Mason Black (The Complete Collection): 6 Gripping Crime Stories: The Complete Collection + BONUS Story

by Adam Nicholls

  ‘Have I treated you well?’

  There was a long pause before, ‘Yes.’

  ‘Show ‘em.’

  Owen walked back into the lounge and slumped into the armchair, sulking and covering his ears. ‘I can’t go through this. Not again.’

  But Mason stood still, holding the phone close to his face. This was the first time he had heard the voice of the Lullaby Killer, and was surprised to hear that he had an accent. Kansan, maybe.

  ‘Show ‘em!’ the man roared, easily losing his temper.

  The Carter boy startled and then raised his trembling hand. It was easy to see what was being shown to him; only three fingers and a thumb. And then the camera moved around in the dark room, making a clunking noise.

  ‘What’s with the pinkie fingers?’ Bill whispered.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Mason. ‘I’ve never known. Ssh.’

  The camera was now pointed at a tray of surgical tools. The statement was clear.

  ‘One million,’ said the killer. ‘Have it ready within three days and I’ll call you. Any later and I’ll sing a lullaby to this little shit. Oh, and Mr Black…’

  Mason’s heart began to pound. Had he been watched this whole time?

  ‘Back the fuck off.’

  The video ended abruptly, turning the screen black. Mason put the phone down and dragged out a kitchen stool. He had a lot to think about. That much was clear.

  ‘What do you think?’ the Captain asked him. ‘Shall we arrange payment? We can do it securely and try to take him down. If we set up away from civilians–’

  ‘Not yet,’ Mason told her, ignoring the pissed-off look from being interrupted. ‘Give me two more days to find this guy, then consider making the payment.’

  ‘I don’t want any trouble, Mr Black,’ said Owen, looking up. ‘I want to just pay the ransom and have my boy back. One million isn’t that much. Not to save my son.’

  The room went silent while waiting for Mason to respond. It was good to know that he still had some form of presence and authority, if nothing else. ‘No,’ he finally said firmly. ‘I will take two days, whether you like it or not. I’m so close. Chances are, the killer just wants the money and will hand over your son no problem, but I wouldn’t count on it. This is out of the ordinary for him. Until now, he’s done all this for sport. He doesn’t need a finger. He just took it because he can.’

  Mr Carter wiped his eyes. ‘Fine. But if my boy dies–’

  ‘Then it will be on that sick son of a bitch, not on me.’ Mason’s phone rang just before he could lose his temper. But that all seemed to turn around as soon as he saw Sandra’s name. Something must be up. ‘What is it?’ he asked holding the phone to his ear.

  ‘Can you come over? It’s Amy.’

  A sweat broke out on Mason’s forehead. Could things get any worse? ‘What happened? Is she hurt?’

  ‘Just…’ Sandra hadn’t sounded this disappointed since she’d announced her desire for divorce. ‘It’s better that you come over here. Please.’

  Mason sighed. ‘Won’t be long.’ He hung up and headed for the door. ‘Two days,’ he called over his shoulder, ‘and I’ll get your boy back, Mr Carter.’

  Bill caught up behind Mason, stopping him just as he was climbing into the car. ‘Will I see you at home or at the ceremony tomorrow?’

  Mason paused. ‘Ceremony?’

  ‘Missy Daniels’s funeral. You are going, right?’

  Goddamnit. How many more stops would there be before he could breach the killer’s home? He was starting to think it would be a dead end anyway, knowing his luck. ‘Is that tomorrow? Jesus… All right, I’ll be there,’ he said closing the door and speeding towards his old home.

  44

  Mason was having a tough time juggling the case and his family woes.

  As he drove towards the place he used to call home, he pictured all sorts of scenarios for when he would arrive. As usual, the first was the most dramatic; the killer had been there. But then it evolved into other nightmares, like there had been an accident or some other medical emergency. But as he pulled up at the end of the drive and spotted the patrol cars, he knew it was safe to stop wondering and start worrying.

  Taking the steps with apprehension, Mason reached the front door and let himself in. Same old Sandra, never locking the front door. When he entered the hallway, he stopped short, confused by what he saw.

  ‘Don’t hate me, Dad.’

  ‘Amy?’

  His daughter was almost unrecognisable. There were a small number of piercings in her ghostly-pale face, and her once-beautiful blonde hair had been dyed jet black. Her choice of clothes had altered massively, too—tatty laddered stockings and a torn black t-shirt.

  ‘Oh… honey. What have you done?’

  Sandra entered the hallway with a police officer at her side. Mason had been the man’s superior back on the force, and they’d always seen eye-to-eye. He tilted his cap. ‘Mr Black.’

  ‘Rogers, right?’

  The officer nodded. ‘That’s right. Sir, I hate to have to tell you that your daughter was caught inside somebody’s house. She’d broken in with a friend and was stealing.’

  Mason could barely believe what he was hearing. ‘That’s not like her.’

  ‘It’s not that simple!’ Amy yelled, and banged her way up the stairs before slamming a door. It was as if she had been taken away and replaced with some angry brat.

  There must be more to this. There has to be. ‘Officer, thank you for your time. I’ll have words with her and it won’t happen again. Sandra, see this gentleman out.’

  The policeman looked as though he wanted to say more, but Sandra’s commanding hand on his shoulder led him out. He would have been a fool to say no to her. ‘Go on up,’ said Sandra, her distaste for him no less evident.

  Mason headed up the stairs and rapped gently on the bedroom door. ‘Amy? I’m coming in, sweetheart.’ He opened up and saw his daughter lying on the bed, her face in a pillow. He closed the door behind him and took a seat beside her. ‘Tell me.’

  Amy sobbed and turned her head. Her mascara was running, smudged across her cheeks. ‘I had a picture of you in my school locker. This girl took it and wouldn’t give it back to me. The teachers didn’t care, so I did what I had to do to get it back.’

  ‘That’s… honey, there are hundreds of photos of me.’

  ‘But this one was from you.’

  Mason had an idea of the one she was talking about. It was from his younger days, when he and Evie were at college together, arm-in-arm. It had been his favourite photo, taken from a day when their parents were still alive.

  ‘Well, here.’ He leaned to her bedside table and took her phone, flicked on the camera and raised it up high. ‘How’s this?’ He snapped the photo and handed it to her.

  Amy giggled as she took the phone. ‘It’s great, Dad.’

  ‘Listen, you can’t just go breaking into people’s houses. You’re smarter than that.’

  ‘I know. I just got desperate.’

  ‘Honey, if you get desperate, then you come to me. You know I’ll do anything for you.’

  Amy climbed to her knees and threw her arms around her father. ‘Thanks, Dad.’

  Mason held her close. After all he’d seen lately, it was nice to be back in this house, even if only for a moment. But more than anything, he was just glad that Amy was safe. ‘What’s with the clothes, anyway?’

  ‘Don’t you like it?’ She pulled away.

  ‘I do, but… it’s not you, is it?’

  Amy looked thoughtful, then shook her head. ‘I guess not.’

  After saying goodbye and closing the door, Mason stomped down the stairs to where Sandra stood beside Joshua. ‘Thank you,’ she tried to say, but he only nudged his way past.

  ‘Some fucking role model you are.’ He went to his car, rubbed his eyes, and knew that he was in no fit state to approach a serial killer. Besides, if he stormed the building recklessly and he wasn’t there, the Carte
r twin would be killed for sure. And then there was the matter of Missy Daniels’s funeral.

  Go to bed, he told himself. Tomorrow is going to suck.

  45

  Funerals had never been inviting, but the rain didn’t help. Neither did having to watch a mother bury her eight-year-old daughter.

  Joanna Daniels wore all black, in fitting with everybody else. She stood over the coffin with a flower in hand. She knew she had to lower it into the ground and say goodbye, but it seemed like doing so would be to let go–to move on.

  ‘Earth to earth,’ the priest went on. ‘Ashes to ashes.’

  Mason could feel himself burning up inside. He thought of the man responsible, the ill-named Lullaby Killer, who had taken these kids for nothing other than fun. It was all a game to him, at least until he had asked for the money.

  As the ceremony drew to a close, and the downpour showered more violently, Joanna Daniels spotted him at the back of the crowd. She even looked pretty when she cried, but the beauty and energy she had once held would never be restored.

  The killer has done this to her, Mason reminded himself.

  Joanna approached him, close enough that she was under his umbrella. She was shaking, if not for the cold, then for recognition of her loss. But the way that she looked at him – without a hint of warmth – suggested deeper levels of emotion. ‘Have you caught him?’

  ‘Not yet, miss. We’re still working on–’

  Her shoulder snapped back so fast that he didn’t see the slap coming. It struck his cheek hard enough to turn his face, and he held at it with surprise.

  ‘It’s your job, Mr Black.’ Joanna began to sob uncontrollably. ‘All you had to do was do your job, and my little girl would still be alive. This is your fault.’ An old man – could have been her father – came from behind and eased her away, shooting Mason a look of contempt. It said: You shouldn’t be here.

  Mason had felt the outburst on more than just a physical level, however.

  What if she’s right? What if this really is my fault? If I had just done my job…

  The crowd dispersed, awkwardly trying to make out as if they hadn’t noticed the drama unfolding at the back. People went their separate ways, some into their cars, some walking down the path of the cemetery. They all had their heads down in both hurt and respect.

  Only one person remained in front of Mason–he hadn’t realised she’d come until now, and if anybody could understand how he was feeling, it was her.

  ‘Evie,’ he said, lost for words.

  His sister only looked at him, walked forward and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Don’t let that get to you. It’s just a woman in pain. This is not your fault. You hear me?’

  Mason stared at her before nodding. He didn’t really believe that this wasn’t a consequence of his own lack of action, but it was a damn sight easier than arguing with the great Evelyn Black. If anything, the slap had served as encouragement to do what needed to be done. ‘I have somewhere to be. Do you need a ride?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Careful not to slide through the mud, Mason and Evie headed towards his car. And although he would never put himself at a risk of saying it, he was glad to have her around.

  46

  All conversation had been reserved until the engine stopped. But now it was impossible to keep it locked up inside. Mason craned his neck. ‘Where have you been?’

  Evie suddenly looked uncomfortable, wiping her glasses dry with a tissue. ‘I’ve been around. Stuff just got in the way, you know? It happens.’

  Mason wasn’t buying it. ‘No. I’m not a fool, Evie. At least not when it comes to you. I know it takes something big to knock you away from a case. Especially one you fought so hard to get involved in.’

  Evie slid her glasses back on and watched the droplets of rain sliding down the glass. ‘I had an email from an anonymous sender. Whoever it was, they were threatening Amelia.’

  ‘What?’ Mason sat up straight.

  ‘Yep. Apparently, if I didn’t back off, she would suffer. So, I went to see her mother. Or… her adoptive mother. She’s safe now. That’s all that matters.’

  ‘Christ, Evie. You might have said something.’

  ‘You know I couldn’t. You’d have freaked out, like you are now.’

  The car went silent as Mason accepted that she was right. Nobody knew about Amelia. Sure, it was on file somewhere, but the spoken words were only between the two of them. ‘This email. Was it… from him?’

  ‘It’s hard to say. Could be some kid getting his rocks off, but I didn’t want to chance it. It was signed off by somebody named Brahm.’

  As soon as Mason pieced it together, he shook his head, pushing his tongue into the back of his front teeth. ‘Unbelievable.’

  Evie held out both hands and shook her head. ‘What is?’

  ‘Brahms’s Lullaby? Man, this guy’s ego is off the charts.’

  ‘Wow. Okay.’ Evie drew a deep breath. ‘Well, how do we know it’s not just some kid goofing around, like I said?’

  ‘Right, and how many spotty teenagers know that Amelia is your daughter?’ Mason started up the engine. For this guy to do all that he had done, and now to threaten his family? That was unacceptable. Mason would put a stop to that immediately. ‘So, if you know the girl’s safe, do you want back on the case?’

  Her hand had already been on the door handle, but now she seemed torn. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘But I’m not writing a damn thing about it. And only if you really, really need me.’

  Mason grinned, started up the engine and punched the killer’s address back into the GPS. ‘Then buckle up.’

  47

  Ryan greedily accepted the Big Mac. It was shitty food, but when you haven’t eaten in two days, you’d take anything. The killer kept the fries as a reward for having collected the RV without being seen. Wouldn’t want to spoil ya.

  Wolfing down the burger in his one good hand, Ryan closed his eyes and twitched with each gulping bite. He was making a hell of a noise, struggling to breathe while he took bite after bite like a hungry animal.

  The killer watched with fascination, knelt down and stared. ‘Why don’t you like your father?’ he finally asked, trying to understand.

  Ryan stopped eating and looked at him with wide, white eyes. ‘What?’

  ‘You said earlier that you don’t like your father. Why is that?’

  He looked lost, as though a particular answer was expected of him. ‘I just don’t.’

  The killer huffed and sat cross-legged in front of him. This was one way of killing time until the ransom was paid, but boy, did he miss stalking his prey. ‘Everybody loves their father unless they’re given good reason not to. What’s your reason? Tell me, boy.’

  Scrunching up the Big Mac paper and putting it neatly in front of him, the boy burped and covered his mouth with a closed fist. ‘He likes my sister way more.’

  This was alarming in every sense of the word. What if he wouldn’t pay? What if he’d kept the girl instead? Would he have been able to demand more? Nah, that’s ridiculous. He’ll pay. ‘What’s so special about her?’

  ‘That’s what I always say,’ Ryan suddenly spoke up, as if in agreement. This one seemed incredibly easy to manipulate. Maybe he could be of use… ‘She’s much smarter than I am. Gets all the good grades at school.’

  ‘N’aw, I wouldn’t say that, boy. I think you’re plenty smart.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Sure! Smart, powerful. Here, let me show you something.’ The Lullaby Killer stood and rummaged around in his pocket for the handcuff key. He took two steps back and placed it on the carpet, out of the kid’s reach. ‘If you can get this key, you won’t have to stay cuffed anymore. Deal?’

  Ryan Carter hesitated, as if thinking he was being tricked. But like all tempting tricks, he couldn’t resist the urge to prove himself. With his free hand – which, incidentally, was the one with a missing finger – he pulled open his shoelace and struggled to hold it in his
fist. Leaning as far as he could, he swung the shoe towards the key and tried to hook it.

  ‘See, that’s it boy, smarter than that bitch sister of yours, huh?’

  The kid was licking his lips, trying desperately to reach it. Finally, it hooked and he dragged the key towards him, picking it up in half a hand and fumbling it into the cuffs. They fell open with a clink, and Ryan was free.

  ‘Good work!’ The killer laughed to encourage him. So fucking easy! Even the kid was smiling. ‘See, now why would you let some asshole like yer daddy tell you there’s no brain in that head of yours, huh?’

  Although Ryan was smiling now, his head was lowered. ‘I’m still not tough, either. Not like Maisie is. She’s tough and smart. That’s what Dad will say.’

  The killer knelt to meet his eye level. ‘But you’re smarter than she is. You just proved it, didn’t ya? And it’s not about being tough. It’s about being smart. I bet you… No. That’s too risky.’ He shook his head and began to turn, until he felt the hand on his sleeve.

  ‘What?’ The boy was far too inquisitive for his own good.

  ‘Well… I bet that if you had to hurt somebody to save yourself, you could do it.’

  The boy gave a half-nod. ‘Maybe. But it would have to be to protect myself.’

  The killer smiled falsely. ‘See. I knew you were special, boy. Here, come with me.’ He held out his hand.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Why, to prove how tough you are, of course.’

  After a moment of hesitation, Ryan took the man’s hand, totally unaware that he had been manipulated, and that his innocence was about to be corrupted.

  48

  They stood outside the house, ready to kill.

  ‘I’m scared,’ Ryan said, staring vacantly at the door.

  ‘Just be smart, boy.’

  A beautiful woman, no older than thirty, opened the door. The brilliant white smile she flashed at them was warm and entrancing, a simple gesture of friendliness. It soon turned to shock as the gun was aimed at her face.

  ‘Ssh.’ The killer flicked the gun and walked her through the house, leaving the kid to close the door behind them. The woman was shaking as she led them into the living room, and she had every reason to be.