Mason & Morgan- The Serial Killer Collection

by Adam Nicholls

  When they were alone, Mason put his clothes back on.

  “You ready for this?” Cox asked.

  “I think so.”

  “Well, you’d better be. If anything goes wrong, it’s not just your head on the line.”

  “You don’t think I know that?” Mason said, sitting back down. “This whole thing is erupting around me. Suddenly I’m responsible for all these people: Evie, the kid, and any potential future victims of this psycho bitch. I don’t know if I can—”

  “You’re a good man, Mason. Remember that.”

  Mason met her eyes. “Does that mean you believe me? That I’m innocent?”

  Captain Cox just stared, saying nothing.

  They were interrupted by a knock on the door, and Bill poked his head through. “Sorry to barge in. Mason, your daughter’s outside.”

  “What?” Mason stood up so fast his chair flew backward. “Why?”

  “She wouldn’t say, but she’s shaken up pretty bad.”

  Mason looked to Cox, who nodded permission to leave, and then he ran out of the room as fast as he could.

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Mason rushed into the main hall of the police station, where Amy was standing against the wall in tears. “I’ll take it from here,” he said to the surrounding officers, who’d been trying to comfort her.

  When Amy saw her father, she ran to him and wrapped her arms around him. Her wet cheek buried into his stomach. “They’re gone,” she said, sniveling.

  “What?” Mason eased her away and knelt down in front of her. She was growing so fast he realized he might not have to kneel for much longer. “Who’s gone?”

  “Mom and Joshua.”

  Mason felt a chill shoot down his spine. On some level, he knew exactly what had happened to them. Of course, it was possible something else had made the couple go missing, but Mason knew better. It was too coincidental.

  He showed Amy into an interview room, where he got her a cup of water and sat beside her. “I need you to breathe nice and slow, then tell me what happened.”

  “I came home from the mall, and the door was open.” Her hands were shaking around the paper cup. Water rippled over the brim, spilling onto the floor. “At first I was too scared to go inside, but when I did the house was a mess. I-I didn’t know what to do, so I came here to speak to Bill. But Bill said you were here, so I asked if I could see you, and then…” Her words trailed off as her face turned red and the tears flowed again.

  Mason rubbed her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, honey.” This is the second time this girl has been torn apart because of me. “I have an idea where they are.”

  “You do?” She looked up at him.

  “I think so, yeah. In fact, that’s why I’m here. And they’re going to be okay.”

  Amy leaned off her chair and hugged him tight.

  “Now, I want you to stay here for a few hours while I run some errands. I’ll have an officer look after you. Will you be okay? Do you have a book with you?” He realized it was a stupid question—Amy always had a book with her. Whether she was in the mood to read was another matter altogether.

  Mason left her with Sergeant Brooke—who’d never let Mason down in the past—and made his way back to the captain.

  Soon, he had to make the exchange with Alison Wendell. It was unclear if she had anything to do with Sandra and Joshua’s disappearance. If she hadn’t, then another problem was on the horizon.

  And if she had, the stakes had just gone up.

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  When Evie was escorted from her underground cell, she didn’t know if it was to be released or killed. Given the way she’d been treated so far, she suspected the latter.

  Evie was still in shock from watching her friend die as she was shown through the underground complex by Lady, who walked behind her with the cattle prod.

  “Where are you taking me?” Evie asked, her voice weak from fear and shock and hunger, but she got no response.

  She walked on, and as she came into the main area where the table of death occupied the center, her jaw dropped. Sandra? It wasn’t just Sandra, either—her partner, Joshua, was there, too. They were chained to the table, like others before them.

  “Keep moving,” Lady barked.

  She was herded outside. The very moment the trapdoor opened, sunlight burst through and assaulted Evie’s eyes. She covered her face in protest, adjusting to her first natural light in what… three days? Five? She wasn’t sure, but it was so good to breathe real air again.

  Lady showed her into the back seat of a car, then climbed in beside the driver. It was the man who’d been watching the previous night. Evie wondered what their relationship was, and why he was yet to say anything.

  As they drove toward the city, things began to look a little more optimistic. Not only was it a sunny day, but she was being taken into a populated area. If she wasn’t set free, perhaps she could break free.

  Halfway through that thought, Lady turned in her seat and pointed the gun at her. “We’re going to pay a visit to Mason. Your life will be traded for my son’s.”

  Mason. The very sound of his name brought forth a conflict of emotions. It was an incredible feeling to know he’d come through for her, but it didn’t feel like it was really him anymore. After knowing what she knew, how could she ever look at him the same way? “And that’s that? You’ll leave us alone?”

  Lady Luck smiled and turned back around. “Just sit still.”

  For the rest of the journey, nobody made a peep.

  And all the while, Evie suspected the worst was yet to come.

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Highgate Bridge, 15:34. Wendell had said she would be here, but there was no sign of her.

  Luke stood beside Mason, shaking.

  “Are you cold?” Mason asked.

  “Scared.”

  He felt a flush of sympathy for the boy. Nobody that age should have to endure wearing a recording device to rat out his own mother. And even after that, who knew what might happen to him? He’d probably end up at an orphanage, and that was for the best.

  “It’s going to be okay” was all the comfort Mason could muster.

  “Will I have to live with her after this?”

  “I don’t know.” Mason looked up and down the bridge, unsure how long he could tolerate just standing here. Was she toying with him? Was she elsewhere, fucking up his life even more?

  As if to answer his question, a black car pulled up alongside them. The passenger-side window whirred down, and Alison Wendell was inside. Her hair had changed color from the last time he’d seen her—blonde to black. Sunglasses covered most of her face. “Get in,” she said.

  Mason leaned in to see who was driving. It was Benjamin Jones. The rat, he thought. He gripped Luke’s hand, who was cowering behind him. “Where’s Evie?”

  Just after he’d said her name, she sprung forward from the back seat. “Mason!” She looked terrible. Her skin was red and blotchy, her face gaunt and hollow. Whatever had happened to her couldn’t have been good.

  “Now, get in,” Wendell said. “I won’t tell you again.”

  Mason climbed into the car, helping Luke in first so he was sandwiched between the only two adults he could trust right now. Mason leaned over and put a hand on Evie’s shoulder after closing the door. “Hang in there. You’re going to be okay.”

  As the car pulled away, he knew this wouldn’t be a simple trade like Wendell had promised. It was a part of the plan—albeit, the more risky part. Mason only hoped the police force could keep up, and that they would all make it out of here alive.

  Somehow, he didn’t think they would.

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  They pulled up outside the cabin, where Evie started to squirm.

  “What’s wrong?” Mason whispered.

  “Not here. This is bad. This is…”

  Before they knew it, Ben was out of the car, waving them out one by one with a gun in his hand. He still
had red and purple welts from where he’d taken a beating from Mason the night before, the bruises now swollen, ugly lumps. “Come on, tough guy.”

  They all climbed out. Wendell came around and hugged her son, mussing his hair and pinching his cheeks like he was some kind of pet. She took him by the hand, then led them all into the woods.

  As they bypassed the cabin, Mason wondered where they were going. Having been here before and finding nothing, he was eager to discover what he’d missed the first time. “Where are we going?”

  “Shut up,” Ben said, brave behind the security of the gun.

  Evie took Mason’s hand and walked with him. Her skin was freezing, and she couldn’t stop trembling. They stomped through wet leaves and over fallen branches until Alison Wendell stopped in her tracks.

  “Allow me.” Ben overtook them and stooped to the ground. He kicked aside a bundle of foliage, revealing a wooden door. His gun still trained on them, he lifted the door and told them to get inside.

  Taking a deep breath, Mason led the way down the wooden steps. It was totally black, with only faint candlelight at the bottom to guide his path. He had to let go of Evie’s hand because of the narrow wall. When he reached the bottom, he saw something that finally shattered his confidence.

  “My God!” It was Sandra. She sat beside Joshua, who hung his head in misery and shame. They were at a rotten wooden table and bound at the wrists by chains.

  Evie stepped up beside Mason and whimpered. “No. Oh, no no…”

  “What?”

  “She’s… she’s going to make us play. We need to—”

  “Shut up.” Wendell came down the steps. Now she was holding the gun. She told Luke to go and play in the corner, while she escorted Mason and Evie to the table. “Chain them, Ben. Leave them just enough room to move their hands.”

  Ben got right on it, obedient as a dog. His eyes locked with Mason’s as he bolted the chains around his wrists, securing him at last.

  “Now,” Wendell said, taking a seat at the table. “This should be fun.”

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  “Over there.” Bill was in the passenger seat, directing them to Wendell’s car. They’d been following from a distance, and this time they didn’t lose their way.

  They stopped outside a small cabin, in total isolation from the rest of San Francisco. If not for the fact he’d seen where Mason went, he would probably be wasting time checking the place out.

  Grouped together in the back of the van, they tapped into the wires and listened. There was Martin (Chief of Tech), Craig (Junior Tech Support), and Terry (a sergeant who’d been assigned under Bill’s wing since the appearance of the first victim). Captain Cox had a seat in the corner, supervising the operation.

  “Ground Team are on their way,” Bill told her. “Should be here any minute.”

  Cox nodded her approval, arms still crossed.

  “Okay,” Martin said. “We’ve established the connection. I’ve got the kid. Craig will stay tuned in to Mason. Initiating recording now.”

  Bill sat next to them, listening in and flicking between the two sources of sound. From Luke Wendell’s microphone, they heard only mumbling. Something was clacking together, like two pieces of plastic at war with one another. Toys? he thought and then switched to Mason’s channel.

  “What’s happening in there?” Cox was reluctant to get involved, nervous, it seemed, to be proven wrong, as if Mason’s innocence would make her feel like she’d failed at her job.

  “A woman’s talking.”

  “Alison Wendell?”

  “No. It sounds like… Sandra.”

  Captain Cox shot forward. “Mason’s wife?”

  “Ex.”

  The connection stuttered with interference, the line wavering from the distance. Bill wanted to get closer, but doing so might jeopardize whatever small chance they had. And as the ground team arrived, parking their van beside his, things only went from bad to worse.

  Cox exited the van and went outside to speak with the team.

  Bill stayed, listening. The sound dropped and picked back up every few seconds. He could hear arguing but couldn’t make out exactly what was being said. “Can we fix this line? I can’t hear shit.”

  “I can fix it,” Martin said, one hand held to his ear, “but we’d need to sever it until it’s reestablished.”

  “How long?”

  Martin shrugged. “Minute. Maybe two.”

  “Do it.” Bill removed the headset and stepped outside to keep an eye on the team. Captain Cox was giving them the drill—direct instructions straight from the boss. They were all ready and raring to go, until at last they were dismissed. With determined grunts, they ran into the trees and took position around the trapdoor.

  “They’ll go on my command,” Cox said.

  “Just give them time.”

  “They’ll have time, but not much of it.”

  What? “But it’s Mason. You agreed—”

  “I know what I agreed,” Cox snapped. “He’s getting his chance. But if it looks like anyone’s about to die in there, it’s my duty as a cop—no, as a human being—to keep them safe.”

  As she stormed off, Bill stood mortified. If Cox moved in too soon, it was possible Mason would never get his confession.

  Or worse: Lady Luck would confess to her crimes and bring Mason Black down with her.

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  Joshua’s eyes lit up, as if struck by a sudden realization.

  Alison Wendell looked over at him. “What?”

  “Mason’s a cop. You can’t kill a cop. You’ll never get away with that.”

  It was the first time Mason had ever seen him show any hint of confidence. But even then he was hiding behind other people.

  “I’m a PI, Joshua.” Mason shook his head. “Just be quiet.”

  “As I was saying,” Wendell smirked, as if there was an inside joke. “You can clearly see there are six of you in this game of luck. You know all about luck, Mr. Black. It’s all that’s kept you alive this long.”

  Mason shifted in his seat. There were, in fact, only five of them, unless she was planning to get involved in this sick game herself.

  “For those who don’t know”—she put a gun on the table—“this is a revolver. It has six chambers in the cylinder—one for each person. Who here has ever heard of Russian roulette?”

  “Oh, Jesus,” Joshua moaned, and Sandra grabbed his hand to calm him.

  “So, that’s your plan?” Mason asked, eyebrows deliberately raised. “You want us to play Russian roulette? To make us kill ourselves rather than do it yourself? How very brave of you.” Mason was steering the conversation toward her capabilities. With any luck she’d take the opportunity to brag.

  “Not exactly.” Wendell grinned. “In this game, you have a choice. I will only be loading one bullet, and each of you is expected to either pull the trigger on yourself, or on the person to your left. That way, you all get to see the real side of each other before you die.”

  Mason looked to his left, where Evie sat shaking. It was a no-brainer for him.

  “What about the gun?” Sandra asked calmly, with surprising strength of character. “What’s to stop us from turning it on you?”

  Wendell chuckled. “I plan to die, but not today. I won’t be participating. If anyone needs me, I’ll be supervising from over there. And if anyone wants to act out, be aware I have another gun.” She pulled a small weapon from under her dress—a Colt .25. A lady’s weapon.

  “So, there’re only five of us?” Mason finally asked.

  “Not quite.” Wendell looked at her son, who sat in the corner playing with some Transformers toys. “Luke, be a darling and come to the table, will you?”

  Luke’s eyes widened as if comprehending the situation. He got up and shuffled over to the table, where he took a seat.

  “No!” Mason shot up but was forced back by his chains. “Why? He’s your son, you sick bitch!”

  “Because,” Wende
ll said, stepping around the table, “I know he’s betraying his own mother. What, you think I didn’t feel the wire when I hugged him? The police must be right outside, listening in right now.” She leaned toward her son’s wire. “And if anyone tries to come in, I’ll execute every motherfucking last one of you in here.”

  Mason’s heart broke at the sound of Luke’s sobs. But he was also relieved she didn’t know about his own wire. With a bit of luck, it would stay that way.

  Alison dropped the revolver in front of Mason and stepped back against the wall, the Colt aimed at his back. “I think, as our guest of honor, perhaps Mr. Black would like to take the first shot?”

  “You’re crazy,” Mason said.

  “Duh,” Alison teased. “Now, let the games begin.”

  Chapter Eighty

  Mason picked up the gun, feeling the weight of the revolver. It wasn’t dissimilar to his own gun, which he’d left inside his Mustang. He turned to his sister. “Evie, I need you to promise you’ll always be there for Amy.”

  Evie shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Please, don’t—”

  “Just do it. She’s going to need you.” Mason took a deep breath, raised the gun to his temple, and counted backward from three.

  Evie screamed as he squeezed the trigger.

  Click.

  Nothing.

  Mason dropped it, staring at his own shaking hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “What a disappointment.” Wendell laughed from behind him. “Evelyn, honey, you’re up.”

  Evie was next to pick it up. She glanced to her left, where Joshua sat with his head down. For a moment, it looked like she considered letting him take the bullet, but if Mason knew her at all—and he liked to think he did—she would always put anyone before herself, even that lousy Joshua.

  Without any tear-filled words of goodbye, Evie put the gun to her own head and clenched her finger. Icy tension silenced the room for the seconds it took the bullet to explode from the revolver.