Of course, her beauty would fade quickly enough. After the operation, Beth’s looks had gone downhill almost right away. There was something about that loss of vitality and intelligence; it took a physical toll, too.

He scratched his head. What was he thinking? He couldn’t worry about stuff like that right now. He had too many other things to deal with.

“How do I counteract it all?” he muttered, over and over again as he glared at the computer screen and the last article he’d pulled up. Edna Southwick had said three of her four children lived in the Lower 48, which was good. Being so far away, they were less likely to notice she was missing right away.

But the fourth child …

The fourth child could be a problem. It’d already been twenty-four hours.

Removing his glasses, he rubbed his eyes as he sagged against the back of the barstool and pictured the various scenarios he could potentially face. If the daughter who lived in Alaska came snooping around, looking for her mother, he could kill her. But that would only start her husband searching for her, and if Lyman killed him the chain would go on. Eventually, the police would show up with a search warrant and find the bodies.

He couldn’t handle the problem of Edna Southwick in that way. Initially, he’d thought he’d just keep her with Evelyn until the baby came. Edna had had four kids; he figured she could help Evelyn when it came time for the delivery, which would improve the odds of the child surviving.

But he hadn’t really been thinking critically. Physical capacity wasn’t the only thing he’d lost with the damn hemorrhage. He’d lost a lot of mental acuity, too.

He had to take Evelyn and leave this place, he decided. As much as he’d hoped to stay right here until the baby was born—in so many ways it was ideal—he couldn’t. Law enforcement would eventually piece the whole thing together, would probably even realize that he was the one who’d kidnapped Evelyn and, for a time, kept her here. But with how easy it was to find work as a science editor or textbook ghostwriter, or even doing medical transcription, over the Internet, he could work from home, where it wouldn’t be difficult to lay low. He could even have groceries and other supplies delivered to his house, wouldn’t have to see anyone.

Which meant they wouldn’t know where he’d gone. And they wouldn’t be able to find him.

The only problem? Scouting out the perfect situation and getting set up again could take days.

He could only hope there’d be enough time.

Hilltop, AK—Tuesday, 8:00 a.m. AKDT

Jasper was afraid to go into the showers. He’d been waiting for an ambush and, after what Roland said in the yard on Sunday afternoon, he knew that was where such a thing would most likely occur. There weren’t enough hours in the day to allow all the inmates to shower separately—the government wasn’t keen on spending the extra money on the number of showers that would require; it wasn’t as though they were going to put one in every cell like some kind of motel—which left him vulnerable, especially because Roland was in the same cellblock. They’d been showering at the same time, three days a week, ever since Roland came to Hanover House, but Jasper had never been uneasy about it, not like this.