But it didn’t. In its place was only a single, gut-wrenching click.
Joshua rushed for the gun, prying it from Evie’s hand. He looked down at it for a long time. Mason thought he was preparing himself to take the bullet. It was doubtful he’d ever held a gun before.
But then came screams of protest came from all around the table as he aimed it at Sandra.
“What’re you—Why?” Sandra asked, confusion sparkling in her wet eyes.
“Sorry,” Joshua said as he squeezed the trigger with an empty click and dropped the gun.
“You son of a bitch!” Mason yelled at him. “You goddamn coward!”
Joshua said nothing, only sat with his head buried in his arms.
“Now we know a little something about Joshua,” Alison Wendell said, still laughing. “I wonder if that might make you think twice during round two.”
Round two? Mason shuddered at the idea. How many rounds are there?
When Sandra took the gun in her hands and looked to the person on her left—Ben, swallowing hard and avoiding eye contact—Mason couldn’t hold his tongue.
“Listen to me, Sandra. Whatever you do, don’t take the fall for this one. This man is the reason you’re here. Don’t you dare put yourself at risk for this piece of shit.”
Sandra shook her head, still hurt from Joshua’s betrayal. “I can’t kill anyone.”
“You might not have to,” Mason said, though he doubted it. Three of the five empty chambers had come up empty. The odds were slimming, and he tried not to think about poor Luke, who sat next to him, so silent you’d barely know he was there. “Just pretend it’s a toy, look at the scumbag who wants to hurt you, and—”
The revolver blasted in her hands. A splash of scarlet exploded from Ben’s head as the bullet struck. His body collapsed to one side and slumped over the arm of the chair. Sandra dropped the gun and raised her hands to her mouth, screaming like a banshee.
“Well,” Wendell said, “I can’t say he won’t be missed.” She traipsed over to the table, picked up the gun, and slid another bullet in the chamber. She spun the cylinder and laid it back on the table.
“What the hell are you doing?” Mason spat, his blood boiling. If only she’d confessed by now, not a single person would’ve had to die. On some level, he expected the police to burst in right about now. Had they not heard the shot? Were they even outside?
“We’re going to do this over and over until everybody’s dead. Got it?” Wendell went back to the wall without letting her guard down. “Oh, and this time we’re reversing the direction. Sandra, it’s your turn again, sweetheart.”
Chapter Eighty-One
The connection was reestablished, and this time it was clearer. Bill heard sobbing in the room, and cries for help.
And then there was a gunshot.
“Shots fired,” Cox reported to her team via radio. “Prepare to move in.”
“You can’t be serious,” Bill said, pulling off his headset only seconds after he’d put it on. He rushed to the back of the van and stood in the way of the only exit. “That’s Mason in there. Your colleague. Your friend. You promised him a chance.”
“And he’s had that chance. Now, get the hell out of my way, or I’ll have you suspended.”
Bill climbed out of the van and stayed by her side, hassling her. He was hoping she’d hold out for just a little longer, but in truth he was as wary as she was. Anyone in there could have been shot, or it may have just been a scare tactic to keep the police away. But who knew for sure? “I’m begging you, Captain. Give it a few more minutes.”
Captain Cox kept walking, not giving him so much as a brief glance. “Beg away. Someone’s been hurt down there, and I will not just sit here and do nothing.”
Bill grabbed her arm.
“I’m going to tell you only once before I arrest you.” Cox stopped walking but didn’t struggle. “Remove your hand from my arm.”
Reluctant, Bill did as commanded. He cupped his hands over his mouth, blowing out a ragged breath. “You heard what Wendell said. If anyone tries to go in, she’ll shoot them all. Not only that, but we won’t even get a confession for her previous murders.”
“But she’ll still go away for a long time.”
“That’s not the point! Look, I want to go in there and help those people as much as you do, but that’s not why we’re here. We need to hold out for that confession. I trust Mason to get the job done, and you should, too.”
“Get the job done? Like he did with this bitch’s brother?”
Bill wanted to shake her, to scream “We murdered Marvin Wendell! The son of a bitch is dead!” and put her in her place. But he cared for his family, his freedom, and his reputation. “That was a one-off. He’d never failed before then, and you know it.”
Cox studied him, hard in thought. She looked over at her team, impatiently awaiting command. Finally, she turned toward the van. “A few more minutes, Detective. But I’m not waiting forever.”
Bill let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” He followed her into the van, where they each picked up a headset and listened in on Alison Wendell’s sick game.
Chapter Eighty-Two
Sandra had made her choice, turning the gun on herself. It’d given little more than a hollow click before she threw it back onto the table.
Now it was back in Joshua’s hand, and everyone fell silent in awful anticipation. For the moment he stared at it in silence, it began to look as though this time he might take the bullet himself. But Joshua had more ambitious plans.
“Make your move,” Wendell said, her voice laced with impatience.
Joshua picked up the revolver, sighed, then aimed it right at her face.
Wendell’s arm came up in a flash, aiming her Colt at his chest. “If you decide to shoot that thing, you better pray the next chamber is full.”
Mason watched in shocked silence. He’s risking all of our lives.
Joshua’s hand rattled as beads of sweat pooled on his forehead, dripping onto the rotting table. “You’re messed up in the head,” he said, his voice cracking. And then he squeezed the trigger.
Click.
His finger automatically tightened to try again, but there was less than a second of hesitation before Wendell shot him dead. The first bullet penetrated Joshua’s chest, but it wasn’t enough. She fired another, and another, and his body twisted with the force of the impact as dark red pools of blood grew across his shirt. Finally, his body jerked in a couple of violet spasms and then fell still.
“I warned him.” Wendell leaned over Sandra, whose mouth hung open in shock, and took the revolver from the table. “Guys, I’m so sorry he ruined the game for us all. We’ll have to start over. Mason, would you be so kind?” She opened the cylinder and once more spun it into position.
She slid it across the table, and Mason stopped it with his hand, watching Wendell return to the wall. “You really don’t care if you live or die, do you? You gave him the chance to shoot you.”
Wendell shrugged. “You’ve taken everything from me. I don’t believe anybody really wants to die. I’m simply impartial.”
Keep her talking, Mason thought, now the gun was in his own hand. He glanced over at Sandra, now sobbing uncontrollably, trying to look away from her dead boyfriend. He looked back at Wendell. “You’ve gone to extreme lengths to hurt me. Why not just kill me and have it done?”
“Wouldn’t that be so simple?” She pushed away from the wall and took slow, careful steps forward, circling the table and shifting her aim from one person to the next. “It’s not enough that you die. I want you to feel what I’ve felt.”
Mason’s body tensed. If she mentioned now that he’d killed Marvin Wendell—the Lullaby Killer—it would all be over for him. But he felt that he just had to push his luck. It was the only way to draw a confession out of her. “So, you punish me by killing random people? Did Johnny Walker deserve to die by your hand?”
“Johnny Walker? Please—he only carried a mes
sage for me.”
That’s it, keep going. Mason glanced at Luke, who seemed the bravest of them all. His hands were in his lap as he stared at the floor without expression. “And you thought killing him would, what, suddenly make me feel bad about the things I’ve done?”
Wendell shook her head, a smile forming at the corner of her mouth. “You must think I’m so stupid.” She walked over to Luke, lifted his shirt as he fought against her, and lowered her mouth to the police microphone. “But I don’t give a shit if the whole world knows it. I killed those people. I killed everyone who had your name on their body. I murdered them. And it was really fucking fun!”
Yes! Mason was both stunned and excited as he heard her announce her crimes. Any moment now, the police would swoop in and help them all. If he could only keep hold of the gun for that long. He was vaguely aware of Evie squeezing his arm.
But then Alison Wendell’s smirk turned into a huge, wide grin. “And you know why I did it, don’t you, Mason?” She ripped the device from her son’s chest, stood up straight, and held it to her mouth. “Because you, Mason Black, murdered Marvin Wendell.”
Chapter Eighty-Three
Wendell tore the microphone from her son, disconnecting it, and then demanded Mason remove his. She must’ve known about it all along.
Putting the revolver down, Mason pulled the wire from his chest and stuffed it into her open palm. “Your brother was a psycho, too.” He had nothing else to say. It was officially out there now; the police now knew that Mason had murdered the Lullaby Killer.
What followed this situation—should he ever make it out of there alive—was a lifetime behind bars. And then there were Evie and Sandra, who were present to hear the sick truth.
Wendell stomped on the devices, severing any further communication. She smiled. “We really should hurry up and finish this game.”
Mason couldn’t help but wonder what was taking the police so long. Surely they should be in here by now, storming the place and arresting us both. But now the communications were dead, he seized the opportunity to seek an answer to a question that had bothered him for a long time. “Why not Bill?”
“What?”
“Detective Bill Harvey cut your brother up as much as I did. I just wondered why you never turned your attention toward him.”
Grinding her teeth, Alison Wendell stormed around the table. “He’s… a police officer. I didn’t want to hurt anyone with a shield. That would distract from my real goal.”
“Bullshit,” Mason said. “What’s the real reason?”
Wendell shrugged, angry shades of red flushing her cheeks.
“You…” Mason stumbled upon a thought. All the evidence—the photograph included—only showed Mason himself leaving the shipping container where they’d held her brother. “You didn’t know, did you? All this time you’ve been pointing the finger at—”
“What do you want from me?” She slammed a fist on the table. Everyone jumped back. “No, I didn’t know, all right? But as soon as I get out of here, I’m going to find everyone he’s ever loved and put them through an immeasurable amount of pain and suffering. Now, pick up the gun, and let’s finish this fucking game!”
“I…” Mason had been expecting the rescue team, but it was beginning to look as if they weren’t coming. They had their confession, so what were they waiting for? He reached out for the revolver, hesitated, then rested his hand in his lap. “No!”
“What?”
“I refuse.”
Wendell withdrew, an expression of astonishment on her face. Now he’d stripped away her power, there was nothing left for her to do but release all her anger. She stormed toward Evie, tugged on her hair, and put the gun to her head. “Then let’s not waste any more time.”
Chapter Eighty-Four
As evening approached and the woods began to darken, the lights of the police vehicles lit up. But Bill paid no mind to the situation around him, as he was too stunned to speak.
“Did you know about this?” Captain Cox barked in his ear.
“Let’s talk outside.”
They exited the van and stood halfway between their posts and the sweep team. Cox ran her fingers through her hair, as if to rake at her scalp. “Mason killed him? I don’t— Mason? Seriously?”
“You know what those two were like,” Bill said, his mouth going dry. “After what Marvin did to little Amy, Mason just couldn’t let it go. You’re a parent, right? You understand what it must feel like to have someone hurt your kid.”
Cox stared at the ground, her eyes bulging and her mouth agape. “Of course I know how it feels, but it doesn’t mean I can just go around killing people, for God’s sake.” She dropped her hands to her sides. “You knew about this. I can’t believe it! I’m going to lose a good detective over this. I-I’ll be lucky to keep my job. Fucking… Jesus!”
“Let’s just think it over before we make any moves, all right?”
Still her eyes blazed with anger. “Let’s just move in.”
Bill didn’t argue. It was time to get everyone out of there, even if it did mean bringing Mason out in handcuffs. They headed to the trapdoor, where they both drew their firearms.
“Breach!” Cox commanded.
Just like that, the team moved forward in perfect sync. One held the door while another tossed in a smoke grenade. Their tactical masks would give them the edge in the confined space. Bill and the captain remained outside on standby, in case they had to take action.
Bill glanced at Cox, whose vacant expression spoke volumes. Probably still digesting the information about Mason. I should tell her, Bill thought. I should tell her he didn’t do it alone. I can’t let Mason take the fall for something we both did.
The team hurried down the steps, automatic rifles at the ready as they descended into the smoky darkness to help whoever had survived.
Chapter Eighty-Five
The metal canister bounced down the steps as cloudy white smoke hissed from it and filled the room. Within seconds, the underground space had filled with gas, making it difficult for Mason to see anything that wasn’t right in front of him.
As the smoke rose, he saw Evie twist in her seat. She shot to her feet, neglecting the pain as her hair tore out in a firm grasp, and delivered a crushing head butt into Alison Wendell’s nose, the violent cracking sound loud enough to be heard even over the footsteps thundering down the stairs behind them.
Wendell stumbled back, dropping the gun and clutching her hands to her bloody, obliterated nose.
“Shoot her!” Evie shouted at Mason, her chains forcing her back down.
Mason glared at the revolver in his hands, knowing the police team was finally breaching the room. Wendell would recover in seconds, distributing punishments in one final, furious outburst. He wanted to shoot, but he couldn’t. If there was anything he’d learned lately, it was that killing Marvin Wendell had put his family back in danger. He wasn’t about to make that mistake again.
“What’re you waiting for?” Evie cried.
Wendell crouched down and scooped up the gun. She fidgeted to position it upright in her hands as the smoke swirled around her. “Bitch!” She burst out of the cloud like a deranged monster and pointed the Colt at Evie.
It all happened as a reflex. Mason shot to his feet the best he could, then pulled on his chains, looped them around Wendell’s hands, and yanked down. The gun went off in the struggle, splintering the wood of the table.
Evie screamed.
“Move in!’ someone yelled behind them.
Now the room was a white blur. Mason held Wendell down, pinning the gun to the edge of the table as his eyes tingled with a burning sensation. He heard multiple people coughing around him, before he also began to gag.
“Down on the ground!” the team yelled.
Mason exploited Wendell’s injury, sinking his teeth into her broken nose. He could taste her blood—metallic and dry. She screeched in pain, and Mason let go before sweeping his leg around and knocking her of
f balance.
Alison Wendell tumbled to the floor, the gun somehow remaining in her hand. Without a second to spare, she aimed down the sight to finally deliver a killing bullet to Mason’s skull.
Mason clenched his eyes shut.
The gun fired.
Mason felt the air leave his lungs.
Only it wasn’t him who’d been shot, nor was it Wendell who had fired.
He opened his eyes in time to see her body slumping to the ground, her twisted arms sprawled out in all directions. Her face was turned toward Mason, her expression a horrific snapshot of her final, shocking moment. Alison Wendell was dead, and yet, somehow, she still stared at Mason Black with burning hatred in her eyes.
As the room became nothing but a puffy white space, Mason caught one final glimpse of Lady Luck, who’d hurt so many to get to him.
And that, he would never live down.
Chapter Eighty-Six
They were all escorted out individually by the team, finally free from the horrendous torture Lady Luck had made them endure, including some other missing women found alive—barely—deep in the bunker. The corpses of several missing men were not so fortunate.
Captain Cox made the arrangements, putting everyone at ease before Mason was allowed to check up on Evie.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, approaching his sister.
Evie sat on the step of the van, dark bags under her eyes evidence of the exhausting traumas. “Not the best.”
“An ambulance is on its way.” Mason perused the scene. There were a dozen women, all being comforted by Cox as they wept. It was disturbing to know the things Wendell had been capable of. If she hadn’t been shot dead, she would surely have been locked away for the rest of her life now California had stopped dealing out the death penalty.
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