He smiled at an attractive young woman who scrambled to get out of his way as he pushed his cart down the vegetable aisle. He loved food and wine, refused to be cheap when it came to either of those things. And now that he was out of Beacon Hill and could have something besides the institutional slop he’d been fed for the past eighteen months, food that would’ve been a disappointment to pigs, he planned to take full advantage of it. His new girlfriend, being so far along in her pregnancy, was going to need some good nutrition, too.

The memory of how Evelyn had treated him when he’d tried to talk to her this morning threatened to ruin his mood, but he refused to let it. He couldn’t expect too much from her. Not at first. Being held against her will after being able to do just about anything she wanted must come as a terrible shock. She was a bright, accomplished woman and deserved a little more latitude than he’d offered his previous “girlfriends.” Besides, he had no idea how Emmett had behaved with her. Maybe he’d been uncouth. He certainly hadn’t been feeding her properly.

She’d get used to him, Bishop decided, would learn to love him the way Beth had—or at least to treat him as if she did, which was all the same to him—especially once she realized that he was willing to reward her when she behaved herself.

And if she refused to play nice?

He finished loading his cart with squash, watermelon, grapes, lettuce, corn on the cob and potatoes and headed off in search of the aisle that had a small section of kitchen implements. He needed a knife—he’d disposed of the one he’d used to kill Terry rather than draw attention by putting it in his luggage when he got on the plane. He also needed a new padlock for the front gate and an ordinary ice pick, the kind people used in their kitchens all the time, which meant purchasing one.

In a state where practically everyone else was packing a gun, that wouldn’t raise any more eyebrows than seeing a forty-two-year-old man who was barely five eight, had already lost most of his hair and was carrying a few extra pounds around the middle shuffling along with a limp.

He smiled when he found what he was looking for. It was only $8.99, a small price to pay for a little insurance, especially because he already had plenty of sleeping pills.

Since he controlled Evelyn’s food, he could ensure that she went to sleep whenever he decided it was necessary—and woke up much more manageable.

Anchorage, AK—Sunday 11:50 a.m. AKDT

Evelyn knew more about her surroundings than she’d known before. That was something, wasn’t it? Maybe it was a small thing—a very small thing—but she had to find some tiny rainbow in what had transpired. She hadn’t stabbed Emmett (thanks to Bishop, she now knew his name) for nothing. She’d gotten out of her cramped prison long enough to see where she was being kept and, as a consequence, had some inkling of the layout of the building.