Hanover House: Kickoff to the Evelyn Talbot Chronicles

Chapter 3

Jasper Moore had changed his identity several times over the years. He now went by the name Andy Smith, which was far more common and unremarkable than "Jasper." He'd changed his face, too. Considerably. So considerably that sometimes he regretted the surgery. But he'd probably be in prison right now if he hadn't taken advantage of what his parents had afforded him.

Although he was home alone, he made sure the door to the bathroom was locked before taking the tattered old prom picture from his wallet. He was a fool to keep anything that connected him to the past. But he hadn't been able to let go of this one item. Not only was he the boy he used to be in that photograph, which he sort of missed, Evelyn was with him. It was the only tangible thing he'd had to remember her by during all the years he'd waited to come into contact with her again.

Filled with longing, he touched her face. Studying it brought him such exquisite pleasure, so much that all of his victims looked like her. The woman he'd picked up last week especially. From a distance, he would've sworn it was Evelyn.

Too bad the bitch had opened her mouth and ruined the illusion...

"Andy? I'm home!"

Shit! He'd thought he had another hour, at least, before his wife got off work. After leaving the woman who was bound and gagged at his little hideaway, he'd spent too much time watching Evelyn's parents' house, hoping her mother or father would lead him to where she was living these days.

"Hey, where are you?" Hillary called.

With a grimace, he put his precious picture back inside the secret compartment in his wallet and turned on the shower so she'd think he was unavailable. He didn't care to see her, didn't want her to bring him down with her complaints about his inability to maintain steady employment. After he'd found that envelope from Evelyn's parents in his father's study, he'd convinced her to move to Boston by telling her he'd been promised a good job there. So she wasn't happy that in the month since they'd been living in Massachusetts no job had materialized.

She'd also be angry that he hadn't picked up her two brats from their friends' house after summer camp...

She surprised him by knocking instead of waiting until he was out of the bathroom. "Andy?"

When he didn't answer, she knocked louder.

"Andy!"

He quickly removed his clothes and stepped into the shower so he could respond without sounding as if he was right on the other side of the door. "What is it?"

"How'd your interviews go?"

"Not so good," he replied.

There was a pause as she dealt with her disappointment. "What went wrong?" she asked at length.

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"So you didn't collect the girls?"

"My last interview ran late, and after hearing so many no's, I wasn't in the mood to see anyone."

There was another long silence. She used to show some sympathy, tell him he'd have better luck tomorrow, that she loved him anyway, that sort of thing. But she was becoming less and less understanding. Now she wanted to let him know that she wasn't happy with the kind of husband he'd turned out to be.

He wished she'd leave, just walk away and start dinner. He was hungry. Or she could go get the kids, if she was so damn worried about them. But she didn't. He heard her voice again. "Can I come in? I'd like to talk to you while we have some time alone."