This could be the last sunrise the boy ever sees, he thought as he watched the passing yellows and fluorescent purples. He only hoped that he was wrong.
58
The motel was a run-down mess of a place, fit for a horror movie.
Mason was first out of the car, leaving Evie trailing behind as he rushed inside to talk with the clerk. When inside, he was faced with a sweaty little man who looked as sleazy as he did greasy.
‘Looing for a room?’ the snotty clerk asked without looking up.
‘No, actually, I’m looking for a guest.’ He placed his badge on the counter and pushed it onto the man’s magazine, forcing him to look at it. ‘Goes by the name Wendell.’
‘Customer confidentiality. They have their right to privacy and I’m loyal to that.’ The clerk shoved the badge back over and returned to his reading, rude and uninterested.
‘The man’s a killer.’ Mason flipped up the counter and invited himself in. He was aware of Evie entering the building when the bell gave a light jingle. But even she knew better than to get involved in this conflict.
‘Hey, you can’t come back here!’ The man stood but Mason’s hand guided him back down by his throat. He slumped into his chair, his cheeks growing a rosy red.
Mason perused the bookshelf. There was a row of binders and ledgers, each labelled in date order. He took the most recent out, slid it into his large palm and scanned through for the name. Wendell wasn’t listed, but there was another name that caught his attention.
Brahm.
Mason was beginning to wonder whether the killer was using this name as a cover, or if he was cruelly mocking them, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs to a dead end.
‘Put that down,’ the clerk said angrily, without standing up.
‘Not until I meet this guy.’ Mason looked at the attached sign-in sheet, following the point of his finger across the columns of the spreadsheet. ‘He’s here now?’
‘Depends,’ said the clerk, rubbing his throat. ‘What’s it to you?’
‘Everything.’
‘Look, man. The guy comes, pays ahead and asks for privacy. We don’t speak.’
Mason shrugged him off and looked at the room number. ‘Evie, room seven.’
‘Now wait a minute.’ The clerk rose, standing only to have Mason push him back down again. ‘You can’t just waltz in here like you own the place. I’ll need to see–’
But Mason didn’t want to hear it. He slid the key for room seven off the hook and marched his way outside, Evie only a few steps ahead of him. The clerk was hobbling behind, protesting his right to privacy, for what it was worth.
‘Over here,’ said Evie, stopping outside the room.
‘If you go in there, I’m calling the police,’ the clerk screamed.
‘Go ahead,’ Mason told him. ‘Ask for Bill Harvey.’ He slid the key into the door and jerked it. It put up a little resistance, but finally clicked and creaked open. He was expecting to be faced with the infamous Lullaby Killer, but instead found something far worse.
Evie stood beside him and squinted at the dark room, their jaws both dropping at once.
What they saw was enough to give them nightmares for the rest of their lives.
59
‘Hurry up with that police call,’ Mason yelled at the clerk. ‘Request an ambulance, too!’
The smell was unreal: sweat, blood and something musty. As dark as it was inside, it was clear enough to see the boy, beaten black and blue, sprawled out across the bed. He didn’t look to be alive, and even if he were, he wouldn’t be in any fit state.
‘Wait here,’ he told Evie, stepping inside and grabbing the lamp off the cabinet. He wrapped the cord around his fist and gripped the lamp firmly, moving to the adjoining room with his back to the wall. Anybody could be in here, he knew, and he would have to clear it before he could tend to the boy.
Steeling himself, Mason pushed open the door. It was a clean bathroom. The lights were on but nobody was inside. He tried not to touch too much–this was a crime scene, and he didn’t want to contaminate it any more than he’d have to.
The next room was only a closet, with nothing inside but spare linen. Assured that they were alone, Mason dropped the lamp and ran to the boy, looking down at his body. There was blood on his shirt, right around the belly.
Mason checked for a pulse but felt nothing.
‘Ugh!’ The boy suddenly gasped, one last desperate ounce of life returning to him.
Mason ripped the pillowcase off a nearby pillow, scrunched it up and pressed it to the boy’s wound. It looked like a knife tear. ‘Ryan Carter? You need to hang in there, okay? We’re going to get you to a hospital.’ It may have been falling on deaf ears, but he imagined if this was his own daughter. Nothing would stop him from trying.
‘Stand back,’ he called to Evie, lifting the kid in his arms and taking him outside quickly. He needed air, space, and to get away from the crime scene. Gently lowering Ryan onto the floor, he held up his head.
‘My god… What happened?’ Evie asked, stunned.
‘He’s been stabbed. He’s dehydrating, too. Where’s that ambulance?’
Evie disappeared to a nearby wall and opened up the ice dispenser.
The clerk returned with a phone in his hand. ‘I called them. It’s on its way. Hey, is that little boy gonna be okay?’
‘He had fucking well better be!’ Mason was losing it. He couldn’t let the Lullaby Killer win. Not at the cost of this young boy, nor any other.
Evie returned with ice from the dispenser, removed her jacket and poured the ice in. She tied a knot in it like a pouch, smashed it against the concrete three times, and then wrung it so as the water would trickle from the wet cloth and between the boy’s lips.
‘Easy. Don’t choke him,’ Mason said.
‘I wasn’t going to! Hey, look.’ Evie pointed at the boy’s hand, where a reddened bandage barely covered the absence of his pinkie finger.
That son of a bitch, thought Mason.
Little Ryan Carter groaned, rolled his head to one side and stopped breathing.
‘No,’ Mason said weakly. ‘Please, no.’ And as he held the dying boy in his arms, all he could imagine was the face of Owen Carter as he told him that he had failed to save his son.
60
The Lullaby Killer had been scoping out a new victim. He’d named this activity The School Run and there had been plenty to choose from. With that in mind, he considered moving to the other side of San Francisco to carry out his work.
Stay unpredictable.
With the Carter twin detained once and for all, he now had the time to think about a new lullaby. It was a nice touch, he thought as he pulled onto the empty stretch of road. These little enigmas kept the police guessing – had kept Mason Black guessing – for a number of years. And while they’d wasted their time trying to find some sort of a hint within the madness of his signatures, he’d only ran off into the sunset.
Wendell even liked the name: The Lullaby Killer had a nice ring to it.
The RV was a bitch to drive, too, but it got the job done. He continued up the road to collect the twin’s body, so he could keep it concealed until the ransom was paid.
The thought of the money excited him. He could go anywhere. Do anything. All of the greatest killers in America’s history had moved around the map–some of whom had never been caught. He could become one of them. One of the greats.
‘Oh no,’ he said aloud as he saw what was in the distance. ‘Oh. Fucking. No.’
Ahead of him, a large host of police cars surrounded Romero’s Motel. Wendell tried to tell himself that they hadn’t found the body, but of course they had. Why else would they be there? He slowed down, just enough to see the commotion without drawing attention to himself.
You again. His blood began to boil at the very sight of him. Mason Black. Every time he lifted his shoe to find the pain-inducing nail, he had found none other than that prick. Why couldn’t you just leave it alone, huh?<
br />
Clocking the ambulance as he drove past, and seeing the Carter kid being lifted into it, he pictured his million dollars being dumped into a deep well. With his escape gone and a new plan in mind, he carried straight on down the road.
Consider yourself warned, Mr Black.
61
The ambulance arrived in record time, but Bill and Owen had taken longer.
‘We think he’s going to be fine,’ said the paramedic. ‘That gangrenous finger wound is a concern, though. We’ll get him to the hospital and have him all patched up.’
Bill thanked the nurses and sent them on their way, while forensics and police officers fluttered around them to examine the crime scene. ‘You did good, Mason.’
‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘The killer is still out there. We may have spilled the wine but the poison is still in circulation.’ He turned back to the room, where little Ryan Carter had been bleeding out only a few minutes ago. He thought about how close he had been to losing another child and shivered.
‘Mr Black,’ called Owen, stepping away from the ambulance and hopping over the puddles. ‘I have to follow them back to the hospital, but I wanted to come and thank you. ‘He held out a hand and shook with Mason. ‘Please contact me about your fee. That million I was going to pay up… it’s yours if you want it.’
Evie had stood quietly until now. ‘Take it.’
Mason shook his head. ‘You’re just light-headed from seeing your boy again. Keep the money and scratch the bill. This has never been about the payday.’
Owen looked shocked, as did Bill and Evie. ‘Both of my kids were abducted and they were both returned to me alive. I’m the luckiest man on the planet. But you, Miss Black.’ He looked at Evie. ‘You’re the luckiest girl. Your brother is a good man, whether he likes to admit it or not.’ All smiles, he headed back to his car and followed the ambulance.
‘That’s some seriously good work, Mason,’ Bill said.
‘It was mostly Evie, you know.’ Mason patted her on the back, pushing her towards the attention, and stomped back towards his Mustang.
‘Where are you going?’ Bill called after him.
‘I’m going to the hospital. That boy needs to give a statement when he comes around.’ It wasn’t something he was proud of, but Mason understood that they’d just deprived a serial killer of a million bucks. If that were him, he’d be looking to do some damage.
‘Christ, buddy. Take a day off. Recharge your batteries.’
Mason got in the car and saw Evie running around to climb in, too. ‘He’s right,’ she said as she buckled in. ‘I mean, I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth, whether you want me to or not. But you need to slow down from time to time–think things through.’
‘…You really think so?’
‘Sure.’
Mason rubbed his eyes. ‘Good, then you can follow me to the hospital. I’ll take the day off when I’ve stopped this maniac.’ With that, he brought the car to life and sped towards the hospital to question the nine-year-old killer.
62
Night had fallen by the time Ryan Carter opened his eyes. They were wandering, looking around him as if to identify his surroundings. When asked if he was prepared to talk, he’d only stared lifelessly, before eventually giving a short nod of the head.
Mason led with the simple questions, while Bill and Owen stood quietly at the back of the room. The deal was that he could get whatever he needed from the boy before the police would swoop in with their parade of questions.
‘How are you feeling?’ Mason asked, settling him gently.
A quick adjustment and a wince. ‘It hurts.’
‘That will pass. Ryan, I need you to tell me everything you can, all right?’
The boy nodded.
‘Did you speak with the killer?’
‘Yes.’
Mason removed a grimly pretty picture of Thea Peters, the girl who had been hanged from the curtain pole only one day prior. ‘Do you recognise this girl?’
The heart rate monitor made a beep as if it to shout objection!
Ryan’s lips soundlessly moved, his eyes moistening as he shook his head. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Listen to me…. you’re not in any trouble, but you need to tell us what happened.’
There was a pause and a wet sniff. ‘He made me do it.’
The boy couldn’t have been talking about hanging the girl–there was no way a nine-year-old boy had the strength to haul her up there, especially if she’d been resisting. It was the writing on the wall that Mason was discreetly accusing him of.
‘What did he make you do, Ryan?’
Ryan’s eyes rolled upwards as if he were remembering something he didn’t want to. ‘Often through my curtains peep,’ he said. ‘Often through my curtains peep.’
Mason’s eyes went to the kid’s hand, where a finger was absent. How could he do this to such an innocent kid? ‘It’s okay, Ryan. Calm yourself. What can you tell me about the killer? Did he say where he was going?’
‘No.’ Ryan rolled his head away.
‘Did he say what his plans were?’
‘No.’
‘What about the next victim? Had he chosen yet?’
‘I don’t know!’ Ryan screamed a shrill, piercing shriek. ‘I don’t know! I don’t know!’ Just leave me alone!’
Owen Carter came lunging forward to cradle his son, who was thrashing violently in protest. The heart rate monitor was beeping off the charts and the bed shook.
Mason stood and went to the back of the room, out of the way. I pushed him too far.
‘You’d better leave, Mr Black,’ said Owen. ‘Thank you for your help but he’s had enough.’ It was a cold look he gave, but Mason didn’t blame him.
‘We’re putting surveillance on your house for the next week,’ Bill told him, while holding the door for Mason. ‘If you need anything more from us, you let me know.’
Outside the room, where nurses seemed to pass every couple of seconds in hospital traffic, Bill patted Mason on the back. ‘It’s not your fault.’
‘I know.’
‘You look pretty drained,’ said Evie, getting up from the chair. ‘Will you please go home and get some sleep? I know you’re determined – you have nothing to prove there – but you’re useless until your eyes are wide open.’
I guess she has a point, thought Mason as he silently thought of a way he could accept his defeat with grace. He turned and headed for the exit. ‘I’ll see you both tomorrow.’
‘Swing by in the morning,’ Evie called after him.
Mason gave a thumbs-up without turning back. Sure, he could go home and sleep it off, but he had a pretty strong suspicion that the horrifying look on Ryan’s face would haunt him all night long.
Desperate to avoid a night of tossing and turning, he went to the Mustang, knowing that the next stop of the night was not his last. At least Evie’s off my back.
63
Rather than heading to Bill’s, Mason had dared to go to his own home, stopping to grab a cheap bouquet of flowers on the way. Sandra would think that he wanted something from her, but he simply wanted to familiarise himself with the only life he’d known this past decade.
Now he stood at the front door, refusing to use his key–mostly in fear of how he might feel if he discovered she’d changed the locks. With a steady knock and a glance at his Rolex, Mason stood waiting.
Eventually, the door popped open. Mason pushed the flowers into Sandra’s chest and let himself in, heading straight into the kitchen to pour himself a drink.
Sandra caught up to him. ‘Sure, invite yourself in,’ she said.
‘I just came to talk. You owe me that.’ The Jack Daniels spilled into the tumbler as he cleared his throat and prepared himself for the first satisfying gulp.
‘Because you got me flowers? They can’t buy me back.’
‘I’m not trying to buy you back. Just… ease off the throttle, will you?’
Sandra drew a deep breat
h and looked away. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. Thank you for the flowers.’ She went into the cupboard and took a vase to fill.
Just then, Joshua walked into the room, looking like a deer in headlights. ‘What are you doing here? Get out of our house.’
Mason felt his blood boil immediately, but there were bigger things than Joshua right now. He tried his best to keep his fists unclenched. My house, you prick! My house!
‘It’s okay,’ said Sandra, cutting the hostility out off Joshua’s glare. ‘We’re only talking. Just go upstairs. I’ll be up when I’m up.’
Gawking uncomfortably at Mason for a few more seconds – the fear in his eyes was impossible to disguise – Joshua left the kitchen and stomped loudly up the stairs.
‘Wait. Did you tie his shoelaces?’ Mason asked, grinning.
‘Let’s not… come on, tell me about the case.’
They both took a seat at the island, sharing a drink as he filled her in on everything that had happened so far. For a few minutes, it had felt as if he were home again, and his wife was there to hear about his work day. Over the years, she had been his unofficial shrink. Now, even if just for a momentary lapse, she was resuming the role.
‘I really hope you catch him soon,’ she said. ‘You deserve that peace.’
Mason stared into his near-empty glass. ‘Thanks. So, change of subject; do you think I might take Amy to see a movie tomorrow night? It would be good to spend some time with her, with all this going on.’
Sandra nodded slowly, as if realising that she didn’t mind all too much. ‘Sure. She’s in bed, so I’ll ask her in the morning, but I’m sure she would love to.’ A smile followed, if only a small one.
Just ask what you want to ask, the nagging voice in Mason’s head told him. ‘Sandra…’
‘Uh-huh?’
‘About us–’
‘Don’t do that,’ she said.
Mason Black (The Complete Collection): 6 Gripping Crime Stories: The Complete Collection + BONUS Story Page 13