The woman looked over her shoulder. To Mason’s surprise, she passed right by Evie and continued up the street. Perhaps he’d been wrong. Maybe she was just another hooker giving San Francisco a bad name. “All right, false alarm.”
“I don’t want to be here anymore,” Evie said, her lips barely moving.
Mason considered that. Was he a bad person for letting her head into danger like that? He’d always known her as competent, confident, and totally able to handle herself. But for the second time in a year, a killer had it in for Mason. And there was Evie, offering herself on a plate to help him out.
“I understand,” he said, giving up. What was I thinking anyway? “Come back to the…” He almost dropped his phone in a spike of fear and excitement.
“The…?” Evie said, impatient. “The what, Mason?”
He was in a trance, watching a woman who stood out from the rest. There was something about her poise and familiar mannerisms. Did he recognize her face? It was hard to tell at this distance, but he’d definitely seen her somewhere before.
“Evie,” he said.
“What?”
“I think she’s here.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
People mocked her, telling her she was nothing but a lowly whore. They would point, stare, judge. Lady pitied them, really. After all, she was the one making nearly a thousand bucks every night. And for what? Lying on her back and pretending not to be disgusted by someone? It was a good deal.
Tonight, she was working, though she considered it a simple business transaction. You give me money, and I spread my legs. It was perfect, and at this rate she’d be able to retire before her tits got saggy and her lips began to droop.
The street was lively tonight. Plenty of cash to be made, and but also plenty of competition. She’d opted for the black wig—her favorite of the lot—which was sure to win them over when the creeps came out to play.
But something told her she wouldn’t be getting so far tonight.
Lady glanced up the sidewalk and saw a woman storming her way. It was Evelyn Black, dressed the same way the media portrayed prostitutes, and she was caked in far too much makeup. But it was her, without a doubt.
A quick twist of her hip and Lady was on her way, blending in with the crowd while trying to head to the nearest alleyway. She needed to get out of there before one of them got hurt.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen.
Shooting a glance over her shoulder, she saw Evelyn behind her. She was closer now and had definitely spotted her. Lady pushed through the last of the crowd, easing into an open alley. This was ideal; dark, and with plenty of places to hide.
She could get away with anything.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Mason clutched the wheel, his fingers racked with tension. “She’s making a run for it.”
“Think I don’t know that?”
For a moment he sat watching. Mere seconds ago, the woman had been minding her own business (perhaps even picking out a new victim—although they would never find out for sure). As soon as she’d turned and seen Evie heading her way, she hustled right out of there. Did she recognize her?
“She’s heading into the alleyway,” Evie said, pressing the headset to her ear. It no longer mattered that it was concealed under her hair.
“Don’t follow her. Do you understand me?” Something seemed off. Mason climbed out of the car, not prepared to let any harm come to his sister. He darted across the road and lost sight of Evie as she headed into the alley.
“Not…” The earpiece hissed, static crackling her voice. They were losing reception. Not good. “In… now…”
“Evie?” Mason stopped and held the phone close to his ear, his heart jackhammering against his ribs. “Are you there?” He looked at the mouth of the alley, dark and uninviting. The women to either side of it had parted, watching the chaos as if it were some kind of street performance.
“Don’t… Mason…” Evie said, her voice growing ever distant.
Something was wrong, he just knew it. Mason dove into the alley, wishing he’d brought the revolver from the office. If Lady Luck had done something to Evie, he would never forgive himself. He slowed to a jog.
Nothing.
The only light came from the single pale lamp at the other end of the alley, its reflection bouncing off a discarded wing mirror. Mason sprinted to the end, checking around him and half expecting to find her bleeding behind a dumpster.
“Evie!” he called, hanging up the phone as he emerged out the other end.
Two young girls stood watching him, looking amused. No, not amused… entertained.
Mason approached them.
“Did you see someone come by here?”
They looked at each other, as if they didn’t speak English.
“Did you see someone come by here?” he barked.
“Jeez,” the smaller one said. “Yeah, two women, arguing. Why, did you fuck one of them behind the other one’s back?”
The girl’s friend laughed, but not for long.
Mason shot forward, pushing one of the girls. “Tell me what happened. Now!”
“Get the fuck off me,” the girl said, surprised, and squirming like a worm on a hook.
“Tell me!”
“They were hitting each other! One of them threw something, okay?” She pointed farther down the sidewalk, either at or behind a set of stone steps leading up to a rundown house. “Now take your hands off me, creep.”
Mason let her go and rushed to the steps. Sweat beaded at his brow as he moved closer to the object on the ground, until it was finally recognizable. He stooped, picked it up, and held it in his fingers.
It was Evie’s earpiece, and she was nowhere to be seen.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The police station buzzed with activity as officers zipped back and forth, taking care of business. People sat with hands cuffed behind their backs, nervously turning their heads toward every sound or movement, waiting to find out what would happen to them.
Mason, on the other hand, sat tapping his heel against the hard marble floor.
With nobody else to turn to, he’d tried Bill at home. Bill’s wife, Christine, answered the door and invited him to wait. But he couldn’t just sit around. Evie was gone, and it was his fault. So he came here to the station, looking for help.
It took some time before Bill exited an elevator Mason had used plenty during his time with the SFPD. He crossed the hall while looking over his shoulder, taking long strides toward him. “What are you doing here?”
“I had no choice. It’s… it’s Evie.”
“What happened?”
“She’s gone, Bill. I need to make a statement and have your officers look for her.”
Bill’s expression changed from frustration to concern. He glanced toward the front desk and raised a hand to the officer on reception duty. “Come with me,” he said, grabbing Mason’s elbow.
They hustled through the station, keeping to the wall so as not to attract too much attention. They came out of the fire exit and into a caged-off yard, where they were surrounded by dumpsters and the sickly sweet smell of rotting food.
“What happened?” Bill asked, leaning against the door to keep it closed.
“It’s a long story.”
“I’m listening.”
Mason explained what had happened an hour ago, and it all seemed to come out in one long, desperate breath. When his story arrived back in the present, he turned and kicked the chain-link fence. “I’m a fucking idiot.”
Bill sighed and stepped away from the door. “Look, this is going to sound stupid, but you can’t make the statement. If this Lady Luck woman drops the bomb, what do you think will happen to Evie? You need to stay well away.”
That was enough to turn Mason’s head. “Are you fucking nuts? Some girl…” He looked over his shoulder and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Some girl knows we buried Wendell. She’s teasing it to your colleagues. Hell, if you
hadn’t taken that photo from the crime scene, we might both be in jail right now.”
“Better than being dead though, huh?”
Mason shoved him. “This isn’t a fucking game, Bill. Evie’s out there somewhere, and she needs our help.” It wasn’t until he said it aloud that he realized she might not still be out there at all. She could have been severely hurt by now. She could be dead, the next victim to turn up with a message.
“Don’t think for a second I don’t want to help her!” Bill stood up straight, his chin high. “She’s like a sister to me, too, in case you’d forgotten. But you need to think this through. If we report her missing and she comes to your door the next day, you’ll be locked up for the rest of your life. And for what?”
“It’s worth it.”
“Is it though? Think about it. I’m serious. Go home, lie down, and think about where you want to be next week. Consider Amy having to grow up without a father. Unless you count that prick Joshua as a decent role model.”
Mason was wired. His head felt ready to burst. If he could only take back what had happened, everything would be so much simpler. He exhaled slowly. “I suppose you’re right. Meantime, can you check out Marcy Larkin?”
“I’d need an excuse. It would have to be relevant to my research of you.”
“Think of something.” Mason climbed to the top of the fence and swung over it.
“And you might want to stay away from here in future,” Bill said, opening the door. “Next time I see you, I’m going to have to arrest you. Captain’s orders.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Another night with very little sleep. Images of Evie kept coming at him, and every time he began to settle down, he’d hear her protesting his ridiculous plan.
What was I thinking?
Wound up tight, Mason headed to his car, shielding his eyes from the overpowering morning sunlight. It looked like it would be a good day for those able to enjoy it. But for Mason, only a distraction would keep him going.
On the drive over, Mason gave more thought to Bill’s suggestion. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t convince himself that turning his own ass in was a sensible idea.
He stopped the car, walked up the drive, and approached the door. Before he could even land the first knock, the door swung open and Amy leapt into his arms.
“Whoa,” he said, smiling for the first time since Evie had gone. “Steady there.”
“I’m just glad to see you.” Amy pulled her head away from his chest and looked up at him. Her arms still clung tight. “Can you take me to school? Please?”
“Not a fan of the bus?”
Amy shook her head, smirking. “Nope. It smells old.”
Sandra came to the door in a robe, interrupting their pleasant exchange with a steaming mug of coffee that sent white waves swirling toward the ceiling. “Mason,” she said, smiling. “Nice of you to drop by. Are you staying?”
“Actually, I wanted to take Amy to school. If that’s okay?”
“I don’t see why not. But can I talk to you inside for a second?”
Mason patted Amy on the shoulder, told her to wait in the car, and went inside. The nostalgia hit him all at once. He recalled viewing this house with her, back when they were married. They’d decorated and chosen the furniture together, eaten dinners and slept together under this roof. But now he was no longer the man of the house, and it felt as if he’d intruded on a version of his younger self. “What’s up?”
Sandra hesitated, rolling her eyes. “You’re going to think this is dumb.”
“Try me.”
“Phew. Okay, so… I want to give us another shot.”
That was a shock to his system. Another shot? Is she crazy? His mind flickered to Diane for a second. He made a mental note to call her.
“Say something,” Sandra pleaded.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll think about it.”
“What about Joshua?” It surprised him to hear those words come from his own mouth. Joshua had been Sandra’s Pilates instructor while she was still married to Mason. However, that didn’t stop her from sleeping with him. Now, they were all living in this house. Unhappily, it seemed.
“Joshua is… weak. He’s not you.”
Mason put a hand to his head. “So, things are going bad with him, and you just thought you’d like to get back with me?”
“No, it’s not like that. If—”
“Look, I can’t do this right now. I have to go.” Mason hightailed it out of there, slamming the door behind him. As he stormed toward the car, where he could feel Amy watching him, he couldn’t hide his scowl.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Having delivered Amy to her first class, Mason drove back to Marcy Larkin, hoping to get there before the cops did. He parked a couple of blocks over this time, reducing the chance of being recognized. From there he walked the rest of the way.
The entire street looked different during the day. Last night’s large crowds were gone, trash covered the majority of the sidewalks, and the lit-up signs now seemed dull and unappealing. It looked like a ghost town.
Mason went to the alley where he’d lost Evie. Now that daylight was on his side, he figured he might have a chance of finding something else. Anything that could lead to his sister’s whereabouts would be a godsend right now.
Halfway up the alley, a girl stomped around, swaying from left to right and knocking into everything in her path. She wore a black leather miniskirt with knee-high boots. Her hair was ratty and splayed out in wiry clumps. Mason assumed she was a party girl, a hooker, or both. Either way, talking with her couldn’t hurt his chances.
“Need any help?” he offered, making it clear he wasn’t just another client.
Her gaze drifted everywhere else before they landed on him. When she examined him, she screwed up her face as if there was some personal spite. “What’re you doing here, mister?” The woman stumbled forward.
Does she think I’m somebody else?
“I’m looking for someone.”
She laughed, a hiccup mixed with it. “It’s my day off.”
“What? No.” Mason leaned his back against the wall. He knew this made people feel more at ease, especially with his height being so intimidating. “My sister—” He stopped there, wondering just how far that information would get him. This girl thought he was a paying customer, and she was in the right circle to have contacts. He altered his strategy. “My sister recommended a certain someone. Goes by the name Lady Luck.”
“Pfft,” she said, still stumbling about. “You’re in the wrong place.”
“She doesn’t work around here?”
“Sometimes, sure. Not often.” The girl bent forward, as if about to vomit. A couple of deep breaths later, she stood up straight again. “She works the Decks area most nights. Try there.”
Mason studied her, pondering whether she might actually be telling the truth. She had no reason to lie, but it was difficult to trust anyone these days. “All right. Thanks.” He turned to leave, then stopped short. He couldn’t just leave her there. “You live around here?”
“What?” She looked at the sky as she spoke, squinting her eyes. “Few blocks over.”
She’ll never make it that far. He pulled out his wallet and placed forty dollars into her hand. “Call yourself a cab, okay? You got a cell phone?”
The girl didn’t answer. Instead, her eyelids closed and she started to topple, her body submitting to the effects of fatigue and inebriation. Mason caught her in his arms, tried to hold her up straight. He didn’t have time for this but couldn’t just put her down.
“Hey!” a deep voice echoed through the alley.
Mason craned his neck to see two burly men dressed in black suits with white shirts heading his way. Overdressed for gutter work, if you asked him.
“She’s valuable goods. Take your damn hands off her.”
“If she’s so valuable, you might want to take better care of her
.”
“Didn’t you hear him?” spat the other one.
Before Mason got a chance to answer, a foot was plunged into the back of his knee, knocking him off balance. He tumbled to the ground, the girl falling with him. He let her land across his torso, protecting her head from the ground.
“Hey!” the first man screamed. “I said hands off the merchandise!”
As it often did, trouble had found him, and Mason knew it. For as long as he was on his back, he had little to no chance of defending himself, much less the girl.
All he could do was try.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lady opened the trunk of her car to find Evelyn Black in the fetal position. Her eyes were closed, and she was silent.
She looked over each shoulder—a force of habit; nobody would see her around here—and leaned in to hoist her out of the car. You’re heavier than you look, Lady thought, struggling with the weight. It’d been a lot easier when she’d put her in there. Of course it was—she’d had help from Ben.
Poor Ben.
He was a sweet man, really. Short, chunky, and with bad oral hygiene, and he had a tendency to do as he was told. And more importantly, he would do anything for a chance to be with Lady. Anything. That wasn’t limited to helping secure an unconscious woman in the trunk of her car.
His only problem was that he wanted more than sex. He wanted her affections, and that was something she simply couldn’t give. Sex, she could offer him—probably wouldn’t charge him, either—but it seemed that wouldn’t be enough.
Lady got to the trapdoor, swept the covering branches off with an unsteady foot, then set Evelyn down while she opened it. The light flickered on, as Ben had wired it to do. Taking one last glance around her, she picked the girl back up and carried her down the creaking wooden steps, closing the door behind her and tugging the rope to draw the branches back over. She had Ben to thank for that little device, too.
Mason & Morgan- The Serial Killer Collection Page 22