Hanover House: Kickoff to the Evelyn Talbot Chronicles

Chapter 9

So this was Hilltop. How was it that Evelyn thought she could tolerate such a place? It wasn't much more than a trading post. And the people! Nothing but stupid hicks.

He was going to have a field day here, "Andy Smith" decided as he cruised slowly down the main drag. It only lasted for a few blocks. Then he had to turn his rental car around to drive back the other way. He'd spotted one small motel with a chain of twelve rooms at the far end. It wasn't fancy, but he supposed it sufficed for the hunters and fishermen who came here, so he figured he could get by with it, too. At least there was some place to stay. The farther he drove from Anchorage, the more he'd begun to worry that there would be no lodgings.

While braking at one of the three intersections that heralded the main crossroads of this remote dot on the map, he took a second to check his reflection in the rearview mirror. It was the first time he'd be putting his new face to the test. Well, he supposed returning to the States fifteen years ago had been one sort of test. And flipping Evelyn's mother off had been another. But instead of mingling with masses of people who may only have seen pictures of his former self on TV or the internet, or flashing his mug to someone in a car, he'd be confronting the one person who knew him better than anyone else. The one person who knew what he was capable of and had lived to tell about it.

Of course, when the time came and he was ready to make his move, he'd wear a ski mask until he could subdue her. These days, he always wore a mask until he'd secured his victim. But he could bump into her by accident before then—maybe at the diner—and he felt certain that if anyone would recognize him despite the surgery, it would be Evelyn.

So coming here raised the stakes considerably. He'd be hiding in plain sight—which was daring but exciting too. He'd been waiting so long to be able to see her up close, to touch her, that he was ready to take the gamble. And he was fairly confident. Not only had the surgeon done his job well, twenty years had passed since they'd been together in that shack. He'd put on a good twenty pounds of muscle and kept his hair dyed brown to cover the blond. The color of his eyes was the only thing he hadn't been able to change—colored contacts looked so ridiculous they drew more attention rather than less, so he didn't bother with them.

Besides, most people had brown eyes. He hardly considered that a distinguishing characteristic.

He rolled down his window to test the air. It had to be in the mid-sixties—a nice day for somewhere notorious for being cold. He figured he'd check into the motel using an old ID, from one of his earlier identities. Then he'd grab a bite to eat. He needed to familiarize himself with the area, figure out the best places to hide, should he ever need to hide, and where every road led, even the nondescript dirt ones. From looking at a map, he was pretty sure if something went wrong he'd have to get back to Anchorage in order to have half a chance of disappearing again, but having only one escape route wouldn't give him many options. He'd be wise to do some investigating and open up other possibilities—at least find a few places where he could hide until he could use that main road.

Some of the people he passed on the street watched him drive by. Obviously, they noticed when there was a stranger in their midst. But he wasn't worried. It was hunting season, so he doubted his was the only unfamiliar face. And, thanks to Hanover House, he had the perfect cover.

He wondered if it might be possible to hold Evelyn hostage at her own house, if she had one...

Why not? he asked himself. Who would stop him in this two-bit town? He doubted there was any law enforcement to speak of. Even if there was, he couldn't imagine the force would be very well trained, not way the hell out here. If he could outsmart the best cops in the lower forty-eight, he doubted Hilltop would have anything he'd need to be afraid of.