Her Darkest Nightmare (31 page)

So what if you're back?
she thought, picturing his preppy-looking face as she remembered it from high school. He hadn't even been capable of growing a beard when she knew him, had seemed so innocent.
I'll fight you. I'll fight you till my dying breath—just like I did last summer.

She'd fight Fitzpatrick, too, if necessary.

“I'll pay for your plane ticket,” her mother was saying. “Just go to your house and pack up.”

Her parents had been through an unimaginable ordeal when Jasper did what he did. For three days, Evelyn and her friends had been missing. Everyone, and no one more so than Lara and Grant, had feared the police would discover her body. Or that they wouldn't find anything at all—no trace of her. Her mother had once said the possibility that they'd be left to wonder for the rest of their lives had probably been the worst of it. Lara couldn't bear to go through anything like that again. And Evelyn couldn't blame her.

But she'd started Hanover House, still believed in it. She couldn't pack up and walk away. That would be conceding to the opposition, conceding to
him
.

“Calm down, okay?” She changed the phone to her other ear. “We both know that terrible things can happen in Boston, too. I'm proof. Remember last summer? Jasper will come wherever I am.”

“Not if he can't find you. What you're doing now is
courting
trouble!” Her mother sounded almost hysterical. “Rubbing elbows with
known
sadists. When we welcomed Jasper into our lives he seemed like a sweet seventeen-year-old boy. What happened wasn't our fault because we didn't know to keep you away from him. But we're fully aware of the type of people you're with up there—and they're some of the most notorious killers in America!”

“At least I know they're dangerous. These men can't surprise me the way Jasper did.” Even as she said that, Evelyn couldn't help flashing back to the moment Hugo had slammed her up against the wall yesterday. That had been a close call, could've gone very differently.

Her mother wasn't satisfied with her response, anyway. Evelyn could tell by the sudden silence. She almost thought they'd lost their connection. “Mom?”

“And your father wonders why I need anti-anxiety drugs,” she mumbled.

Evelyn's breath hitched. Had she heard correctly? “You're on medication? Since when?” And did Evelyn's sister know? If so, Brianne hadn't mentioned it when they'd spoken just a day or two before Lorraine was murdered. “Mom?”

There was no reply.

“Answer me!”

“I can't deal with this,” Lara finally responded.

Evelyn tightened her grip on the phone. “Let me talk to Dad.”

“He just walked out of the room. I-I'll have him call you tomorrow,” she said, and hung up.

Evelyn sat staring at the phone. She couldn't bear worrying about Lara on top of everything else. She was about to call back, to try to offer her mother some comfort and achieve reassurance in return. But the phone rang before she could.

“Hello?” She tensed as she waited to hear her mother's or father's voice. But it wasn't either of them.

“Hey.”

Amarok. She rested her head against the back of her chair. “Hey, yourself,” she said, striving for calm even though her stomach was in knots. Maybe she'd needed to get away from her family. Maybe that was another reason she'd come to Hilltop. They were as damaged as she was. But that also made her feel obligated to return and take care of them. “You home?”

“Not yet. I stopped by the Moosehead so I could give you a call. I'm on my way to check something out.”

“Something?”

“Bill Jenkins' dog has found some bones. But don't get your hopes up. Chances are they're the remains of some animal.”

“Any word on Danielle?”

“Yes. That's primarily why I'm calling.”

She stiffened again. “You've identified that … that arm? It was her?”

“DNA will have to confirm it, and that takes time. But some of the guys who were with her recognized the unusual purple fingernail polish.”

Evelyn closed her eyes. “I guess it's better to know.” Except Danielle's murder confirmed that both victims were employees of Hanover House.

“It's a step in the right direction.”

“Did you get the contact information for those HH employees I e-mailed you?”

“I did. But what about the others? The ones you left blank?”

“If there's no contact information it's because we don't have anyone on our roster by that name.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that. Shit. Now I'll have to track those guys down some other way, if I can.” There was a brief pause in which he yawned or scratched his face or something. “I just wish there were more hours in the day.”

“You sound exhausted.”

“So do you. You ready to leave work?”

“Not quite.”

“Will you do me a favor?”

“Of course.”

“Call my trooper post when you pack up? I want to know when you leave and when you get home.”

“Okay, but … it might be a while.”

“Why? After the past couple of nights, you shouldn't be putting in such long hours. You need to conserve your strength. I'm afraid this is going to turn out to be more of a marathon than a sprint.”

She didn't want to hear that; she wanted it to be over
now
. “I'm just waiting for the cleaning crew.”

“Why do you need to do that?”

“They're the only ones with a key to Dr. Fitzpatrick's office.”

There was a slight pause. Then he said, “Why do you need to get into his office?”

“I'd like to take a look around.”

“I'm not sure that's a good idea, Evelyn. What if he were to catch you? Or find out about it later?”

“Fitzpatrick is up to something, Amarok. I have to get to the bottom of it—to save my job, my career, my sanity. Maybe even my life.”

“You could be taking an unnecessary risk.”

“He's diligent about locking his office for a reason. The rest of us usually don't bother. Our offices are inside a prison, for God's sake. Which tells me he doesn't want me or one of the other doctors poking around in there.”

“So what's your plan?”

“Since the janitors are the only ones with a key, besides him, I'm hoping to put some tape or gum on the door so it won't lock again when they leave.”

“Your relationship with Fitzpatrick seems to have deteriorated.”

“We've been at each other's throats all week, and the situation grew a great deal more … tense today.” She told him about Hugo getting stabbed, the forged transfer order and the accusation she'd launched that Fitzpatrick was behind the murders.

“Holy hell, Evelyn. Don't provoke him. I don't trust that bastard.”

“Maybe the accusation will rattle him enough that he'll panic and make a mistake.”

“Or he'll try to hurt you in some way.”

“Don't tell me you're starting to believe Hugo!”

“I'm keeping an open mind. If psychopaths are as common as you say, there's no reason Fitzpatrick can't be one.”

“Not all killers are psychopaths.”

“To do what this killer has done, he'd almost have to be.”

“I agree. But … it's crazy that I'm even considering taking the word of a convicted killer over the psychiatrist I work with.”

“There's some basis for it. You mentioned yourself that Fitzpatrick might've had Hugo shanked because he was talking. And there
is
a Tim in Danielle's book.”

“I saw that. But, as I noted, we have a maintenance man here by the same name.”

“Tim Hancock.”

He'd looked over what she'd sent. “Right. So I'm not sure we can draw any conclusions from that piece of the puzzle.”

“I'll go visit Mr. Hancock as soon as possible, probably in the morning. See if I can determine if he was ever with Danielle. If not, I'll be visiting Fitzpatrick next.”

“I wish I could be there to see that. You two are as compatible as oil and water.”

“I told you, I don't trust him.”

“I don't anymore, either. But even if Mr. Hancock says he isn't the Tim in Danielle's book—that doesn't mean Fitzpatrick is.”

“What are the chances it could be someone else? We're not a big community, especially this time of year.”

“The chances aren't huge, but I can't imagine any prosecutor being willing to build a case on a first name.”

“That wouldn't be the entire case. We could line up both Tims and bring out a ruler.”

In spite of everything, the mental image of that nearly made her laugh. “If Dr. Fitzpatrick was one of her partners, he'll be mortified when he finds out she recorded that information.”

“I wish it could've been the length of their noses or something. Then maybe we
could
measure.”

“A last name would've been nice. She put that down for some of the men—like Snowden and Dugall. Why couldn't she have done it for all?”

“Maybe because this one was such a central figure it felt redundant?”

“Or there would be scandal involved, some reason to keep it more private than the rest.”

“Either scenario points to Fitzpatrick over a janitor.”

“True.”

“Tell me, does Fitzpatrick have much interaction with a CO by the name of Emilio Kush?” he asked.

“We all do,” she replied. “Why? Emilio wasn't on the list you sent me. I would've recognized his name—first or last—immediately.”

“He wasn't on the part I kept, either. But he was aware of Danielle's activities.”

The hair stood up on the back of Evelyn's neck. Emilio Kush was the sergeant who'd gone to Fitzpatrick when she'd asked him to bring Anthony Garza from his cell. “How do you know?”

“He and one other CO—Eddie Petrowski—were in the back room, lining up a train for Danielle and placing bets on whether or not she could make it all the way through.”

Evelyn shook her head in disappointment. “I can't believe any of my COs would be involved. Especially Emilio Kush. He's so … by the book.”

“Several of Danielle's partners gave me the same names. I can't imagine there could be any mistake.”

She blew a strand of hair out of her face. “Were they charging to have sex with her?”

“Not when they were with her at the Moosehead. But several of the men I spoke to reported hearing them make statements that suggested they had some type of arrangement with her when it came to HH inmates.”

“Which means … what? They're only charging the incarcerated?”

“That's what it sounded like to me.”

“But putting her in a cell with almost any of these guys—that's dangerous. If she were to get hurt or killed, it'd be their fault. Why would they be so foolhardy?”

“Because prostituting her to the inmates could be very lucrative. Since the inmates can't get a piece of ass any other way, I'm sure they'd pay a lot—and do whatever they can to raise what they don't have.”

“So why would Kush be stupid enough to divulge what he did?”

“It was actually Eddie Petrowski who did the talking. He was drunk and couldn't resist the urge to brag a bit, I suppose. Kush tried to claim he was full of shit, but, as far as I'm concerned, that's what lends it so much credibility.”

Evelyn pictured Emilio with the pretty woman he'd brought to the Christmas party—his wife. They had three small children. Eddie Petrowski was single and about ten years younger than Kush, maybe thirty. On the surface, they didn't seem to have a lot in common. Emilio was five-foot-ten or so and stocky, with dark hair and eyes. Eddie was tall and stringy with red hair and blue eyes. But they'd been almost inseparable since the day they first met when Hanover House opened.

Had Kush proven to be Petrowski's downfall? Kush had to be the leader. No way could it be Eddie. Eddie just didn't have that sort of thing in him. “The warden's brought in a few of his most trustworthy COs to keep an eye on the other officers.”

“I hope he can come up with some answers. I could use a break.”

She glanced at the window. It'd started snowing earlier in the afternoon. Now the wind was picking up, too. “The weather certainly isn't cooperating.”

“Not entirely. But this storm isn't supposed to be a bad one. It's the next one I'm worried about. The one that's coming over the weekend.”

She sighed. “Sometimes I wonder why I don't let my parents talk me into going home.”

She hadn't really been thinking when she made that statement, not about the implications about her feelings for him. But when he made no immediate response, she could tell he'd taken it personally that she could be so cavalier about leaving him behind.

“Really?” he said at length. “We don't have anything here you like?”

“I didn't mean it that way,” she said.

“Come on. You're a short-timer. I've always known it.” He suddenly acted as if it didn't matter to him either way, which made her wonder if she'd hurt him. She couldn't imagine she held that much power with the handsome trooper, but …

“Amarok—”

“Don't worry about it,” he said. “Of course you'll go back to Boston. That's where you belong.”

His defenses had gone up again. She'd all but heard them snap into place. She didn't like that—but she had no right to try to bring them down again. She
was
a lousy bet, and because she really did care about him she didn't want to disappoint him. “My family needs me. They ask me all the time to come back. I'll have to go eventually,” she told him. “Because of that, it's better not to count on me.”

“So you've said,” he responded, his voice flat.