The rope was taut.
“Dad.”
Mason turned to his daughter, who trembled from the cold. “Just stay there.”
“Don’t jump!” she cried, indicating the rope around her leg.
Wendell moved toward Mason, a smug grin crinkling his face. “Here,” he said, blocking the space between them, “we have a true test of strength. Tell me, how much do you weigh?”
Mason swallowed hard. “You son of a bitch.”
“Happy trails, Mr. Black.” He leapt forward and shot out both hands.
As Mason felt the shunt and tumbled backward off the cliff, he heard Amy screaming.
The rope tightened, and he plummeted toward the rocky base of the cliff.
Chapter Eighty-Three
Evie’s knees struck the ladder with numbing force.
“Shit,” she said, wincing as her feet slipped and struggled to get a good grip on the bottom rung. Fighting the pain, she raised her knees, wrapped a sweaty palm around the ladder, and pulled herself up.
It was a bumpy, uncomfortable ride to the cliff’s edge. The rain was picking up, and blasts of cold wind rushed at her, but she had to hold on for the sake of her family.
Before they arrived at the edge of the cliff, the engine was cut off and the killer got out, summoning Mason from the side door.
“Here it is, Mr. Black,” the killer said. “Your final stop.”
Evie lowered herself from the ladder and crept around the side of the RV. From here she could evaluate the situation before making any sudden moves. She could see the gun was pointed at her brother, and her heart raced. Ahead of him, and nearer the cliff’s edge, was Amy. She was sobbing but didn’t move.
What has he done to you? Evie hated seeing her own niece in danger.
Mason was forced to tie a rope around himself and was then nudged toward the cliff’s edge.
No. Evie dropped to a knee and took the knife from her shin strap. She held it how Mason had taught her back at Christmas after presenting her with the gift. Now, she might have to use it, whether she was prepared for that or not.
The killer shoved Mason over the edge of the cliff, and Amy crashed to the ground as the rope dragged her along by her leg. It happened so fast Evie could barely register what was going on. But her instincts kicked in, and there was no need—or time—for caution anymore. She ran forward—not for Wendell, but for the rope.
“Help!” Amy screamed, her voice shrill with panic.
Evie dashed forward, throwing herself to the ground and snagging hold of the rope. She buried her heels into the ground, and the soggy mud rose in a big divot under her feet, slowing them to a stop. “I’ve got you!”
Wendell stood watching, his expression one of amused surprise. “Not exactly what I hoped for, but I guess this makes things more interesting.” He stepped back, holding the gun by his crotch and looking on with excitement.
Evie had to seize control. Using the knife, she sawed feverishly at the rope. The threads came apart, liberating Amy, but Evie was stunned by the sudden increase in weight as she was dragged closer to the cliff face. “Run!” she screamed, demanding Amy get to safety.
Amy hesitated, moved a hand as if to help, then climbed to her feet and sprinted away from the cliff. Within seconds she’d disappeared into the darkness.
“Losing your grip?” Wendell asked, laughing. “I’d love to stay and watch the show, but I have a girl to catch. Adios.” He ran after Amy without looking back.
Evie was left alone in the dark, burying her heels as deep as she could into the mud and the rocky ground, but it was no use. She’d merely postponed the inevitable, because Mason was too heavy and she was being hauled closer to the edge. Closer to her brother’s death.
She was five yards away.
Three.
Two.
The rocks and mud gave out beneath her and went plummeting off the cliff, while the rope tore at her palms, burning her skin. Exhausted and agonized, Evie yelled at the top of her lungs as the rope finally slipped through her grasp.
Chapter Eighty-Four
A second wind lent Evie a burst of strength, but it wasn’t enough.
The rope slipped and burned, and although she managed to plant her feet in hard enough to pull back by a couple of yards, her strength soon waned to nothing.
“Mason,” she called. “I can’t hold you!” It was near impossible to hear anything through the wind and rain, but she just made out Mason’s voice.
“Evie? Where’s Amy?”
Evie gritted her teeth and hoisted back. She didn’t know how long she could hold on, but it wasn’t long. “She escaped… he went after her.”
He didn’t respond, and Evie grunted as she was dragged closer to the cliff’s edge.
“Go,” Mason finally yelled, resigned.
Is he crazy? Evie pictured him hanging down there, not as the man he was now, but as the boy she’d played games with on the rug as a kid. The boy who’d taught her to tell time and tie her shoelaces. The brother who’d saved her in every way possible after their parents had died. “I’m not letting you go.”
“You have to!”
“No.”
“I’m loosening the rope now, Evie. You tried, but it’s okay.”
Her palms were ablaze as she tried to manage Mason’s weight, but it was too much. She suddenly hurtled forward, her chin hitting the dirt as she lost her grip on the rope, and her stomach tore up as she was dragged across the rocks. “Don’t you dare fucking untie it,” she blurted through a face full of dirt and gravel.
But Mason didn’t have to, because the final length of the rope slid from her hand and she stared on in helpless horror as the end flailed around like spaghetti being sucked up, growing shorter and shorter as it raced toward the cliff.
It all happened so fast that she barely heard the rushing patter of footsteps behind her.
Accepting their fate, she closed her eyes and waited for her heart to break.
Chapter Eighty-Five
Mason pulled out a thread of rope, loosening the knot. One more, and he would fall to his death. How else was he supposed to convince Evie to go after Amy?
After everything they’d been through, he cared for only two things: his family’s safety, and bringing the Lullaby Killer to justice. If sacrificing himself was the only way to do that, what choice did he have? Besides, it was numbingly cold up here and he was beyond exhausted. Letting go seemed a hell of a lot easier.
He felt a sudden jolt in the rope as the resistance weakened, and he dropped. He fell fast toward the rocks, thoughts of Amy flashing in his mind, and knew Evie must have finally let go. But then there was a brutal jerk, crashing him into the jagged cliff face and tearing his arm to shreds.
“Don’t let go!” boomed a familiar voice from above. A man’s voice.
“Bill?” Mason strained to look up.
“Whatever you do, just don’t let go. We’re going to pull you up, buddy.”
We? As Mason was hoisted up the cliff, he wondered who the hell would be there to thank. He prayed it wasn’t Evie, and that she’d gone after Wendell.
When he got to the top, rocks grazing his arms and legs while the cold wind blasted at his back, Bill and Evie pulled him to his feet. Evie was caked in mud, holding her arms in pain. It must have taken everything she had to hold him for that long. But his gratitude could wait.
“Where did Amy go?” Mason demanded, clambering to his feet and moving away from the cliff.
“The trees,” Evie said, pointing a finger. “Let’s go.”
“No.” Mason stopped her. “You stay here. Bill, give me your gun.”
“We’ll both be in a lot of trouble if you—”
“Give me the damn gun!”
Bill drew it from his hip and handed it over, not saying another word.
“You got a car?” Mason stared into the dark woods.
“Yeah.”
“Good. Take Evie. I need to finish this.” He turned, and without anot
her word, he started off along the sodden ground, his jog speeding into a run. Putting the last of his depleted energy into chasing the infamous Lullaby Killer for the final time, Mason sprinted off into the trees.
Chapter Eighty-Six
Mason had never run so fast in his life. As branches and thick bushes tried to slow him down, clawing at his shredded arm, he pummeled through them with immeasurable force.
Wendell was ahead of him, just close enough to see in the darkness of the murky woods. He, too, was moving at great speed. Only he wasn’t running away from Mason. He was plowing after Amy in what was a terrifying pursuit.
Mason slowed down, fatigue weighing down his feet. “Stop right there!” he yelled, clutching the gun tight. He stepped over a fallen branch and aimed the gun. It was now or never—a wild shot, or lose the killer and Amy.
Holding his breath, then letting it out, he coiled his finger around the trigger and squeezed. The gunshot echoed through the trees, startling birds and making them scatter.
Wendell stopped dead in his tracks, raising his hands.
Amy fell into the dirt not far beyond.
“Don’t move, asshole.” Mason stepped forward. Amy came into view. She was on the ground, skin scraped and cut after her escape from the Lullaby Killer.
“Dad,” she whined. “Stop him. Please stop him.”
“Yeah, Dad.” Wendell stepped closer, his evil grin illuminated in the moonlight. “Stop me.” It was an obvious taunt, and far too tempting.
Mason gripped the gun harder, trembling in the cold and eager to make a move. He stepped over a pile of dead leaves and looked around.
You have no idea how much I want to kill you.
“Shoot him, Dad!” Amy cried.
“He won’t, little girl. We don’t know why, but he won’t.” Wendell sidestepped, inclining his head a little to examine Mason’s expression. “Is it because of his moral code? Is that it? Or is it because his daughter is watching?”
“She’s seen worse things than you,” Mason spat through clenched teeth.
“I don’t doubt it. But I wager she’s never seen anything as interesting as me. Ain’t that right?” Wendell wouldn’t keep still, cowering only slightly at the sight of the gun. “I mean, look at this. It took you years to catch me, and now you finally have, you can’t even bring yourself to stop me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” There was something wrong. Mason could feel it. Was the killer really that confident he wouldn’t shoot? Would he shoot? The logical thing to do would be to bring him in for arrest. But there was something telling him he couldn’t. Something saying it would be his worst move. All the same, he could easily bluff it. “Do you know what they do to child killers in prison?”
“Oh, come on. You know as well as I do I’m not ever heading that way. Here you are, deciding whether to shoot me. But, we both know—” Wendell came closer and lowered his hands. “—that doing so would make you as bad as me. You’re not a killer, are you, Mr. Black?”
Mason knew his options. They were limited, but at least he had options. He glanced at Amy, who was hurt and frightened. The idea that anyone would make his daughter feel that way only enraged him with bloodlust. He looked back at Wendell, the Lullaby Killer who’d caused him so much trouble for all these years.
“No,” he said. “I’m far worse.”
Chapter Eighty-Seven
Evie was in Bill’s car when she saw them. However, she felt both thrilled and disappointed at the same time. Seeing Mason was a relief, and laying eyes on Amy meant she could relax a little. But where the hell is Wendell?
Bill was first out the car, rushing straight to Mason while Evie ran to her niece, crouching to hold her close. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry.”
Amy hugged her back, sobbing into her shoulder as the cruel rain continued to fall.
“Evie.” Mason looked down and placed a hand on Amy’s back. “Can you take her to the car for me? I need to talk to Bill.”
“What? Where’s Wendell?”
Mason shook his head and swallowed. “He got away.”
While he and Bill talked among themselves, Evie carried a sobbing Amy to the car and sat cradling her to warm her up. The police and an ambulance were on their way, so they could give their statements and have their injuries taken care of.
But Evie couldn’t take her eyes off her brother.
What aren’t you telling me?
Mason was talking as Bill ran his fingers through his hair, looking as stressed as ever. They were obviously sharing a secret, and Evie wanted in. Frustrated, she would just have to wait.
Mason returned to the car, stroking Amy’s hair.
“Got away, huh?” Evie whispered, sighing.
“Yes.”
“Listen, you don’t have to tell me everything. You never have to say more than you feel comfortable with. But don’t ever lie to me. Understood?” Evie felt horrible for putting it so bluntly. Was she being paranoid? Everything they’d been through had certainly taught her to be cautious, if nothing else.
Mason lowered his head. “I’m not lying. In fact, I’ve decided to drop the case.”
“Drop it?” This is definitely not like him. “What the hell do you mean?”
“I have Amy back, although worse for wear. The only reason this happened is because I was getting too deep into things. I’ve spoken to Bill, and he’ll continue the investigation without me.”
“We’ll want the official statement,” Bill said from the driver’s side.
“Can we swing by in the morning?” Mason hoisted Amy from the car and carried her to the approaching ambulance.
“I don’t see why not.”
Evie climbed out and went with Mason, resigning to his terrible idea of giving up. Something was definitely off, whether he was willing to admit it or not. Maybe it was best if she never found out.
For now, however, she had a niece to take care of and a brother to support. In spite of his poor choice, Mason would still need her. And who was she to refuse?
Chapter Eighty-Eight
Mason had no sooner got his daughter back than he had to hand her away again.
The doctors had seen to her cuts and near-broken finger, and she’d taken it like a champ. No whining, as might be expected from a thirteen-year-old. No moaning, or any signs of posttraumatic stress. In fact, she showed nothing but gratitude that she’d made it out of there alive.
It was more than Evie could have handled—she’d cringed at her own scrapes and gone home to rest after making sure everyone was okay.
Finally, it was just Mason and Amy, the loving father-daughter duo.
“You ready to go?” he asked, picking her up as if she was still five.
Amy nodded and wrapped her arms around him as he carried her out to the Mustang.
Mason messed with the keys. His hands were shaking like crazy, but he had no idea why. Probably just fatigue, he thought, and closed his fist tight and opened it again, easing the tension. Better. He started the engine, and the headlights lit up the dark.
“You’re never coming home, are you?” Amy asked as he pulled out of the hospital parking lot. It seemed as if she knew the answer but wanted to hear it from his own lips.
“I don’t think so.”
They soon arrived at the house, and Mason tried not to think about the divorce papers. Instead, he thought only about what to do next. Hunting down Marvin Wendell was sure as hell not on his list of priorities, but private investigating might still be an option.
Mason climbed out of the car and opened the door for Amy. He took her hand and helped her out of the car, then walked her toward the house.
“Wait.” Amy stopped, halfway up the driveway.
“What is it?”
“I want to live with you.”
Mason would have loved it, too, but it simply wasn’t possible. He kneeled, brushed the stray strands of hair over her ear, and looked her in the eye. “I don’t have anywhere to live yet, sweetheart. I’m still livi
ng with Bill.”
“What about when you’re ready?”
“Maybe.” It depends what the court decides, he thought but didn’t say.
Just then, the front door of the house sprang open and Sandra came running out. She was barefoot but didn’t care and almost knocked Amy off her feet as she grabbed her and encased her in a hug.
“I’m so sorry I let you go,” Sandra said, planting firm kisses on her cheek. She looked at Mason, grabbed his T-shirt, and pulled him close, holding him, too. “I’m so sorry.”
Mason wasn’t sure if she was repeating her apology to Amy, or offering a new one to him. Whoever it was for, he hugged her back, holding her close and knowing this was the last time he would ever see such affection from his wife.
Over her shoulder, he saw Joshua walking down the drive. He had his head down, but his eyes were up. When he stopped, he lowered his gaze to his feet. “I just wanted to say—”
“Shut up,” Mason barked. “You’re not a part of this.” God knew he wanted to hit Joshua. For taking his wife. For trying to take his daughter. And for ever letting Amy get in harm’s way in the first place.
“You know what?” Sandra whispered in Mason’s ear, still clutching him. “Maybe we should rethink a few things.”
Mason felt it like a sucker punch. He knew it was probably just the elation of the moment that made her say it, but how was he supposed to respond? His initial reaction was to smile, to say Great! and Everything will be okay. But in spite of his own mistakes throughout their marriage, could he ever really accept the way she’d handled it?
As difficult as it was, he said nothing, rubbing his tired eyes and breaking free of the embrace. “I’d better head home.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Sandra told him, nodding.
“Sure.” Mason kissed his daughter on the cheek and mussed her hair. “See you soon.” He went back to his car, started the engine, and pulled out of the drive. In the rearview mirror he saw his wife and daughter standing and waving him off. Joshua skulked in the background.
Mason & Morgan- The Serial Killer Collection Page 17