“I would guess that you are.” He slid his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. “What if you’re carrying a baby the next time a sadist gets hold of you? Have you thought about that? You could be setting yourself up for some real heartbreak. And you wouldn’t be the only one to suffer. Think about your family—and your partner.”
She wanted to claim there was no chance of her being attacked again. The situation with Bishop had been unique. The institution was set up to protect the psychology team while they studied “the conscienceless,” so it wasn’t the convicts at Hanover House, the men behind bars, who worried her. It was Jasper Moore. He’d never been caught, was still out there somewhere, and she knew he’d like nothing more than to finish what he’d started when he’d killed three of her best friends, and tried to kill her, while they were in high school. The fact that he’d made another attempt to kidnap her two years ago told her he hadn’t forgotten her. She hadn’t seen his face that night. He’d been wearing a mask, so she had no idea how the years might’ve changed him, but he’d made no secret of who he was. He’d wanted her to know he was back.
She’d be dead now if she hadn’t escaped almost immediately.
What if she’d been pregnant when that happened?
“I can’t let fear stop me from living my life.” She told herself that all the time. Told other victims they couldn’t allow fear to paralyze them, either. But did that advice apply when an innocent child was involved?
Dr. Fielding drummed his fingers on the counter. “Then you’re willing to accept the risks—and the consequences—if something goes wrong.”
“Yes.” She wasn’t as certain as she made it sound, but she didn’t want him to know that.
He seemed to accept her answer. “Well, then. I see nothing from a biological standpoint to indicate you can’t get pregnant. Generally, we wait until a couple’s been trying for twelve months before recommending any type of fertility treatment, but considering your background and your age, I think we’re justified in starting sooner. Our first step would be to test Amarok, so we can get a clear picture of the entire situation.”
After the terrible things Jasper had done, she had to be the one with infertility problems. But she understood why Amarok would need to be tested, as well. Although chances were small, he could have a low sperm count, low mobility or something else that contributed to the problem. He’d never been checked out, not for that. He’d told her he’d only been to a doctor twice in his entire life—and both instances were for broken bones.
Dr. Fielding didn’t ask, but she could tell he was curious as to why she hadn’t mentioned marrying Amarok if they might be having a child together. No one else could understand how truly complicated her situation was. She loved Amarok. There was no question about that. But at this point she wasn’t committed to spending the rest of her life in Alaska. She had responsibilities back in Boston, where she was from, and she knew he’d never be happy anywhere else. He’d been born and raised in Hilltop, was a sixteenth-part Inuit, on his father’s side. He was the town’s only police presence, too, and he thrived on living in such a rugged part of the world. Alaska was in his blood. Dragging him down to the Lower 48 would be like caging a wild animal.
And yet her biological clock was ticking. She wouldn’t leave Hilltop for another three or four years. By then, it’d be too late to have a baby, especially since she’d have to wait for another relationship to develop like the one she had with Amarok, which probably wouldn’t happen. Other than Jasper, way back when, Amarok was the only man she’d ever truly loved. He was also the only man she’d ever been able to sleep with. After the violence she’d suffered at sixteen, she struggled with trust issues. If she ever wanted to be a mother, this could be her one chance. She didn’t want to be childless without even considering her options. And if she did get pregnant? She’d simply have to stay in Alaska; that would make the decision for her.
“I’ll speak to him about it,” she said. But she wasn’t sure how to bring up the subject. If she did, she knew Amarok would want to talk about marriage. He had every right to ask for a lifelong commitment instead of gambling with his heart.
2
Jasper was tempted to provide one of the inmates at Hanover House with a shiv. If someone were to get shanked, at least that would be intriguing, give him something enjoyable to watch. Those were the kinds of thoughts that went through his mind when he was bored, and he was always bored when Evelyn wasn’t at the prison. He’d hated being a correctional officer in Florence, Arizona, had done whatever he could to relieve the drudgery, including aiding and abetting a few stabbings. But he wouldn’t have been able to get on at Hanover House if not for the experience he’d gained at Florence, so he was glad he’d never been caught. Now he looked forward to going to work if he thought he might bump into his old girlfriend—or even catch a glimpse of her.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen today. He’d heard someone say Evelyn wasn’t coming in, which explained the desire he felt to create a diversion, something to cause a little excitement. But he couldn’t draw too much attention to himself, especially negative attention. Ever since he’d moved to Anchorage eight months ago and started commuting to Hanover House in Hilltop, he’d worked hard to build the illusion that he was a dependable, nonthreatening, normal prison guard. Even Evelyn seemed to buy his act. Whenever he passed her in the halls, she had a smile for him. She believed he’d saved her life when Lyman Bishop attacked her last winter, so she should have a smile for him. But her complete trust wasn’t easy to win. And her boyfriend, Sergeant Benjamin Murphy—or Amarok, as the locals called him—was ever watchful. Although Amarok didn’t work at the prison, he visited Hanover House often to bring Evelyn lunch or pick her up if there was a storm.
It wouldn’t be long now, though. And recapturing Evelyn would be all the sweeter for the patience and effort he’d invested in making certain that moment went down perfectly. Thanks to the plastic surgery he’d had twenty years ago, the dye he used to darken his hair and the passage of more than two decades, she didn’t know what he looked like these days. He’d even grown a beard since coming to Hilltop. He had all that going for him but still had to be careful not to get overeager and ruin the perception of himself he’d so painstakingly created. If he screwed up, she might realize he was right under her nose.
“Hey, what are you doing standing there?”
Jasper clenched his jaw as Lieutenant Dickey approached. This wasn’t anyone he wanted to see, not when he was leaning against the painted cinder-block wall outside the cafeteria, scraping the dirt from underneath his nails and wasting time until he could go home. “Nothing. Why?” he said, immediately straightening.
“Because last I checked, you were getting paid for being here.”
“We just finished searching Cellblock B, and my shift is nearly over, sir. I go home at one.” Waking up for work in the middle of the night wasn’t easy, but Jasper liked getting off when he had so much of the day ahead of him. He wished all his shifts started and ended at the same time, but they varied.
“That’s no excuse for loitering in the halls. If you’re done with Cellblock B, search A.”