It was the encouragement he’d needed to slow down for a while. Like when you’re thinking of calling in sick and you need that final nod to tell you that it’s perfectly okay. ‘I don’t think I’d be good company.’
‘Then…’ Diane looked around her. ‘Do you have anything to drink? We can have a sip and you can tell me some stories about Evie. When your eyes start to close, I’ll head out and lock the door behind me.’
Well, this is chivalrous. Mason wasn’t used to being the nurtured one – his life so far had forced him to be protective over women, first Evie, then Sandra, Amy… It felt wrong to be on the other side of the scale. Nice, though. ‘All right.’ Mason stood and went to the drinks cabinet. ‘What are you having?’
34
It’s time to send another message, and I want to write it in blood.
Lady Luck grinned deviously at the thought of another victim. Sure, she could have used one of the women in the bunker, but tonight she wanted male blood. The blood of a pervert. Somebody who truly deserved to die.
Leaving her subjects locked up tight, she headed into the city. It was a nice night, she thought as she gazed out of the cab, seeing all the lights in the black of the night. It was her favourite time of day. Lady, the night owl.
She paid her fare with a small tip and walked four blocks in high heels. She was dressed to impress – blonde hair, blue contact lenses. Her bust was pretty much on show and her legs were bare. It was cold out, too, which pricked her nipples into a teasing stance.
An SUV slowed as it passed by, and a young man with a backwards baseball cap leaned from the open window. ‘Give me some of that!’ he yelled. Other howls of excitement came from inside the vehicle – a wolf whistle, too.
They drove on and out of sight.
Hooligans, thought Lady as she wrapped her arms around her stomach and moved on. They would have made nice prey, too. It was a shame they were gone so soon.
A few blocks on, Lady found the perfect place to stand. It was quiet enough that she wouldn’t be hounded by the police, and lively enough just so that she could grab the attention of any man. For a half-hour, she stood in the cold, waiting.
Men passed by and gave her a momentary look, but nothing more. Maybe she was in the wrong neighbourhood for this kind of business, but she couldn’t go back to Marcy Larkin. Not after last time. She moved on down the street to find a new location, and that was when she saw the familiar SUV.
It pulled up alongside her, the engine still humming as it crawled along.
‘Working tonight?’ the capped man asked, his arms dangling from the window. His friends were behind him, chuckling at some inside joke.
Lady put on a smile. ‘I might be. But only for real men.’
Everybody in the car laughed, except for the capped man. His playful grin quickly turned into a frown. He was attractive for sure, and probably wasn’t used to the rejection. Which only begged the question: why would he have to pay for sex? Lady knew these types – they usually wanted things too filthy to do with their own girlfriends.
‘I’m all man, baby. I promise you. So, uh… do you do orgies?’
Again, there was chatter from behind him.
‘Afraid not, no.’ Lady actually had done group sex, and even enjoyed it. But something seemed off about this lot. She had a feeling it would be more than just sex they wanted.
‘Oh, come on, you fucking whore,’ he said, fury suddenly filling his voice. ‘You’re a slut and you’ll fuck whoever pays you.’ He opened the door and sat back. ‘Now get in.’
Lady looked up and down the street – not for help, but to make sure she hadn’t been seen. ‘Fine,’ she muttered and climbed in next to him. He stank of cinnamon and some overly masculine fragrance. It made her sick.
The SUV began to move and she felt his fingers curl around her hair. He was sniffing at her neck, his other hand on her thigh. ‘Relax, baby.’
But Lady was relaxed. Her mind was just elsewhere, imagining the many different ways that this filthy son of a bitch could die.
35
The SUV stopped at the railway tracks, dark and desolate.
The driver was the first one out, then Lady, and finally, the man with the baseball cap climbed out and onto his feet. ‘Come with me,’ he said, holding out his hand.
Lady hesitated, then finally took his hand. He moved her around to the hood of the vehicle and pushed her against it with her back to the grill. She hadn’t seen the others come out of the car, but now they were at her sides, holding her still. She tried not to panic.
The driver and the capped man both laughed while removing their trousers. The driver pulled a condom over his erect cock, while the other one touched himself, preparing to go.
Lady didn’t struggle. She had to remain calm. ‘So, about that orgy. If you guys go easy on me then I’ll give you a discount.’
They all laughed at her, snorting and cheering. The driver stepped forward. ‘We don’t pay, baby-face. See, you’re just a fucking whore and you’ll do your job. Us? We don’t have to pay. We’re doing you an honour.’
They intend to rape me.
Lady wouldn’t take it. She struggled, the men moving towards her, half-naked and horny. They were like a pack of animals. The stench of alcohol was awful.
‘Hold her.’
Their grips tightened as the driver moved in first. Lady could feel his cock touch her leg, and one of their hands was slipping up under her skirt. If they went any further, they would find what she had been trying to hide.
‘Wait,’ she whispered, desperate for some kind of distraction from a horrific act of abuse. ‘I can use my mouth, too. All of you can have my mouth.’
They paused, looking at each other. The capped man began to protest – obviously wanting most of her to himself – but the two holding her down made their intentions heard.
‘You can still have what you want, Justin. But if we can get blown then we will.’
The capped man – Justin – snarled before stepping back. ‘Make it quick. And don’t blame me if she bites your dick off.’
The two men holding her let go then and quickly dropped their trousers for her to perform. Lady began her show by biting a nail and slipping her finger down her front with a teasing smile. The men were growing already as they watched her walk towards them, her hand going down, down… and underneath her skirt.
Acting fast and feeling lucky, Lady wrapped her hands around the Colt 25, a remarkably light pistol which she’d stowed into her panties before heading into the city. It was lucky she’d had the intention of killing, and now the perfect victims were caught with their pants down – or so to speak.
‘What the fuck?’ the driver yelled, tripping backwards and landing in the dirt.
Lady had the drop on them. She shot the first man in the eye, shocking all those around her. The other men – the one who had grabbed her arm and the driver – each took a bullet to the knee, falling and clutching their legs with girlish screams.
Only Justin remained.
He held up his hands, tears forming at his eyes. ‘Please. I was going to pay you. I-I was. I swear. Here, my wallet is in my pants. Just let me get–’ He began to move when she squeezed the trigger. A puff of dust exploded at his feet.
‘You don’t get to do what you want to women,’ Lady said, grinding her teeth. ‘That embarrassing little dick of yours will never go near anyone again. You hear me?’
His chin wobbling, he nodded his head rapidly.
Lady wanted to shoot him. She was going to, until she heard the electric hiss from the nearby railway track. It gave her ideas that she could never have dreamed of. She coiled her finger around the trigger and shot a bullet directly into his cock. Another one, two, went into his legs, making him cry out in pain.
‘What the… Please…’ He was sobbing now.
Pitiful.
Lady marched forward, flipped off his baseball cap and dragged him by his thick, wavy hair. They were going to the track, and he was
totally powerless. ‘You strike me as the kind of daddy’s boy who has never had to deal with consequences. Am I right?’
But Justin simply continued to cry.
‘Of course I’m right. You’ve never had to work. You’ve never been humiliated by those around you. You do what you want, when you want, right?’
The train was in sight, its whistle howling through the night. The hissing sound spat off the tracks with threatening presence.
‘You’ve never felt pain,’ Lady screamed over the loud noises, the lights of the train lighting up her angry face. ‘Until now!’ With all her strength, she threw him backwards onto the track.
At first, there was a high-pitched screaming sound as the electricity tore through his body. A split-second later, the train impacted with his torso. Blood spattered all around her and the body was carried away under the speeding train, in a number of pieces.
Lady could feel some electricity of her own – raw, excitable adrenaline. She licked the dripping blood from her face and laughed, shaking wildly. Yes, she thought, laughing. Yes, yes, yes!
36
Mason awoke early, his cheek pressed to his desk and a blanket draped over his back. Diane must have left it there. Sweet girl.
Before leaping into action, he made a call to the therapist’s office.
‘Dr Tidwell’s office,’ the receptionist said in a happiness so forced it was sickly.
‘Hi, I’d like to book an appointment with Mr Tidwell, please.’ Mason walked around the office as he spoke, rearranging the chairs to their rightful positions.
‘No problem at all. He’s currently booked until Wednesday. Shall I put you in for midday, sir?’
Shit. I need to get in today. ‘It’s actually pretty urgent.’
‘I’m sorry sir, but I–’
‘I’m going to kill myself.’ Mason felt horrible saying it. He had known people so racked with struggle and depression that they’d put a gun to their heads or leaped off a bridge. Trying to replicate that pain felt awful. ‘I need to see him today. I’m desperate.’
The line went quiet for a second and there was whispering. The receptionist cleared her throat and softened her tone. ‘I can squeeze you in at eleven this morning. Is that okay?’
‘That’s great,’ said Mason, pulling off his tie to have a quick wash. ‘Thank you.’
‘My pleasure, sir. And, uh… hang in there, okay?’
Mason splashed some water on his face before heading to Tidwell’s office. He wondered what to expect from this doctor. The stereotypical sweater? Perhaps a Robin Williams type, bearded and humble?
He sat for twenty minutes in a small waiting room, the only noises a tedious ticking of the clock and the receptionist’s fingers on the keyboard as she went about her business. Assuming this was the same woman he’d spoken to on the phone, her face didn’t match her voice. She was thin, younger than thirty, and missing a front tooth.
Finally, the doctor’s door clicked open and a dark-haired man called for Mr Hunter. Mason’s false name was all that had come to him at the time. He stood and walked over.
The doctor had a strong jaw but an awful Caesar-like nose. It made him look like a sculpture.
They shook hands and Mason went inside.
‘So,’ Tidwell said, his hands in his lap, ‘is there anything you’d like to tell me about yourself?’
Mason already felt like he was under the spotlight. He shook his head.
‘Let’s start simple. Do you have a favourite movie?’
‘No.’ Mason leaned forward and clasped his hands together. ‘Actually, I’m not here to talk about me. I came to discuss a certain patient of yours.’
Dr Tidwell’s expression changed suddenly. It was almost funny seeing his frown flip upside down. His eyebrows contorted with confusion. ‘I’m afraid I can’t discuss other patients with you. There’s a doctor-patient confidentiality which we strive to maintain.’
Mason nodded slowly and got to his feet. ‘I thought you might say that.’
‘Please don’t do anything careless,’ Tidwell warned, watching him go for the door.
Does he still think I’m going to kill myself? Mason slowly pushed the door closed and turned the lock. ‘I’m sorry, Doc, but I need that information.’
37
‘You can’t do this!’ Tidwell yelled, going for the phone.
Mason sprang across the office and brought the heel of his hand down on the doctor’s arm. He screamed in pain and sat back, while Mason ripped the cord from the phone and smashed up the handset. ‘His name was Marvin Wendell.’
‘I can’t–’ Tidwell stumbled backwards, landing on his ass.
‘He was a patient of yours while he was murdering small children.’ Mason grabbed him by his shirt and hauled him to his feet. He didn’t want to be doing this. It made him feel like a bully… but it was necessary. ‘Now, show me his file.’
‘No.’
Mason gave him the back of his hand, slapping across the doctor’s cheek. A rose pink grew across his face as he whined like a puppy. ‘Listen, there is a killer out there and I need to find her. Wendell’s file is the key.’ Twisting his hip, he threw the man across the room.
Tidwell cried out in pain as he struck the wood and retreated around to his desk. At first, he cowered behind the tall, leather back of his chair, but Mason’s firm snap of his fingers demanded that he sit. Finally, he did.
Mason joined him at his side, towering threateningly over him while looking at the laptop screen. ‘I need to see everything.’
‘What was…’ Tidwell placed a hand to his cheek and pulled away, checking for blood. There was none. ‘What was his name again?’
‘Wendell, Marvin.’
The screen lit up with a large list of details. It included an address, medical history, and basic background information. Nothing Mason couldn’t have dug up from the police database. ‘Keep going.’
There was a personal statement, which seemed interesting but irrelevant. Written recordings of Wendell’s meetings with the doctor and Tidwell’s assessment of his patient. Countless medical prescriptions for anti-depressants, and—
‘Wait.’ Mason pointed at the screen. ‘Go back.’
Dr Tidwell scrolled up and left the screen hovering on some vital information.
‘No way.’ Mason’s mouth hung open as he read through the file. It was so obvious now. It was something that Marvin Wendell’s mother had mentioned a year ago, and it had fallen on deaf ears. Looking back now, it was so obvious. The only question remaining was how he could find this person.
How have I been so blind?
38
Mason left the office quickly, expecting Tidwell to have called the police the instant the door closed. Still blown away by what he had discovered, he wondered if he looked as run down as he felt.
In his pocket, his cell phone jerked against his chest. He crossed the road, stood just inside a shop doorway and answered. It was Bill, his voice hopeless, like a man given up.
‘I have something here that requires your attention.’
‘You can’t tell me on the phone?’ Mason looked back towards Dr Tidwell’s office, where a patrol car was pulling up. Thankfully, they were looking for a Mr Hunter, not a Mason Black.
‘Not really. I’m on the railway bridge at Glendown. Come quickly.’
Mason sped his way there, arriving in less than twenty minutes. Record timing. The tracks below were covered in forensic officers and patrolmen. The scene was taped off, and even Captain Cox had made an appearance. He could see why Bill had chosen to meet on the bridge, up and out of the way.
‘I don’t have long,’ said Bill, without turning. Look down there, tell me what you see.’
Mason peered over the bridge and at the centre of attention. It was a small area, which stretched parallel to the tracks, shaped something like a giant L. Within that space, two bodies lay on their fronts, and one was mangled and staring up at the sky. But there was an awful lot of blood, and it coul
dn’t have come from those three.
‘A gang war?’ he guessed.
‘Is that all? Look closer.’
Mason sighed reluctantly and looked back at the scene. The harder he stared, the more the blood came into focus. Only then did he see it.
The blood had been painted across the stones to form a message:
MB FERN/1018 1230
‘Wow.’ Mason had a hard time taking it in. After these people had died, the killer had taken the time to drain their blood, using it as paint. ‘That’s… cheery.’
‘Let’s cut to it, Mason. The ‘MB’ part… Do you think that’s for you? I mean, your initials, right?’
‘It could be a coincidence,’ said Mason, but he thought otherwise. ‘How did one woman do all this? Was there any DNA recovered?’
‘Nothing as yet, but we’re working on it.’
Mason stared at the numbers. Was this a message for him? It seemed too far a stretch to be anyone else – with his initials – being reached out to in blood. Was this Lady Luck, playing her sick and dangerous game? If so, why was she being so cryptic? Something was off, and it didn’t feel like it would reveal itself all too soon. ‘Leave it with me.’
‘It’s in both our hands now.’ Bill pushed away from the side of the bridge and headed towards the steps, his hands stuffed into his pockets. ‘But whatever you do, stay out the way of the police. The Captain’s decided you’re purposely evading us, and now she has a warrant for your arrest.’ He left quickly, his only goodbye a shocking impact to Mason’s unsteady nerves.
Great, he thought, dashing out of sight.
39
While Mason stood out of the way and waited for the man to arrive, he transferred the numbers from his current cell phone to his new prepaid handset. The important contacts were Bill, Diane, Sandra and – just in case – Evie.
Now, it was unable to be tracked, having been smashed and discarded into a nearby bush. Mason waited by the backstreet row of garages, watching the man come to meet him. He was small, skinny, and had a grade-one haircut. He looked like somebody who should never be trusted, but Mason had no choice.
Mason Black (The Complete Collection): 6 Gripping Crime Stories: The Complete Collection + BONUS Story Page 24