Amarok didn’t care to acknowledge that, even to himself. “He was still at Beacon Point when Evelyn was kidnapped.”

“But we know he had help.…”

“If the guy who’s helping him was with my mother, he would’ve had her use her own phone, wouldn’t have had to use a burner.”

Phil still seemed reluctant to let it go, but, finally, he nodded. “Yeah. Okay. You’re probably right.”

“Besides, she would’ve called me if she’d had an encounter like that,” Amarok added.

The door flew open and Heidi Perth Robbins walked in with dinner. The appearance of his wife distracted Phil. She was saying something about cooking enough for two, at which point Amarok should’ve smiled and thanked her, but he wasn’t really listening. He couldn’t quit thinking about the possibilities. Whoever was involved with Bishop may have figured out where his mother lived and gone to visit her. There was also the chance she hadn’t called him about it because she couldn’t. And maybe her murder hadn’t been reported on the news because she and her husband were both dead and their bodies hadn’t yet been discovered. After all, Jason, Amarok’s twin brother, lived in Spokane these days. He probably didn’t check in on their mother every day.

With a curse that made both Heidi and Phil stop talking and look over at him, Amarok picked up the phone. But he didn’t get a chance to dial his mother; someone was already on the line.

“Amarok? How weird. I didn’t even hear you say hello!”

It was Evelyn’s mother. “I’m sorry. I … ah—How’s everything with Brianne? Any news yet?” He hoped so. As far as he knew, she’d been in labor since Thursday night.

“It was a long, hard go. Her contractions didn’t progress at first. So they gave her something, and she went into labor in earnest and finally delivered early this morning. We have a boy!” she announced.

16

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.