried to get him a cart at the grocery store or wave him on ahead of them at the checkout. And yet they didn’t really see him or pay particular attention if they did, so there was little threat that he’d be distinctly remembered if someone were to ask about him. He was just one more pathetic figure they encountered while going about their daily routine, someone who meant nothing to them, other than the quick pat on the back they gave themselves for trying to be nice and the passing gratitude they felt for not being similarly afflicted.
He smiled at an attractive young woman who scrambled to get out of his way as he pushed his cart down the vegetable aisle. He loved food and wine, refused to be cheap when it came to either of those things. And now that he was out of Beacon Hill and could have something besides the institutional slop he’d been fed for the past eighteen months, food that would’ve been a disappointment to pigs, he planned to take full advantage of it. His new girlfriend, being so far along in her pregnancy, was going to need some good nutrition, too.
The memory of how Evelyn had treated him when he’d tried to talk to her this morning threatened to ruin his mood, but he refused to let it. He couldn’t expect too much from her. Not at first. Being held against her will after being able to do just about anything she wanted must come as a terrible shock. She was a bright, accomplished woman and deserved a little more latitude than he’d offered his previous “girlfriends.” Besides, he had no idea how Emmett had behaved with her. Maybe he’d been uncouth. He certainly hadn’t been feeding her properly.
She’d get used to him, Bishop decided, would learn to love him the way Beth had—or at least to treat him as if she did, which was all the same to him—especially once she realized that he was willing to reward her when she behaved herself.
And if she refused to play nice?
He finished loading his cart with squash, watermelon, grapes, lettuce, corn on the cob and potatoes and headed off in search of the aisle that had a small section of kitchen implements. He needed a knife—he’d disposed of the one he’d used to kill Terry rather than draw attention by putting it in his luggage when he got on the plane. He also needed a new padlock for the front gate and an ordinary ice pick, the kind people used in their kitchens all the time, which meant purchasing one.
In a state where practically everyone else was packing a gun, that wouldn’t raise any more eyebrows than seeing a forty-two-year-old man who was barely five eight, had already lost most of his hair and was carrying a few extra pounds around the middle shuffling along with a limp.
He smiled when he found what he was looking for. It was only $8.99, a small price to pay for a little insurance, especially because he already had plenty of sleeping pills.
Since he controlled Evelyn’s food, he could ensure that she went to sleep whenever he decided it was necessary—and woke up much more manageable.
Anchorage, AK—Sunday 11:50 a.m. AKDT
Evelyn knew more about her surroundings than she’d known before. That was something, wasn’t it? Maybe it was a small thing—a very small thing—but she had to find some tiny rainbow in what had transpired. She hadn’t stabbed Emmett (thanks to Bishop, she now knew his name) for nothing. She’d gotten out of her cramped prison long enough to see where she was being kept and, as a consequence, had some inkling of the layout of the building.
She rolled over on her cot and gazed up at the smooth white walls. This had once been a cooler, as she’d guessed—a cooler in some type of processing plant. There was a staff room; she’d run in there when she’d been looking for a way out.
She’d been too frantic to take stock of what she saw at the time, not consciously, anyway. But now that she was once again locked up, she was determined to go over her memories and cement every detail in her mind. She had to believe she’d have another chance to escape, and then she could take advantage of what she’d learned to avoid making the same mistakes.
For instance, she’d have to remember not to go to the right. That was where Emmett had been staying and was most likely where Bishop would be staying now that Emmett was gone. Made sense, given it seemed to be the most hospitable area.
She’d caught a glimpse of a room without windows that had a big machine in it—it had smelled terrible, like rotten eggs—and another room with lots of windows and trash on the floor.
No, not all of it was trash, she decided as she closed her eyes and pictured it again. There’d been egg cartons. Lots of empty egg cartons. This place was most likely a plant that processed eggs, she decided. And the front part, with all the windows? That had to be a store that sold them, like a fruit stand a strawberry farmer put up on his own property.
The more she concentrated on piecing together what she’d seen and making sense of it, a commercial farm with egg-laying hens sounded plausible. And if that was the reality, she probably wasn’t in a location that was too remote. An egg farm or ranch, or whatever they were called, wouldn’t be right downtown but still sited fairly close to civilization. A cooler this size would hold a lot of eggs and yet the small store wasn’t big enough to move a vast amount of product, which meant such a business would require a distribution method—trucks that carried cases of eggs to other retail outlets.
So she was likely on the outskirts of a place much bigger than Hilltop. Anchorage or Juneau. But since Anchorage was closer to Hilltop, if she had to bet, she’d bet on that one. Ted Stevens Anchorage International Airport was the largest and the busiest in the state and would make it easy for Bishop to relieve Emmett, since that had obviously been the plan.
The bad news was that there weren’t any eggs in this cooler right now and all the trash she’d seen on the floor in the store, mixed with those egg crates, suggested the egg ranch was abandoned. Which meant little or no chance of a well-meaning customer or employee coming onto the property, stumbling upon what was going on and saving her.
She pressed her palm to her forehead. How was she supposed to cling to hope when it was all so hopeless? Bishop had completely blindsided her, had thought of everything. She couldn’t even make another weapon, not now that she’d stabbed Emmett. Bishop would be watching for that. And if he caught her, he’d punish her.
She knew how he’d do it, too.
She was never getting out of here. She was only pretending it could happen, forcing herself to remember the details of the layout of the building to keep her mind off of what was really worrying her.
It’d been a while since she’d felt the baby move.
“Where are you?” she whispered to her child as she rubbed her belly in concern, and felt a single tear roll back into her hair.
Boston, MA—Sunday, 4:30 p.m. EST
Lara Talbot had to reach for a chair. She’d been so excited, so happy, for a change. Although Brianne wasn’t married, as Lara would prefer, she had a good job as a hospital administrator, made fantastic money and would be thirty-eight in two months—plenty old enough to be able to care for a child on her own. Several of Lara’s more religious friends had expressed their disapproval that Brianne would have a baby out of wedlock, but Lara had decided not to let her younger daughter’s single status ruin the enjoyment of having her first grandchild.
She’d had no idea she’d have much bigger things to worry about.…
“Not this again,” she said as Amarok’s words pierced through the euphoria she’d been feeling on the drive home from the hospital like a pin to a balloon.
She knew the sudden pain and fear in her voice had caught her husband’s attention when Grant, who’d been hanging the car keys on a hook, whipped his head around to look at her.
“What is it, honey?” he asked, striding over to where she’d sagged onto a barstool at the granite-topped island in their kitchen. “It’s not the baby, is it? Brianne and little Caden are okay.…”
“I can’t do this again,” she said simply, and handed the phone to him, at which point she headed straight for her bedroom and the anti-anxiety pills she kept in her nightstand. After Evelyn had been kidnapped the first time, they’d become a staple in her life—until the past eight months, when everything seemed as though it was going to be okay at last.
She sensed that Grant didn’t know whether to follow her as he accepted her mobile, but she was glad he didn’t. She heard him say, “Hello? Amarok?” just as she stepped into her bedroom and locked the door.
Hilltop, AK—Sunday, 12:40 p.m. AKDT
That call had been every bit as difficult as Amarok had anticipated. He didn’t even have the chance to explain the entire situation to Lara before she disappeared and Grant came on the line.
Grant had listened quietly, hadn’t railed or accused Amarok of not being diligent enough. He’d barely said a word, which had left Amarok trying to fill the silence—something he’d done awkwardly, at best. He’d promised Grant he was doing all he could to find Evelyn and heard himself saying all the same empty platitudes others had been saying to him—that she was a strong woman, that she’d weathered difficult situations before and would get through this, too, that the baby would be fine.
But Grant understood how bad it could get and what the real chances were. He’d been through this type of thing before. He’d gotten his daughter back, but that had been a miracle. He could hardly expect to have such luck again.
“What you told him, it’s true,” Phil said after Amarok had promised to keep them informed and hung up. “We are going to get Evelyn back safely.”
Amarok had forgotten Phil was even in the room. He jerked his gaze away from the spot he’d been staring at—as if his eyes were laser beams and could drill holes through his desk—and nodded. He couldn’t talk about it; he’d fall apart. And that was the last thing he could allow himself to do. He had to remain strong and clearheaded, for Evelyn’s sake. In order to get through this, he could only think one step ahead, and his next step included another difficult call.
He wished Phil weren’t watching as he dialed his mother’s number. But as much as Amarok preferred a bit of privacy, he wasn’t about to ask him to leave. Phil had been completely devoted to him and to keeping Hilltop safe since Amarok had chosen him as Village Public Safety Officer. He was proving his commitment now, by doing all he could to support and assist in Evelyn’s investigation.
When his mother didn’t answer right away, Amarok’s anxiety grew. Maybe Phil was right and she had been hurt. Although he didn’t want anything to do with his mother, his feelings were a great deal more complex than he was willing to admit, even to Evelyn, which was probably why she’d kept pressing him about whether he really didn’t care to invite Alistair to their wedding. Evelyn knew he had to be torn on some level; she was a mental health professional. And she was right. Alistair’s death would only make his feelings where his mother was concerned more complicated.
He was about to hang up and call the Seattle police, to ask them to check on her, when he heard a breathless, “Hello?” as though she’d had to hurry to reach the phone.
“Alistair?” He hardly knew her, refused to call her Mom. He’d spoken to her only a handful of times since Jason had reached out to him on their eighteenth birthday, and there’d been no communication before that.
“Benjamin?”
That she used his given name only highlighted the fact that she’d missed his entire life, wasn’t even familiar enough with what people called him to use it herself. “Yeah, it’s me.”
Now that he had her on the line, which confirmed she was alive, he didn’t know what to say next. I’m just calling to make sure you’re okay wasn’t something he felt comfortable with. That made it sound as though he cared a great deal, and since she hadn’t cared enough about him to remain in contact after she walked away from him when he was only two years old, he wasn’t willing to pretend she could so easily erase all of that.
“It’s good to hear from you,” she said softly.
He couldn’t help bristling. It would’ve been good to hear from her while he’d been growing up without a mother, but he didn’t say that. “I have a few questions I was hoping you could answer.”
There was a slight pause, during which he could feel her tense. “Is this about the past? Because I’ve been hoping we could talk about that, that I could finally say I’m sorry for what I did. I know you’re having a hard time believing it, but I loved you then, and I love you now.”
She had a hell of a way of showing it, but saying so would only elicit the excuses she’d tried to give him before and make him angry. A mother didn’t abandon her child if she had a choice. Period. “This isn’t about the past,” he said, ignoring everything else, including the entreaty in her voice.
“What else could it be?” She sounded slightly bewildered. “Are you thinking of coming over this way? Because if you are, I’d love to see you.”
“No. I don’t have any travel plans.”
“What about Boston? Jason said you’re getting married next month.”
“Evelyn and I were getting married here and having a second reception in Boston in the fall, after the baby arrives. But…” His throat tightened, threatening to squeeze off any sound.
He swallowed, trying to force down the lump that was nearly choking him. “But something’s come up.”
“What is it? Don’t tell me you and Evelyn have broken the engagement. From what I hear, you’re deeply in love and perfect for each other. And with a baby on the way…”
Apparently, Jason was telling their mother more than Amarok had realized, but Amarok should’ve guessed he would. Jason remained loyal to her, just as Amarok remained loyal to their father. “Evelyn’s been kidnapped.”
This was met with shocked silence. Then she said, “That’s terrifying. Do you know who has her, where they’ve taken her or even why this happened?”
“She studies psychopaths for a living, that’s why. And I think I know who, as well.”
“Don’t tell me Jasper Moore has escaped.…”
“No. Lyman Bishop.”
“The Zombie Maker?”
He hadn’t realized she’d be familiar with the media nickname. “Yes. You’re aware of him?”
“I follow anything that has to do with Hilltop because … well, I know you’d probably be involved in some way.”
He said nothing.
“I haven’t seen anything on the news lately about him escaping,” she added.
“The hospital didn’t contact the police, didn’t tell anyone.”
“Why not? Don’t they have a duty to do that?”
“No doubt they were hoping to avoid the bad publicity.”
“But he’s so dangerous!”
“They chose to believe he was too diminished to be harmful, I guess. One of their employees has been murdered, though, so I doubt he’s that diminished.”
“You think it was him?”
“It makes sense.”
“Then they’re going to come under fire.”
“Yes. If the scandal hasn’t hit the news yet, it will soon. You haven’t heard from anyone you don’t know, have you? Maybe someone who mentioned Evelyn or asked where I live?”
“Are you talking about Lyman Bishop? What makes you believe he would ever try to contact me?”
“Because I’m fairly certain Evelyn thought she was meeting you at our house when she was abducted. She wrote your name and an odd number on a pad at Hanover House just before she went missing. You haven’t called her, have you?”
“I haven’t. I admit I’ve considered it on occasion. I’ve wanted to meet her, get to know her—beyond what I’ve read about her and seen on TV, I mean. But I was afraid it would only drive you further from me if I tried to enlist her help.”
“What kind of help would you be hoping to get from her?” he asked, taken aback by this admission. “She can’t explain why you did what you did.”
Amarok had purposely not confronted Alistair with this before. He knew she couldn’t come up with an excuse that would satisfy him, so there was no point. But he wasn’t himself right now, was barely coping and knew things could still get a lot worse if Evelyn and his baby were dead.
“There’s no good excuse,” she said. “I admit that. I wanted out. That’s all I remember. I couldn’t take the darkness and the cold. I felt like I was going crazy. And I knew I’d never truly escape if I didn’t make a clean getaway. I didn’t want to be split between two places, especially when one of them was a small outpost in Alaska. It was selfish of me. I see that now.”
“Really.” What else could he say?
She didn’t notice the sarcasm in his tone, evidently. Just went right on talking.
“I justified it by trying to make myself believe I was doing the right thing for everyone involved, that I was being fair to Hank by taking one boy and leaving him the other.”
“What about my feelings?” Amarok asked.
“You were only two and you adored your father. I wanted to believe you’d be happy. I knew Hank would be a good father—”
“I was happy. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t need a mother!” he shouted, shocking himself as well as Phil, whose eyes widened at the outburst. Amarok never raised his voice.
Phil’s eyebrows drew together in concern. “Maybe this isn’t the best time to deal with the past,” he murmured. He sounded worried and yet hesitant to intercede, but Amarok knew he was right. He’d let his control slip. It was the stress, the anxiety, the fatigue, the swollen and painful hand. Those things were coming down on him all at once, because he’d put everything he had, his whole heart, into loving Evelyn. The thought of someone harming her was agony for him.
“I’m sorry, Benjamin,” his mother said.
He could tell she was crying and that only made him feel worse. “I can’t deal with this on top of everything else,” he said. “I’ve got to go.”
He hung up before she could respond, and the phone rang almost the second he did. Thinking it might be one of the searchers or Terry Lovett’s wife, returning his call and answering his message, he picked it up right away. He preferred not to face Phil after that conversation with his mother, which revealed more than he ever had, much more than he was comfortable putting out there. “Hello?”
“Sergeant Murphy?”
It was a man’s voice—deep, emphatic, confident. “Yes?”
“This is Ted Bell with the Anchorage Daily News.”
Not one of the searchers. Not Terry Lovett’s wife. Just another fire to put out. Could the hell he was going through get any worse? “What can I do for you, Ted?”
Although Amarok’s voice was clipped, Ted proved unflappable. “I hear you have a problem out that way,” he replied smoothly.
Amarok rested his forehead on his fist. Thank God he’d told Evelyn’s parents.