She leapt from where she’d been sitting, clawing at the sand as she scrambled to her feet, and blazed off into the distance, back up the shore. She began to scream, her wails high-pitched. If anybody heard them, it would all be over.
‘Get the fuck back here!’ The killer took off after her, stopping only briefly to tell Ryan that he would gut him if he moved. He hadn’t run like this in a long time, but was still fast enough to gain some distance until they reached the small, run-down neighbourhood.
Maisie dived out of sight behind a small white-panelled church, and the killer had to stop. If he went any further, he would risk the boy running off, too. Turning, he could see him in the distance. Maybe he could head off just a little, but…
But then you’d lose them both, stupid.
‘Fuck! Shit!’ he screamed, and strolled back towards Ryan and the sandy graves.
33
It was something that Mr Carter had said about his daughter: You be sure to take care of her.
And how could he not? Ignoring the incoming calls from Bill, Mason sped the Mustang towards his house. Even if he couldn’t patch things back up with Sandra, there was still room for hope that he could build some bridges.
What about Joshua? the voice in his head reminded him as he shifted into fifth. It was as though a ten-ton block had been tied to his heart. Could he really forgive her? If he tried his damndest, could he really remove the image of somebody touching his wife with such intimacy? Every second that he spent wondering convinced him that he could not.
But he had to try.
When he arrived, the front door was open and Sandra was leaving. Mason climbed out and went to her, just as she was about to open her car door.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked with great hostility. Anybody would think that he had been the one having an affair.
‘I just wanted to talk.’ Mason raised his hands in mock surrender.
‘Well now’s not a good time. I have to go get Amy from school.’ Sandra opened the door and threw in her purse. She was about to climb in when Mason held the door open.
‘How about after? We could go somewhere for dinner. My treat.’
‘Joshua is taking us out.’ Sandra climbed into the car.
He could see it now; the straightened black hair, the polished nails, the not-too-revealing top, which was just provocative enough to make a suggestion. ‘Right, Joshua.’
‘Excuse me.’ Sandra tried to close the door, but he held it firmly.
‘He’s back,’ Mason blurted, but was no longer talking about Joshua. He waited for a reaction while Sandra sat staring past the windshield. He knew that look–she was assessing her options.
And then she stared up at him.
‘You’re sure?’
Mason nodded. ‘I want you to take extra care around Amy, you hear? Whatever feud there is between you and me, don’t forget about her safety.’
Sandra rolled her eyes. ‘I know how to take care of my daughter.’
Our daughter, Mason thought, but saying it aloud would only raise a rattlesnake.
‘I have to go.’ Sandra tried once more to close the door.
‘Where did we go wrong?’ Mason hated to put himself out there so desperately, but everything had happened so fast. Even if she had been doubting their marriage for years, surely it had been her responsibility to tell him. Now, here he was, begging for some kind of explanation while his wife ran into the arms of some other guy.
‘You did, when you began to put work before your family.’
‘That was two years ago! I left the force for you. In the middle of a case, no less.’
‘And now what are you doing with your time, huh?’
It stung enough that he let go of the door and watched her pull out of the drive. Mason simply could not understand where he had gone wrong. Sure, he could confess to putting in overtime at the office, but was it not for a good cause? Or had she been looking for a reason to move on to somebody new?
For the next hour, he sat in his car, ignoring further calls from Bill and thinking of the woman he’d just spoken to, who now seemed nothing more than a stranger.
Can’t you see I was trying to do some good? To catch a killer?
Fuelled by a confusion of anger and hurt, he put the keys in the ignition and the car roared to life. At least he could head to Bill’s, lock himself in the spare bedroom and welcome nurture from a bottle of something strong.
34
The press swarmed him as he arrived at Bill’s house.
All over the lawn, reporters surrounded him like hungry puppies begging to their master. Mason could barely get out of the car, and when he did, the same problem kept him from the front door.
‘Mr Black, is it true that the Lullaby Killer is back?’
‘Are you working with the police?’
‘Have you exchanged words with Mr Carter?’
The noise was unbearable. The last thing Mason wanted now was to have his face all over the media. Was this a backlash of having Owen make press statements? Had his name been dropped without his knowledge?
Mason reached the door and had to squeeze through it, covering his face so more photos could not be taken of him. The more he was exposed, the more danger he was putting his family in.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ Bill was inside, storming towards him with a phone in his hand and Christine awkwardly smiling behind him. ‘I’ve been trying to call you!’
Mason knew that tone. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Those missing twins? One of them was found running down Elmgrove. She was struck by a car, but she’s okay.’
He should have been overjoyed that one of them had been recovered safely, but that was just it… ‘Only one of them?’
‘The daughter, Maisie. She was screaming bloody murder, something about how her brother was being buried under the Golden Gate Bridge.’
‘Have you had it searched?’
‘Every square inch, but nothing’s turned up. The killer probably hightailed it out of there as soon as the girl got away.’
Mason rubbed his palms over his eyes and took a deep breath. Was the boy dead, or had he gotten away, too? ‘All right. So where is she now?’
Bill grabbed his coat off the hook and slid his arms into it. ‘At the hospital. Come on, we’ll take your car.’ He turned to Christine. ‘I’m sorry you have to put up with the cameras, honey. Just keep the doors and blinds closed. Call me if you need anything.’
Mason opened the door and they headed back for the car, pushing through another large attack of unanswerable questions. They got in and headed over to the hospital, where Maisie Carter lay unconscious. Mason felt like a monster for having to extract information from her, but if she was able to talk, he would need to hear everything she had to say.
35
Evie had drawn the drapes and not seen daylight since. With a pillow as her cuddle-companion, she had no further reason to leave the couch. Even her laptop remained in the corner, unused.
The news was playing on her TV – something about a false Val Salinger sighting in Paris – but she paid it no mind. Instead, she continued to stare into an open book, having not turned the page in a long time.
All she could think about was Mason, and how she had let him down. Evie tried to convince herself that she wouldn’t have been much use to him anyway, but she knew it was far from the truth. Without her counsel, he would go off the rails like he had before he’d met Sandra–spiralling into alcoholism.
The news report moved on to the next story, and Evie’s ears pricked up. It was the sound of her brother, making “no comment” as he pushed through a crowd of journalists. Watching them now, she cringed at the idea that she used to be one of them.
Such insensitive pricks.
Mason looked different, there was no denying that. He looked scruffier, his skin paler and his cheeks unshaven. The purpling bags under his eyes spoke volumes.
Evie wanted to help him, but what of Amelia? She simply couldn’t le
t any harm come to her. So, what else was there to do?
Well, she thought, there is one thing…
It was a bad idea. A terrible idea, really. She would be breaking the rules. But if it was for a good cause, perhaps she could justify it. If it would allow her to continue providing information to her brother and vice versa, then why shouldn’t she do it? Besides, there was nothing written in stone–it was more of a verbal arrangement.
Evie sat upright, sniffed her armpits and tugged on her hair. She then threw on something warm and grabbed her keys. It was an exhilarating feeling, like the one you get when you’re spending money on something you know you can’t afford. Stumbling in the dark, she quickly opened her laptop and confirmed that the address hadn’t changed, then she headed for the door with her nerves in tatters.
I can’t believe I’m doing this after all these years.
36
They arrived at the hospital in no time to meet a relieved but grieved Owen Carter.
‘How are you, sir?’ Mason asked, noting the red-raw eyes.
‘I don’t know what to think. I’m so pleased to see Maisie again, but I can’t help wondering where Ryan is.’
‘How is she?’ asked Bill as they moved from the waiting room and down the corridor.
‘A few bumps and scratches. She woke up a half-hour ago. I told her you were coming.’
Mason could feel the eyes on him, but didn’t want Bill’s discomfort in feeling useless. Instead, he kept walking, with his head up and his hands in the pockets of his trench coat.
When they reached the door, Owen lowered his voice. ‘Please don’t put too much of a strain on her. She’s just as scared as I am.’
‘Just relax. She’s going to be fine.’ Mason went into the room, shutting Bill and the girl’s father out. The truth was, he was just as concerned about what he might hear.
Inside, a machine was beeping and a girl lay in a bed across the room. She lay flat, and her skin was bruised like a peach, looking nothing like her picture now, with a cast around her arm and a lost expression on her face.
‘Maisie, my name’s Mason Black. I’m the lead investigator assigned to your case.’
The girl looked at him and blinked big, hazel eyes. ‘It’s nice to meet you.’
Mason realised he was staring, snapped from his trance and pulled a chair out beside her bed. ‘I’m here to ask you some questions. You don’t have to answer them all, but the more you tell me, the better chance I have of finding your brother.’
The girl nodded and winced. The car must have hit her at quite a speed.
He took the cell phone from his pocket and showed her the photo taken from the National Park. ‘Is this the man who abducted you?’
Maisie squinted her eyes at the dark and blurry picture. ‘I think so.’
‘Great. And did you happen to catch any distinguishing features? A tattoo, a scar, anything like that?’ Mason already felt like he was putting too much on her. But she was a brave girl, and seemed like she could take it.
Maisie thought for a moment. ‘No. Oh, but he wore gloves the whole time.’
There it was again. What is it about the gloves? ‘The whole time?’
‘Yes, sir,’ she said weakly. ‘Even in the RV, which was pretty warm.’
Mason had just been about to ask that question. Now knowing that this was where he’d been taking the children, his chances of finding the killer had improved. Now it seemed they only had to find the RV, and they would find their guy. ‘Can you describe the contents of the RV? Did he have any possessions or framed photographs which stood out? Files? Books?’
‘No… nothing like that. It was… metal.’
‘Metal?’
The girl licked her lips. ‘It was like a metal box in the back. The walls, the floor. Everything, from top to bottom.’
This was interesting, he thought. ‘Like a box?’
‘Yes.’ A tear rolled down the girl’s cheek and soundlessly hit her pillow. ‘The man was so angry when I ran. Before that, he just seemed… happy, I guess.’
Mason was confused. ‘Pardon me, you say he seemed happy?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I mean, when I mentioned money, he wanted to listen. I think.’
Although it sent a chill through him, maybe this was a good thing. Now that he knew the boy’s father was wealthy, their chances of receiving a ransom note had raised considerably.
‘Mr Black… will my brother be okay?’
Mason didn’t want to lie, but he could hardly come out with the truth. ‘I’m doing everything I can.’ The truth of it was that he had no idea. ‘Thank you for your time, Maisie. I have to go and do some work. I’ll send your father in.’
‘Be careful,’ she called after him as he went for the door. ‘He hates you.’
Mason cringed under his collar. He stopped dead in his tracks. ‘He talked about me?’
The girl nodded. ‘He told me that you were looking for him, and that you’re his biggest problem in all of this.’
He stood, staring blankly at the floor. It felt different now that he had been acknowledged. Mason imagined the killer targeting Amy, and shivered. ‘You got that right.’
Outside the room, Bill was up the corridor on the phone. He spotted Mason and jogged towards him, hanging up. ‘How fast can you get to Southside Bay?’
‘Why, what’s up?’
‘We put out a notice about that RV of yours, and a civilian just called in. She says she just saw it outside her home.’
37
Usually, if you got a call from a neighbourhood like this, they were just looking for some attention. Bored housewives, desperate teenagers, and anybody else who thought they could get heads turning by claiming to have seen something they didn’t. Or in this case, single mothers.
The woman who came to the door was a mess. Greasy hair matted to her face, stained sweatpants and a cheap perfume. Mason empathised for the blue-eyed toddler in her arms.
‘Yeah, I seen it,’ she said with pride. ‘A big ol’ thing that parks up here every Friday after school. My kids don’t like it too much. They say he creeps ‘em out.’
‘They’ve seen the owner?’ Mason adjusted his stance in the cold, wishing she had invited him in. At least the rain had taken a brief break.
‘Sure. One day, I was doing my laundry, and my boy Judas came running in screaming his head off. Said the man whistled him over and asked him to get in. That he would take him to a place called Merryweather.’
‘What’s Merryweather?’
‘I ain’t got no idea. Could be a cemetery for all I know.’
Mason tried to think of any cemetery-based lullabies. Nothing. ‘Did you see him?’
‘Yeah, I seen him. Got that creep’s picture, too.’
‘You got his picture?’ This seemed far too good to be true. ‘Would you mind if I took a look at it?’
The woman looked as if she had been asked to perform a miracle. ‘Hold on.’
While she was gone, Mason stepped back and took a glance at the house. It was a tacky place, stickers on the windows and dog shit on the lawn, though he hadn’t seen or heard a dog while he’d been standing at the door.
The woman returned and handed him a photo printed on a sheet of paper. ‘Took it with ma cell phone and printed it ma-self. You can keep that.’
Mason’s hands shook as he examined the photo. Is this the guy? he wondered. Is this the guy who has given the San Francisco Police Force so much trouble? The one who’s given me so much grief? He’d expected somebody bigger and older. Maybe somebody who looked more intelligent or devious. But this man was small, young, and looked kind of harmless.
‘Thing is,’ the woman went on, ‘I seen him a few times before, too. Seemed to be wherever I went, I would turn around and see that damn RV. One day, I mustered the courage to go over and bang on his door. I was fixing to give him a piece of my mind for following me, but… there wasn’t nobody there. So, I waited to follow him, you know? Make sure he wasn’t up to n
o good.’
‘I see. Good thinking. And what did you find?’ Mason encouraged her to speed up her storytelling. Maisie Carter spoke clearer than this woman, for God’s sake.
‘Well, he ended up at Rigby’s,’ she said, like it was supposed to mean something.
‘Rigby’s?’
‘Uh-huh. The trailer park up the road. It’s where all good trailers go to die.’
Mason snorted a laugh. ‘Can you point me in the right direction?’
The woman scribbled a messy but readable map on the back of his business card and Mason followed the directions as best he could. He could barely contain his excitement that he might just get lucky and find a trace of the RV.
38
Evie had never been so nervous. The house was bigger and better than she remembered it, meaning only that she’d made the right choice all those years ago. She’d been mentally preparing herself, summoning the nerve to knock on the door.
What the hell was I thinking?
A sudden question of conscience made her turn on her heel and begin to walk away. She’d made it down three steps before the door clicked open.
‘May I help you?’
Evie turned to the voice. It was Mary, the owner of the house and the person to whom she’d wanted to speak. She was slightly older than Evie, mid-forties and a real Oprah type… if Oprah were white. ‘I’m sorry.’
Mary’s mouth hung open as she squinted her eyes. ‘Evelyn? Is that you?’ She didn’t look pleased to see her, but why would she? ‘You shouldn’t be here.’
‘I know, but it’s important. Can I come in?’
For a moment, Mary just stared, looking alarmed. Then she pulled the door open wider and stepped back. ‘You’d better make this quick. I’m a busy woman.’
‘Thank you.’ Evie stepped into a house, which was even nicer than the outside. Everything was cream-coloured and polished. ‘You’ve had a lot of work done.’
‘It has been thirteen years.’ Mary showed her to the couch. ‘You said this was important. Is it something I did or something I can do?’
Mason Black (The Complete Collection): 6 Gripping Crime Stories: The Complete Collection + BONUS Story Page 8