This isn’t right. She thinks I’m being selfish. What if I am? What if this is my marriage to Sandra all over again? Mason stood and approached her from behind, wrapping his arms around her. “But I do want to live with you.”
Diane turned, smiling for the first time today. “Really?”
“Really.”
She kissed him then, full and hard on the lips, her smile breaking through. “I love you, no matter what your job is.”
“I love you, too. I really do.”
After a few minutes of kissing and holding each other, Diane finally took charge of the morning. She threw a suit at Mason and told him to get dressed.
Until then, he’d completely forgotten—today he had a meeting with Cox and the rest of the San Francisco Police Department. Although he hadn’t yet officially taken the job, his presence was requested in another capacity—as the unfortunate target of Anarchy.
Chapter Fifty-Two
It didn’t look good when Mason arrived late. He rushed through the building, burst into the dark meeting room, and apologized for not making it on time. All eyes were on him.
“Take a seat, Mason.” Cox stood next to the projector, sharing all the latest details with the team assigned to Anarchy’s case. “You haven’t missed much.”
Mason nodded and took the only vacant seat in the room—next to Bill.
“Hey, buddy,” Bill said, as Mason slumped in next to him. He was chewing on a pen, a habit Mason didn’t miss.
“Hey.”
“How’s Amy?”
“A little shaken up,” Mason whispered, “but okay.”
The lights came on, and Captain Cox switched off the projector. “Gentlemen, we will do anything we can to find this guy. Since yesterday’s school attack, the FBI is coming in to—”
Everyone in the room complained, throwing out their hands in angry gestures. Everyone tried to talk at once, making an entirely incoherent hum.
Cox raised a finger to her lips. “Shush—quiet down.” The room simmered down into silence. “As I was saying, the FBI is coming in to investigate the attack—and that’s what it was: a chemical attack. They’ll be interviewing each and every one of us in turn.”
“Does the SFPD still have the right to pursue the case?” Mason asked.
“Good question, and the answer is yes.” Cox sat at the table, an arm resting across her lap. “However, we’re limited to what we can do and have to run every little step by them before we do it. This means, if anyone is unsure whether they should do something—if anyone so much as farts—they want us to ask permission first.”
“Where do we begin, Cap?” asked an unfamiliar uniformed cop from the front.
“We want to identify this guy. We have the bureau’s top men working on that.”
Mason cleared his throat, and as Cox looked at him, every face in the room turned his way. “Actually, his name is Shaun Chambers.” And I’m sure I’m in deep shit for not having told you sooner. “There was a call you guys dismissed as a hoax, but I took the liberty of visiting the woman in Arizona. She gave a positive ID on her nephew.”
Cox gawked at him, her mouth agape. “Can she come in and state that officially?”
“I asked. She will.”
“Good, then leave her details on my desk. Everyone else,” she said, standing and pulling open the door, “do whatever you can to find this son of a bitch, and remember to look both ways before you break wind.”
Edgy laughter filled the room as everyone stood to leave. One of the officers passed by and tapped Mason on the shoulder. “Good to have you around, sir.”
Sir. That’s something I’ll have to get used to again if I take the job.
As Mason and Bill were leaving, Captain Cox stood in the doorway to block their exit. “I’m sorry about your daughter,” she said.
“Thanks. She wasn’t hurt.”
“Still, nobody should have to go through that.” She peered outside, then pushed the door to a close. “Technically, you’re not a police officer. You know what that means?”
Mason had a feeling he did. “That I don’t have to talk to the Feds?”
“Exactly,” Cox said. “And don’t go running your mouth, Detective Harvey. As far as you’re concerned, you didn’t hear this conversation.”
Bill pulled an invisible zipper across his mouth. “Sealed.”
Cox opened the door once more, letting them go. “See what else you can dig up.”
Mason left alongside Bill, wondering just how much else there was to dig up. There was no trail to follow, and nobody left to interview. He had no idea how to find Anarchy, but somehow he knew he wouldn’t have to.
Anarchy would find him.
Chapter Fifty-Three
The press had seized control of the front of the police station. There wasn’t a place to turn without a camera being rammed down your throat.
“That’s Mason Black!” a woman screamed, running over for a shot at the first interview. As soon as she began to move, everyone else came in tow. “A few quick words, Mr. Black?” she asked, holding out her recording machine.
Mason stopped, shooting a quick glance at Bill. It read just a minute. “Sure.”
“What brings you to the police station?” the woman asked, diving right in.
“I’m considering rejoining the force.”
There followed a mumble among the crowd, and as more journalists picked up on the fuss being made, they drifted over to join in. They can’t all be the first to get the report, Mason thought.
But the woman only frowned. “Aren’t you investigating Anarchy?”
“I’ve had my ties with him, but that investigation is now in the hands of the SFPD,” he lied. “I wish I had more of a story for you, but that’s all there is.”
“But wasn’t your daughter involved in the school attack?” a man’s voice called out from the back of the crowd.
Mason looked over everyone’s head and put a flat hand above his eyes—a shield from the sun. If he could help it, he preferred to know who he was talking to so he could look them in the eye and tell them to mind their own damn business.
“That’s enough,” Bill said, putting a hand on Mason’s shoulder and encouraging him toward the Mustang. “They can be vicious bastards, eh?” He sat in the passenger seat and adjusted his tie.
“Yeah.” Mason started up the engine. “What do you say to a liquid lunch?”
“Beer and burger?”
“Perfect.”
They went to a little-known diner six blocks over. Mason had never been there before, and although it wasn’t the most hygienic-looking place on earth, it wasn’t the most unfriendly. Anyway, the beer was good. The burger was even better.
“So,” Bill said, his mouth full of burger meat, “what’re your thoughts?”
“On?”
“Where to start?”
Mason took a large gulp of beer and set down the glass. “No idea. Maybe I should just get a job at Walmart and leave all these freaks behind.”
Bill laughed. “You’re better than Walmart.”
“I’m serious. Every year, a new sicko tries to ruin my life. There comes a time when you have to ask if you’re in the wrong line of work. And now my office has been blown across town, there’s no better time to be looking for a change of direction.”
“You could always take your job back.” Bill paused to look at him. “I think you should do it, by the way. I mean, have you weighed the pros and cons?”
“Look, Bill…” Mason leaned forward. “If I’m being totally honest, I can’t make a decision until Anarchy is out the way. And—not gonna lie—he’s probably watching me right now, which puts you in the line of fire. So, I have another favor to ask…”
Bill put his food down and creased up his face. Every favor he’d ever done for Mason usually ended with gunshots and tragedy.
“Can you take Diane and Amy away for a few days? Take them somewhere safe and keep an eye on them? I’m going to put my coat on and head i
n a different direction. Unless he has some sort of magic ability I’ve never heard of, he can’t be in two places at once.”
“You’re going to draw his eye while I take care of your family?”
“Exactly.”
Bill nodded. “Sure, Mason. I’ll explain everything. They’ll understand.”
“Thanks, pal. After this, we’re even.”
“Not a chance. You owe me, like, fifty beers.”
Mason slid his arms into the sleeves of his coat and dumped some cash on the table for Bill to get a cab. “All in good time.”
He left the diner and stomped through the mud toward his car. Where he was going, he wasn’t quite sure, but he hoped against hope that Anarchy would follow him rather than Bill.
Chapter Fifty-Four
In the great city of New York, Evie Black was unpacking her grocery shopping for the first time.
She was struggling to find a good place for each product to go, and it required more thought than it might have seemed—especially for a depressed, unemployed, and lonely woman with nothing else to do.
She supposed she should start looking for a job. Although she’d taken shifts at the nearest factory (they made cleaning products but took it so seriously you’d think they were making tools for brain surgery), she wanted real work. She wanted journalism.
Evie flicked the TV on for a little background noise and wandered around her new apartment. She calculated how long she’d be able to keep this place going. Living in the Big Apple wasn’t cheap, especially for someone with standards as high as hers.
And then there was the loneliness. The cold, bitter loneliness.
She missed her niece, Amy, and how she’d always looked up to her. There was also her own daughter, Amelia, who she’d given up for adoption at birth. It was a decision she now regretted, as she needed someone more than ever before. Only two years ago, she’d met Amelia for the first time, now a teenager, and she was everything a mother could hope her daughter would turn out to be.
But most of all, as much as she refused to say it out loud, she missed Mason.
As if the TV had read her thoughts, Evie heard her brother’s name. She ran into the living area, cranking the volume up enough to make the neighbors bang on the wall. She didn’t care though, because now she was watching her brother on the news channel, answering questions beside Detective Bill Harvey.
“But wasn’t your daughter involved in the school attack?”
Evie slumped onto the couch. Then she bolted upright again. There was something strange about the man who’d fired the question at Mason. At first she thought it was because he was dressed too casual for a reporter, but she soon realized his question dripped with anger. Whatever it was, there was something personal in his tone.
As the camera followed Mason walking away from the scene, the mysterious man stepped forward from the crowd, studying him with his hands balled into fists. He turned back to face the camera, and Evie paused the TV.
On some level, she wondered if this was all in her head—if it was just an excuse to get back in touch with Mason. But she knew how keen her journalistic eye was. It was what had made her so successful in the past. She knew better than anyone that even the smallest detail could matter the most.
With that in mind, Evie reached for her cell phone and scrolled through her contacts.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Mason checked into a cheap motel, proving once and for all you only got what you paid for. Disgusting, he thought as he dumped his laptop onto the creaky bed. If he was lucky, Anarchy would kill him before the room gave him some sort of infection. All he could do was remind himself it was all for a good cause.
Before he’d even settled in, his phone rang. But the call didn’t surprise him nearly as much as the caller. Evie?
“Hey,” he said, holding it to his ear and slipping the laptop out of its case.
“Mason? I think I might have something.”
Mason suffered an uncomfortable moment where he thought she meant some kind of disease. It soon clicked, however, and he quickly became excited at the idea of a lead. “What is it?”
“Don’t get your hopes up. It’s just that I was watching the news report of you at the station, and it sort of looked like you were being followed.”
“Really? By who?”
“Hold on, I’ll send the photo.”
The phone beeped in his ear, and he checked the photo. “This guy?”
“Yeah. Like I say, it might be nothing. I just thought you should know.”
“Thank you.” Mason held on to the silence that followed. It felt comfortable, somehow, in spite of recent events. “How’s New York? Have you found someplace to live yet?”
“I have. It’s not bad. A little scary, but I have a good feeling about this.”
It’s because of me, then. I was the problem, and now you’re gone, everything’s just fine. Isn’t that right, sis? “That’s great, Evie. If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”
“You can say hi to Amy and Diane for me.”
Mason smiled, remembering how good she was with the people in his life. “I will. You take care of yourself, okay?”
“You too.”
The line went dead, and Mason was left looking at the photo. The man didn’t look familiar, but he compared it to the memory of the dark shadow inside the house on Brownlee, and the dizzy image of the face that taunted him in the hospital. It definitely wasn’t a match—it couldn’t be. Or was he remembering it wrong?
He sent the photo to Captain Cox, with an attached message stating they should keep an eye out for this man just in case. With that done, he turned in for the night, lying down on the bed but refusing to remove his clothes through fear of transferring germs.
For the next few minutes, Mason stirred. Thoughts of Evie and his family created a whirlwind inside his head, keeping him awake. It was lucky, really. If he’d been asleep, he wouldn’t have seen the silhouette lurking outside the window.
Mason swallowed, reached under the pillow for his gun, and eased out of bed.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Gun gripped, Mason stood behind the door, pressing the lip of the barrel against the wood.
Go ahead and break in. I dare you, asshole.
In truth, he didn’t know if it would be Anarchy or some other dreg of society. Hell, for all he knew, it could be housekeeping, though unlikely at this time of night. Based on the state of the room, the housekeeper might be the most dangerous of all.
Mason’s finger wrapped round the trigger, and he was ready to squeeze. But when a folded sheet of paper slid under the door and footsteps pattered away, he felt safe enough to lower the gun.
Lured by intrigue, he crouched and picked up the paper. On the front, his name was written in steady handwriting. He opened it up and read the scrawled note.
East side of the building.
Follow the path down to the water.
I’ll be waiting.
Mason was smart enough to know this wasn’t a love letter. But was it really Anarchy who’d delivered it? Could he stop the psychopath now without having to risk meeting his demands? Had he really been followed here, as he’d suspected he would?
With the gun still in his hand, he sprung open the door and ran outside. “Wait!”
The figure loomed in the darkness at the end of the walkway. He was small—too short to be a grown man. He turned, revealing his face in the light of the wall lamp. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” he said, trembling.
Mason tossed the revolver inside and pulled the door closed. He made his way to the young kid and knelt in front of him. In his softest tone, he asked, “Why did you bring me this?”
The boy, no older than ten, rubbed his eye. “The man told me to.”
“What man? Where?”
“He was in the parking lot. He gave me ten dollars to put it under your door. I didn’t mean to annoy you though, I swear. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right, kid” Mason s
aid, patting the boy on the shoulder. “Did you see anything suspicious? Did anything seem strange to you?”
The boy furrowed his brow and gave a sort of cross-eyed stare, as if trying to concentrate. Finally, he shook his head in rapid swings. “No. But his family was crying.”
“His family?” Mason’s heart thrummed. If it truly was Anarchy who’d sent this note, why did he have people with him? And more importantly, why were they crying?
“They were in his truck, and they looked really upset.”
“How many were there?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t see.”
“Right.” Mason rose up from his knee and patted the boy on the shoulder again. It was possible someone was in danger, and if he didn’t do as he was told, another person would lose their life because of him. “Head back to your room, lock your door, and tell your parents what happened. You got it?”
“Yeah.” The boy nodded. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just be safe, and don’t talk to strangers.”
His pulse racing, Mason ran back to his room and checked his gun. It was fully loaded, but he checked again, and then one more time for good measure.
You could never be too safe.
As he shut the door and raced down to the water, he had no idea what to expect. All he knew for sure was that it wouldn’t be good.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
The shotgun rested across his lap as he waited for Mason.
The cool breeze across the nape of his neck kept Anarchy alert. Any minute now, his little project would be running out from the trees, only to be hit with a big surprise.
“Please, just let us go,” whined the girl to his right.
Anarchy shuffled in his fold-up chair, looking at the small Asian girl. She was standing on the edge of the jetty, hands cuffed, the wind blowing her hair out in a thousand different directions. “I really wish I could, sweetheart, but this is something I have to do.”
Mason & Morgan- The Serial Killer Collection Page 42