Free Her Darkest Nightmare by Brenda Novak Page B

She mentioned this to Amarok as they made their way to the administration offices even though he’d seen the roads for himself, had been driving on them. She wanted to point out that the prison’s beleaguered staff would soon have the replacements they needed.
    But he didn’t respond. He couldn’t seem to stop frowning long enough to speak, and given what’d happened—between them and with the murder—she couldn’t blame him.
    Dr. Timothy Fitzpatrick was the first to greet them. They encountered him as he stepped out of the administration area. Obviously, he was on his way somewhere, most likely to a session with a prisoner. As soon as he saw her, he opened his mouth as if he had something specific to say but stopped short when he noticed the sergeant.
    â€œIs there a problem?” he asked, glancing between them.
    Evelyn breathed a sigh of relief. If there’d been an escape in her absence, Dr. Fitzpatrick would have initiated this conversation much differently. Second to her, he’d had the biggest influence in bringing HH into existence. Without his support and willingness to buy in to her vision—even move to Alaska to help make it a reality—she doubted Hanover House would ever have gotten past the concept phase. “I’m sure you’ve met Sergeant Amarok, Tim,” she said.
    â€œNot formally,” Fitzpatrick replied. “But I’ve seen him around. I’ve heard of him, too. He’s almost a folk hero in Hilltop, isn’t he?”
    â€œHe’s certainly well-liked.” She thought Fitzpatrick could take a few lessons from Amarok on how to win friends and influence people, but she knew he’d be shocked if she said that.
    â€œWhat brings him to Hanover House?”
    Unsure of how much Amarok wanted her to reveal, and assuming he’d fill in if he chose to, she said, “There’s been an incident in town.”
    The fifty-year-old Fitzpatrick shoved his glasses higher on his prominent nose. “What kind of incident?”
    â€œThe kind that leads me to believe one of your boys might’ve gotten out last night,” Amarok said. “Or maybe someone disappeared a day or two ago and he hasn’t been missed for whatever reason.”
    â€œThat would be impossible,” Fitzpatrick scoffed. “We do a head count morning and night.”
    Evelyn had indicated as much on the drive over, but Amarok didn’t seem to put much store by that.
    â€œA count might make escape unlikely—doesn’t make it impossible,” the sergeant said.
    Despite the work they’d been able to accomplish together, Fitzpatrick’s prickliness made him one of Evelyn’s least favorite people. The self-importance that rang through his tone didn’t seem to endear him to Amarok, either.
    â€œIt’s not as if we have thousands of inmates here, Sergeant,” he said with a grating laugh. “I think we’d be able to tell if someone went missing.”
    Tall and imposing in an Abraham Lincoln sort of way, Fitzpatrick was used to establishing quick superiority over those around him. His arrogance came from being highly intelligent and knowing it. But Amarok hardly seemed intimidated, and that didn’t surprise Evelyn. The men she’d met in Alaska were a breed apart from those in the Lower 48. Because they lived such a rogue existence, they relied almost exclusively on their own opinions—and that was true of no one more than the sergeant.
    â€œSorry if I’m unwilling to take that on faith, Dr.”—Amarok’s eyes flicked to the nameplate attached to his lab coat—“Fitzpatrick. You have two hundred and fifty of the most dangerous felons in the country located in this facility—a facility that is new and untried. For the most part your staff is just as green. Figure in the storm as a distraction and we have to make sure every single inmate is present and accounted