Mason sighed. ‘I have conditions.’
‘Shoot.’
‘I want all the info as it comes in. As it comes in, and not a second later. I want immediate access to every crime scene, no evidence withheld. No exceptions.’
‘All right. Is that it?’ Bill seemed relieved.
‘No. I want the police to stay out of my way. I’m working independently on this one.’
Bill paused, swallowed and answered. ‘You got it. Thanks, Mason.’
Before they got the chance to shake on it, Captain Leanne Cox passed them in the corridor, surrounded by a small team. She gave an approving nod. ‘Mr Black,’ she said. ‘Welcome back to the team.’
Before Mason could make it clear that he was working as an external party, she was gone again, leaving Bill standing smiling at him. ‘Come on.’
13
The first thing Mason did was take a cab back to his office. If he was going to be working the case, he would need a few things to get ahead.
He started with a clean suit and his PI badge. He also opened the drawer for his gun, but thought better of it. In the past, that thing had caused more trouble than it had solved, and he was in no right state to be taking shots at people he hated.
Before he had got his jacket on, Evie allowed herself into the building, walked over and wrapped her arms around his hulking frame. ‘I heard about the punch-up. I’m so sorry.’
Mason stood without moving his arms. That had always been his way.
‘Are you okay? Have you found someplace to stay?’ she asked with the all-too-familiar tone of their mother.
‘I’m fine. Bill’s putting me up for a while.’
‘Great! That’s great. And the case…’
Mason stepped back and looked at her. ‘What exactly are you after?’
‘What? I’m just asking if you’re working again. Cut me some slack.’
Mason sighed, picked up his jacket and dug his arm into the sleeve. ‘Yes, I’m working the case.’
‘Fantastic! Let me help.’
‘No, Evie. This is exactly what I was worried about.’ Mason’s pulse quickened. ‘I know you hate it when I call you the press but that’s what you are. That’s at least one of your interests in this, if not the biggest.’
Evie looked around and let out a breath. ‘I suppose you’re right. But maybe we could help each other out.’
Mason snatched up the keys to his Mustang and switched the office lights off with a grunt. ‘How could you possibly help?’
‘Think about it, I could help you by running whatever errands you need, and you can reward me with information. And I will only print what you give me permission to.’
‘It’s no good, Evie. I can’t allow that.’ Mason opened the door to show her out.
‘Well, what’s your plan then?’ Evie asked, talking fast, as she usually did when desperate.
‘Excuse me?’
‘What’s your first step?’
Mason was speechless. He hadn’t actually formulated a plan, other than to go over the files one more time until something popped out.
‘That’s what I thought,’ Evie said, grinning. ‘But I just happen to know that Missy Daniels went to school with this Susan woman’s son.’
‘How did you know about that?’ This was exactly what pissed him off. He had barely known about the abduction for a couple hours before it had been leaked to her already. If he was lucky, it wouldn’t be on her website yet.
‘I have my ways. So… we could check out the school together. What do you say?’
Mason held the door. I suppose a partner could be useful, he thought. As long as she doesn’t get herself hurt… ‘Fine. But you print nothing until I give you clearance. If I say to jump, you ask how high. Got it?’
‘Got it.’ She hadn’t smiled this much in a long time.
Mason hated it. ‘Get in the car.’
14
The killer knew from experience: the longer he kept these kids, the more risk there was of being caught. That was why he’d planned out his trip to the Muir Woods National Park beforehand. He’d had all the tools in his RV.
He followed the trail halfway up, with little Tommy Chance walking by his side, minus a finger. Cruel or not, there was something satisfying about snipping off the pinkie.
‘Where are we going?’ Tommy asked, a whimper in his voice.
‘What did I tell you, boy? Shut up or I’ll make it hurt.’
The bag on his back was already giving him enough trouble. There was a large range of tools inside: hammer, chisel, pliers (which he’d used to remove the finger off the surprisingly obedient boy) and a whole bunch of other useful things.
When they reached the splitting point in the path, the killer went straight on and through the trees, dragging the boy behind him. Mud slipped out from under his feet, but there was enough tree debris to form a grip.
After a steep, ten-minute hike, they stopped.
‘Right here.’
The boy looked more frightened than he’d ever seen any kid, and it was delicious.
The Lullaby Killer dropped the bag, opened it up, removed a rope and tossed it to the boy. ‘Put your head through the loop.’
The boy hesitated, sobbing quietly and looking at him with pleading eyes.
‘I won’t ask again.’
Tommy slowly slipped the rope over his neck and gawked anxiously at the snaking end as the killer took it and tied it securely around a rock.
‘I think that should do it, don’t you?’ He loved every moment of this–everything from the clean slice of the finger to the terrified look in the boy’s eyes. Trembling with anticipation, he knelt and removed the hammer and chisel.
‘Excuse me.’
The voice startled him, sending a wave of heat down his neck. He stood quickly and turned, looking at a young man with long, wavy hair. He was one of the surfer types you see in the media. His eyes were accusing, looking at the killer, and then little Tommy.
‘Hey, what the hell is going on here?’ the man asked, stepping forward.
The Lullaby Killer smiled. ‘We’re just playing a game. Ain’t that right, boy?’
Tommy nodded, still crying. Even he was bright enough not to scream for help.
‘It doesn’t look like a game to me. Sir, step away.’ The man took a cell phone from his pocket and began to dial–probably for the police.
Acting on his feet, the killer tightened his grip on the hammer’s hilt and smashed it across the man’s temple. It made an exhilarating thump and the man hit the leaves a second later. You couldn’t be sure about these things, he thought, so the killer crouched and delivered two more bone-crushing blows to the man’s face, until it was just like mashing meat.
Shaking with adrenaline, the killer stood, wiped traces of spattered blood from his face with his sleeve, and turned to the boy. It didn’t look like he was strong enough to move the rock, and his hands were bound, so he wouldn’t be undoing the knots anytime soon. With that in mind, the killer dragged the man away by his feet, covered him in a mass of wet leaves and dirt sods, then returned to the kid.
‘Enough fucking around,’ he said, heaving the rock over a tree branch to make a pulley.
The boy’s body shot up in the air like a bird taking off. The snapping sound was the best of all, but the killer savoured the sight of his legs twitching as his eyes turned bloodshot.
Ooh, life’s little pleasures are the best of all.
But he had to go. He knew he couldn’t wait around and enjoy the show all day–if this guy had found him so easily, anybody else surely could. He quickly chiselled his message into a nearby tree and headed back down the slope.
And then a thought occurred to him.
As the rain started up, he headed back up, took the dead surfer’s phone off the ground and thumbed through the photos. The killer’s heart was pounding like crazy as he saw pictures of him leaving his RV.
Where did he take these? How long was he following me?
He knew he had to destroy the evidence, and he thought of his sweet spot underneath the RV’s tire. His work here was done, so he headed back to his vehicle, looking around him in case there was anybody else.
All the while, he was already thinking… who’s next?
15
The school’s principal was a small, polite lady with a stern look but kind features. She seemed busy, but not so much to take time out of her day for a good cause.
‘Thanks for seeing us,’ Mason said, leading the charge as they were shown into the office. Everything inside was made of oak, and the greenery lent hominess to the place.
‘Absolutely.’ She gestured to a seat. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘We’re to understand that Missy Daniels was a student here?’ Mason folded his fingers. He’d never had any need for a notepad. The map in his head served as a better guide.
‘Oh, yes. Such a shame what happened to her. We’ll be mourning that for a long, long time.’ She lowered her head in theatrical sadness.
Mason tried to disguise his amusement at her effort.
Evie took the reins. ‘And Thomas Chance?’
‘Thomas Chance… Thomas Ch… ah, yes! He is absent today, if I recall.’
Evie looked to Mason, who took a breath. ‘Thomas was abducted yesterday. We’re here to see if you know of any reason why this school may be targeted. Have you seen anybody suspicious, or have the children been spreading any rumours?’
‘Rumours?’ The principal shook her head, clearly shocked. ‘Not that I’m aware of. Is this a police investigation?’
‘We’re private investigators working closely with SFPD, miss. And we do appreciate your cooperation in the matter.’ This was often the part where he would be told to go fuck himself. Thankfully, this woman seemed eager to be of use.
‘Well, there is a supply teacher who a few of us are suspicious of. Charlie Richards, his name is. He hasn’t necessarily done anything wrong, but he has a certain coldness to him, you see.’
Evie sat quietly, while Mason wondered how far a simple judgement could take them.
‘The reason I bring it up,’ she went on, ‘is that he was supposed to be here yesterday, but called in sick. Said he had some sort of flu, but it sounded overacted.’
Mason felt that old excitement growing inside him again–the one that had made him enjoy his work back when he was a detective. ‘Could you please supply his address?’
‘I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to disclose that information.’ The principal stood, her frail frame pushing slowly away from the desk. ‘However, if I turn my head for a moment, you can see yourselves out?’ She pushed a diary across the desk and smiled.
‘Thank you for your time,’ Evie said, grinning.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Evie was on her feet and flicking through the pages to find Charlie Richards. ‘Got it,’ she said excitedly.
But Mason’s attention had turned to his phone, reading a new message carefully.
‘What is it?’
‘There’s been another murder,’ he said, his voice flat and miserable.
‘Is it… Tommy Chance?’
‘I don’t know. Apparently he’s left a message, so it could be.’
Evie sighed. ‘All right. You head to the scene and I’ll check out this Charlie guy.’
‘No.’ Mason could not have been firmer. ‘I’ll have you at my side, but you can’t go running off to interview a suspect. It might not be safe.’
Rather than using her words, Evie only lifted her trouser leg to show a pocketknife in a shin-strap. The previous Christmas, Mason had bought it for her and had it engraved. He’d not seen it since then, but was amazed to see that she was putting it to use, even if just as a precautionary measure.
‘You suspect anything, you let me know,’ Mason instructed.
‘I can take care of myself.’ Evie led them out of the room.
Mason had seen that kind of overconfidence before, and it had gotten them in trouble on more than one occasion–both of them.
16
The rain ever persistent, Mason stopped in the parking lot and slogged his way up the hill. A sickness started up in his stomach as he steeled himself for what he was about to see.
‘That was fast,’ Bill said, meeting him at the top of the slope.
Mason caught up to him, panting. He was in good shape – great shape, actually – but it was still an exhausting climb. ‘What do you have for me?’
Bill showed him over to the body, a pale-faced young boy whose eyes had been pecked at by the birds. Blood streamed from the sockets and covered his cheeks, but it was clear that the body was that of little Tommy Chance. Mason pictured Susan, the boy’s mother, and how she had cried before. He didn’t want to imagine how much this would hurt her.
‘Christ,’ he said.
‘Exactly.’
‘You said there’s a message?’
Bill led him to a nearby tree, where the words had been carved into the bark: CRADLE AND ALL. It was sloppily done. The killer had probably been in quite a rush.
‘Sorry to keep asking, but you think it’s a clue?’
‘Sorry to keep telling you, but it’s nothing more than a brag-tag. These sickos can’t help themselves. Sometimes they just need the approval. Like when you do something good for yourself and it really is for yourself, but you still want a pat on the back.’
‘Excuse me, Detective Harvey?’ A young uniformed officer appeared at Bill’s side, removing his cap. ‘There’s been an ID on the body. It’s Thomas Chance, sir.’
‘The prints match?’ Bill asked.
Mason didn’t want to hear this conversation. Instead, he trailed off into his own path of thought, following the breadcrumbs in his head. If the killer had been in such a rush, as the scruffy chiselling suggested, then he must have made a slip-up somewhere.
Staying focused, Mason walked the perimeter of the scene, looking for additional clues. Everything was so wet and dirt-ridden, it was hard to make out much of anything. But one thing did catch his eye, and he couldn’t have ignored it even if he’d wanted to.
‘Mason?’ Bill called from somewhere behind him.
But Mason was in his zone, following what looked like a drag-path. Deep grooves had been scraped into the mud, and he followed the trail into the trees until they stopped.
‘What is it?’ Bill said, following him.
It looked suspicious, there was no doubt about it. Mason dropped to his knees and began to swipe away the clot of wet leaves, ignoring the dirt that was accumulating on his knees. As he made his fourth swipe, he felt something hard and immediately knew what it was.
The face was scarcely uncovered when a sickening smell emitted from it. Mason wiped off the last of the leaves to reveal a bloody, horrified face, frozen in the moment of the man’s death. Flies swarmed around him, lured in by the foul odour.
Mason dug his mouth into his sleeve and tried not to gag.
‘Forensics!’ Bill yelled, also holding back his own bile. ‘We need forensics!’
17
‘What about the man?’ Mason asked as he rapped on the door of Susan Chance’s home. He dreaded having to tell her about this, but at least his friend was at his side. ‘Who was he?’
‘He’s still being identified,’ said Bill. ‘You’ll know when I do.’
The door sprung open and Susan glanced at them both before waving them in. She was about to sit down, but seemed to think better of it, when Mason and Bill entered the room and offered a look of remorse.
‘What’s… is something wrong?’ she asked.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Bill.
Mason had never heard him sound so upset. Not since his own son had been taken.
‘No.’ Susan shook her head. She looked exactly as she had when Mason had last seen her, only her eyes had become more sore-looking, as if she’d been rubbing them. ‘No. You were supposed to help. You were supposed to save my little boy!’
No matter wha
t we do, thought Mason, no matter how much we sacrifice to get the job done, we are always the ones to blame.
Susan stepped forward and pushed Bill with surprising strength. Mason couldn’t help but wonder where that strength had been back when a man had pulled a gun on her and her son. He stepped forward and gently took her arms, showing her into a nearby chair.
Bill retreated to the corner of the room, where he stood looking distraught.
‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Chance.’ Mason had difficulty finding his words. ‘We did everything we could, but there just wasn’t enough time.’
‘You failed,’ she spat, staring at Bill. ‘I trusted you to help him but you failed!’
‘Now that’s not fair. We’ve not known about him for a whole day yet, and–’
Susan stood and shoved past Mason. She wasn’t quite strong enough to move him, but he kindly stepped in time to allow her room. She went to the desk and opened a drawer. For a moment, Mason thought she was going to show a picture of the boy, use it as emotional blackmail to try to undo the damage.
But when she turned with the revolver in her hand, everything changed.
Bill drew his own sidearm with lightning speed, aiming directly at her. ‘Drop it.’
Mason regretted having left his gun at home. He also had a pistol in the glove compartment, but he hadn’t thought he’d need it. ‘Calm down, Mrs Chance. That won’t help.’
Susan turned the gun from him to Bill. She was visibly grinding her teeth, overwrought with rage and heartache. Mason understood her; she wanted somebody to blame. She only wanted a reason as to why this happened.
‘You…’ She shifted it back to Mason, her cheeks reddening and tears filling her eyes.
‘Drop the weapon immediately!’ Bill yelled, ruining Mason’s attempt to calm her down. ‘I don’t want to shoot you, Mrs Chance, but I’ll have no choice unless you drop the gun now.’
There was a whirlwind in Susan’s eyes as she seemed to consider her options. And then there was recognition, as she seemed to understand her only true way of ending her pain.
Swiftly, she put the barrel of the gun in her mouth.
Mason Black (The Complete Collection): 6 Gripping Crime Stories: The Complete Collection + BONUS Story Page 4