Her Darkest Nightmare (41 page)

“He's arrogant enough to believe that. But we can't rule him out. Hugo insists Fitzpatrick is twisted, dangerous.”

“Hugo's been convicted of strangling fifteen women. His word doesn't count for shit.”

“Yet he seems like the hero in all of this,” she said. “Sometimes the lines can get so blurred.”

Amarok knew exactly what she meant. “Believe me, if I could detain Fitzpatrick I would. But I have nothing to hold him on.”

“What about that file on me? It proves stalking. Isn't that illegal?”

“That file would help you get a restraining order. Not much more, since he never hurt you or even threatened to.”

With a sigh, she shoved a manila folder across her desk. “You need to take a look at this.”

When he opened it, he saw explicit pictures of Danielle Connelly having sex with some guy. “Just what a dead person hopes to leave behind.”

“Actually, given her obsession with sex, in this case it might be true.”

“Who's she with?”

“You don't recognize Hugo?”

“Not from his ass. Where'd you get these?”

“Anthony Garza.”

“That's the inmate who stabbed Hugo, the one who's such a bastard.”

“Yes.”

He took a closer look, then asked, “What made him cough them up?”

“
I
did. Miracle of miracles, I was able to get something on him I could use for leverage.”

“Nice work.”

She flashed him a brief smile. “He claims Kush put him up to shanking Hugo and gave him those pictures and an eight ball of coke as payment.”

“Perfect. The word of another reputable witness.”

He knew she'd heard the sarcasm in his voice when she said, “Garza's testimony might not be worth a whole lot—he could blame anyone—but those pictures are proof that Danielle was indeed servicing the inmates.”

“I was kidding. These will come in handy.”

“Where's Kush now?” she asked. “Phil told me you were here, arresting him.”

“He's locked up downstairs, waiting for me to take him over to my trooper post so I can book him.”

“Has he told you anything?”

“Just that Danielle came to them and suggested the idea.”

“Him and Petrowski? What about Dean Snowden and Steve Dugall? They had to be aware of what was going on, since they were listed in Danielle's book.”

“Kush insists Snowden and Dugall never received any money, that they were clients.”

“You mean they paid to have sex with her?”

“According to him, they caught wind something was up and were included in the fun now and then so they'd keep their mouths shut.”

“So they had sex with her for free. They're still going to lose their jobs.” She had to be disgusted that so many of the men on her correctional force had gotten involved in the corruption and that none of them had reported what was going on—and this statement confirmed it.

“But they'll probably receive a lesser penalty as far as the law goes,” he added.

“Did Kush mention any other names in connection to this mess?”

“No. He insists it was just him and Eddie. That all they did was make the arrangements for the encounters and split the proceeds with Danielle.”

“Sadly, I believe it probably
was
her idea,” Evelyn said. “Why she'd take such a risk is hard to fathom. But maybe she was getting bored with regular men, men she was fairly confident wouldn't hurt her. So she decided to step things up.”

“Nice guys really do finish last,” he teased.

She stretched her neck. “Did you ask Kush if he forged my name on that transfer order? Because, according to what Anthony told me, it had to be him or Petrowski. If Snowden and Dugall weren't on the business end, I doubt they'd be invested enough to do something that bad.”

“I was only talking to Kush about the prostitution. I've got to come up with something that lends credence to Garza's claims before I hit him with the transfer order. He'll never cop to instigating that shanking, otherwise. That'll carry a far stiffer sentence than the year or two he'll likely get for pandering, if he gets that much.”

“Pandering?”

“The legal term for acting as a ‘procurer.'”

“I've never heard that before. What will happen after he's booked?”

“I have two cells at the trooper post. He'll stay in one until the Anchorage police can come get him. With the size of the storm that's due tomorrow, it might be a few days.”

“What about Petrowski? Is he in custody, too?”

“He didn't show up for work today and he lives in Anchorage, so they'll arrest him there.”

“When?”

“Maybe it's already happened. It was getting so late I had to let Phil go home, but there could be a message for me on the answering machine.” Or maybe Petrowski had gotten wind of what was going on and bugged out.…

Amarok hoped not.

“Nice of Anchorage PD to pitch in,” she said.

“A little cooperation between police forces never hurt anybody. They're aware of what I'm facing out here.”

She looked glum as she propped her chin on her fist. “It feels as if this place is tumbling down around me, Amarok.”

He wished he could wipe the worry from her face. “We might be able to save it.”

“
We?
I thought you didn't want HH here.”

“I'll put up with it if that's what it takes to make you stay,” he said wryly.

His support seemed to cheer her up, to a degree. “Maybe if I watch some of the videotape shot in this place after Garza arrived but before Hugo was shanked I'll find something to corroborate what Garza told me.”

“That could prove helpful. Did Fitzpatrick record his sessions, too?”

“Yes. We all do. It's standard operating procedure.”

“I'd like to see those myself.”

“Tonight? I can access them right here, on my computer.”

“No. I'd better take care of Kush. We'll do it in the morning.”

She nodded. “For what it's worth, it felt like Garza was telling me the truth.”

“Interestingly enough, it felt like Hugo was telling me the truth this morning, too,” Amarok said.

“You spoke with him?”

“At the hospital.”

She made a face. “Was that before or after he tried to escape?”

Amarok hadn't heard about this. “Must've been before. What happened?”

“He fended off the guard, then dropped to the floor with a heart attack.”

“He didn't die?”

“No, but he still could.”

Amarok glanced through the window, at the perimeter lights that glowed eerily in the darkness. “I guess I can't blame the poor bastard.”

She blinked at him. “
Poor
bastard?”

“I'd rather die than be locked up.” He felt claustrophobic just entering Hanover House.

“He has only himself to blame. If you get caught, murdering people tends to restrict your freedom.”

“I'd better go.” He crossed to the door. “When will you be home?”

“Late. It'll take some time to view all that videotape. I can't gain access to the general security tapes, not with the warden gone. But I can take a look at Fitzpatrick's sessions, pare down what you'll have to watch tomorrow. It's not like you'll be home tonight, anyway. I'd rather not be there alone if I can avoid it.”

He realized there could be something in those sessions that revealed what Fitzpatrick had been doing with Hugo. But he couldn't conscionably stop Evelyn from viewing them—not when they could reveal more than he knew about the murders and he couldn't take the time to view them himself. Finding whoever had killed Lorraine Drummond and Danielle Connelly took precedence over everything. “Call me if there's anything … upsetting.”

“Okay.”

“And don't try to drive that car of yours home. The roads are too slick. I'll come back for you when I'm done.”

“I'll wait.”

He reached for the doorknob, then cursed under his breath and went back. He didn't care if they were at the prison, playing their respective professional roles. He wanted to kiss her. But he'd barely put his mouth on hers when Penny came in again.

“Oh! Yikes! I'm sorry! I didn't realize!” she cried, and ran back out.

“Whoops,” Amarok murmured, but he didn't let go of Evelyn. “I hope you don't mind that Penny knows we're together.”

“We're together?” she echoed. “I'm not merely worshiping at your feet?”

He scowled. “What are you talking about?”

“Never mind.” She pulled him back in for another kiss. “All your other fans will just have to suffer the disappointment.”

He laughed, but he wasn't laughing a minute later, when he left her office and learned what Penny had been so anxious to tell them.

Hugo Evanski had made a second attempt to escape from the hospital—and this time he'd managed it.

 

27

I'm as cold a motherfucker as you've ever put your fucking eyes on. I don't give a shit about those people.

—TED BUNDY, SERIAL KILLER, RAPIST, KIDNAPPER AND NECROPHILIAC

Taking a break from all the video she'd been viewing, Evelyn rubbed her eyes. She'd spoken to her father earlier, but their talk hadn't gone much better than her last conversation with her mother. He pleaded with Evelyn to come home, said it would bring her mother a great deal of peace. Evelyn felt the added guilt his words dumped on her but assured him that there was nothing to worry about, that no one else was going to get hurt. And they'd ended at the typical impasse, except that her father had confirmed that her mother was on anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medication. Evelyn hated that they thought she could ease Lara's struggles and wouldn't. But she honestly didn't see how going home would fix them. Jasper could attack her in Boston as easily as anywhere else. He'd proven it last summer. And what happened when she was sixteen had happened. There was no returning to the innocence they'd enjoyed before. Her mother had to overcome the impact of Jasper's actions just like she did.

Fortunately, she'd spoken to her sister after, who'd tried to make things easier. Brianne had promised to take care of their mother and had encouraged Evelyn to stay in Alaska and do what she had to do. That helped. Brianne had always been so calm and supportive—a blessing to the whole family.

Now that it was getting late, however, that phone call with her father was bothering Evelyn again. Probably because she was so tired. Her thoughts cycled through the same worries over and over and then stalled, as if she might fade to sleep in spite of the need for diligence. She'd been functioning on caffeine since Amarok left, but coffee didn't seem capable of sustaining her any longer. She'd expected him back long ago.

Where was he? She guessed he was interfacing with the Anchorage police on Hugo's escape in addition to seeing that Kush was booked and jailed at the trooper post. But surely Hugo was in custody by now. He couldn't get far in his condition. He had two knife wounds in his chest, he'd just had a heart attack and, as far as she knew, he didn't even have a coat.…

“Come on, come on,” she muttered, eyeing the phone. Why hadn't Amarok checked in with her? She was starting to get a headache.

She took some medication to fend it off. That enabled her to work a bit longer. But after another thirty minutes the phone still hadn't rung—and when she tried calling Amarok at the trooper post his voice mail came on.

With a sigh, she got up to stretch her legs. The weather seemed to be taking a turn for the worse, which made her think that the big storm they were expecting tomorrow might be a bit early. Or maybe not. It was nearly midnight. She supposed that meant that the storm was right on time. It was Amarok who was late, and waiting for him meant she wouldn't be able to get to his place on her own.…

Patting her cheeks to revive her flagging energy, she returned to her desk. As concerned as she was growing at Amarok's long absence, there were a lot of legitimate reasons he could be delayed. It didn't shorten the wait or do any good to pace and worry. She figured she might as well push through her fatigue and continue viewing the recordings of Fitzpatrick's most recent sessions.

But when she clicked on the next file, she noticed something odd. The recording didn't seem new. She'd viewed it before. It was from right after they opened Hanover House, when they were all carefully watching one another for training and critiquing purposes, or she probably wouldn't have remembered it.

How strange. That couldn't be. The date on the file indicated it was taken five days ago.

She closed out of it to be sure, checked the file name and brought the footage up again. Maybe she was so fatigued she couldn't trust her brain. It wasn't as if the background on the tapes varied by a great margin. And Fitzpatrick's voice did tend to drone on.…

When he mispronounced an inmate's last name and the inmate corrected him, however, it felt like déjà vu. She recognized him saying that name in exactly the same way. Besides, he would have to know the proper pronunciations of his patients' names by now. He'd been meeting with most of them for three months.…

“This is from our first week,” she mumbled, her pulse spiking. Fitzpatrick must've deleted this file and replaced it with a copy of the earlier session so he'd have something taking up that storage space. She was pretty sure he never expected anyone to look. Even if someone did, whoever it was would likely never realize the file was a duplicate, not unless he or she started at the very beginning and sifted through all the files, which would take forever.

She'd
almost missed it, hadn't she?

What was he trying to hide?

She opened more of his files. Several of those with a recent date had been replaced with sessions from November, too.