Mason & Morgan- The Serial Killer Collection

by Adam Nicholls

  “Actually,” Mason said, pressing his hands into the small of his back, “would it be too much trouble to walk? I’ve been sitting still for fourteen hours and need to stretch my legs a bit.”

  Although hunched and frail, the old lady—sweet Margaret Chambers—accepted, taking her cane and pulling the door shut behind her. She took Mason’s arm for support and walked beside him.

  “So, tell me about your phone call to the police,” Mason said, after rounding a few corners and engaging in a little small talk.

  “Which one?”

  “There were many?”

  “Oh yes,” Margaret said, surprised he hadn’t already known. “I tried our own police a lot, and even called the TV show that broadcast the mug shot. You know, those hotline numbers that ask for help.”

  Mason screwed up his face. “I wasn’t aware Anarchy had a mug shot.”

  “It was a police sketch, given by that poor young girl who escaped.”

  Lucy Healy. It must have happened when I was in the hospital. But why wasn’t I told? “I see. And they didn’t want to take your information?”

  Margaret stopped for breath, balanced on her cane, then carried on, still latched on to Mason. “They took my information but never got back to me. So, then I tried the San Francisco police, knowing there was an active investigation.”

  “And even they didn’t pay attention?”

  Margaret shrugged. “That’s another downside of being old; people think you’re just a bored, crazy old lady with nothing better to do.”

  They reached a park, and Mason helped lower her onto the bench. If only someone were here to help me and my pain, he thought, amusing himself. “Please, tell me what you know. Anything you have to offer could help a lot.”

  Margaret tucked a stray strand of wispy hair behind her ear and watched the boys playing soccer across the grass. “I hate to turn in my own family, Mr. Black, but Anarchy is my nephew.”

  Mason’s heart pounded. “Your nephew?”

  “Yes.” She looked down at her hands, as if shame had seized her. “I could spot that face from a thousand yards, even with these old eyes. His name is Shaun Chambers.”

  “Do you still have contact with him?”

  “Not since he was younger. After his parents died, he stayed with me for a few months. One day, I woke up to make him breakfast, but he, and all his belongings, were gone. I never saw him again after that.”

  Mason felt as though he’d struck gold. With an ID on Anarchy, avenues of information had opened up, and any singular detail could help bring him down. “You mentioned his parents?”

  “Yes, my sister and her husband. They were good people.”

  “How did they die, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Their house burned down. Shaun was inside, too, but he made it out alive.”

  “Do you think he blamed himself?”

  Margaret shuffled in her seat and turned her face to Mason, meeting his eyes. “There’s a lot I don’t know about that boy, Mr. Black. Everyone has their idea of what kind of person he is. But if you ask me…”

  Mason thought he knew what was coming and steeled himself.

  “I’d say it was Shaun who started that blaze.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  From inside the stolen vehicle, Anarchy sat watching his prey.

  It was unlike him—he wasn’t used to being so methodical. As far as he was concerned, people who sat around scheming were only wasting time. Why bother, when you could just walk into a grocery store and wreak havoc with a gun? Wasn’t that what evoked the most natural human emotions—panic, fear, and surprise?

  Having been there all day, he’d watched Mason leave. Where he was going, Anarchy was unsure, but he stayed out of sight and took notes in his notepad. Throughout the day, there wasn’t much coming and going. That was, with the exception of the detective, who was parked six cars ahead of him and watching over the family.

  If you think I’m stupid, you’re in for a nasty surprise.

  It wasn’t until later in the day that the black woman—probably Mason’s girlfriend or wife—headed out in her car. Anarchy wanted to tail her, to see where she might be going, but didn’t want to risk exposing himself. Instead, he sat and waited until she returned, and this time, a young girl climbed out of the car.

  Hello there. And who might you be?

  Anarchy made a note. Girl, midteens. Daughter?

  It was laughable that an indestructible man could have such vulnerabilities as a family. That, as he knew, was the soft spot of anyone’s heart, whether it be love or loathing. It was a shame Mason had left himself open like that.

  It almost made him feel guilty for what he was about to do.

  Almost.

  Chapter Forty

  On the long and tedious bus ride home, there wasn’t much else to do other than read recent news reports on his cell phone. Mason had never been one for entertaining the press, but boredom could drive him to almost anything.

  To further kill the time, he considered sending a text message to Evie. If he couldn’t say what he wanted to say in person, he would do it over the phone instead. For minutes, he typed and deleted, retyped and deleted again. It was impossible to phrase, so he left it at only I hope you’re well, sis. We miss you.

  After hitting Send, Mason was about to put his phone away, when it started ringing. He recognized the number and answered it, his heart in his throat.

  “What’s happened?”

  “Nothing,” Captain Cox said. “Why so jumpy?”

  “You know why,” Mason replied, staring out the window. They were passing through a rundown neighborhood. It seemed like every wall had graffiti on it, and there were groups of kids looking like they wanted trouble.

  “Makes sense. Anyway, listen.” Cox cleared her throat. “Can you get to the station at some point today? I need to speak with you urgently.”

  “What’s this about?”

  “I’d rather not discuss it over the phone.”

  Mason sighed. “I guess I can make it over in a few hours.”

  “Great. I’m working late, so I’ll see you then.”

  Mason spent the rest of the journey worrying. What if something had happened back at home, but she’d been too kind to say it when he was so helpless? Had there maybe been a breakthrough in the Anarchy case? Had Internal Affairs finally pinned someone? Nothing was certain.

  When he got off the bus, as much as he wanted just to go home and check on his family, Mason headed for the police station. He was unsure what to expect from Cox, but he doubted it was good.

  He was escorted upstairs to her office and shown inside by a serious young officer.

  “Take a seat,” Captain Cox said, removing her glasses and closing her laptop.

  “Want to tell me why I’m here?” Still aching, Mason lowered himself into the uncomfortable plastic chair.

  “This is hard for me to say…” She lowered her gaze.

  “Just dive in.” Because I can’t handle the anticipation, you witch.

  “Fine.” Cox stood and moved around the desk, leaning against it with her arms crossed. “We seem to be running into each other a lot, taking the same cases, helping each other out where needed.”

  “Let me guess—you want me to keep my distance.”

  “No.” Her eyes scanned the room, looking at anything but him. “Actually, I wanted to know if you’d consider taking your old job back. How would you like to be a detective again?”

  Mason was blown away. “What? Why?”

  “You’re useful, to say the least. A lot of us miss having you around, and now you’re without an office, I thought you might consider having a stable job. When you’re all healed up, that is.”

  It was an intriguing offer—it really was—but all he could think about were the feelings he’d experienced back when Sandra divorced him for working too hard. If he were to do it all over again, would Diane feel the same way? He’d feel more comfortable discussing this with her an
yway. They were, at the end of the day, a partnership. “I’m flattered, but can I think this one over? It’s a big decision and—”

  Captain Cox raised a hand. “Say no more. The offer’s there, and I just thought I’d ask. Take as long as you need. I mean it.”

  “Thank you.” Mason stood and left the office in a maelstrom of swirling thoughts about what to do. He’d always advised himself to follow his gut, but it was impossible to figure out exactly what his gut was telling him amidst the noise of his other concerns.

  Detective Mason Black, he thought. He hadn’t realized he was smiling.

  Chapter Forty-One

  His head was full of questions. His body was ripe with pain. There was nothing he wanted more than to head home, put his head on a pillow, and sleep for a year.

  But that wouldn’t be happening.

  The lights were off when he got to Diane’s. At first, Mason thought it was too early for anybody to go to bed. And the odds of both Diane and Amy both being asleep were even slimmer. Mason poked his head out the front door, making sure Bill wasn’t still outside, keeping an eye on his family like he’d promised he would.

  Now he could panic.

  Flicking the closest light switch, Mason went for the phone and dialed Diane’s cell number. As it connected, he went from room to room, double-checking he hadn’t just missed them first time round and hoping he was overreacting. But it didn’t seem as if he was.

  Diane’s phone went straight to voicemail. Mason hung up. “Dammit.”

  Where are you?

  He dialed Amy next as he checked the last room—Diane’s bedroom—and saw it was empty. Something was definitely not right.

  “Hey, this is Amy,” came the sweetest voice in the world through the phone.

  “Amy! It’s your dad. Can you—”

  “Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you…”

  Mason hung up, now terrified.

  Goddamnit!

  He darted outside, and neglecting the pain in his ribs, back, and legs, ran for his Mustang. He started the engine, and with his free hand, dialed Bill’s phone.

  Come on, he thought as he drove into whatever direction his subconscious was taking him. Answer, you son of a bitch. I want to know if my family is safe.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  The tires screeched to a stop, the engine silent in a second. Mason leaned toward the glove compartment for his revolver, and when he sat back up, was shocked by a figure standing beside the car.

  His instincts told him to drop to his back and aim the gun up, but when the person opened the door and peered inside, Mason felt a wave of relief. “Bill,” he said, climbing out of the car and tucking the gun into his coat. “What the hell’s going on? Where are my girls?”

  “Calm down, calm down.” Bill waved a hand up toward Mason’s apartment. “They’re inside. Both of them. And they’re safe.”

  Mason strode toward the steps leading up to his home. In truth, he hadn’t really expected them to be here—it was a last resort. He’d struck it lucky to learn they were all here, but he wouldn’t be fully at ease until he saw them. “Why is nobody answering their phones? Why are you here?”

  “The landline was cut at Diane’s place,” Bill said, struggling to keep up. “When her cell went missing—Amy’s too—she thought somebody was in the house.”

  “So you brought them here?”

  “It might have been a mistake… I don’t know. But they’re safe now, and that’s what matters.”

  As Mason climbed the last of the steps, he wondered if someone had truly been at Diane’s. If the line was severed, it was likely. But nobody attacked. Not even when he’d been there himself.

  Stay away from my family, Anarchy.

  He thrust the key into the lock and burst inside, where Diane and Amy sat close to each other on the couch. They were startled at first, but as soon as they saw him, they both leapt to their feet and ran to him.

  “Ouch. Go easy on me,” Mason said, their hugs feeling like punches on his battered body. “Is everyone okay? Are you hurt?”

  “We’re fine,” Diane said.

  Bill stepped inside and closed the door, leaning on it like an overprotective bouncer.

  Mason, Diane, and Amy all sat in the living area, going over what had happened.

  “It was more of a cautionary thing,” Diane explained. “You know, when a TV is left on in the house and you can just sense it from another room? It was like that, but I thought I sensed a person. I was probably just being dumb, but when I went to the phone to call Bill, there was no dial tone.”

  Mason took her hand.

  “So, I just grabbed Amy and got out of there as fast as I could.”

  “You did the right thing,” Mason said, scanning the room. His eyes adjusted to his surroundings, and he spotted a box on the kitchen counter. “What’s that?”

  Amy turned, glancing over her shoulder. “The package? That came for you earlier.”

  Mason felt the blood drain from his face.

  “What’s wrong?” Diane asked.

  “I didn’t order anything.” Mason got up and traipsed over to it. He noticed right away there was no shipping address, no delivery stamp, and no labels. Only one thing, written in marker across the top:

  FAO: MASON BLACK

  Chapter Forty-Three

  It was freezing out on the rooftop. The cold wind was harsh against his cheeks, and the drizzle sprayed at his neck. But he wouldn’t be here for long, now he knew everything was going according to plan.

  Wherever Mason had been for the day, Anarchy had decided to stay put and study the man’s life. Anything he could dig up he would use against him. It was the very thing that kept him so active in his mission of destruction.

  It seems like your empathy for people will be what breaks you, Mason, and I want you to know I’m going to have fun with that.

  Feeling more than a little pleased with himself, Anarchy stowed the binoculars away and packed his things into the duffel bag at his feet: roll-out mat, bottle of Jack Daniels (almost empty), and the shotgun he’d been carrying for the sake of carrying it.

  “You’ve been very useful,” he mumbled as he went for the door that led down from the rooftop. Anarchy stopped, turned, and looked at the man on the floor, who was chained up, gagged, and bloodied. “Don’t worry, the pain won’t last for long. And better yet, nobody has to watch you die. It’s quite—” He took in a deep breath, like one does on a beautiful spring morning. “—isolated up here. Have a nice death.”

  The heavy metal door swung shut behind him with a loud clang. Anarchy bounced down the stairs with the bag slung over his shoulder, heading toward his new safe house.

  Tomorrow would be the biggest day of his life, and he had to be ready.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Mason stared at the item inside the box, his gag reflex pulsating like it was ready to blow.

  “Take Amy in the other room,” he told Diane. “I don’t want her seeing this.”

  “Whatever it is, I’ve seen worse,” Amy protested.

  “Amy.”

  “Fine. Going.”

  When just he and Bill were left, Mason ripped off the last of the packaging. His emotions were set on an invisible line between furious and disgusted, and when the last of the torn cardboard dropped to the carpet, he took a step back.

  “Jesus.”

  Mason gawked at the human hand. The skin was still fresh and the blood still wet. But what really took his attention was what the lifeless fingers were still clutching.

  “What is it?” Bill asked, covering his mouth to catch any reflex vomiting.

  “A note.” Mason slid it from between the fingers, unfolded it, and read it aloud. “388 Brownlee Avenue, 7:30 a.m. Come alone, or people will die.” His head started to spin, seized by a dizziness that nearly knocked him down. Blood rushed to his head in a confusion of anger and hate.

  Bill moved around the counter and sat in the armchair. “What do you want to d
o?”

  Mason’s head filled with questions. It felt as though he was being invited to his own execution, but what else could he do? “I have to go.”

  “That’s it?”

  “What else is there? You heard what it said; people will die.”

  “You don’t even know if that’s true. Assuming this is Anarchy—”

  Mason slammed his palm on the coffee table. “I think it’s pretty damn obvious it’s Anarchy, don’t you? Jesus, Bill. You’re acting like I have a choice, or like I’m doing something wrong. Last I checked, there was a human hand in my kitchen. Does that sound like somebody who wouldn’t kill innocent people?”

  Bill looked down at his feet. “Guess not.”

  “Well then.”

  “At least let me get you some backup.”

  “No. We have to stick to the rules.” Mason looked over the couch at the bedroom, where Diane and Amy were suspiciously quiet. “We have to play everything as if it’s normal. Diane can go to work, Amy can go to school. Just stay in touch, in case anything seems out of the ordinary—anything. Got it?”

  Bill saluted. “Sir.”

  Sighing, Mason got up and closed the box. “Thanks, Bill. Listen, I know you do a lot for me, and I appreciate it. But could you do just one more thing?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Keep this under wraps until it’s done. Cox will have a field day with this.”

  “Sure. But do something for me, too.” Bill stood, removed the gun from his holster, and handed it over, grip first. “Take this with you. Just in case.”

  Mason shook his head. “I have my own, but I won’t go in unarmed.”

  “Good. Then I’d better let you get some rest. Stay in touch, right?”

  “Right.”

  Mason watched him leave and bolted the door behind him. This would be a long night, for sure, but tomorrow would be a hell of a lot worse.