He’d stayed outside the gate, hadn’t dared push his luck that far. But he’d made a note of the unit Lara had gone to, and he’d seen Evelyn in the passenger seat when they passed him.
He couldn’t believe it. He’d been within fifty feet of her. It was almost too good to be true, seemed like just another of the many fantasies he created around her. But it wasn’t. This time it was real. And she’d looked so beautiful, like she did on TV.
He couldn’t wait until he could get close enough to touch her...
That was coming, he promised himself. They’d driven to the airport, where Evelyn had stepped out. It was obvious she was leaving Boston. But that didn’t scare him. Her parting with her mother hadn’t been an emotional one, so he doubted she’d be gone long. And now that he knew where she lived, he could be waiting for her when she got back.
Or...maybe he’d go after her. She’d been dropped off at Alaska Air. He could easily guess where she was going—off to babysit her new “facility,” as he’d heard her call it on TV, currently being built an hour from Anchorage.
Such a remote setting offered so many possibilities, so much privacy and space. He could tell anyone who asked that he was an author, writing a book on the criminal justice system. With the interest Hanover House had been receiving, no one would even question it. He was too good of a liar. And if he was working for himself there’d be no way for someone to check his credentials, even if they did question his story.
It was brilliant. And there was one more thing. If he went to Alaska, he wouldn’t have to come home to Hillary at night, which was a bonus. He’d be alone with Evelyn until he had his fill...
He adjusted himself. Now he was getting excited. He just needed to devise a lie convincing enough to get his wife to buy him a plane ticket to California. His parents would give him money once he got there; they always did. And that would enable him to fly to Alaska.
Imagine the fun he could have with Evelyn if time wasn’t an issue...
Chapter 5
Fortunately, Evelyn had slept for most of the ten hours she’d been on the plane. Without her mother sitting next to her, brooding, it’d been a lot easier to relax.
After she reached Ted Stevens International Airport in Anchorage, she had to grab a bite to eat, rent a car and drive an hour to Hilltop—and yet, because of the time difference, she arrived before nine-thirty, when the sun was just setting. In June, on the longest day of the year, Anchorage received twenty-two hours of sunlight. But from the beginning of August to the end, the days grew rapidly shorter—by almost three hours.
Evelyn had yet to visit Alaska in mid-winter. There’d been no reason to brave the weather. It wasn’t as if she needed to decide whether she’d be willing to come; she knew she’d go wherever the government built her a facility. She’d heard a great deal about the prevailing darkness, however, and wasn’t looking forward to it.
She called Amarok as soon as she spotted the straggle of buildings that constituted Hilltop from the ridge above, and asked him to meet her out at Hanover House, which was ten minutes on the far side of the valley. He agreed, but she beat him there, and she was glad. It gave her an opportunity to stand alone in the dwindling sunlight—before she had to view the damage he’d told her about—and admire the huge stone edifice where she would soon be spending the bulk of her time. Her dream was becoming a reality; this proved it. Fortunately, she couldn’t see any graffiti on the front. The portable toilets weren’t here, either. She could only guess all of that was inside or in the back.
Maybe the people of Hilltop had room to complain about the type of men she’d be bringing to the area, she thought, but they couldn’t say anything about the beauty of the facility itself. The old-world architecture of Hanover House made it look as if it would stand for centuries, like a castle. There were no gargoyles or gothic embellishments, thank goodness, but the lines were a bit Draconian—something others had noticed, too. She’d seen one cartoon that depicted HH as a medieval torture chamber. She’d been lampooned in the same cartoon as the “mad scientist” who was “turning the screws” on the “poor, unfortunate souls” who fell within her power, which was frustrating. If the general populace only knew how well she tried to treat the men she studied, they could never make such an imaginative leap.
She heard a vehicle pull into the lot behind her and turned to see Amarok get out of his government-issued 4x4, which sported a winch and a snowplow. When she saw that he was dressed casually in a flannel shirt and a pair of worn jeans instead of his uniform, she realized that she’d probably pulled him out of whatever he did for enjoyment on a Friday night.
“I’m sorry, I—if you were busy, you should’ve said something,” she told him as he came toward her with that long, confident stride of his. “This could’ve waited until tomorrow.”